#waiting for a special order to arrive

[sarasa-cat]

Me for the past few hours: Sipping water from a mug, sitting in my highly customized ergo chair (work desk) with a very comfy-cozy heat pad on my back, cranked up to max.

Me: cannot will myself out of the chair to sleep in torture device that masquerades as a "bed."

[existentialcrisis-9-5]

An update on my SCP 035 clay figure:

No pictures because I’m lazy, but I accidentally broke the heel while I was doing a base coat of paint. I usually do a base of white before coating my clay in a protective layer of glue and so until then the clay can be pretty fragile.

And it was fragile when it slipped out of my hand and landed right heel first onto solid wood. So.

[cursingtoji]

summary: clan leader!gojo needs a favor from your clan but as the leader you refuse, so he proposes to give you a child since your husband is unable to.

"and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?"

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…then i’ll kill your husband myself and marry you.”

nsfw ahead cw: historical au, infidelity, pregnancy, creampie, child birth, satoru is pathetically in love. featuring samurai bodyguard geto and toji.

“i thought we had solved all our business with the gojo clan” your husband says from the door he leans on.

“and i did” you emphasize the i since the head of your clan is you and only you went to the clan meetings that got things solved. you tapped your lips a little bit more to place the reddish pigment looking at the mirror, “but satoru summoned this meeting and gave no details.”

“satoru huh?” your husband points, not letting go unnoticed the fact you used his first name without formalities.

“all right” you take one step back checking if your kimono is proper, “see you tonight” you peck his lips lightly to not ruin the tint on yours and proceed to the carriage outside.

for years the gojo clan and yours avoided each other due to some very old beef that no one remembers or even was alive when it happened, so when your mother passed and you assumed as the new head you soon decided to reach out to make peace with the current head of the rival clan and a friendly relationship was restored. more often than not you two met, sometimes with other clan members or even other clans when necessary, but today gojo insisted on being just the two of you.

toji, your bodyguard, opens the carriage door when you arrive and give you his hand for you to step out.

to avoid any issues the place of the meeting was always the temple middle way your residences. from time to time your families attended the prayers there, that’s when your husband saw satoru for the first time.

“where’s his wife?” he asked the first time you pointed the white-haired man as the clan head after you made peace.

“he doesn’t have one.”

“fiancée then?”

“i don’t think so” you both watched discreetly as he greeted the monks.

“i find that quite odd. what about the black-haired man?” he pointed to geto, gojo’s bodyguard, “could they be involved romantically?” geto leaned to whisper something to his master, a little bit too close if you might add, a few more inches and his lips would be touching satoru’s ear. his romantic life was no business of yours but you didn’t like the idea of him having any partners, didn’t seem right, though deep down you knew it was very unlikely for a handsome man like him to be alone. both men somehow found your curious gaze.

“geto” you greet the known bodyguard as you enter the temple, and he bows to you, your bodyguard nods at him as well and you’re guided to the secret room.

the conversation went on for almost an hour, satoru served you tea when he noticed you finished yours, which was unusual for a clan head to do such a mundane task but he always insisted no servant join on your private meetings. you always thought he was particularly paranoid about spies, but that suspicion was dismissed when you had your first meeting with other clan heads and he didn’t oppose the people that stayed in the back of the room waiting for their master’s orders.

“satoru we went over this on the last meeting, why am i here?” you are getting impatient, satoru always seemed relaxed when he was at the temple like it’s the one place people don’t come to him with problems, so he tended to do things without any rush at all.

“so impatient…” he smirks, “i was getting to the point but fine. i need your doctors for a few weeks.”

because of the many wars and the necessity to heal mainly the samurai your clan became specialized in healing techniques and remedies instead of combat.

“is someone injured?” you raised your eyebrow, it wasn’t likely for satoru to ask for something like this when he could’ve sent a letter.

“no. but we are expecting a conflict soon and—”

“let me stop you there satoru” you raised your hand and for a second you saw a glimpse of annoyance cross his features, “we don’t get involved with battles anymore, the healers go through extensive training and i can’t risk losing them in battle.”

