#unplanned pregnancy cw

[mysimsloveaffair]

Missing Maia’s warmness next to me in bed, I get up and find her sitting on the ground in the bathroom. Concerned, I hurry over to her.

Wade: Maia, baby - are you okay?

Maia: I lied to you, Dub. *tears* I’m sorry - you were right. I already knew I was pregnant. 

I don’t want to be right, but at least now we know. But confirming it doesn’t make it any less shocking. The devastation I hear in Maia’s voice threatens to knock me off balance. But somehow, I continue to stand, watching tears fall that are caused by me.  

[smol-bean-boi13]

😬

Uh oh part 1 - (this is part 2)

Main masterpost

[theresawritesstuff]

Prompt - Midge finds out she's pregnant after her night with Lenny in the blue room.

She'd had this feeling she couldn't shake for the better part of a week. Nothing monumental or show stopping or obvious, just…Something. An intuition. 

One she hadn't been truly sure of until the moment she saw him standing in that empty hallway. Bound for California…

Still, they made small talk. She held her tongue. 

They were already leaving things unsaid that were much more certain than this. He had enough on his plate…

"Okay…You take care."

He turned to go, bag in hand. Off to make a life for himself on the west coast for who knows how long. Maybe forever.

She should let him go. She should…

"I think I'm pregnant," she heard herself say.

He turned back, not sure he heard her right. "What?"

"It's early," she told him quickly, the words tumbling from her mouth or their own free will. "I-I haven't even been to the doctor yet to confirm anything but I just…" She let out a shaky breath. "Christ. And now you've got a plane to catch and a lease and–" 

"Wait…" He strode back to meet her at her side, processing. "You're saying it's…"

"Yours," she confirmed. "Yeah…"

He nodded, looking a little pale as he covered his lip with his finger. "You're sure? That I'm…"

"There hasn't been anyone else in a long time so…"

"Wow…" He puffed out a breath, glancing at the terminal anxiously. "Um–"

"I'm sorry. I know it's terrible timing. I shouldn't have said anything but–"

"But we don't call?" he offered a little sadly, turning her own words back on her.

She deserved that. 

She hadn't been expecting a call from him after the way things ended at Carnegie, after she'd screwed up so astronomically. 

Doesn't mean she hadn't wanted him to…

"We probably could have made an exception," she replied, attempting for light-hearted and not quite succeeding.

Lenny nodded. "Probably. Still, a guy likes to hear this sort of news in person when he can."

A tinny voice announcing the start of boarding for his flight to Los Angeles echoed off the walls around them, intermingling with the quiet strains of their song on the radio…

Lenny exhaled a sigh. "Look just…wait here. Okay?" 

"Lenny." She knew she couldn't ask him to stay. That it wasn't fair to spring this on him like this. It wasn't fair to either of them.

"Just…wait. Please," he begged.

She nodded quietly. "Okay."

She'd always had a hard time saying no to him when he said please.

He got a flight attendant to help him retrieve his checked suitcase from the luggage, a pink baggage tag hanging brightly against the handle.

"You didn't have to do that," she told him when he returned, even if she was grateful he had.

"I'll catch the next one," he replied.

"Is there anyone you need to call? Let them know you'll be late?" she wondered.

"I'll call my mother later," he promised. "But we should talk first."

"I suppose we should," she admitted.

"Bar? Not for you but–"

She held up a hand mercifully. "I get it. Bar is fine."

They made their way to a quiet corner of the airport lounge in hesitant silence.

He pulled out her barstool for her, treating her with kid gloves.

"Thanks," she gave him a smile, hoping to hide her nerves.

God this sort of thing had been so much easier to talk about when she had a ring on her finger and a ten year plan carefully laid out.

He took the barstool next to her, ordering a whiskey for himself and a club soda for her, tapping the bar nervously as they waited.

"So," he ventured. "Pregnant?"

"'fraid so," she murmured.

He took a moment, letting them both come to terms with it.

"Haven't you got a rocky history with that word on stage?" he teased finally.

She laughed despite everything. "Maybe they'll give me a few extra seconds if it's my own condition I'm talking about."

"Maybe," he conceded, downing a bit of his drink. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Fine. Really good actually. No nausea or anything like that yet."

He nodded quietly. "Okay. Well that's something. Otherwise I'd feel like a real schmuck."

"I'm sorry for dropping this on you," she told him genuinely.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Pretty sure I'm the one who asked to see your corset that night. We both had a hand in…well, you know."

"I do," she replied, smiling softly as she stirred her straw idly around her glass. "At least it was a memorable night."

"I aim to please."

He looked down at the bar.

"How um…how far along would you guess you are?"

"Not very. They actually start tracking from when your last cycle was instead of from the actual doing of the deed, so…about a month?" she guessed, belatedly realizing what she was admitting to. "Too much information?"

Lenny chuckled. "I think we're passed that point, Midge."

She shrugged. "Just wasn't sure how squeamish you were."

"I'm not," he assured her.

He took another fortifying swig from his glass.

"So…what do you want to do?" he wondered hesitantly.

Midge blew out a breath, giving it some thought. "We could try calling?  I've heard a few positive remarks on the concept. And you could visit if you want or I could come out to California, at least while it's still okay to fly." She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve as she second guessed herself. "Or I could send pictures if you'd rather we just…"

She trailed off, noting the tender, bewildered look in his eyes.

"What?" 

"Nothing," he shook his head. "I just assumed you wouldn't…You want to have this baby? My child? Our…"

He swallowed, struggling to find the words. "That's something you want?"

"Well the timing isn't ideal but…yes," she admitted.

"You're sure."

"Yes," she replied.

"There might be a little Lenny Jr running around making your apartment a mess, ruining your wallpaper in the not exactly distant future, and you're on board with that?" he asked again, a fond sort of smile creeping into his expression.

She shrugged. "There are worse things."

Lenny smiled, sipping his drink slowly. "Yeah I suppose there are. Timing isn't exactly ideal but…"

"But…" Midge agreed.

He turned towards her cautiously, considering his words carefully. "I don't mean to sound indelicate, but what about your career?"

"I've got two other kids at home, what's one more?" she quipped dismissively.

He gave her a look. "Midge."

"It's fine, Lenny. I'm not exactly new to juggling motherhood with stand up. I'll figure something out," she assured him. "I'm not gonna blow it. I promise."

He reached over, putting a hand over hers atop the bar. 

"We'll figure something out," he corrected. "And I'm going to hold you to that promise."

She squeezed his hand gently. "I appreciate that, really. But I'm not trying to make you feel like your on the hook or that you're obligated to–"

"Miriam," he said, looking at her fully. "As the mother of my future child, please give me a little bit more credit."

She felt a flush creep across her skin at the sound of her full name on his lips. 

"Okay," she agreed quietly.

He nodded, removing his hand from hers. "Good."

She sipped her drink, averting her eyes towards the bar. 

"I don't think you've ever called me Miriam before," she informed him.

"No?" he asked curiously.

"No." She shook her head, glancing up at him. "...It was kind of hot."

He put a hand over his mouth to hide a very bad smile. 

"Something to keep that in mind for next time, I suppose," he replied.

She arched a questioning brow at his confidence in a next time, laughing to herself.

"What?" he chuckled. "I can't exactly knock you up any more than I already have now, can I? Wouldn't hurt to make the best of it."

Midge smirked, stirring the ice in her drink. 

"That depends. Do twins run in your family?"

"Not that I'm aware of," he replied. "You?"

"No." She smiled, feeling more at ease with their old patter back.

After a moment she admitted, "You know. If this sort of thing had to happen, I'm glad it was with you."

"Yeah? Why's that?" he wondered.

She swallowed, wetting her lips.

"Because no one else has ever made me feel like you did that night. Made me feel cared for in that way."

"You mean when I hooked your leg over my–"

"Not that." She swatted at his shoulder lightly as they received a sidelong glance from the bartender.

Lenny smirked, looking rather pleased with himself as he arched a contradictory brow in her direction.

"Okay yes, also that," she conceded, keeping her voice hushed. "But I meant after. When you held me just to hold me. It was…it was really nice."

"I concur," he murmured. "At least until the slow runners called."

"And I found that bag in your bathroom."

He nodded, growing somber.

"Right. That."

"Is all really well?" she asked gently. "I know I didn't handle bringing it up well last time but I need to know, given that you knocked me up and all…Are you okay?"

She reached out to retake his hand in hers.

He turned his palm over, lacing their fingers.

"I'm working on it," he replied eventually. 

"Well if there's anything I can do to–"

"There isn't really," he informed her softly. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

She nodded quietly. "We can talk about it another time. Now what about that pack of lawyers of yours? What are we dealing with there?"

"Midge, this wasn't supposed to be a talk about my problems," he reminded her.

"Too bad," she replied, hopping off the barstool to dig one of his files out of the bag at her feet. 

"Miriam," he admonished, lowering the timber of his voice as he slid around her to get the file.

"Nice try," she smirked, flipping it open on the bar, glancing over what appeared to be a billing statement of some sort.

"Jesus Christ Lenny, are you really paying these guys that much?"

He shrugged, slumping back into his bar stool in defeat. "It's either that or face some options I'd care for even less."

Midge shook her head. "You're getting ripped off."

"You know your way around a courtroom better than I do?" he wondered incredulously.

"I know a guy. Mike Kessler. He'll charge you way less than these vultures and he's good. Better than good. You should call him. I might have his number in my purse actually."

"Midge, I've got a lot more charges against me than just saying a few naughty things to a crowd in the Village," he reminded her.

"And flashing my tits. Allegedly," she corrected with a smirk.

He blinked at the image. "I think I missed that."

"You were waiting for me out front. We just didn't know it yet," she replied, pulling the card in question from her purse.

She placed it against his chest, holding her hand over his heart. "Call him. I'll put in a good word," she insisted.

He shook his head, lifting her chin with the crook of his index finger to kiss her.

She was more than happy to oblige, letting herself get pulled in by his embrace, her eyes drifting shut.

"Thank you," he replied when their lips parted, holding the business card between his fingers, pocketing it pointedly. "Now back to why we're really here."

"You've still got the lease and the daughter out in California," she reminded him.

"Kitty," he informed her.

She smiled. "Kitty. That's a sweet name."

"Thanks. She's a sweet kid. Yours are…"

"Ethan and Esther," she answered.

"Right," Lenny nodded. "Are they in school?"

"Ethan just started kindergarten this year." 

"So did Kitty."

Midge couldn't help but notice the proud little spark in his eyes at that.

"How long's the lease?" she wondered.

"Six months. At least to start had been the plan."

She nodded to herself. "We can work with that."

"Maybe Kitty and I could come visit over Hanukkah," he ventured.

"I'd like that," Midge beamed.

"Me too."

Lenny smirked to himself, finishing the last of his drink, setting it aside.

"God, I feel like I should be offering to buy you a ring. Getting down on one knee to make an honest woman of you or some shit," he admitted, pulling some money for their drinks from his wallet.

Midge let out a laugh. "Well how could a girl say no when you put it like that?"

His eyes searched hers, looking for an answer to the question he hadn't quite asked.

"I don't need you to propose, Lenny," she replied gently. "Not right now. I…"

She let out a breath. "I don't want you to marry me just because you think it's the right thing to do."

"I can think of a few other reasons," he drawled, placing the money on the bar.

She shook her head. "I need to know that if you propose it's because you love me. First and foremost."

He nodded, getting to his feet slowly.

His hand came to cradle her cheek as he looked into her eyes, taking her hand in his other and bringing it to his lips tenderly.

"First and foremost," he promised.

He exhaled a sigh as the clock on the wall caught his eye.

"You need to go," she guessed.

He nodded, his thumb tracing circles across her hand, reluctant to let go.

"Promised Kitty I'd be home for her birthday. Should probably try to make good on that."

"Lucky girl."

He smiled softly, gathering his things.

"I'll call you when I get settled. Promise."

"Okay," she agreed, getting to her feet. "I guess I'll keep you posted on what my OB has to say."

"Please do."

"Not exactly how you expected your afternoon to go, hm?" she teased.

"One could say that."

She took him in in that moment, memorizing the lines in his face, the light in his eyes. 

She'd never expected Lenny. Her whole life she'd made careful plans for herself but she'd never once expected him. Never thought to imagine that someone like him would drop into her life, become one of her dearest friends and steadfast supporters. Never expected him to slowly steal her heart along the way.

Was it any wonder that an unexpected pregnancy after a night spent in his arms felt strangely right, even now with the cards stacked against them?

"We'll figure it out," she promised. 

He nodded, gathering his things in hand, a little bit of hope in his eyes that hadn't been there at the start of this.

"See you at Hanukkah?" 

"Can't wait."

She watched him walk away, still bound for the west coast. But this time it wasn't a goodbye.

It was the start of something much better.

[withered--s0uls]

Happy April Fools or whatever except I fear this isn't a joke anymore.

Please read the tags or something idk

[pyreshe]

without fail, unsaid emily will come on shuffle and i will start barking and snapping like a feral dog over the relationship between livvy’s mom and grandmother... cause like! rosana WANTED to eventually reconcile with her mom and make sure she was an active part of her baby’s life! she was just stubborn and so was anita!

their mutual mistake was playing a game of chicken with each other to see who would eventually break and apologize for that last fight first because both of them said some pretty messed up stuff to each other in anger and just assumed that the other would eventually come with an olive branch extended. cyrus pleaded with the both of them for weeks to agree to a meet-up in neutral territory to discuss things and make up before the baby was born.

they couldn’t have ever anticipated that there were going to be complications and that rosana would die at 19 years old before that could happen and everything they wanted to say to each other would forever go unsaid.

[hjbender]

Hello. I watched the Rebels today and I have questions: 1. Have you watched the series to the end? 2. If so, how do you like the finale and the series itself as a whole?

I have indeed watched Rebels in its entirety. I like the series as a whole, more so the first and second seasons, when the main focus was still on the Ghost Crew—particularly Kanan and Ezra—instead of the logistics of maintaining a large-scale rebellion.

I think the show really started to fall off in the third and fourth seasons, when the writers seemingly got tired of writing about a small handful of people surviving in a hostile political environment and tried to broaden Rebels into The Clones Wars 2.0. And there were other problems (to me): Ezra’s new character design looked godawful, Kanan went from being part of the main cast to part of the supporting cast, Vader and the Inquisitors basically disappeared, I couldn’t care less about the Mandalorians or Thrawn, and I found the whole mystical subplot with the Loth wolves and the World Between Worlds to be extremely vague, farfetched, and incongruous, especially without any prior reference to the creatures in the first three seasons. 

Aside: Yes, this is a story about space wizards, but even they must follow rules in order to make sense. Suspension of disbelief can only carry the plot so far; to throw something into a story simply because it looks cool—and the Loth wolves definitely were—but barely functions within the plot is very gimmicky and does a disservice to the audience. Fantastical elements don’t have to be explained in excruciating detail, but they do have to make some sense, and more importantly, fit within the story. The magic Mononoke wolves felt really out of place (in a weird Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds way), in my opinion, and it seemed like the writers pulled the idea out of their asses and threw it in to take up space and guide the story to its predestined ending—which is the literal definition of a gimmick.

For this reason, the plot really started to jump the shark toward the end of season 4, in my opinion. To say I disliked the finale is a massive understatement. I have serious issues with some of the writing choices that were made, specifically in terms of Kanan and Hera’s perplexing, mixed-signal afterthought of a “relationship”, and of course the unplanned pregnancy that was thrown in purely as a consolation for Kanan’s death (one of the most patronizing and insufferable clichés in American media). Overall the ending felt very rushed, clumsily cobbled together, and unsatisfying. Basically Filoni et al were shaping Rebels to fit within the established canon of the Original Trilogy, and this is a problem that happens nearly every time you write new material that predates the current material in the canon timeline. Trying to maintain the continuity between two pieces of media with a massive 37-year age gap is like slicing off an inch of flesh from your waist so you can continue to wear the same pair of old jeans—instead of finding a way to let out the seams so that the jeans fit you and not the other way around. When you aren’t allowed to do anything to alter the precious canon (the jeans, aka A New Hope), anything you do to try to fit into them (cutting off pieces of your body, aka conforming your writing so as not to retcon canon) is going to feel drastic, extreme and painful. And that’s how it felt with Rebels at the end of season 4.