“so instead of putting their knowledge into practice you rather keep them locked in a room reading books?”

“they are busy with research at the moment” you raise your chin unwilling to budge on the matter.

“is that so?” he tilted his head smiling “and how many people does it take to figure out your husband is infertile?”

you widened your eyes, this is way too personal of a matter for someone else, especially another clan head, to know.

on the other side of the door, geto and toji guarded the room, they were close enough to listen to the conversation and without turning his head geto looked at toji with his eyebrow raised, to which toji only nodded confirming the rumors.

“you’re not the only one with little birds across territories, sweetheart” his smile only seems to grow.

“that is no business of yours. besides, lending you my healers will only harm my clan and, as i said, put them at unnecessary risk” you managed to find your composure back and avoid the infertility topic.

“don’t you trust i have the best warriors? you seemed to when we came to your aid” he reminded a time you asked for their men.

“i paid for that.”

“and what makes you think i won’t?”

“we don’t need money.”

“i’m not talking about money” he drops the volume of his voice.

“listen, satoru—” you rise to your feet sensing the tone of this conversation is off.

“i’m listening, for a very long time i’ve been listening” he rises as well and takes a few steps in your direction, “you know what i listen to? the rumors about your family threatening to make your brother head of the clan if you don’t bear an heir soon.”

you take a step back.

“or the resources you’ve been spending to research a treatment for your husband. tell me, darling, can he even get it up for you?” he is too close now, you can see all the details of his insanely blue eyes.

“he— that’s not a problem” you accidentally confess.

“of course it’s not, look at you” his finger brushes your cheek and the touch makes you burn under your skin, “i could give you a child” he lowers his head to your ear, running his lips on it, “a healthy, smart, beautiful child” he presses his hand on your belly over the thick material of your clothes, “and it wouldn’t even be an effort” he presses his hardened member on your hip.

“and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?” you look into his eyes challenging him to a solution.

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…i’ll kill him myself and take his place as your husband.”

you gasp, not expecting such an answer from the man you always watched trying to find a way to avoid violence.

satoru kisses your jaw then your cheek and when he gets close to your lips you turn your head, your conscience only now, in this intimate act, attacking you.

“he’s not fulfilling his duty” he whispers, letting go of the knot on his kimono, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. you open your eyes, not even aware you had closed them, and see his sculpted torso, so close to you, so warm…

“it’s not your fault, can’t you see?” he raises your chin, “it wasn’t meant to be, unlike us” you know he’s just telling you what you want to hear, but in his voice everything made sense.

“you’ll see” he picks you up and lowers his body with you back to the mat in the middle of the room, his kimono is still around his arms while yours was forgotten somewhere else, leaving only the very thin, dress-like, white undergarment that pretty much showed everything.

satoru lowers his head to your chest, his tongue wetting your nipple over the material, “i bet you’ll become even prettier” he replaces your breast with his hand, big and hot, and goes to the other nipple, “with your breasts heavy and a big belly” he sucks on you, hardly, you put your hand over your mouth.

satoru raises your legs over his shoulders, “your feet will get tired” he kisses the inner thigh, “but you’ll still come and see me” you thought it sounded like a question, it was a statement.

his head goes down, as he kisses your folds your back arches, he licks a stripe ending on your clit and flickering it.

satoru starts to lose himself, he gets too intoxicated by you, almost forgetting time is running against him here. he doesn’t have much longer until your bodyguard gets suspicious and calls for you, and by the way your hand is tight against your mouth he doubts you’ll be able to give a proper response.

he wants to make you cum before he shoots his load, suguru’s intel told him you asked one of the doctors if the woman needed to come to increase the chances. it doesn’t take much medical knowledge to interpret that question.

you cum on his tongue pulling him out of his dreams where he imagined himself doing that every night after those boring fucking meetings he has to attend at every slight inconvenience in his clan.