I’m also pretty salty about Kanan and Ezra getting wiped out of the picture simply for the sake of preserving the sanctity of A New Hope. I care more about Ezra Bridger than I ever did about Luke Fucking Skywalker, but once again, that's just me.

However, in spite of these shortcomings—which are all entirely my observations and not something I expect everyone to share—I still love the characters and the series, especially the first two seasons, which is why I spend so much time writing stories and making art that reflect my desire for Rebels content that I never got to see. As the saying goes, be the change you want to see in the world 🌠

[pastryfilledpup]

might as well share this here. a fic i recently wrote for a friend! please read the tags:

[moonlinos]

It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉

Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field. 

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again. 

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head. 

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

[straykeedz]

𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐢 ; 𝐥𝐦𝐡

🚨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢 𝐟𝐟 𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐢 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬, 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠… 𝐦𝐞 ;

genre: angst, smut, fluff | 18+, minors dni | ;

wc: around 12,1k ;

cw: non-idol!au ; husband!minho ; explicit sexual content (clit play, unprotected penetration, creampie) ; lots of crying ; infertility ; mentions of an unplanned pregnancy and a pregnancy scare ;

ikigai [ik-ee-guy], 生き甲斐 , japanese : a reason for being, the thing that gets you up in the morning ;

⛅︎

Minho stares at the small, wooden crib in the middle of the room and silently prays to the gods above that he too will get to feel this kind of joy soon. 

He’s happy for his best friend Chan and his wife, he really is, but it’s still hard to watch someone else living his dream and being constantly reminded that it’s not his turn yet, it’s not your turn. He instantly wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer as he fights back the tears that well up in his eyes when Chan picks up the small, whining creature wrapped in a soft yellow blanket from the crib. Chan looks at his baby with a gaze that holds all the love of the world, that much is very clear to Minho, and he keeps wondering what does it feel like, Chan, being a dad? But what he wonders the most, unfortunately, is will I ever get a chance to feel this kind of joy, too, someday? 

That’s a question neither him nor you can give an answer to. 

“Let’s go say hi to uncle Lino and auntie Y/N, shall we?” Chan speaks to the baby in a soft voice, then chuckles when his daughter blinks at him a few times and stirs, snuggled comfortably in her fluffy blanket. “Hi, uncles!” Chan coos at the baby once he’s sure you and Minho are both in her peripheral vision. She’s the cutest. Only a few weeks old, she looks just like her father - she even has his dimple.  

Both you and Minho coo at the baby as well, little Haru, and then Chan speaks again. “Do you want to hold her?” He asks his friend, but when he notices Minho’s panicked expression, he chuckles and looks at you, encouraging you with a nod. 

“Sure,” you smile at him, but Minho senses so much pain behind that smile, and the second little Haneul is in your arms, he already knows what you’re thinking. He notices the way your eyes well up with tears as you hold her and caress her puffy cheek as she stirs and looks at you with her cute, boba eyes. “Hi, Haneul,” you coo at her, “This is your cranky uncle Minho,” you giggle and Haneul’s curious eyes fall on Minho’s face. 

He dramatically gasps, pretending to be offended, “Me? Ah, Haneul, your auntie is a liar, she’s the cranky one,” he boops her little nose, “You don’t want to be around her if she hasn’t had her coffee in the morning.”

“Yah, you little sh-“

“Y/N, please, there’s a baby right here,” Minho scolds you with a playful grin on his face, then his gaze falls back on Haneul, who’s frowning, “See? Cranky, I told you,” he shrugs. Out of the blue, little Haneul bursts into a loud cry that catches Minho off guard. 

“Okay, enough time with the uncles,” Chan chuckles as he takes her in his arms, cooing and rocking her as he hums a soft tune, “Yah, Minho, you made my baby cry, ah.” When he notices Minho’s panicked expression, he just chuckles again and says, “Relax dude, I’m kidding. She’s just hungry.”

Will I be a good dad?,Minho can’t help but think as he watches Haneul relax in her father’s arms, her cute eyes light up when she sees the small bottle of milk. Will I be able to calm my child like that? Understand their needs, be their safe place?

“She’s so cute,” you murmur only for Minho to hear, “I want a baby, Minho…” he doesn’t miss the way your voice cracks, and he’s quick to wrap his arm around your waist to pull you closer. 

“Oh, jagi, I know,” he kisses you on the head, “I do, too.” His voice breaks as well, and it’s your turn to hug him now, caressing his back as you both watch Chan feed his daughter as he says something to the guys, Changbin and Felix, sitting next to him, watching the baby in awe. 

“I think I… I think I’d be a good mom?” Your voice comes out as a question, full of doubts, and he hears you sniffle, but you’re not looking at him - you know you’ll break down if your eyes meet his. 

He kisses you on the top of your head once more and lingers. “You’ll be a great mom. You’ll be the best mom in the world, jagi,” he whispers, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. 

He wants to reassure you, tell you everything’s gonna be okay and that soon you’ll have the family you’ve dreaming of for years, that you’ll finally be a mom and he’ll be a dad, but he can’t. How is he supposed to make a promise he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep? It’s not something he can control, it’s not something either of you can control. He feels so hopeless, like he’s failing you in some way, not being able to give you what you want the most. 

You’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while now - a couple of years already, nearly three. 

The decision was mutual and came natural for the both of you - you moved in together when you were still in college, and it didn’t take long before the two of you started having baby fever, dreaming of the perfect mix of you and Minho running around the house. You decided to wait until after graduation. College came and went, and just like that, you and Minho started trying for a baby. A baby that never came. 

You’ve always wanted to become a mother. Minho, though, never fully realized how much he wanted to be a dad until he met you. Give you a child, a family, raise your little bundle of joy together, family vacations, the holidays together, him dressing up as Santa on Christmas Eve… He wants all of this, and he wants it with you. It wouldn’t make sense with anyone else - you’re the love of his life, his soulmate. 

“I love you so much, Minho,” you whisper, turning to look at him. 

He sees your teary eyes and wishes he could take the pain away, “I love you too, jagi.”

⛅︎

It’s familiar, but never fails to take your breath away, the feeling of Minho’s fingers on your skin - his long fingers brushing your body, making a shiver run down your spine as you arch your back under his touch. His lips are wrapped around one of your nipples, licking and sucking your hardened bud, occasionally scraping it using his teeth - his thrusts inside of you are slow and deep, his pace is steady, his movements fluid. 

His eyes are closed, small huffs coming out of his nostrils and he fists the bedsheets as he rocks his hips back and forth, steadily. His body blankets you, making you feel perfectly safe in his embrace. As he feels close to reaching his orgasm, he lets go of your nipple, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He shifts his weight on his elbow, placed on the side of your head, then you feel his other hand travel all the way through your body - his calloused fingers brush the side of your breast, then your stomach, then they briefly stroke your thigh, before you feel them on your pussy. Minho brushes your labia, hissing when he feels how beautifully your lips spread to welcome his length - only when his fingers are damp, pads entirely wet with your arousal, he touches your clit. 

“I’m- ‘m close, jagi… ‘m about to cum,” he chokes on his own words, rubbing your bud a bit faster, drawing tight, imaginary circles on it, the way he knows you like it. 

“‘M close too, please don’t stop,” you pant. Your toes begin to curl, and your thighs start to tremble as your breathing becomes more and more labored. “So close, so close,” you chant, whimpering under him, which encourages him to continue - it doesn’t matter if his wrist is starting to feel a bit swollen. 

He releases inside of you with a choked moan, filling you up with his semen - only after making sure you’ve come, too, of course. In fact, the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him, clenching around him, is what pushes him off the edge in the first place. The awareness that he’s the only one who gets you to feel you this way, to see this side of you - he feels so damn lucky. 

“I love you so much, my jagi,” Minho mumbles, his words are muffled against your skin. 

You catch your breath, running your hand through Minho’s dark hair, pulling it back from his forehead and face once he lifts his head to meet your gaze. His brown, boba eyes, are full blown as he stares deep inside your soul - he already knows what you’re thinking. He knows you so well, better than anyone else.

“I love you, Min,” you smile at him, but he can see the pain you’re trying to hide behind that smile, and it kills him. 

He shifts his body so that he gets off of you, careful not to cause you any discomfort nor pain as he  pulls out of you, not without pecking your lips once more, lingering for a bit. He lets his body fall on the mattress, his chest rising and falling quickly as he comes down his high. When he feels you move, he knows what’s about to happen next. You grab a pillow, his, because it’s thicker, and place it under your spine and back. Then, you lift your legs all the way up, resting your heels and calves on the wall. It’s supposed to work, they say -  help the reproductive system and increase your chances to get pregnant or whatever. You’re not really sure it’s true, though - you’ve been doing it for years and haven’t noticed any changes, and you most definitely haven’t gotten pregnant yet. 

Minho’s heart cracks a little when he hears you sigh. He runs his calloused fingers through your hair, smiles when he feels you lean in to his touch. “I’m gonna take a shower, okay?” He asks, and you nod. He leaves the room, disappearing inside the bathroom and hopping in the shower, shivering when the cold water hits his bare skin. 

He immediately notices something’s off with you when he returns to the bedroom - the way you quickly wipe your cheeks and the skin under your eyes gives away that you cried. His breath gets caught in his throat at the sight. As soon as you witness his presence in the room, you quickly sit up on the bed and smile at him - it’s a fake smile, he knows that, he knows you. Then, it’s your turn to hop in the shower while he changes the cum stained sheets and pillowcases. While he’s at it, he pulls out a clean pajamas for you to wear once you’re done. 

You’re quiet when you come back in the bedroom, and also when he blow-dries your hair - fidgeting with your rings or with your nails, lifting off the acrylic until one accidentally breaks and you cuss under your breath. You’re also quiet when you slip under the covers, next to him, throwing one leg over his lap and resting your head on his chest as his cologne fills your nostrils. You’re quiet… too quiet - unusually quiet. Minho hates it, he wishes you’d open up to him, tell you what’s going on inside your head, and then he hears it - a faint sniffle. 

And his heart cracks once again as his own eyes well up with tears. He pulls you closer, kissing you on the top of your head. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right, jagi?” Minho asks you, praying that his tone won’t betray him, praying that you won’t notice he’s on the verge of tears as well. He wants to be strong for you. 

You nod weakly, without uttering a single word, and he hugs you tighter. That causes you to burst into tears. Minho promptly wraps his arms around you, shifting so that your face is pressed against his chest as his hands pat and rub your back to soothe you, in hopes to get you to stop crying. “Shh, it’s okay, jagi, it’s okay. I’m here, hm?”

It takes you a while to finally calm down and stop crying. Minho doesn’t let go of you until you do. He doesn’t stop leaving kisses on your head, he doesn’t stop whispering soft words to you. 

“Min… Minho,” your voice trembles, muffled by his t-shirt. You sniffle, but don’t lift your head, incapable to look at him right now, especially since you’re about to tell him that… 

“Tell me, jagi,” Minho encourages you, speaking with a soft voice, toying with the ends of your hair, “talk to me, love.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, hugging him tighter as you fight back the tears. “Minho, why don’t we…” you take a deep breath, fisting his t-shirt, “why don’t we… take a break?”

Minho freezes. He’s not even sure if he’s breathing anymore at this point. 

“A break? From… from us?” It comes out as a whisper. His heart aches. He feels numb. He can’t lose you. 

“No, no!” You shake your head as a no quickly, and feel him sighing out of relief. And then - “From… from trying…” you clarify, the tears finally escaping from your eyes. 

Minho feels as if his heart just stopped beating in his chest. He blinks a couple of times, furrowing his eyebrows, breathing slowly. He feels a void in his chest he’s never felt before… you want to give up. He knows there’s nothing he can say to make the situation any better - it makes him feel terrible, hopeless, useless, worthless.

“Jagi…” his voice trembles, lips quivering. He holds you closer to his chest, wishing he could take away all your pain even though his own is eating him too. He doesn’t say anything else, respecting your decision. He bites on his lip so hard he can almost taste blood in his mouth, inhaling and exhaling through his nostrils. 

You’d started trying for a baby as soon as you’d graduated, and then Minho’d proposed to you. 

The two of you would fall asleep in each other’s arms, listing all the possible ways you could name your daughter or son. And then you’d go to bed wondering how your child would look - who would they resemble, you or Minho? Would they have his pretty boba eyes? Or maybe his perfect nose?

These thoughts hurt now. They’re not happy thoughts anymore, there’s no joy nor hope left in them, only pain.

“I don’t want to go through this again, Min…” you sniffle, “I just… I feel so hopeful every time I’m late and then… and then the hope just gets crushed whenever I see that single line on the test,” you sigh, swallowing the lump in your throat. A couple of tears slip from Minho’s eyes. “I just don’t want to feel this pain anymore, Min… it breaks my heart.”

And it breaks his heart as well, seeing you like this. He wishes he could ease all the pain, take it all away, put it all on his shoulders and carry it for you. He can do that. 

It’s when you feel something wet on your forehead that it becomes clear to you that Minho, too, is crying - his body is shaking weakly, it’s so subtle you almost don’t notice it at first. He sniffles when you hug him tighter, nuzzling your face in his t-shirt, kissing his chest. He feels terrible, he feels hopeless. He feels like he failed you in every possible way.  

“Jagi, I’m… ‘m sorry,” his words come out through shaky breaths. He pulls you closer, hugs you tighter. He doesn’t want to let go. “I’m so sorry, I… I want to give you the world, my jagi, I want to give you the family we’ve been dreaming of for so long…”

You lift your head to look at him, but he just buries his face deeper in the pillow. It’s a delicate moment for him, for the both of you, and he feels so vulnerable right now. There’s nothing wrong with that, but Minho prefers to deal with his emotions by himself, and you know that. All you can do for now is be by his side and love him unconditionally, like you always did. 

“I love you so much, Min…” you place a soft kiss on his jawline, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as the tears keep streaming down his face and he’s unable to stop them. “You make me the happiest. It’s just… it’s just all too much sometimes, you know? Let’s take a break for a while, maybe we’re just too stressed about this.”

He nods softly, but your words don’t ease the pain he’s feeling. They don’t fill the void in his heart. 

“Anything for you, jagiya.”

⛅︎

Chan’s wife is pregnant. Again. Their baby is not even six months old and yet Chan’s wife is pregnant with their second child. 

Minho hopes it’s a joke, but he feels his knees give in nonetheless when his older friend delivers the news to him. It can’t be possible. He blinks rapidly a few times, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d misheard his friend. Maybe he was distracted and misunderstood what Chan was trying to say, yeah?

“Yeah, she’s… she’s pregnant,” Chan repeats, and a wide smile spreads on his face. Minho’s heart aches, hit breath hitches. “A couple of months already, actually,” he looks and sounds genuinely over the moon, “can’t believe this cutie right here is gonna be a big sister soon,” he coos at the small baby in his arms before kissing her forehead. 

Minho feels bad. He wants to be happy for his friend, he really does, but… he can’t stop thinking about you. About how crushed you’re going to be when you find out. Because if Chan told him and the guys then his wife must’ve told you and the other girlfriends, right? A part of him hopes she didn’t, but he knows it’s just a wishful thinking, his. You’re going to be devastated - hell, you probably are already. 

And you are. 

Chan’s wife announces her second pregnancy with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, pulling out the ultrasound from her bag, and you hate yourself for not being able to be happy for her. You are happy, it’s not that. However, it’s a bittersweet feeling, yours. You feel like the worst friend ever, because while the other girls are all happily squeaking and clapping their hands as they scoot closer to try to get a better look at the picture - you stay exactly where you are, your gaze lost, as your heart pounds in your chest.

“Oh! I didn’t know you and Chan were trying again,” Changbin’s wife congratulates her with a hug. She sounds so happy, they all do. You fake a smile, the void in your chest has never hurt so bad. 

“Oh we… we weren’t,” Chan’s wife admits with her cheeks slightly pink. Your heart drops, your hands start to shake. You feel your throat closing, you find it harder to breathe now. “We haven’t been exactly careful, you know? So I just knew there could be a chance and, well… here we are.”

They weren’t even trying. It just… happened. Why couldn’t it just happen to you and Minho? Why did you have to go through the heartbreak of seeing that stupid, single line on that plastic stick every month? All the vitamins, the keeping track of your ovulation cycle, the blood tests and medical checkups… It just happened, to them. They weren’t careful. They weren’t trying, it was just a coincidence. One day they fucked without a condom and then oops, pregnant, again. 