“it’s gonna be okay, just relax for me” he pushes his length slowly before you get the chance to see his size. you whisper his name behind your hand and he can’t stand not seeing your whole face, so he takes your hand out of the way and kisses your wet lips pushing his tongue and swallowing your moans as he goes deeper and starts to pick a pace.

satoru holds back a curse, reminding himself he’s in a sacred place and although anyone would say that’s ironic given what you’re doing in the temple he would argue that’s even more sacred than what most people prayed for.

you start to feel his weight down on you as he trusts get sloppier, he’s still kissing you, holding your lips with his when he twitches and fills your insides, in your drunk mind you think it’s so much more than what you’re used to.

after he catches his breath he pushes himself up and out of you, you allow yourself to close your eyes for a brief moment but you open them wide again when satoru pushes his cum back into you with his finger, “keep it deep and warm for me, yes?”

one hour later you pass through the door your bodyguard slides open for you to enter your chambers. on the way there you realized there’s no chance he and geto didn’t grasp on what was happening inside the room.

“toji?” you call before he can close the door and go to his personal room, he stops, indicating he listens although he doesn’t respond with the formality others usually do, “i trust you won’t share with anyone what happened today” you speak firmly looking the tall man behind you over your shoulder, his scar stretches slightly with his smirk, the man bows and closes the door.

they said it was a road accident, the horse got spooked and ran, by the time they found it there was no rider so they searched your husband and found his body down the mountain.

the ritual was long, you wore the traditional widow clothing, accepting the kind words of the clan members and the prayer of the monks. though you really were sad, all this pity was making you sicker than…

“at least you didn’t have kids, no child deserves to grow up with a dead father” an old lady says to comfort you while holding your hands.

“excuse me” you turn around walking slowly to not raise suspicions and as soon as it is just you on the other side of your home you bend your torso and throw up all you’ve eaten before the funeral.

you cough and when a tissue enters your field of vision you immediately take it and clean your mouth.

you feel your stomach empty but the light volume below it reminds you of whose fault it is.

you raise with the tissue on your lips to say thank you and the sight of the white-haired man makes you choke.

“shh, it’s okay, i’m here as an ally, to give my condolences to a friend in grief” there’s absolutely no seriousness in his tone.

“what about the war?” you ask through heavy breathing.

“that was child’s play, don’t worry, your healers will return safe and sound in a few days” he puts his hand on your shoulder to calm you down, you do.

satoru takes a second to drop his sight to your belly, it has been a month since your last encounter, and by your sensitive stomach he knows that one time was enough for you to get pregnant.

“do you think you can hide it for another month until the wedding? then when the child is born we’ll just say it was a premature birth” god, your former husband’s body was barely cold and gojo is already planning the wedding and what to say about the baby.

“why now?” you look up at his mischievous eyes, he knows what you’re asking truly.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, it was an accident right?” he touches your face, brushing away a tear that came out, more of a natural body reaction of your gagging than a sadness reaction.

“satoru, tell me” you demanded.

“i just reflect a little you know? when i said i would kill him you never asked me not to. besides, i don’t want another man to think they own what’s mine” his eyes are darker, you think he’s talking about the child in your womb but by the intensity of his gaze, you realize he’s talking about you. “if you need anything tell suguru, i’ll have him staying in the village until we announce the wedding.”

“no, i have toji, don’t want anyone suspecting geto’s intentions” you defend.

gojo doesn’t seem to like it, but he doesn’t argue either, “either way, i want to see you. meet me at the temple in five days, we’ll talk about the arrangements” he leans in and kisses your forehead before turning away and then back “i almost forgot” he reaches for something inside his sleeve and pulls out a shiny golden bracelet with gems and puts it on your palm, you know you can’t wear it now but god it’s gorgeous, “came from the west especially for you” he puts his hand on top of yours and leaves it there for a long moment as you look into each other's eyes. satoru is fighting the urge to kiss you, if someone catches you he can’t say he’s comforting his recently widowed friend, so he forces himself to let go of you and go head back to his village.

the midwife instructs you to push harder as her helper dabs a wet cloth on your forehead. you’re squatting, on your knees giving your all to push the baby out.

finally one last push is all that it takes for the little one to come out, you want to lay down and close your eyes, but you need to see the baby first so you mumble something with your arms open, the midwife cleans baby’s face through crying and screaming.