“We weren’t sure if we, uh… If we wanted to keep it at first,” Chan’s wife says, and you nearly drop the cup in your hands as your heartbeat picks up its pace, “but we’ve talked a lot about it and we think we’re ready.”

You need air. You can’t breathe. It hurts too much. You need to leave.

⛅︎

Something’s off with Minho when he comes home. He takes his clothes off and changes into his pajamas without uttering a single word. When he slips under the covers, he’s still quiet. You know him, you’ve known him for years - you sense there’s something on his mind. He’s usually like this whenever he’s had a bad day at work. He still puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head, and you can hear him sigh. 

And you feel the exact same way. 

“Min…” you mumble, scooting even closer, resting your head on his chest. 

“My jagi…” he makes himself comfortable, the pads of his calloused fingers gently brushing the skin of your arm. That’s when he hears you sniffle, and his eyebrows furrow. “Hey, hey now, what’s up?” He asks you, placing two fingers under your chin to lift your head and meet your eyes. They’re watery. 

“It’s… it’s nothing, it’s just-“ your voice trembles, and you can’t stop the tears from falling from your eyes as Minho’s stare deep into your soul, “she’s…”

You don’t have to finish the sentence you started, because he already knows what you’re talking about - who. Your face is completely wet, and you keep sobbing and sniffling, and his eyes instantly widen as he sits on the bed with his back against the headboard, taking you with him. You wrap your hands around his wrists as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. Once he’s finished, he kisses the tip of your nose. 

“I know,” Minho whispers, kissing your forehead. “I know, jagi, I know. I’m so sorry,” he says, even though you both know it’s not his fault. 

His arms wrap around your waist and pulls you closer so that your face is hidden in his neck, not caring at all about the fact that you’re soaking his shirt with your tears. He then starts toying with the ends of your hair, knowing it’s something that never fails to relax you. Back in college, he’d play with your hair for hours as you stressed over your exams, holding you tight exactly as he’s doing now. 

“It- it wasn’t even planned, Min,” you cry, and Minho can hear the way your heart breaks. “It’s just… why us, Minho? We’ve been trying for years…” 

Minho can’t answer your question. Technically, it’s no one’s fault, no one is responsible for your fate. 

“They- oh God, they weren’t even sure they wanted to keep it,” you sob into his chest, and Minho flinches because Chan didn’t tell him that. He can’t imagine how you must have felt, how you must feel - well, he can, but at the same time he knows that no matter how similar you feel about this situation, you’re handling it in two entirely different ways. 

As much as it pains him too, he knows he has to be strong for you. “Oh, jagi…” his hand moves up and down your back to soothe you, although it doesn’t really work. “I know how you’re feeling right now, believe me, but… it’s not their fault,” Minho says calmly, “they don’t know about our- I mean, they can’t know about us,” he rephrases what he originally wanted to say, avoiding to mention the word problem or issue. 

“I know. It doesn’t make me feel any better, though,” you mumble in his chest. 

The silence of your bedroom never felt heavier. You and Minho are both lost in your thoughts, still holding each other tightly, because each other is the only thing you’ve got left. You have only Minho, and he has only you - you and, well, the cats. His family. Your family. You wonder if it’s enough for him, if he’s content with his life as it is now or if he’s yearning for more. You wonder if you’re enough for him, if you’ll be enough for him. 

“Minho?” You call his name softly, your voice sounding incredibly small as it breaks the silence. You don’t look at him as you speak, your head stays buried in his chest, your arms around him. You’re scared that looking him in the eye might be too much for you, and that you’ll end up putting off asking him what you want to ask him. “Would you still love me? If I… if I couldn’t have kids, I mean,” your heart thrums in your ears as you speak, “what I’m saying is… would you still think I’m enough?” You toy with your promise ring and wedding band as you ask him the painful question, your worst nightmare, the thought that keeps you awake at night.

Minho’s body freezes under yours, and he blinks a couple of times while staring at an indefinite spot far away while he tries to process your words and their meaning. The more he repeats your questions inside his head, though, the less sense they make to him and the more absurd they sound. 

“Jagiya,” he says, sounding almost as if he’s scolding you or something. “You’re the love of my life,” he states in all seriousness, and he means it. 

His answer, however, is not enough for you. You need to know. 

“Minho, I’m serious.”

Minho was never the type to openly talk about his feelings, but he feels safe with you, and he knows he can tell you anything. It’s how vulnerable it makes him feels, what he dislikes about opening up to other people. It always made him feel kind of stupid, but you managed to change that throughout the years. You showed him you’re by his side no matter what, and you’ll never think any less of him. He loves talking to you. Sometimes, it’s all you do - you’d spend hours curled up on the couch or in bed, talking about your day or literally anything else. Minho wouldn’t change it for the world. The feeling of having you in his arms as he rests his head on your shoulders is everything he needs, the only thing that keeps him sane. 

“I’m being serious, too,” Minho sighs. “You’re the love of my life,” he repeats with a seriousness that makes you shiver. “I told you after five months of dating, I told you the night I proposed and I told you on the altar when we got married. I tell you every day. It’s not just words to me, I mean it,” he unwraps his arms from around your waist to cup your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

“Minho…”

“No, listen to me,” his tone is much softer now as his watery boba eyes meet yours. “I love you,” he says with a disarming sincerity - it takes you off guard. “You changed my life completely, y/n. I wouldn’t be half the man I am now if you weren’t by my side. I’m completely and utterly in love with you, so no,” his gaze is fixed on your eyes, “you’re not enough. You’re more than enough, you’re everything I could possibly ask for and so, so much more.”

“Min…”

“You know, there’s a Japanese word: ikigai.”

“What?”

“Ikigai. Now, I could brag about my master in Japanese and explain its etymology, but I won’t,” Minho chuckles. “It’s a word that literally means ‘one’s reason to get out of the bed every day’, it’s your life purpose,” Minho takes your hands in his, brushing your knuckles with his lips. “You’re my life purpose, jagiya. You’re my ikigai.”

Tears are streaming down your face, and you sniffle a couple of times. Minho brings his hands on your shoulders and rubs your skin to soothe you as a warm smile spreads over his delicate features. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, then place a single, soft kiss on his lips. They taste like home - he’s your home. That’s why you’re so scared of losing him. 

“Pf, silly girl, asking if you’re enough,” Minho shakes his head playfully, feigning offence. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulls you closer, and you rest your face in the crook of his neck and leave another kiss there.

There’s something different in the way he holds you now, though. His body swiftly becomes rigid, and he gulps, almost as if he’d gotten swamped with a sudden thought. A thought that terrifies him. 

You see, Minho was never one too sure of himself. Insecure is not how you would describe him, though. It’s a strange way to put it, but Minho believes in his capacities and abilities, and most of all in the person that he is. He never really doubted your feelings for him, not even at the beginning of your relationship when you barely knew each other - and, most definitely, not when you were exchanging your vows at the altar. Minho is one hundred percent sure you love him. The question running through his head is, however, for how long. For how long will you love him, before realizing that he’s the one who’s not enough for you? That he’s the one who failed you? That he’s the one who couldn’t give you the family you so desperately wanted? 

Minho needs you more than he needs the air to breathe. He can’t lose you, you’re his home, his everything. 

“Min?” You murmur, voice muffled in his skin - soft and with a musky scent, that reminds you of his body wash. “Are you okay?” Your voice is soft, even though you’re trying to hide the turmoil in your heart. 

What if another man could give you what you want? A baby. A family. A future. What if he just… can’t? Before he knows it, Minho is crying - a broken sob leaving his soft lips. You immediately pull away, lifting your head to look at him. His cheeks are stained with tears, and a few more are running down his face. Minho closes his eyes when you wipe them off with your thumbs, kissing each one of his cheeks afterwards.

“Min, what’s up? What’s wrong?”

“What if… what if it’s me?” He asks with a broken voice after a few seconds spent in silence. 

“What if it’s you what?” You ask him, not fully grasping the meaning behind his question. 

Part of him wants to brush it off and forget about the intrusive thought that has been bugging him for a while now, but deep down he knows he needs to talk this through with you. You’re the only one who can give him the answers he’s so desperately seeking. 

“What if it’s me… the one who… What if you can’t get pregnant because you’re incompatible with me? What if one day you wake up and realize that you could have so much more with somebody else and- and instead you’re just here… wasting your time with me?”

You feel like your heart just shattered into a million pieces, maybe more. Maybe it just broke into countless of tiny, little pieces that are even imperceptible to the naked eye. You can’t believe you’ve made him feel like this, that you let him believe that having a family - no, getting pregnant, is more important than him. He’s your family, has always been. 

“Pf, silly boy, thinking I’m wasting my time with you,” you try to joke the same way he did minutes earlier, but deep down you’re shocked. 

“I’m… I’m serious, jagiya.” You hate how broken he sounds. 

“So am I,” you crack a smile, kissing the tip of his nose. “Remember when you bumped into me during lunch break back in college? And I spilled my coffe all over your white t-shirt?”

“Why are you telling me this?” Minho asks. He remembers everything vividly. If he closes his eyes, he can almost relieve it inside his head. That’s when you met. 

“That’s when we met,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It was also the day I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Minho is beyond confused. “Why?” 

“You were so kind to me even though it was one hundred percent my fault. Your t-shirt was so expensive, too,” you chuckle at the memory, running your hand through his hair, gently tugging at its ends as you keep staring into his beautiful, brown boba eyes. “But you didn’t get angry at me, you just smiled and brushed it off with a shrug.”

“And then I asked you out.”

You nod, smiling. “And then you asked me out. On a coffee date, ironically enough.”

Minho giggles. He nuzzles your nose with his. “We had so much fun, too… You were just so cute, I was whipped for you already. I couldn’t wait to see you again,” he tells you, and then he pecks your lips. 

“Me neither,” you smile back. “I spent the whole time glued to my phone waiting for you to text. You made me the happiest. You make me the happiest,” you correct. 

“Still?”

“Minho, you’re all I ever wanted, all I’ll ever need,” you cup his face in your hands. “You and the cats are the most important thing in my life. You’re my… what was that Japanese word you just said?”

He chuckles. “Ikigai.” 

“Ikigai,” you repeat with a nod, “you’re my ikigai, too. Have always been.”

Minho lets out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. He pulls you closer, and it’s his turn now to hide his face in your neck as a few more tears fall from his eyes, drenching your pajama shirt. You keep him close to your body with your legs on each side of his hips while your hands toy with the ends of his hair. You’d missed having him this close to you - not only physically, but also emotionally. You needed to have this talk with him, it really was therapeutic and regenerating for the both of you. 

“You’re my Minho,” you mumble in his hair, leaving a kiss there. “And I love you so much.”

Minho shouldn’t be getting hard right now. It’s an emotional night for the both of you, and he truly is fine with things not escalating at all between the two of you, especially since you said you wanted to take a break from trying. There have been physical encounters between the two of you since then, but you never really went all the way - the pressure’s just too much, but you’re both content either way. 

“Oops, sorry,” Minho mumbles on your skin, and then he places his hands on your hips to gently push you off his lap, afraid that it might make you uncomfortable to feel him there. But you stop him, wrapping your fingers around his wrists. He immediately lifts his head to meet your eyes, his eyebrows are furrowed. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, “I… I want you, Minho. I need you.”

When he kisses your lips, it’s gentle and lustful at the same time - as if he’s scared to touch you in fear you’ll break under his touch. His hands grip your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt as you slowly grind on his lap. Eyes fluttering shut, Minho deepens the kiss, letting his tongue lick your lower lip, and then your mouth - he lets his hand wander underneath your shirt, brushing your stomach, then your back and then up, up, up to your shoulders. 

“You’re so soft,” Minho murmurs on your lips, “your lips are so soft. And you’re so warm, I missed feeling you, having you in my arms like this…” 

Kisses on your cheeks, kisses on your jawline and behind your ear, kisses on your neck. Minho knows every spot - he knows exactly where to touch you, where to put his lips, how to make you fold like a piece of paper. His thumbs brush the soft skin underneath your breasts, and then the side - you hiss when he brushes your nipples with a delicacy and a reverence only he has. What Minho doesn’t say with words, he shows you through his actions and physical affection, worshipping your body as if  

“I missed you, too,” you mumble, running your hands up and down his back over the clothes. 

“Off,” Minho mutters under his breath, lips latched on your neck, “can I take this off?” He asks for permission, tugging at your shirt. You nod. 

His calloused fingers grab its end, and he’s rapid to take it off you, letting it slide over your head before letting it fall on the bed. The same things happen to his t-shirt. And then your chests are pressed together, as Minho resumes kissing you. His body shifts on the mattress so that he’s now lying on his back, dragging your body with his - he doesn’t stop kissing you. Your hands are all over him - in his hair, on his shoulders, his hips. You just cannot stop touching him. 

Both your pajama pants come off in a few seconds, getting tangled somewhere under the bedsheets. You’re naked now, your most private and intimate parts pressed together. Minho’s hands grope your asscheeks, and as a reflex you grind yourself on him, making his hard cock throb and leak pre-cum. He smirks against your skin, and bites your lip. 

“I love you,” Minho whispers on your lips as his fingers come to wrap around the base of his length, spreading his own arousal all over his tip. He lets his cockhead slide up and down your folds a couple of times, maybe more, and he’s surprised by how wet you are already. All for him. Ready to take him like he’s ready to have you. 

“I love you, Min,” you whisper, and he pushes inside, breaching your walls deliciously. 

He fills you up slowly, savouring the way your heat engulfs him wholly as his eyes flutter shut as huffs of air fall from his lips. He missed you, he missed you so much - that’s what he keeps thinking as he sinks into you over and over and over again, thrusting from underneath you, meeting the sweet rocking of your hips. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulls you even closer. 

“Close… I missed having you so close to me… missed making love to you.”

Helping you move up and down his length slowly, the way it makes both your heads spin, it doesn’t take long before your orgasms start to build up. You sigh and breathe and pant on top of him, trying to keep as quiet as possible to not wake your neighbors up. Minho himself is trying to hold back the moans and whimpers that threaten to leave his lips - his chest rises and falls quickly, though. Minho pulls a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear, then cups your cheek as he stares into your eyes. You clench around him, hard and harder, until your whole body trembles. 

“Min… Min,” you whimper, trying to focus on his movements solely as the tip of his cock brushes your g-spot with delicacy, “‘m close.”

“Baby… my sweet baby, cum,” Minho encourages you, and it’s enough to make you lose control, “let go for me.”

When you finish, it’s with a cry of his name, as your whole body shakes and trembles with force. Minho holds you tight as he continues to move inside of you, a few thrusts away from reaching his orgasm as well. A couple of precise and rough thrusts send him over the edge, and he’s quick to place his hands under your thighs and lift your hips, slipping out of your wet heat right before he spills his seed, finishing on his stomach instead. For a couple of seconds you’re confused about why he pulled out, but then you remember your conversation from a few weeks ago, and your face drops instantly, but you don’t let him see it. Instead, you quickly get up from the bed and run to the bathroom to grab Minho a warm towel to clean himself. 

⛅︎

Chan had had an idea - babysitting. More specifically, you and Minho babysitting their baby so him and his wife could go out on a night date. 

Bang Haneul is an utterly adorable baby. She’s got her father’s smile and his eyes, but the puffy cheeks are definitely her mother’s. She never really cries or whines, only when she’s hungry - and most of the time, she’d look at you and Minho with curious eyes, tilting her head to the side, probably wondering who you are, and where are her parents. She smiles at Minho when he sings to her, and even claps her little hands. 

“She totally loves me,” Minho smiles at her, holding Haneul in his arms. He boops her little nose, earning a giggle from her. “I’m your favorite uncle, aren’t I?” He coos at her, “don’t tell me it’s uncle Binnie, please. He’s too loud, isn’t he?”

“You’re just as loud,” you chuckle, smiling at the sight before your eyes. 

Minho glares at you playfully. “Pf, please,” he waves his hand at you as if you just said nonsense, “I’m her favorite uncle, I know that already. See the way she looks at me?”

“You fed her yogurt this afternoon, of course she loves you,” you roll your eyes at him. 

“And a peach,” Minho adds, “mashed nice and well for this little princess,” he coos at little Haneul, and she giggles at him, patting Minho’s cheek with her small hand. 

Minho would be an amazing dad - patient, loving, caring, and so thoughtful. You watch him in awe, from the floor where you’re sitting on Haneul’s play mat, surrounded by her colourful toys. Minho notices you’re staring at him, and he smiles back at you, as he carefully sits down next to you, with Haneul in his arms. 

“You wanna go to aunty Y/N? Yeah?” He asks the baby as he watches her stretching her little arms in your direction as soon as you enter her peripheral vision. 

Haneul’s eyes light up when you take her in your arms and smile at her. “Hi,” you coo at her, softly caressing her puffy cheek. Minho scoots closer, resting his head on your shoulder, where he leaves a kiss. 

The precious and soft moment is interrupted by the sound of rattling keys and the front door swinging open. Naturally, it’s Chan and his wife. Haneul in your lap wiggles and squeaks as soon as she spots her parents, stretching her arms out to them. 

“Hi, my baby,” Chan smiles brightly at her daughter, rushing to where the three of you are with open arms, ready to take her into his arms and hold her. “I’ve missed you so much, you know that? You missed me? You missed daddy?” He kisses his daughter’s forehead and nuzzles her cheek with his nose. 

“Did she give you a hard time?” Chan’s girlfriend asks you, smiling at you as she sits on the couch. 

You shake your head as a no, and Minho does the same. “Nope, not at all. She’s a true angel.”

“I wonder if baby number two is going to be so calm and peaceful, too,” Chan thinks out loud, glancing at his girlfriend’s stomach even though she’s barely showing. 

“Sorry if we ruined your plans for the day by asking you to look after Haneul,” Chan’s girlfriend says, looking at you and Minho, “maybe you wanted to be alone tonight… Sorry if we asked you last minute, but my friend bailed on us last minute and we didn’t know who to ask.” 

“Yeah, the rest of the boys was busy tonight,” Chan adds, “well, Jeongin and his girlfriend were technically free, too, but… I mean, they’re still babies,” he chuckles. 

“Ah, it’s no problem, really,” Minho nods at his hyung, “we enjoy spending time with Haneul. She’s the cutest.”

“She really is, my cute baby,” Chan pouts, kissing his daughter’s cheek lovingly. “She looks just like her dad,” he jokes, looking at his wife with a mischievous grin. 

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t even argue with him, he’s right. It’s not fair, though, I carried her for nine months and she looks like a carbon copy of her father,” she pouts, “I hope baby number two will look like me, at least a bit.”

“You know,” Chan starts, focused on playing with Haneul as she squeezes her father’s hand, “I read somewhere that if the first child is a boy, then he’ll look like his mother, and if she’s a girl she’ll look like her dad,” he says. 

“How do you know it’s not just a casualty?” Minho asks his friend, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t,” Chan shrugs, kissing the top of Haneul’s head. “Hey, why don’t you and y/n have a baby? We can test the theory,” he jokes, but both you and Minho freeze, “I think it’d make a great uncle, wouldn’t I?”

“Chan!” His wife scolds him. “Yah, mind your own business! You’re so nosy, aish…” she giggles.

“Hey, it was just a suggestion! Plus, I think Haneul would love a little cousin to play with, yeah?” He asks his baby, but she just raises her head to look at her dad confused. 

And if either of them notices the way you and Minho are sitting there uncomfortably, with fake smiles plastered on your faces - they don’t comment on it. 

⛅︎

The water feels warm on your skin, the perfect temperature. Yours and Minho’s clothes are scattered on the floor, his black socks are the last thing to reach the pile of fabric by the shower, and the next thing you know he’s opening the glass door, stepping inside right behind you. The water hits his body, rivulets running down his chest, back and legs - his hair is wet and stuck to his face. He wraps his arm around your waist, and you turn to face him. He smiles at you, tucking your wet hair behind your ear with his other hand, and then he leans in to kiss your wet lips. You both had a long day today, and really need to relax and blow some steam off - a hot shower is the perfect solution for that. 

“You’re so cute like this,” Minho chuckles, “your hair looks funny.”

You narrow your eyes at him, smirking. Then you playfully slap his shoulder. “Cute? Funny? Your wife is currently naked in the shower with you. Aren’t I supposed to be, I don’t know, hot?” 

“But you’re always hot.”

You roll your eyes at him, “kiss-ass.” 

Minho chuckles. “I mean it! You’re always hot to me, but you’re also cute and funny. You’re, like, the whole package. I hit the jackpot with you,” he shrugs. 

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I stand by what I said: kiss-ass.”

Minho chuckles, then he pulls you in for a kiss. You thought it’d be a quick peck, but you soon feel his tongue on your mouth. And then you feel something poke you, so you lower your head. “Oh.”

When you lift your gaze, Minho is smirking. “I told you I always think you’re hot.”

Sex in the shower is not something that happens too often between you and Minho, and it’s a shame. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as well, and he doesn’t hesitate to push your body against the wall delicately, making sure he doesn’t hurt you by softening the impact with his arms and hands. You whimper in his mouth, but it’s a whimper of pleasure. His length is rock hard between his legs, now pressed on your stomach, already leaking pre-cum because of how aroused he is. 

“Need you,” Minho mumbles on your skin, kissing your neck, then your jawline and lowering his head until his kisses reach your collarbone, “need you now. Need to make you mine.”

“Take me. Minho, take me.”

Minho grunts. Then, he’s turning your body around so that he’s now facing your naked back. The palm of your hands are pressed against the cold tiles, and you hiss under your breath - but when you feel Minho’s hot lips start kissing your shoulders, you can’t bring yourself to care about anything else except him. Him and how much you crave his touch, to feel his hands on yours as he fucks into you slowly. 

One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, where he draws imaginary circles with the pad of his thumb, while the other one slides between your slightly parted legs. Minho hisses and rests his forehead against your nape once he feels how wet you are already - and not because of the water. He plays with your sex - rubbing your clit gently at first, and then running his fingers up and down your folds. Meanwhile, he bites and sucks on the skin of your shoulders, pressing your body further against the tiles. You arch your back as you feel him slide his cockhead up and down your entrance, coating it in your wet arousal. He holds his breath as he penetrates you, excruciatingly slow. He bottoms out inside of you - until his chest is pressed flat against your back, and you feel his hot breath on your skin. He places one hand on your hip, and presses his other palm flat against the bathroom tiles. 

“Feel so full,” you mumble, breathing heavily. 

The warm water, Minho inside of you, his body all over yours - it all feels so intense, your head is spinning already and he’s barely moved inside of you, only giving a couple of thrusts to give you the time to get adjusted. 

It’s primal, the way he presses your body against the wall as he fucks you nice and deep, slowly, allowing you to feel him completely inside of you in the intimacy of your shower, of your home. You sway your hips back and forth, meeting the movements of his hips. He’s not able to reach your g-spot perfectly from this angle, so he moves his hand from your hips to the sensitive spot between your legs - he’ll make you cum this way tonight. While rubbing your clit ever so gently, he nibbles your ear, and you can clearly hear him panting heavily. 

“You’re so hot,” Minho compliments you, while continuing to thrust inside of you. “I want you all the time, it’s surreal. I’m so in love with you,” he rambles, the words falling from his mouth freely, automatically, “make me so hard.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you can feel your impending orgasm about to wash all over you. Minho knows exactly how to touch you, he always manages to make you cum so effortlessly. “Minho, I’m… I’m close.”

It always manages to make his head spin. He doesn’t change its pace, nor the direction of his movements on your most sensitive spot, and in a matter of seconds, your kicking your head back while calling his name desperately, releasing around him. Minho places his hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers with his as he chases his own orgasm, rutting his hips against yours. And just like the last couple of times you had sex, his intent is to pull out right before finishing - this time, you don’t let him. 

“Don’t,” you beg, moving your arms behind your back to grab Minho’s ass, squeezing the flesh, “don’t pull out this time.”

Minho doesn’t really have a chance to ask you what’s going on, because as soon as he opens his mouth he’s cut off by his orgasm, that catches him completely off guard. Hearing you sound so desperate for him does it for him every time. He cums, filling you up to the brim - there’s so much of it that it begins to leak out of you, dripping down your inner thighs as Minho stays buried deep inside of you. 

“‘M sorry, I… you caught me off guard, I should have-“ he starts rambling, but you interrupt him.

“Minho, stop,” you mumble, “I asked you not to pull out. It’s okay.”

“But you said-“

“I know what I said. But really, it’s okay. I wanted it.”

Minho nods, but part of him feels guilty nonetheless. Gently, he pulls out of you, stepping under the direct stream of water, that cleans him off of his own cum. You turn around to look at him and do the same, letting the water wash away the proof of his orgasm off your body. Minho quietly grabs the bottle of shampoo, squirting a generous amount on his hands. 

“Turn around, jagiya. Let me take care of you.”

⛅︎

Dori’s behavior is weird today. 

He hasn’t left your side since Minho left for work earlier - he’d remained by your side the whole time, mostly cuddled on your lap or sprawled on your stomach as you slept. And then he meowed every time you tried to get up, begging you with his little eyes to pick him up so he could be as close to you as possible. 

And he’s resting in your lap even now, as you sit on the couch with your book in your hands, and has no intentions to get up, not even when he hears the sound of rattling keys - a clear signal that Minho’s home. Minho steps inside your place and Dori simply tilts his little head to the side. 

“Daddy’s home, baby,” you coo at the small pet, patting his head, “go say hi. You missed him lots today.”

“He missed me?” Minho asks, sounding pretty confused. His pet doesn’t get up. 

“Well, I thought so,” you put your book away, lifting your head to peck your husband’s lips. “Thought he could smell your scent on the t-shirt and it reminded him of you.”

Dori has the audacity to growl at Minho when he tries to pet him, narrowing his eyes at him. 

“Seems like he hates me,” Minho giggles. 

“That’s weird,” you think out loud, because when you try to pet him, Dori accepts the cuddles gladly, and purrs satisfied under Minho’s incredulous eyes and ears. 

“Son of a-“

“Minho!” You scold him, covering Dori’s ears with your hands, “don’t be mean to my baby.” 

“Well, your baby is an ungrateful little shit,” Minho chuckles, scratching Dori’s chin with his finger, and the cat glares at him almost as if he’d understood his owner’s words, “I change his litter and feed him and who does he love more? You.”

“It’s because I give him cuddles and treats when he behaves,” you point out, and Dori lets out a faint meow almost as if he’s agreeing with you. 

“He’s just taking advantage of you because you’re too good to him, don’t trust him. Traitor,” Minho jokes, leaning in to kiss Dori’s little head. “‘M gonna take a shower and then we’ll think of something for dinner, hm?” He asks, and you nod. 

He disappears upstairs, and you resume reading your book. Dori doesn’t move from your lap, instead he snuggles into your t-shirt and purrs, occasionally meowing to demand pets and more cuddles. You wonder what’s up with him, if maybe there’s something wrong with him or if he’s not feeling alright - but Dori doesn’t seem to be in pain. 

“He’s been there the whole time?” Minho asks once he returns to the living room, surprised to see Dori still curled up in your lap. “Isn’t that weird?”

“I don’t know, maybe he’s not feeling well… maybe we should take him to the vet.”

“But he doesn’t look in pain or anything?” Minho pouts, kneeling down to look his cat in the eye. “Maybe he’s sad or something… maybe he just needs an extra amount of cuddles.”

“Let’s just wait a couple of days… if his behavior is still weird we’ll go to the vet,” you suggest, and Minho nods. 

“Alright, boss,” he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. Then, he pecks your lips. “What do you want me to cook? Do omelettes sound good?”

“Yep, they sound perfect.”

Well, maybe they didn’t, because as soon as you get a whiff of their delicious smell, you feel the urge to throw up. Literally, you have to practically run to the bathroom and kneel before the toilet bowl, leaving behind a confused Minho, still sat at the dinner table. Eventually, he gets up and comes upstairs to check up on you, softly knocking on the bathroom door. 

“Are you alright?” He asks you, preoccupied, as he spots you washing your face with cold water to freshen up, taking deep breaths. “Is there something wrong with my omelettes? Did I put too many onions?”

You shake your head as a no, limbs still trembling as you place your hands on the sink. “No, no, they were fine. I don’t know what’s up with me, I’ve been feeling nauseous the whole day.”

Hadn’t your period ended a week ago, Minho would’ve thought you were pregnant, but he knows that’s impossible. So he just comes closer to you, rubbing your lower back with his calloused hand, leaning in to kiss you on your temple. 

“How are you feeling now? Better? Worse? Do you want me to make you some tea?” He asks you, and you smile warmly at him, moved by his apprehensiveness. 

“A cup of tea is fine.”

⛅︎

You feel like you could pass out on the spot when Jeongin’s girlfriend, who’s younger than you and has only been dating her boyfriend for about four months, confesses she’s late. Late late. Like, her period’s late. Sixteen days, to be precise. She looks at you with her big, doe eyes, glistening with tears, begging for your help. She needs a friend, someone who listens, and you’re very close to her, even though you haven’t seen her much - she is kind of a younger sister to you. 

“What? Are you and Jeongin having unprotected sex?” You blatantly ask her, staring at her with wide eyes, kind of shocked by the revelation. They’re too young to be having condomless sex, especially if she’s not on birth control or literally any other contraceptive. 

The lowers her head in shame, even though you’re not angry at her. “It only happened twice, I swear,” she justifies herself, “we’d run out of condoms and didn’t think about the consequences. He didn’t… finish inside, though. He pulled out,” she tells you with a hint of hope in her voice, but you both know it’s not an effective method, and that therefore she could be pregnant. 

“You have to take a test,” you sigh. “It might just be a pregnancy scare - my period’s late all the time, I was supposed to get it a couple of weeks ago, but you never know. The chances are pretty high.”

“O-Okay, okay,” she takes a deep breath, covering her face with her hands, “but I can’t do this alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“You… you said you’re late too. Take a test, too, unnie. It’ll be less scary to not do this alone.” 

And you can’t believe that less than an hour later, once you and Jeongin’s girlfriend are finally back from the convenience store, you’re in your bathroom - actually peeing on a plastic stick, even though you already know what the result’s gonna be. Negative, as it always is. You already know it, but you take the stupid test anyway to help your friend feel less nervous. She’s already taken hers and places the stick inside the box, not ready to look at the result yet, and you do the same, not even realizing you’re putting your test in the same box as hers. 

You only realize when the alarm goes off and it’s time to learn the results - that’s when you realize there’s absolutely no way you can tell which test is yours. And your jaw nearly drops once you take a closer look, because one test reads negative, but the other one… 

“Positive.”

⛅︎ 

You’ve been lying in your bed all day, mostly scrolling through your social media dashboards - Dori in your lap as per usual, he’s glued to your side, when you hear the front door close downstairs. Minho’s home. You’d get up to say hi to him, but you feel so helplessly tired and literally can’t get out of bed. You hear him saying something to the cats, and when he pushes the bedroom door all the way open, he smiles brightly at you - Soonie in his arms and Doongie by his feet. 

“Hi, jagi, how are you feeling today?” He asks you, sitting on the bed next to you. You haven’t been going to work for the past couple of days - you haven’t been feeling well, and Minho is kind of preoccupied. 

“I’m doing better,” you smile at him, leaning in for a kiss, “feel tired, though.” Soonie gets off Minho’s lap, and he scoots closer to cuddle you in a spooning position, circling your waist with his arm, scratching Dori’s head when his hand accidentally bumps him. “Did you have fun today, with the boys?”

“Yeah, we… we had fun,” Minho nods, but doesn’t say much. You know he’s keeping something from you by the way he’s nervously fidgeting with his rings and picking at his skin. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” You tease him, rolling to lie on your back, poking Minho’s dimple with your finger. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, with a dismissive gesture of your hand, “I know you like the back of my hand, I know something’s up with you. What happened? Something happened with the boys?”

“It’s nothing, really. You know the boys, they’re silly, they say things.”

“Which things?” 

Minho sighs. “It’s stupid, really. Let’s just forget about it, hm?”

“Stop being so grumpy and just tell me already,” you insist, and Minho gives up. 

“Fine,” he waves his hand. Then, he runs his fingers through his hair, unsure whether he should really be telling you what he’d learned mere hours ago. He really doesn’t want to bring up the topic, but you’re just so stubborn. “Jeongin told me something today, and it upset me.”

“What did he tell you?”