“it’s a boy” she whispers putting him in your arms. satoru enters when he hears the cries and kneels in front of you. behind him are both suguru and toji, who aren’t allowed to enter but the men are also very eager to see the child they can’t help but try to peek.

you balance the boy in your hold for a little bit till he stops crying and when he opens his eyes you see the blue sky.

“give him to the father, we’re not over” the midwife says.

“what?” you, satoru, toji and suguru ask. the last two get an angry look from the midwife and remove themselves from the scene.

“the next one will come out soon” she puts new towels below you.

“two children? at once?” you ask in disbelief then look at satoru who can only smile apologetically.

after god knows how long you’re finally allowed to rest as the babies were cleaned and fed. the second one was a girl, with identical blue eyes as her brother and father.

“i can’t believe you put two kids in me” satoru is outside the wooden tub, breaking all tradition by helping you bathe after the birth.

“can’t say i’m sorry for that” he rubs your shoulders, “you were incredible” he confesses now that there’s only the two of you. satoru refuses to even let your feet touch the floor, he takes you out of the tub once the water starts to cool down, placing you on a dry surface and getting on his knees to dry your feet, you reach out to touch his face.

“i love you, satoru” you blurt, overwhelmed by your feelings for the man who was once your rival.

he looks up from his position, taking the hand on his face and kissing your palm, then your pulse, he kisses inch by inch of your arm until his lips are on yours, “i love you.”

"pay up, pretty boy" toji approaches geto.

"excuse me?" suguru looks up from the sword he's polishing now that gojo dismissed him for the rest of the night.

"i said it was gonna be a boy."

"yeah and then a girl came out right after so the bet was invalidated."

"there's no such a thing, the boy will inherit it all anyway" toji crosses his arms, geto laughs, fishing a coin from his pocket since he knows toji will say anything to win the bet.

"and what makes you say that? there's two clans and now two heirs" toji snatches the coin as soon as he sees the silver glow.

"that's just how it has ever been" he turns his back to geto who drives his attention back to his sword.

"things are changing old man.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Tesla accused of hacking odometers to weasel out of warranty repairs

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

A lawsuit filed in February accuses Tesla of remotely altering odometer values on failure-prone cars, in a bid to push these lemons beyond the 50,000 mile warranty limit:

https://www.thestreet.com/automotive/tesla-accused-of-using-sneaky-tactic-to-dodge-car-repairs

The suit was filed by a California driver who bought a used Tesla with 36,772 miles on it. The car's suspension kept failing, necessitating multiple servicings, and that was when the plaintiff noticed that the odometer readings for his identical daily drive were going up by ever-larger increments. This wasn't exactly subtle: he was driving 20 miles per day, but the odometer was clocking 72.35 miles/day. Still, how many of us monitor our daily odometer readings?

In short order, his car's odometer had rolled over the 50k mark and Tesla informed him that they would no longer perform warranty service on his lemon. Right after this happened, the new mileage clocked by his odometer returned to normal. This isn't the only Tesla owner who's noticed this behavior: Tesla subreddits are full of similar complaints:

https://www.reddit.com/r/RealTesla/comments/1ca92nk/is_tesla_inflating_odometer_to_show_more_range/

This isn't Tesla's first dieselgate scandal. In the summer of 2023, the company was caught lying to drivers about its cars' range:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

Drivers noticed that they were getting far fewer miles out of their batteries than Tesla had advertised. Naturally, they contacted the company for service on their faulty cars. Tesla then set up an entire fake service operation in Nevada that these calls would be diverted to, called the "diversion team." Drivers with range complaints were put through to the "diverters" who would claim to run "remote diagnostics" on their cars and then assure them the cars were fine. They even installed a special xylophone in the diversion team office that diverters would ring every time they successfully deceived a driver.