Another heavy sigh leaves Minho’s lips. “Him and his girlfriend had a pregnancy scare. She went to the doctor and found out she’s not pregnant, but he was pretty overwhelmed by the whole thing. I scolded him for not being responsible and for not having safe sex, and I don’t know… I guess it upset me.”

Oh. Oh. Jeongin’s girlfriend is not pregnant. She’s not pregnant. But the tests… one of them was positive… Wait, if she’s not pregnant, then… Your eyes widen immediately, and you abruptly sit on the mattress. You can’t be pregnant, though, you had your period this month… it could have been implantation spotting, though, if you really were pregnant, but what are the chances?

“I know you’re upset now, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

You shake your head as a no quickly. “It’s not that,” you mumble, getting up from the bed despite Dori’s upset meowing. 

If Jeongin’s girlfriend’s not pregnant, then it means there’s a slight chance you and Minho… But it could also have been a fake positive. They’re pretty common, you read somewhere once. You rush to the bathroom, opening the third drawer quickly - the one where you keep your stash of pads and tampons and tests, to detect both ovulation and pregnancy. You have two of them. You’re gonna take them both, even though you try to remind yourself to not get your hopes up. 

“Jagiya, what’s… what are you doing?” Minho furrows his brows, looking at you confused as he can’t take his eyes off of the two small boxes in your hands. “Are those…”

“I need to take these,” you tell him, voice trembling. “I was with Jeogin’s girlfriend the day she took the test. It’s a long story, and I promise I’ll tell you, but… if she’s not pregnant then there’s a chance…” you trail, looking at him with tears in your eyes. 

“There’s a chance… you might be?” Minho asks, a new feeling of hope washing all over him as his heartbeat picks up its pace. 

“Yeah,” you bite your lip, looking at him with hopeful eyes. 

It’s been the longest three minutes of your entire lives. You and Minho are sitting on the bathroom floor with your backs against the shower glass in silence, too absorbed in your thoughts. Your fingers are intertwined as you wait for your alarm to ring. This could be your chance. This time, things could be different. When Minho’s phone buzzes, you feel as if your heart has stopped beating inside your chest. 

You take a deep breath, shaking your head. “I can’t look. I can’t look, Min. You do it.”

Minho swallows the lump in his throat, feeling nervous - the most he’s ever been. He’s not ready for another negative surprise. Not when flashes of what your lives could be with a little bundle of joy passed before his eyes as he waited patiently for the results to be ready. “How… how about we do it together? I check one and you do the other one, at the same time,” he suggests, and it seems fair. 

You nod, and Minho finally gets up, reaching for the two plastic sticks placed on the sink, turned upside down not to spoil the result. He grasps one, holding it firmly in his hand, and hands you the other one. Then, he sits back on the floor next to you. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he mumbles, kissing your temple. 

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

You look at the result at the same time. You hold your breath, as tears well up in your eyes quickly. Before you can contain yourself, you burst down in tears - salty drops rolling down your cheeks. When you turn to look at Minho, his face is stained with tears as well, his lip is quivering, and then he shows you the stick he’s holding. It shows the same result as yours. 

Positive. 8+ weeks. 

You’re pregnant, you and Minho are going to have a baby. 

“Come here,” Minho mumbles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as he rests his chin on your head, rubbing your arm with his hand. 

You let the realization sink in - you can’t fully process what just happened, your brain can’t comprehend it yet. A baby. Your and Minho’s dream of a family is finally going to come true, you still can’t believe it, it doesn’t feel real. 

“I love you so much, jagi,” he sniffles, kissing the top of your head, “‘m so happy right now…”

Before you could answer, you hear a loud meow coming from beside you, and that’s when you realize Dori’s here. He makes himself comfortable in your lap once more, and that’s when it all becomes clear to you. 

“Dori, baby, did you… did you… have you been glued by my side because you could sense I’m pregnant?” Dori meows once more, then purrs, making himself comfortable on your lap - you take it as a yes. 

“Aish, you little… your vet bill was so expensive for nothing and here you were, trying to tell us something…” Minho shakes his head, patting his cat and scratching his fur, chuckling, and you giggle as well, “thank you for being by her side when I wasn’t here, buddy.”

You stay like this for a while, in silence, with the tests still in your hands and Dori in your lap, hugging and holding each other, feeling blessed because you finally got the happiness you deserved. 

⛅︎

Minho has always been affectionate with you, but ever since you found out you’re going to become parents in a few months, he just won’t leave your side. 

Your OBGYN had confirmed what the tests had shown, announcing with a big smile on her face that yes, you’re pregnant, and that your baby is healthy and about the size of a bell pepper now, since you’re around twenty weeks pregnant. Minho called your baby “little pepper” until you found out the gender - a baby girl. Minho had bursted into tears in the doctor’s office when she delivered the news, and spent the day glued to you, hugging and holding you, his hands never leaving your round belly. 

“How is my little sunshine? Did you miss daddy?” Minho starts talking to your bump as soon as he slips under the covers, kissing your lips first. “I’m sorry I had to leave, little sunshine. Daddy’s gonna quit his job when you’re here, I’m never leaving you,” Minho pouts, kissing your stomach and caressing it with his hand, “I missed you so much today, did you miss me too?”

Minho’s hand freezes on top of your bump, and his head snaps up in your direction at the same time as you lower yours when you feel a small kick - the first. His eyes glisten with tears, and so do yours. Your little sunshine just kicked for the first time after hearing her father’s voice. 

“Jagi did you… did you feel it, too?” Minho asks you, pouting, “she just kicked. Her first kick.”

You nod, placing your hand on your belly as well, close to Minho’s. “I did, Min,” you sniffle. “Our sunshine really missed her daddy today, didn’t she?” 

Another kick, much stronger now. Minho presses his lips on your belly, kissing it all over its surface as he feels his daughter’s delicate kicks, feeling absolutely and utterly in love - a love he didn’t think he’d be able to feel.

“My precious little sunshine, I missed you, too,” Minho kisses your stomach once again. And then he remembers - he gets up quickly and leaves the room only to come back in with his workbag, laying at the end of your shared bed. “I… I bought you something on my way home, sunshine,” Minho talks to your belly. You just look at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly bought your unborn daughter. “You won’t be able to see it for a few more months, though, but I hope you’ll like it.”

From the bag, he pulls out a small plushie - a white rabbit, with long ears and a mischievous grin. Oddly enough, it kinda looks like Minho. “Where did you manage to find a plushie that looks exactly like you?” You giggle, taking the small toy in your hands. 

Minho just chuckles. “It’s cute, isn’t it?” He comments, looking at the plushie. “I just thought she might like it, you know? Maybe she’ll sleep with it, too, once she’s born,” Minho mumbles, once again placing the palm of his hand on your round belly. 

“It’s cute,” you confirm, “I’m sure she’ll love it. Maybe we should sleep with it, so that it’ll have our scents once she’s born. It’ll make her feel safe.”

Minho smiles - a genuinely happy smile, and his eyes sparkle with joy. He nods, kissing your belly, hoping to feel his daughter kick one more time. She does. “I love you so much, sunshine,” he mumbles against your skin, “I can’t wait to meet you. We’re gonna have so much fun together, we’ll play so many games and go on lots of adventures - me, your mom, the cats and you, my baby.”

After a few more kisses and cuddles Minho gives to your belly, he lies down next to you on the bed, spooning you, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer as he buries his head in your neck. He kisses your shoulder, breathing in your delicate scent, holding the rabbit plushie close to your body, right on your belly. 

“I’ll never thank you enough for this, you know that, right?” He mumbles, nuzzling your skin. 

“Thank me for what?” You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“All of this. For making me the happiest man alive, for carrying our precious and healthy baby girl. It’s pretty amazing if you think about it, isn’t it? There’s a life inside of you - our baby, our sunshine…”

“Minho…”

“I love you both so much, I can’t wait for our new life together to start.”

And all the pain you both went through is long forgotten now that he can finally fall asleep with you in his arms and his hand on your belly, dreaming of a future that, and he can’t put into words how happy he is, is just around the corner. 

⛅︎

-> 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

-> 𝐦𝐲 ☕️

[mysimsloveaffair]

Maia didn’t need a pregnancy test yesterday because she already knew what was up. She just needed one more  day to live in denial. But when Maia wakes up to pee the next morning and sees how much her belly has grown in the mirror, there’s no more room for her nonacceptance. She’s pregnant whether she’s ready to face it or not. The reality of it all weakens her and she sinks down to her knees.

Maia: *out loud to herself* Oh, Watcher!

(Full post available to read on my website)

[lilywastaken]

⇝ MÉNAGE .

Simon makes the mistake of spending the night before one of the longest missions of his career in the arms of a woman he met at a pub, unaware of the consequences it would have on his life moving forward.

CW: Unplanned pregnancy, angst, smut, fluff, dad!Simon.

STATUS: ongoing!

Also on Ao3!

If you want to be tagged on future works, please follow and activate notifications on this account! — @lilynottaken !

— CHAPTERS:

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

I ; Midnight ; [ 10.1k words ]

II ; Shadow ; [ 10k words ]

III ; Together ; [ 9.2k words ]

IV ; Refuge ; [ 11.2k words ]

V ; Resolution ; [ 8.4k words ]

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

— BLURBS + BRAINROT:

Brainrot tag !

How Simon would act if reader and Tommy got sick. ; [ Set after chapter 4! ]

How Simon would react to reader getting a text from her ex. ; [ Set after chapter 4! ]

How Simon would react to reader getting a boyfriend. ; [ Set after chapter 4! ]

Simon helps Reader get ready ; [ Set after chapter 5! ]

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

— EXTRA:

Tommy's age across the chapters!

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Astarion x Pregnant F! Reader) MDNI 18+ Part 2

CW: Smut, insecurities, pregnancy sex, PIV

Tag-list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @starstruck-mj-writings @divineknightmare

Part 1 is on my Masterlist :)

This is unedited because I’m tired 😂💜

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

“These are all truly terrible options, Darling,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “I feel like putting anyone in this should be considered abuse.”

You try and fail to suppress the laughter- covering your mouth with your hand when another woman shoots you a glare. You should regret dragging Astarion in here, but you don’t. He’s right- this place has absolutely nothing adorable and you hate shopping here. You are very happy he shares the same sentiment.

This was an unplanned stop in the grand scheme of the evening. Astarion had insisted on taking you on a date the moment you woke up this morning. When you went to protest and say, “I look like a beached whale, no”- you were thoroughly kicked by Eowyn.

You picked the name Eowyn together a little over a month after Astarion first arrived. It’s almost month 7 now and although Astarion missed out for a few months- your daughter and him are already peas in a pod.

You disagree with Astarion? Kick. If you pick a book that doesn’t interest him? Kick. You get hormonal, angry, and Astarion sounds even slightly sad? You bet you are gonna be running to the bathroom to throw up. She’s a spiteful fucking kid and you cannot catch a break. You are the one carrying her and yet!

You suppose you can’t blame her though. You don’t want to give him any reason to leave anymore than she does. You know Astarion won’t leave again, but that worry is also silently there.

“Darling,” Astarion whispers, “come look at this atrocity.”

Astarion scrunches up his nose and picks up one of the other baby outfits. He looks at you with a “really?” and shows you a piece of fabric fashioned into a onesie with “Selune Loves Me”. You don’t even bother to suppress your snort of laughter.

“I have a horrible feeling that Shadowheart will be buying that for Eowyn,” you sigh.

“Oh no- not if I can help it!” Astarion puts the onesie back (he even folds it), “our kid is going to be a raging atheist and I will have it no other way!”

“And if she decides to be a cleric or a paladin?”

Astarion grumbles a “well that’s different” under his breath. He opens the door for you and bows dramatically as you walk through it. Astarion’s smile is brighter than the sun when you giggle.

“I’m glad you are willing to support all possible life paths, Star,” you tease.

“I will eventually convince her to change her mind,” he muses, “we’ll begin putting swords and instruments in front of her and hope she turns out better than Volo.”

You huff at him and roll your eyes. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you continued the rest of your date.

***************************

You are laying in your bed- remaining absolutely still. Astarion seems like he is still sleeping?

Whatever sick fuck keeps adding spice into your life, has gifted you an incredibley real sex dream with Astarion. Again.

You told yourself you were going to behave- certainly not because you want to. It’s out of respect for Astarion and his boundaries. You don’t know what he’s been up to or if he would even want to while you look like this.

Oh wonderful- tears.

The hardest part of this whole pregnancy nonsense is that you don’t feel good about yourself or how you look. You didn’t necessarily have the best self esteem to start with, but your body changing in front of you almost every day wasn’t helping. You know your hips have gotten slightly wider and your breasts have gotten bigger. You try to be active as much as possible so you feel some control and you eat as healthy as you possibly can without lacking nutrients, but none of it felt like enough. You feel disgusting.

Your silent tears fall down your cheeks as you suppress your pitiful sniffling. If you close your eyes, you’ll eventually fall asleep. That’s what you usually do and that’s what you did when Astarion was gone. Sleep heals everything.

Maybe your body has finally had enough of pushing all of the discomfort back. All those feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and not like yourself are ripping you apart at the seams as they rush to your eyes.

You begin to move away from Astarion- deciding it would be better for you to sit in your little rocking chair and read for a bit. There is no reason to make yourself upset over something you can’t change. Your pregnancy will be over soon enough anyhow.

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice pierces the silence and his fingers are clinging to your shirt as if to keep you there.

You clear your throat, “yes my Star?”

“Where are you going?”

Astarion sounds incredibly worried. It’s been hard for him to see you when you are sick or when you are obviously picking yourself apart in the mirror. Astarion is constantly worrying about your vertigo and you walking around without him or Shadowheart to catch you.

You told him that his worry isn’t necessary and that you would let him know if you were feeling dizzy or like you were going to pass out. You don’t want to bring harm to yourself or your child.

“I know you know your body, Darling,” Astarion says with his shoulders slumped and a slight frown on his lips, “I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do, but please, my Love. I just found you again. I can’t even fathom the idea of-“

Astarion had broken down sobbing, then you began to cry, and then Eowyn was kicking so you caved and promised to let him know if you were leaving the room.

You roll over to look at him and his eyebrows raise in alarm. You hastily run the tears away and smile.

“I was just going to sit on the rocking chair.”

Astarion just squints at you and you avoid his gaze- looking up out the window.

“The moon is very pret-“

“Tav, why were you crying?”

Dammit. It’s the “I’m serious” Astarion voice.

“Oh uh,” you chuckle awkwardly, “I just had an interesting dream and it led to interesting thoughts- then TADA pregnancy hormones.”

Astarion flashes you a teasing smile before ghosting his lips over yours.

“Oh I am very aware of these ‘interesting’ dreams of yours, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me to re-enact a few.”

Your heart stops momentarily and you blink a couple times. There is no way you heard that correctly. You begin to tear up and Astarion’s brows furrow in concern.

“You don’t want that,” you say in a low voice, a stray tear rolls down your cheek, “I look disgusting.”

His lips are on yours in an instance- a whimper leaves your lips as you feel a warm stirring between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how desperately your body wants him- craves him. Being kissed like this by him again is a blessing.

“I wish you would stop trying to guess what I want when it comes to you,” he sighs against your lips, “and I wish you could see how beautiful you are- all the time.”

“My body has just changed so much- to me anyway,” you whisper, “I worry that I’m not attractive to you anymore.”

Astarion grabs your hand with his and guides you down to the front of his underwear- opening your hand so that you palm against his erection. You blush furiously when he forces your eyes to meet his with his other hand. His pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you anymore?”

“No,” you whisper shyly.

“I want you desperately,” he places a chaste kiss on your lips, “As I always have.”

You feel embarrassed by the sigh of relief that leaves your mouth upon his confession. You want to be with him this way so badly it hurts. You hesitantly wrap your leg around his hip and you pull him in for a kiss.

Astarion’s lips are soft against yours. You keep a slow pace- unsure of how far he would be willing to go.

You find out pretty quickly when you feel his hands find your underwear- tearing away the fabric completely. You pout against his lips playfully.

“I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs, my Love.”

“But-“

The breath leaves your body when you feel his fingers begin to play with your clit. Astarion roughly presses the pads of his fingers against your clit- the additional friction making you keen in pleasure.

Astarion starts to pull away and your hands find purchase in his hair- pulling him back to you. Your desperation spurs him on and your lips are crashing against each other at a fast pace.

You feel him pull you back by your hair, making you look at him- you open your mouth to protest, but then you feel one of his fingers slide into you. Astarion pushes himself all the way into you with his finger until his palm is teasing your already sensitive clit. He must realize how ready you are for him because he enters a second finger and then a third shortly after.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you are intoxicating and the way he is looking at you is even more so. Your moans are on display for him to see- Astarion’s hand in your hair has yet to loosen as he finger fucks you relentlessly.

“So good, so perfect,” he says, “and I’m the only one who will ever have the pleasure of breeding you.”

Astarion’s words rip something inside of you open- you begin to clench around his fingers hard as your climax sinks into your body. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

It probably is- if you are being entirely honest to yourself. Astarion looks ethereal under the moonlight that floods the room. His curls are mussed up a bit from sleep, his lips turned upward and slightly parted as he watched you be overtaken with pleasure.

Astarion leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and moves your hair out of your face. He sits up and pulls you onto his lap and traces the veins in your neck down to your collarbones. His hands meet in the middle to unlace your shirt all while making eye contact the entire time.

“Gods,” Astarion whispers as he kisses down your chest, “you are exquisite, my Love.”

You must have forgotten what it was like to be under Astarion’s lustful hands and loving gaze. Your dreams were nowhere like this.

You whine at the skin contact and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The feeling of his cold fingers running along your skin- how they tease and pinch your sensitive nipples. Astarion’s word of praise alone are enough to get you off.

“So needy.”

Astarion takes one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth- sucking and grazing it with his fangs. His other hand begins to trail downward as grinds his erection up into your unclothed, soaking folds.

“Have you missed me, Darling?” Astarion coos, “has no one else been able to make you feel this way since I’ve been gone?”

You know exactly what he is asking.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, “because my hands are nowhere as skilled as yours.”

Astarion’s laughter fills the air and your body with joy. His hand moves to release his erection from his underwear. You gasp at the sight and your hand immediately goes downwards- you feel him growl against your breast when you swipe your finger through some of his precum.

You look down and his eyes are on yours as you put your finger between your lips, licking it clean.

Astarion moves his attention from your breasts- pulling you by your hair down to his mouth so he can taste himself on you. The other hand lines him up with your entrance before pulling you down by your hips at the same time he thrusts upward.

You see stars as Astarion grazes that perfect spot inside of you. His hands had untangled from your hair a while ago, both of his hands guiding your hips down so that you continue to take his full length.

“Astar- I’m going to- fuck,” you cry out as his fingers find your clit again.

“You are going to what, my Dear? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” he says teasingly, his thrusts getting sloppier as you clench harder and harder.

“I- I,” your eyes roll in the back of your head as you pitch forward, putting your face in the crook of his neck. Your moans reverberate through the room- your voice is almost guttural from the intense amount of pleasure you are experiencing.

Astarion’s orgasm followed yours quickly- his moans coming out ragged and incoherent as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

You kiss his cheek, along his cheek bone, and then back until you are in the crook of his neck again.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on,” Astarion says fondly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Star,” your blissfully fucked body relaxes against his.

You don’t remember when you began to fall asleep or when Astarion repositioned you so that you were spooning. The only thing you can recall is Astarion kissing your shoulder, neck, and behind your ear while whispering his gratitude and love for you into your skin.

[tiannasfanfic]

Conviction

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

| Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: Life takes an unexpected turn when a one time fling with your best friend leads to an unplanned pregnancy. Will years of friendship be enough to build a solid marriage off of...or are you destined for heartbreak due to a wandering eye like the town rumor mill predicts?

Rating: Explicit 18+

Author Note: Afab Reader, no pronouns used. Angst with a happy ending.

CW: Town gossip; bullying; unplanned pregnancy (no details); marriage; mentions of cheating; mentions of alcohol use; smut (p in v, fingering, kissing, dirty talk); consensual role play of a non-con situation.

Word Count: 8,332

Eddie Munson Taglist: @eddie-swhore

con·vic·tion - noun: a firmly held belief or opinion.

If you were to ask the people in Hawkins, life for you and Eddie Munson turned out exactly how they expected.

Eddie was branded an outcast while he was a child thanks to his dad. Edward Munson Sr had long been known in Hawkins as a hard-working criminal. Your car was stolen? The cops always checked out Munson’s place first. While no one blamed Eddie for his father’s mistakes, no one really wanted their kids to be around the son of a no-good common criminal either. It honestly surprised no one when Ed was finally put away for a long time due to car theft, which led to his parental rights being transferred to Wayne.

But despite Eddie going into his uncle’s care, the unfair reputation he’d gained during childhood followed along after him. He wasn’t a bad kid, by any means, nor did he get in much trouble. But once the town thinks of someone a certain way, it’s hard for them to break free of that. And, by this point, he’d taken a liking to heavy metal and playing the guitar, which further cemented his outcast status in their minds. Then his interest in fantasy led him to D&D, which led to the rumors of Satan worshiping. He evolved from being seen as just a mere outcast into a full-blown freak by the time he hit high school.

You, on the other hand, managed to fly under the towns radar for quite some time. While the two of you met the year before middle school and became fast friends, people only began to notice how your close friendship was during sophomore year. That’s when a spotlight finally found its way over to you. The rumor mill went absolutely crazy. Even though you weren’t dating Eddie, and this was a known fact, that didn’t really matter to anyone. You got labeled as his and the bullying began almost immediately.

After a while, Eddie tried to save you by severing the friendship, and made a big production of it in the cafeteria, much to your horror. But the damage had already been done. The teasing only got worse when people thought he’d grown tired of you. You weren’t even good enough for the freak, they said. It ended up being a miserable two months for both of you before you finally reconciled your friendship. Fortunately, the whole thing brought you two even closer together afterwards.

After that, the town knew exactly what was going to happen to you two. They predicted Eddie would have you knocked up before senior year and that you’d drop out of school. They seemed split on what would happen after that though. Some said Eddie would run off right away and leave you a single mom. Others said he would stay but would cheat and run off on you later, leaving you a single mom. They were quite surprised when you graduated high school without a baby in tow.

Since people in town didn’t expect Eddie to amount to anything, it surprised no one when he had to repeat his senior year twice. They felt vindicated in their beliefs when it was rumored Eddie was dealing drugs. The murder charges were a bit of a surprise, but nothing actually changed in the way the town thought of him once he was absolved of those. Eddie was still an outcast and a freak, just not one that was wanted for murder.

But that Spring Break led to everything changing between the two of you.

Once his name was in the clear and he had graduated, Eddie’s new group of friends combined with his old ones to throw him a party to celebrate. Everyone was able to cut loose and relax at Steve Harrington’s huge house, so a fun time was had by all. Sometime during the night, feeling both happy and a bit on the horny side, you made a drunken pass at Eddie. His response was favorable, which led to a romp in the back of his van.

It was an impulsive thing, nothing that had been planned or talked about or even thought about beforehand. Neither of you had really spoke about it afterwards, which you took as an unspoken agreement. It was a onetime thing, a moment of physical connection fueled by alcohol and a much-needed reminder that you both made it out of everything alive.

Three weeks later, a little white stick turned blue.

Once the shock wore off after a few days, Eddie became determined to do the right thing. He asked you to marry him. Not knowing what else to do, but knowing he was a good man and you could do much worse, you said yes.

That first eight months of your relationship was a whirlwind. Between planning and executing a small courthouse wedding, getting ready for the baby, and the pregnancy itself, you two didn’t get the opportunity to breathe much less get to enjoy each other’s company and feel each other out as a couple.

Once the baby was born, a baby boy you two named Eddie Wayne, life only got crazier.

Now that the expenses for a baby were added into the budget, money got tight with there only being one income in the house. Childcare was too expensive to justify you working, so Eddie picked up as much extra work as he could, working even longer hours at the garage where he was a mechanic. It was the only way to keep up with bills, but this meant he was away from home even more, sometimes not getting home until well after you and Eddie Wayne were already asleep.

And that was how it quietly went for almost two years. You kept up with everything in the house and the baby, and Eddie brought home the paycheck. It was a routine you both fell into, barely seeing and talking to each other except in passing, even on his rare days off. While you missed your best friend and the friendship you had before, you thought this was just how life went for new parents.

But then the people in town started to notice how often Eddie wasn’t at the house. People saw his van parked up at the garage until all hours. People noticed how you two were rarely seen together anymore.

And so, the rumor mill started up again.

Your relationship was on the rocks, they said. You two had grown apart, they said. You both were too young, they said. It was only a matter of time before this happened, they said.

You did your best to ignore it, like you always did.

But as the months went on though, you noticed the random looks you normally got from strangers became increasingly sympathetic looking. You noticed people whispering around you more. Then, oddly, people actually began approaching you to speak with you. It wasn’t idle chitchat, like you do when you bump into someone, but instead were asking you specific questions about how you were and how life was going. They seemed to be checking in on you with genuine concern, though that was a bit baffling since no one had bothered to care about you before now. You kept the interactions polite but couldn’t help wonder what their ulterior motive was.

It wasn’t long before you finally heard the big rumor that was prompting such a response from people.

Eddie was cheating on you.

They said that’s really why he was up at the garage so late, said it was the only place he could get away with it since you were always home. They said he actually had several girlfriends on the side, and never had to be with the same one twice in one week. And his poor wife, they said. Stuck at home with her head in the sand, blissfully ignorant to her husband’s nightly activities.

It angered you at first. Not what they were saying, but why they were saying it. It struck you as petty and juvenile. You couldn’t help but wonder if they had anything better to do, if their lives were really so dull that they had to focus on yours instead. Despite the way you two ended up together, you doubted Eddie would actually cheat on you. Eddie Munson was many things, but a cheat in any capacity had never been among them. The town was always wrong about him before, and they were definitely wrong about this.

But as the weeks went on, the rumors persisted and you heard them more, it began to gnaw at you. And, once the shred of doubt was planted in your mind, it steadily grew into suspicion and paranoia. You really didn’t want to believe it, but now you had a little voice in your head asking you, what if? It’s not like you were up at the garage to really know what was going on. And why would they be saying it so much if it wasn’t true, if someone hadn’t seen something for sure? The more time that passed, the more it drove you crazy and the more the very idea began to hurt.

You began to really pay attention and notice things after that. Whenever you tried to engage Eddie in conversation, his responses were always short and to the point. He didn’t talk about his day and didn’t really ask about yours except for things relating to Eddie Wayne. While there may have been distance between you two, Eddie never stopped doting on his son.

And the distance was clear now that you really thought about it. There wasn’t even that much affection between you two. He barely touched you and sex was a rarity. Often weeks would pass before one of you would initiate it, and, even then, it seemed halfhearted and tired. It felt more like a routine rather than something either of you really wanted to do. Even the kiss he gave you before leaving every morning was brief and chaste, given without hardly a glance as he did it.

One thing piled up on top of the other in your brain until one afternoon when the gnawing paranoia finally bit down and made you snap to attention. It wasn’t anything big or out of the ordinary that caused it. It was a Saturday afternoon and Eddie called you to let you know he’d be staying at work well past closing. He didn’t give specifics, just that he needed to get some things finished and that you shouldn’t wait up for him.

This kind of thing happened all the time, but you decided you couldn’t take the suspicion any longer. It felt more like you were more roommates than spouses by this point, and it was eating away at you. You had to find out if the rumors were true.

You knew getting into the garage to surprise him wouldn’t be hard. A long time ago, Eddie had proven himself trustworthy enough for the owner to give him his own key to the place, as well as a spare to keep at home. While Eddie always had his key with him, you knew where the spare was since you’ve had to take it up there to Eddie a couple times when he accidentally locked his keys inside the building. With that in hand, you’d have no problem getting in after closing without having to give Eddie a heads up.

But, at the same time, your gut was telling you to be cautious and think this through carefully. A large part of you was still convinced your husband wouldn’t betray you like that. He had been your best friend for years and had never tried to deliberately hurt you before. You didn’t want to just barge in and interrupt your husband at his job with accusations flying when all you had to go on was the town gossip. You wanted to have an actual excuse for going up there if this all turned out to be nothing.

Since Eddie Wayne was a little over 18 months old at this point, Uncle Wayne had been offering to keep him overnight sometime so you and Eddie could have an evening alone together. He was overjoyed when you called to finally take him up on that offer and he picked up his grandson for a sleepover shortly afterwards.

Once your son was off with his grandpa, you got a quick dinner made. It wasn’t anything fancy, just spaghetti with a small splurge of meatballs, but it was something cheap and easy that you and Eddie both loved. You made two lunch containers of it, then stored the rest of the leftovers away in the fridge. You packed up both lunch containers, some silverware, and napkins into a paper sack, and then headed up to the garage where Eddie worked.

On your way there, the nerves started building. You were nauseous with them by the time you pulled into the parking lot. You identified Eddie’s van right away, but as you got out of your car, you realized there was no way to tell if he was alone before you went inside. The parking lot was half full of vehicles, and you had no way of knowing which ones were there to be worked on, or if any of them belonged to a late-night visitor.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to prepare yourself for anything as best you could and let yourself into the front door.

There was no bell overhead to announce your presence as you walked inside, so your arrival was thankfully quiet. It wouldn’t have really mattered had there been a bell though, you could hear music drifting into the reception area from an open door behind the counter that led to the garage area proper. You could hear a song from Megadeth’s latest album drifting into the room.

Following the sound of the music, you stepped through the door out into the garage. You couldn’t see much since most of the bays had a vehicle in it and it was dark The only light you could see was coming from the far end of the building, near the back wall by the office.

You carefully made your way through the semi dark garage, being careful not to trip on any stray hoses or tools. As you got closer to the light and music, you still couldn’t see anything thanks to a few stacks of tires and a large, upright toolbox. But once you stepped around those though, you got a full, unobstructed view of the very last vehicle bay.

And what you saw made you stop in your tracks.

There was a Jeep was parked in that last bay, with its hood up and a light clamped onto it. Eddie was bent over under the hood at an awkward angle, trying not to get in his own light and stretched out as if trying to reach something at the very back. It was really hot here at the back of the garage, so Eddie had the top half of his coveralls down around his waist. He’d also shed the wife beater he normally wore under the coveralls, leaving him completely shirtless. His skin had a heavy sheen of sweat on it, and he was flushed from being under the hot work light. He’d gotten grease and dirt on his back from being under the Jeep, but rather than make him look dirty, the grime seemed to contour and enhance the lean muscle lines of his back.

Your jaw dropped a little, eyes widening.

Eddie stood up then and turned towards a wheeled cart he had next to him at the front of the Jeep, scowling at the wrench he was holding. Oblivious to the fact he was being watched, he started rooting through the various sized sockets on the cart, his brow furrowed slightly as he compared the sizes to the one he had on the wrench originally. The tip of his tongue was slightly poking out from one corner of his mouth, which is how you could tell when Eddie was really concentrating.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took him in from the front.

His hair was pulled back in a chaotic mess of a bun, his black bandana rolled up and wrapped around his forehead to keep sweat out of his eyes. Drops of sweat trailed down Eddie’s chest and stomach and your eyes couldn’t help but follow one as it rolled down the center of his abdomen. The top half of his coveralls were weighing down the bottom half, making them sag a bit in the front. This pulled them down just enough to display the front of his hips, the trim V cut of his lower abdomen on full display and perfectly framing the start of a dark happy trail that disappeared down into his front of pants.

In all of the chaos and stress of life, the turmoil of being new parents and newlyweds simultaneously, and all of the major change’s life had thrown at you two in such a short amount of time…

You had forgotten exactly how fucking gorgeous your husband is.

All you could do was stand there and gawk at him. The reason for your visit not entirely forgotten, but, for the moment, at the very back of your mind. It wouldn’t hurt to keep letting him work so you could admire the view for a little longer.

Eddie finally gave up trying to find the socket he was looking for on the cart and turned towards the upright toolbox. Halfway to it, he finally looked up to see you standing next to it. He screamed in surprise, dropping the wrench and socket he was holding as he jumped backwards. This in turn scared the hell out of you, making you scream and jump in surprise yourself.

Thankfully, you did not drop the food.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, wide eyed and breathing heavy after the jump scare you just gave each other.

And then, quite suddenly and unexpected, the distance you had been feeling between you two disappeared.

You both burst into laughing fits at exactly the same moment. It was that deep, soul cleansing laughter that’s sometimes needed just as much as a good cry. Eddie nearly doubled over, body shaking as he tried to get control of it. You felt your stress and anxiety melt away as tears sprang from your eyes.

As your tension and worry eased, a forgotten memory flashed through your mind from your senior year, which had been Eddie’s first. It was right after Hellfire let out and, since you didn’t have a car at the time, you had hurried to get home before it started raining. Unfortunately, after a brief trip to the restroom, you got outside only to discover it was pouring and everyone, but Eddie had already left. When you went back inside to ask him for a ride, you scared the hell out of each other then laughed about it, much like this.

Presently, Eddie scooped up the wrench he dropped, then went back to the cart to turn off his music. Then he turned to you.

“Jesus Christ, Princess!” he said, his voice filled with humor, and then he dramatically started clutching at his chest. “You could’ve given me a heart attack!”

“I’m so sorry, babe,” you said, giggling at his theatrics as you wiped tears from your eyes. “I wasn’t trying to kill you, I swear.”

His eyes looked down near your feet, then behind you, brow slightly furrowing in confusion.

“Where’s our little man?” he asked, and you realized he was looking for Eddie Wayne’s car seat or stroller.

“With his grandpa for the night,” you smiled at Eddie, then danced a little in place. “I’ve got the whole evening to myself.”

“Yeah?” he smiled at you softly as he finally made his way over to the toolbox, resuming his search for the correct sized socket. “Then what’s a beautiful girl like you doing messing around in a filthy place like this?”

Even now after all these years of knowing Eddie, whenever he was relaxed enough to fall into his old flirtatious demeanor with you, it still made your heart race just as much as it did back in school.

You briefly held up the paper bag you were holding and gave it just enough of a shake to make the silverware inside rattle around.

“I was just stopping by with some food for my amazing husband so we could have dinner together,” you explained, then a playful smile came to your face. “But then when I saw you, I couldn’t help but get distracted and forget my manners.”

You don’t know why you chose that wording in particular. It just popped into your head and seemed like a fun thing to say in light of how he just caught you staring at him like some love-struck teenager.

The irony of it wasn’t lost on you though. Here you were, down at your husband’s work for the sole purpose of seeing if he was cheating on you, but now here you were flirting with him as if he were just some random hot guy you were thirsting after rather than your actual husband.

While this wasn’t like any of the scenarios you had pictured in your head while on the drive over, you weren’t complaining. Scaring each other and the laughter that followed had put you in a relaxed, easygoing state. It was the perfect mood to put you in the mindset to flirt a little heavy handedly with Eddie.

His head lifted a little so he could look up at you, one brow raised in curiosity. He took you in for a moment, as if trying to figure out what your game here was. But then a playful glimmer came to his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a while.

He stood up straight, dropping the wrench he was holding into the open drawer of the toolbox with a clatter.

“Can’t say I was expecting anyone to come by tonight,” he said, dusting his hands off as he looked you over with an intense gaze that made your cheeks flush. “But you’re more than welcome to wait around in the office, see if he turns up. I’ll get washed up, then come keep you company.”

With a wink, Eddie began to head for the sink at in the corner of the garage.

You couldn’t help but blush slightly, then made your way into the office.

The small room was cramped and served as the office and break room. It contained a ratty couch against one wall with a coffee table in front of it, a table against the opposite wall that held a microwave and coffee maker, a desk near the window at the back of the room, and a full-sized refrigerator in the corner. There wasn’t much on the desk aside from extra office supplies but considering what Eddie has said about the owner rarely coming in, that wasn’t surprising.

Forgetting about the flirty banter since you thought that was over with for the night, you started to get dinner laid out for the two of you. You knew it would take Eddie awhile to get his hands and arms scrubbed clean like it always did, and that would give you plenty of time to get everything ready. After warming up the food and finding two sodas in the fridge, you arranged everything on the coffee table so that you two could sit on the couch together while you ate.

Right as you finished setting out the silverware, you heard the office door click shut and the lock twist into place. Smiling, you stood up and turned, your mouth opening in preparation to tease him about how long it always takes him to clean up. Before any words could leave your mouth though, Eddie’s lips crashed into yours in a deep, hungry kiss.

It felt like he was trying to devour you whole, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you before you had the chance to react. You gasped in surprise as his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you tightly to him. Once the surprise wore off though, your response was just as eager, lips moving with his to make the kiss even more intense. Your arms went around his neck, and you pulled him in closer. You softly bit his tongue and Eddie groaned into your mouth, his hips pushing forward against yours. Already you could feel him getting hard in his coveralls.

Since he responded to your choice of words so well, you decided to keep the little game going. You slid your hand up from the back of his neck into his hair and grasped a handful of it. Gently tugging, you used it to pull his head back away from you. He groaned as his lips left yours, letting his head move easily along with the pull.

“I told you I’m a married woman,” you said softly, lips inches from his. “What would my husband think if he were to walk through that door right now?”

It seemed like Eddie was enjoying the game now as much as you were. A tremble went through his body, and one hand slid down from your back to your ass, taking it in a firm hold. He pulled your hips even more firmly against his. Your grip loosened in his hair, and he tilted his head down to look into your eyes.

“Door’s locked up tight, Princess,” he said, his voice low and husky, with a slightly threatening tone woven in. “And no one’s getting through. It’s just you and me now.”

Holding onto you so you wouldn’t trip, Eddie started to walk you backwards. You gave no resistance, letting him lead you until you came to a stop against the edge of the desk. Your bodies were jostled a bit at the impact, your legs inadvertently opening into a wider stance. Eddie claimed the newly empty space by quickly stepping forward to stand between your legs. The firm press of his body against yours made you start to teeter backwards, but his arms squeezed your body tightly to his own, keeping you upright so didn’t fall back onto the desk quite yet.

“Please,” you whimpered, playing up the role of a helpless damsel by letting your head fall back, which only made Eddie bury his face in your neck. “My heart belongs only to him!”

The way you two were standing against the desk put him just at the right angle to grind himself against your entrance. Even through your jeans and his bulky coveralls, you could now feel exactly how much Eddie was liking this little role play with you. His cock was close to rock hard. The feeling of him pressed against you made you bite your lip, and you found yourself suddenly have to swallow a moan as he rolled his hips into yours with purpose. He had caused the seam of your jeans to bear down on your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Your legs jerked a little on either side of Eddie as he did it again, knees quivering as little bursts of electricity traveled through your body from the contact. He was quick to respond, stooping down quickly to pick you up by the backs of your thighs and set you up on the very edge of the desk.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rumbly and low as the tip of his tongue flicked out over the skin on the side of your neck as if he were tasting you. “If it’s only your heart that belongs to him, then your body is all mine for the taking.”

Eddie grazed his teeth on your neck, making you gasp and grip your fingers into his hair again. Falling further into the role, you slipped your other hand between your bodies to rest your palm flat against his chest in a playful attempt to push him away. At this point, Eddie had a firm grip on you and was steadily rocking his hips into yours, grinding his hardness into you over your clothes.

You tried again to push him away again, this time adding just a little bit more force into it. As you did that, your fingers tightened down again in his hair, attempting to pull his head away from you like before.

This time, Eddie wasn’t having it.

He pulled away from you of his own accord, but only just enough that he could grab ahold of your wrists, one in each hand. Keeping a tight hold on you, he then threw you backwards onto the desk, holding your hands above your head as he leaned down over you. You cried out in surprise as you landed. With your ass now hanging halfway off the edge of the desk, the sudden movement of your body caused your legs to lift as your body rocked backwards. You took advantage of this by hooking them around Eddie’s hips, trapping him against you as much as you were trapped against him. He grinned down at you, and you bit your lip to keep from grinning back.

After shifting your wrists so he could hold them in one hand, Eddie ran the tips of fingers all the way down your arm until he reached your chest. He softly squeezed one of your tits, playing with it for a moment, before continuing further down between your bodies, not stopping until he reached the front of your pants. Keeping eye contact with you, he slowly started working the buttons of your jeans open one handed.

“That’s it now, be a good girl and just lay back for me,” he cooed down at you, the tone of his voice almost sinful the way it turned you on. “Lay back and I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.”

As the last button on your jeans came open, you felt his hand slide into the opening of the denim, fingers caressing the fabric of your underwear.

You let your eyes drift open more, looking up at him and finally taking in his full expression. Eddie’s face was a mask of lust, his dilated eyes intent as he gazed down at you.

You could tell he was close to letting go. That fact alone was enough to make you even more excited. Your sex life with Eddie had never really been that wild, if you were being honest. There hadn’t been too many times that he had really let go of himself while being intimate with you. The first time in his van, the first time after giving birth once you’d healed, and a couple of random times after Eddie had gone out for a few drinks with the guys. You enjoyed the hell out of it every single time and only wished it happened more often.

This was definitely an opportunity you couldn’t pass up.

Jutting your chin out, you lifted your head up in a prideful way as you playfully glared into his eyes.

“Do what you will to me,” you said with a defiant tone. “But the only name I’ll be screaming tonight is Eddie’s.”

The grin that spread across Eddie’s face at that made your heart nearly stop.

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, then leaned down so his lips were just an inch from yours. “I’m fully counting on that.”

You weren’t given the chance to reply.

Eddie brought his lips down on yours, the kiss every bit as deep and intense as before. There was no pause this time before you were returning it, your mouth eagerly opening for his. You captured his bottom lip in your teeth, not biting hard enough to draw blood but more to make sure you had his full attention.

But you didn’t have to worry about that. As your teeth were sinking into Eddie’s lip, two of his fingers were slipping past your underwear to pull them aside. His grunt at the feeling of your bite was met by a soft moan from you as he ran his fingers through your folds and began teasing your entrance.

“Always so wet for me,” he muttered against your lips, sounding more like he was talking to himself.

Any reply to you could have given would’ve been lost on your tongue as Eddie slid his middle finger into you. It met no resistance, your wetness easily letting him slide in up to the third knuckle. Since you were already so worked up, he didn’t have to build up to it before starting to finger you at a steady pace. Your eyes closed as you moaned, head tilting back to give him access once again to your neck. He eagerly took advantage of this, his lips coming down to start kissing and sucking on the exposed skin. You could tell just from the pressure that he was deliberately marking you up.

Then, as he licked across the front of your throat to start making his way to the other side of your neck, he stopped the motions of his hand for just a second in order to sink a second finger into you.

You gasped, moaning loudly as your legs tightened around him to hold yourself in that position. He moved his fingers at the same steady pace, his lips sucking at this side of your neck now to leave marks that would match the ones now on the other side.

Being with Eddie as infrequently as you were made it was easy to forget just how good in bed he was. Even the halfhearted and tired sex that was the normal with him was far better than anyone else you’d been with. It wasn’t until this very moment as he curled his fingers inside you that you realized just how pent up you’d been. Getting yourself off for the last few weeks hadn’t cut it as much as you’d thought.

Thanks to the slow pace he had to keep due to the confines of your jeans, the heel of his hand was rubbing against your clit with every inward thrust of his fingers. It didn’t take long before your orgasm built, and you were about to crest its edge.

Right when your inner walls started to tighten around his fingers, Eddie ripped his hand out of your jeans and pulled himself completely away from you. You gasped, clenching around nothing, and aching from the denied orgasm.

“E-Eddie, please,” you gasped, near tears as your body lay trembling on the desk.

“M’sorry, I need you,” he panted, taking ahold of the waist band of your jeans. “Need to feel you clenching around me. Been way too long.”

Eddie quickly pulled your pants and underwear down your legs at the same time. Your shoes slipped off easily when he pulled them off, and the entire bundle was quickly discarded to the office floor. He stepped forward to stand between your legs again, his warm hands caressing your now bare thighs.

A soft sigh left your lips as he touched you, then you watched as he took one hand away to start working himself free of the coveralls. Eddie ended up struggling with them for a moment, having to really work to get one more button undone before he was finally able to push them down past his ass. You leaned up a bit on your forearms, watching as his boxers went next and his hard cock sprang free to lay along your slit.

You couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling, still sensitive from being so close to orgasm. He gave two slow rolls of his hips, dragging the length of his cock across your clit and electing a high-pitched cry from you. Eddie grasped the base of his cock then and tapped the leaking tip on your clit, making you jump slightly, before he slowly began dragging the head through your wet folds. You whimpered, your hips arching up off the desk towards him. He pushed you back down with one hand while he lined himself up with the other. With a slow, firm movement of his hips, Eddie’s hard length began to slide into your cunt.

A loud cry of pleasure left you as your head thumped back on the desk. Since he took his time, you could feel every inch of him. He paused halfway, shifting his stance, and lifting one of your legs higher around his torso before pushing in the rest of the way. You both groaned deeply at the feeling of him bottoming out. It had indeed been too long, your body had to adjust to him again. Luckily, it only took a moment, and as soon as Eddie felt you begin to relax, he began to move.

He started out with slow, but deep, thrusts, dragging his cock through your throbbing heat. You moaned, panting as you clutched at the opposite edge of the desk just above your head. Forcing yourself to keep your eyes open, you watched him as he stared open mouthed at where your bodies met, transfixed by the sight of his cock disappearing into your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he moaned suddenly, a shudder going through his body as he spoke. “S-so fucking hot. H-How’d I get so lucky?”

Eddie paused briefly to shift his stance and to move your leg up higher, over his shoulder even. Gripping your hips with both hands, he began thrusting with renewed purpose. This new angle had his cock hitting even deeper than before. You gasped as the head rubbed against your most sensitive places, including that one rough, spongy area that always made your toes curl.

“Fuck, God, Eddie, right there!” you screamed, already at the edge again. “I-I’m gonna cum!”

Not stopping this time, Eddie’s thrusting became faster, more frantic. One hand moved from your hip to slide between you, and he started rubbing circles around your clit with his thumb. You moaned a string of curses, feeling yourself starting to clench around his cock.

“J-Jesus, that’s it,” Eddie panted, leaning over so he had one hand resting flat on the desk next to your head, the other rubbing your clit faster. “Fuck! Cum for me, squeeze my cock with that tight cunt of yours.”

That was all it took to send you careening over the edge. You threw your head back and screamed as your orgasm washed over you, your cunt clamping down around him just as he wanted. Eddie wasn’t far behind, his thrusting growing erratic before he was cussing and groaning your name. With how sensitive you were, you swore you could feel his cock pulsing, then spurting as he came, painting your insides with his full load.

Eddie tried to fuck you both through your orgasms, but he had gotten too sensitive. It really had been too long. After a soft gasp that sounded close to a yelp, his motions stilled. Still buried deep inside you, his body trembled just as much as yours did as you both came down from your highs.

Once he had caught his breath, he moved to gently lower your leg from his shoulder to around his waist but stayed inside you. Leaning over, he bent down to you, one hand softly cupping the side of your face as he kissed you. The kiss was warm, tender; a loving contrast to the primal fucking that just occurred. He kissed you a few more times before sliding out of you and helping you up.

You both were giggling as you got dressed, grinning like idiots at each other and blushing. It was as if you were kids again and had just gotten away with doing something very bad. Which, technically, you did, you supposed. After all, having sex on the boss’s desk probably wasn’t looked highly upon, no matter the circumstances.

With appetites worked up, you both finally dug into dinner, with Eddie dramatically moaning in pleasure at the first few bites before you fell into an easy conversation. Eddie asked what you and Eddie Wayne got up to that day. You told him all about everything your son did, then he surprised you by asking specifically how your day was. He surprised you again when you asked Eddie about his day, and he actually started talking about it. That was a first. You had to ask a few questions here and there when he used a term you didn’t understand, but it was all pretty interesting.

Suddenly, in the middle of a story, Eddie broke himself off and smiled sheepishly at you.

“Sorry, Princess,” he said, looking like he was afraid you might be annoyed. “I know you don’t understand most of this. That’s why I try not to talk much about work.”

You blinked a few times in surprise, then shook your head.

“No, Eddie,” you said, looking at him warmly. “I love hearing about your day. If I don’t get something, I’ll ask about it if I’m curious enough.”

Relief came over Eddie’s features and he leaned over to give you a soft kiss.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence then as you ate. But that gave your brain the opportunity to go back to the original reason for your visit. Once it was back at the forefront of your mind, it began to gnaw at you once again, even in your post sex bliss.

Knowing this wouldn’t go away on its own, you decided it was time to just address it directly. The town could say what they wanted and didn’t need to know your business, but the air needed to be clear between the two of you, at least.

“So, I’ve been hearing a new rumor about you around town,” you said, keeping the tone of your voice playful, just like any other time you’ve filled him in on the latest gossip about yourselves. “And it’s a really juicy one this time, too.”

“Yeah?” he said, quirking a brow at you as he chewed a bite of food. “Do tell.”

You felt your nerves come up but didn’t let it show. Instead, you looked around conspiratorially and leaned closer to Eddie. Playing along, Eddie leaned closer to you too, tilting his ear towards you to listen. You cupped his ear with one hand, as if trying to keep a secret

“Word around the campfire,” you whispered, pausing for dramatic effect. “Is that you’re fucking around on me.”

Eddie snort laughed so hard he ended up choking on his own spit. As he lapsed into a coughing fit and you pounded him on the back, you couldn’t help but feel relieved already just based on his reaction.

“Those old bats, I swear,” he finally said, gasping for air as he wiped the tears from coughing off his cheeks. “I don’t have the energy to see you nearly as much as I’d like, much less the time to work in a side piece.” He paused to take a bite and continued on as he chewed. “When do they think I have the time? When I’m able to sleep? No thanks. I like what little sleep I do get.”

It was so casual the way Eddie spoke, not even thinking about what he was saying. There was no filter behind those words, nothing but the straight, stream of conscious Thoughts by Eddie. And so, it hit you straight in the heart, making it skip around a few times.

“That’s a very good point,” you said, unable to stop yourself from chuckling at yourself for even entertaining the idea seriously.

Eddie chuckled, then looked over at you with a grin.

“They say the same thing about you, you know,” he said, then took another bite as he watched for your reaction.

Now it was your turn to choke, though you choked on your food, and Eddie pounded you on the back until you got through it.

“For real?” you asked once the coughing fit was over. “When did those start?”

“Not too long after the wedding,” he replied, grabbing your soda to hand it to you. “Apparently, you’ve been fucking anyone they see come around the house, including the mailman, since day one.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. That was a new one on you. It certainly explained some of the flat glares and head shakes you’d occasionally gotten since you two got married. You never paid much attention to them when it happened, thinking it was about something stupid.

As it turns out, you were right.

“As if I’d really cheat on the guy I’ve been crushing on since the sixth grade,” you scoffed, then took a drink of your soda. “There would be no sense in it. Besides that, pretty much like you said, when would I have the ti-“

“Wait, what?”

You looked over at Eddie to find him staring at you with a shocked expression and his fork halfway to his mouth.

“What?” you asked, not sure what he was asking about.

Eddie tossed the fork into his bowl, set it on the table and turned to you.

“We’ve been married for,” he said, then stopped to think for a moment. “Just over two years now and this is the first I’m hearing about you having a crush on me?”

You blinked at him in surprise, your eyebrows going up.

“I didn’t figure it mattered once we were married,” you said, shrugging. “We’re together now, so I didn’t think it needed to be said.”

The expression of shock on Eddie’s face would’ve been funny had you not known it was completely genuine.

“Princess, that would’ve been really helpful to know a long time ago,” he said, the tone of his voice incredulous and slightly shaky. “I’ve spent these past two years worried about if I really made you happy. I honestly keep wondering if you really want to be with me, or if you only agreed to marrying me because you didn’t want the stigma of being a single mom on top of being the town freak’s whore.”

There was no trace of cruelty in his voice since Eddie wasn’t calling you that name to be mean. That was something people started calling you near the end of junior year. By senior year, it had stuck, and you got called it every day until graduation. Some of the old bullies still liked to shout it at you when they saw you out. It was part of the reason why you didn’t like to leave the house most days unless you absolutely had to for errands.

“Admittedly, that thought did cross my mind,” you said, then sat your own bowl on the table to turn to him. “But I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t really want to marry you, baby or no. If you were the type of man that would’ve made me miserable, I’d still be at my parents’ house.”

The smile that came to Eddie’s face then could’ve lit up the entire garage. One of his hands came up to softly stroke the side of your face as he gazed at you fondly.

“And I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t truly want to,” he said. “Baby or no.”

You moved one hand to rest it on his leg, giving it a soft squeeze, as he leaned in to kiss you.

As the kiss gradually started to ramp up from loving to more intense, Eddie pulled away slightly, looking at you with a worried expression.

“Does this mean I can touch you more?” he asked, sounding unsure of himself suddenly as he started to ramble. “I thought you didn’t really want me to, so I never do, but, god, it’s all I’ve wanted to do since ninth grade, and I want to so much it drives me fucking crazy sometimes.”

Your cheeks blushed a bright pink at Eddie’s admission. It was a good feeling knowing he desired you as much as you did him, and your heart soared knowing he felt as deeply for you too. This hadn’t been a marriage of convenience for either of you, after all.

Taking his face in both of your hands, you pulled him in for a soft kiss, pulling back at the end to gaze into his eyes.

“Baby, you’ve always been able touch me,” you said softly. “Whenever you want and in whatever way you want.”

A grin spread across Eddie’s face, the glint you saw out in the garage coming back to his eyes. His hands found their way up to your shoulders and he pushed you onto your back on the couch. Climbing on top of you less than a second later, he laid himself between your legs, his lips finding their way to yours once again.

Like always, the town rumors about Eddie had turned out to be nothing more than falsehoods thanks to bored rumor mongering. There was absolutely nothing wrong with your marriage apart from the fact neither of you had properly communicating your needs and desires. And that was something both of you recognized now. The two of you made a vow to each other that very night, right there on his boss’s couch, promising to be more open with your feelings and thoughts.

And, as it turns out, you were given the opportunity to put those newfound communication skills to the test soon enough. When you left the garage that night, you left with more than just hearts in your eyes and very sore legs.

Just over three weeks later, another little white stick turned blue.

Oh, how the rumor mill had a field day with that one.

[mysteria157]

Fic Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Female Reader

Genre: Fluffy Smutty Romance, Unplanned Pregnancy/Sort of Enemies to Lovers AU

CW: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Baby Daddy Nanami Kento, Unplanned Pregnancy, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, MINORS DNI

Summary: 

You probably shouldn’t have slapped him.

But you didn’t care. He deserved it after days of dismissive remarks and hard glares to everything you worked so hard for.

“I’m pregnant. I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. The fact that you’re the father is more than enough to keep me away from you.”

or: Despite your differences and frustrations with one another, you share a drunk but passionate night tangled in the sheets. But now, five weeks later, you and Nanami Kento have no choice but to navigate a rocky relationship while also embracing the new responsibilities of parenthood that lay ahead.

Author’s Notes: This is my very first fic and a WIP. I have two more chapters left. This entire process has been a journey and there will always be things that I can improve on. But for now, please enjoy. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I love writing it! <3

~Those Moments In Between - moments that take place during and after It Had To Be You.~

Chapter Summaries:

Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. Feel free to leave a comment to let me know your thoughts. Or send me a message if you want! Love you all <3

Chapter 1: Your life comes to a startling halt when you realize the abrasive and dismissive man you shared a passionate but drunken night with is now the father of your child.

Chapter 2: That first day when you meet him, you’re bright eyed and ready to work alongside him, filled with so many ideas that will benefit the company. Him, Nanami Kento, a highly esteemed director that always made your stomach flip in desire. But it turns out, he’s not what you thought. Flashback

Chapter 3: When it comes to work, Nanami likes to follow a specific code for people like you. And he would like to think it’s working so far. But one too many drinks and things change. Flashback

Chapter 4: When you think you’re a step ahead to keep Nanami out of your way, your world comes crashing down and makes it harder for you to decide to break the news.

Chapter 5: You want nothing to do with him. Nanami wants to make the right decision. 

Chapter 6: You catch subtle glimpses of another side of Nanami. You both come together to meet the life you have created together. A traumatic part of your life makes itself known. 

Chapter 7: Pregnancy hormones get the best of you. You are given a big opportunity in your company. But it’s not what it seems.

Chapter 8: You deal with the fallout. An unexpected visitor puts your life in jeopardy. Nanami tries to pick up the pieces. 

Chapter 9: You make a life change and show a side of yourself that you never wanted to entertain. Nanami asks you to dinner. 

Chapter 10: You catch a glimpse of the growing life within. A home cooked meal and a searing kiss.

Chapter 11: Nanami gifts you with something that sets a new course in your life. When confessions are finally laid on the table, you both give in.

Chapter 12: A vulnerable moment with each other. A baby shower. An accident that throws Nanami’s life in disarray.

Chapter 13: You and Nanami navigate through grief.

Chapter 14: A birthday, a confession, and a new addition.

Chapter 15: You and Nanami navigate through the first months of parenthood. Nanami gives you an amazing birthday gift. A surprising encounter with someone from Nanami’s past makes you unsure of yourself.

Chapter 16:  The last person you ever wanted to see pries into your life. Nanami makes a life changing decision. Your hard work finally pays off.

Chapter 17: You work hard to bring life to something dear to Nanami.

Chapter 18: You help Nanami on the anniversary of Yu's death. Nanami finally works up his courage during a warm day of Sakura season.

Chapter 19 (Epilogue): Things finally come together.

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

[pyreshe]

without fail, unsaid emily will come on shuffle and i will start barking and snapping like a feral dog over the relationship between livvy’s mom and grandmother... cause like! rosana WANTED to eventually reconcile with her mom and make sure she was an active part of her baby’s life! she was stubborn and so was anita!

their mutual mistake was playing a game of chicken with each other to see who would eventually break and apologize for that last fight first because both of them said some pretty messed up stuff to each other in anger and just assumed that the other would eventually come with an olive branch extended.

they couldn’t have ever anticipated that there were going to be complications and that rosana would die at 19 years old before that could happen.

[ohbo-ohno]

I would trade my firstborn child for a part two of kingpin price. It’s consumed my thoughts. I have so many what ifs in my mind.

alright listen. i don't take requests. i don't write part 2's just because someone asked. i DON'T and i WONT START okay this is a ONE TIME THING it will NOT happen again!!! please do not start spamming me asking for more!! i won't do it! it actively discourages me!!! i don't do requests!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE

anyways. here's the 1.4k part two of the kingpin price x reader thing. (cw for... being forced to move in with a mob boss? and unplanned pregnancy. no smut!)

"Be careful!" You hiss at the brute dropping a box with PICTURES scrawled across the side. "Are you trying to break my things?!"

The man ignores you, heading back out to the moving truck with the other workers. You huff, just barely stopping yourself from stomping your foot, quickly kneeling to make sure nothing's broken. Luckily for them, it's all perfectly intact, wrapped safely and securely in bubble wrap.

You're not fully mollified, still scowling as you stand and move to one of the tall windows to watch them work.

"Keeping the men in line?" John asks from the doorway, a glass of water in his hand. You scowl as he steps forward, offering it to you, but still take it and sip from the straw.

"Can they not read?" You complain, feeling more than a little bitch-y with your entire life being turned on it's head in front of you. "If anything is even cracked when I unpack, there'll be hell to pay."

John chuckles, stepping up beside you as the men bring another round of boxes in. "I'm sure, love. You're very scary."

You glare at him, entirely unamused by his sarcasm, but his smile only grows.

It doesn't take long for the movers to get all your boxes settled, and John dismisses them before they can start trying to unpack for you, leaving you surrounded by what bits of your life you'd chosen to take with you.

You'd been stressed beyond belief when John took you to your apartment to chose what got packed, flitting between various movers and trying your best to make sure they were doing everything the exact way you thought it needed to be done. John had trailed behind you, seemingly perfectly content to let you worry and only intervening when you started trying to do the movers' jobs for them.

"Now, now, love," he'd rumbled, laughing and guiding you away with a hand on your elbow. "Let's let the men do what I'm paying them for, hm? Why don't we find you something else to do."

You'd bristled at the condescending words, had redirected all of your annoyance and bitchiness back to him - where it belonged, really - and only realized hours later that that was probably his intent all along. You can only hope he regretted it after several minutes of your very targeted complaining.

You bite back the urge now, just a bit more nervous in his house than you had been in your apartment. Even with all the strangers packing up your things, there had been a sense of familiarity that distracted you from just who you've gotten yourself entangled with. But in John's house, with everything decorated in a painfully masculine way and his cologne filling the air, you really can't forget who you're with.

It makes you just nervous enough to bite your tongue now, uncomfortable in his territory. So you don't complain when he tugs you away from the boxes, guiding you further down a hallway, even if your heart does race.

He leads you to what is clearly his bedroom, the bed made perfectly but the various signs of life on his dresser and his nightstand giving him away. You clear your throat before speaking, taking another sip of the water and staying by the door even as he begins to putter around. "Where can I sleep? If you don't have a guest room, I don't mind the couch."

He shoots you a look, like you've said something silly, and huffs when you don't continue.

"The woman carrying my child doesn't sleep on a couch," he almost sneers the words. "You'll sleep in here."

You lick your lips, shifting on your feet. "And where will you sleep?"

His look turns shifts to something almost teasing, like he's just humoring you. "I'll sleep in my bed, just like you. Too tall for the couches, I'm afraid."

It's hard to keep your face neutral, but you think you manage. "You can't stay in a guest room?"

He turns back to whatever he was doing at his dresser before, shaking his head with a smile. "You don't need to worry, love. I won't touch you until you beg, you're perfectly safe in bed with me."

Your face flames, cheeks hot with embarrassment. "What- why would you even-? No, that's not what I was worried about." It definitely was, but he doesn't need to know that. "And I'll never beg for you to touch me."

He turns, leaning against his dresser and crossing his arms, one ankle crossed over the other, the picture of comfort. He looks at you like you're amusing, like you've said something you believe that is fully true but are obviously wrong.

"We'll see," he hums, head tilting. "Regardless, anything that happens between us will be on your terms. Until then, we'll just be bedmates."

The heat doesn't leave your face. "Do you really not have a guest room to stay in?"

"I don't see why I should have to. We're both adults, and while I know I won't maul you in the middle of the night, I wouldn't mind if you initiated something. Doesn't seem like much anything can go wrong."

You're... not sure how to argue that. It seems almost juvenile, somehow, to complain about sharing a bed with the man who took your virginity and got you pregnant on the first try, but there's still a part of you that doesn't feel safe enough around John to fall asleep in the same bed as him (at least while sober). And while he couldn't seem less threatening at the moment, you refuse to let yourself forget that he's a violent criminal.

You shift from foot to foot, eyes trained on his throat to avoid eye contact. "...Fine."

"Good." He ducks his head just enough to make you lock eyes, his smile soft. "Glad we got that settled. Now, how would you like a bath?"

You eye him, then the bathtub you can see through the open door to the ensuite. It's massive, could probably easily fit four people in it, and it's hard not to feel tempted.

But... you're not sure you want to strip down in front of him.

You take a deep breath, and figure that you'll have to bathe at some point anyway. John's made it more than clear that you're not leaving any time soon, and while you already plan to get as much freedom as you can, you're under no delusion for how much control you really have in this situation.

"Alright," you agree. "Alone, though."

He holds a hand over his heart, standing and holding his other arm out towards the bathroom. "Of course, what do you take me for?"

You side eye him as you walk to the bathroom, keeping him in your line of sight for as long as possible.

"A criminal and a man with no sense of personal boundaries," you mutter on your way past, just long enough for him to hear. He laughs, but doesn't stop you from shutting the bathroom door in his face.

You lock the door behind you, already feeling more relaxed. He's surely got a key, and you know a flimsy lock won't keep John Price out if he really wants in, but the layer of security is still a comfort.

You don't bother to look around the bathroom too much, far too eager to slip into the tub and float in warm water. It doesn't take long to fill, the multiple jets on the side of the tub warming quickly.

As you sink into the clean water, you daydream about all the decorating you'll do in John's house. It's a beautiful home, and if he's going to make you live with him for the foreseeable future, the least he can do is let you make it even marginally more appealing.

You smirk a bit, wondering if maybe you can even finagle his credit card. He certainly owes you, and you've got no problem spending his money on yourself and your baby. It's the least he can do, after all.

The water leaves your limbs loose, the steam soothing in your throat and lungs, and you can't help but feel that you might've been overreacting earlier, and that everything is going to be just fine.

When the sound of the door unlocking breaks the silence in the bathroom, you jolt forward. You wrap one arm around your chest to cover yourself just as the door opens, a shirtless John stepping inside.

You stare at him with wide eyes, gaping, and his lips curve into a smile beneath his facial hair.

"Would you mind some company, love?"