These customers were then put in an invisible Tesla service jail. Their Tesla apps were silently altered so that they could no longer book service for their cars for any reason – instead, they'd have to leave a message and wait several days for a callback. The diversion center racked up 2,000 calls/week and diverters were under strict instructions to keep calls under five minutes. Eventually, these diverters were told that they should stop actually performing remote diagnostics on the cars of callers – instead, they'd just pretend to have run the diagnostics and claim no problems were found (so if your car had a potentially dangerous fault, they would falsely claim that it was safe to drive).

Most modern cars have some kind of internet connection, but Tesla goes much further. By design, its cars receive "over-the-air" updates, including updates that are adverse to drivers' interests. For example, if you stop paying the monthly subscription fee that entitles you to use your battery's whole charge, Tesla will send a wireless internet command to your car to restrict your driving to only half of your battery's charge.

This means that your Tesla is designed to follow instructions that you don't want it to follow, and, by design, those instructions can fundamentally alter your car's operating characteristics. For example, if you miss a payment on your Tesla, it can lock its doors and immobilize itself, then, when the repo man arrives, it will honk its horn, flash its lights, back out of its parking spot, and unlock itself so that it can be driven away:

https://tiremeetsroad.com/2021/03/18/tesla-allegedly-remotely-unlocks-model-3-owners-car-uses-smart-summon-to-help-repo-agent/

Some of the ways that your Tesla can be wirelessly downgraded (like disabling your battery) are disclosed at the time of purchase. Others (like locking you out and summoning a repo man) are secret. But whether disclosed or secret, both kinds of downgrade depend on the genuinely bizarre idea that a computer that you own, that is in your possession, can be relied upon to follow orders from the internet even when you don't want it to. This is weird enough when we're talking about a set-top box that won't let you record a TV show – but when we're talking about a computer that you put your body into and race down the road at 80mph inside of, it's frankly terrifying.

Obviously, most people would prefer to have the final say over how their computers work. I mean, maybe you trust the manufacturer's instructions and give your computer blanket permission to obey them, but if the manufacturer (or a hacker pretending to be the manufacturer, or a government who is issuing orders to the manufacturer) starts to do things that are harmful to you (or just piss you off), you want to be able to say to your computer, "OK, from now on, you take orders from me, not them."

In a state of nature, this is how computers work. To make a computer ignore its owner in favor of internet randos, the manufacturer has to build in a bunch of software countermeasures to stop you from reconfiguring or installing software of your choosing on it. And sure, that software might be able to withstand the attempts of normies like you and me to bypass it, but given that we'd all rather have the final say over how our computers work, someone is gonna figure out how to get around that software. I mean, show me a 10-foot fence and I'll show you an 11-foot ladder, right?

To stop that from happening, Congress passed the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act. Despite the word "copyright" appearing in the name of the law, it's not really about defending copyright, it's about defending business models. Under Section 1201 of the DMCA, helping someone bypass a software lock is a felony punishable by a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine (for a first offense). That's true whether or not any copyright infringement takes place.

So if you want to modify your Tesla – say, to prevent the company from cheating your odometer – you have to get around a software lock, and that's a felony. Indeed, if any manufacturer puts a software lock on its product, then any changes that require disabling or bypassing that lock become illegal. That's why you can't just buy reliable third-party printer ink – reverse-engineering the "is this an original HP ink cartridge?" program is a literal crime, even though using non-HP ink in your printer is absolutely not a copyright violation. Jay Freeman calls this effect "felony contempt of business model."

Thus we arrive at this juncture, where every time you use a product or device or service, it might behave in a way that is totally unlike the last time you used it. This is true whether you own, lease or merely interact with a product. The changes can be obvious, or they can be subtle to the point of invisibility. And while manufacturers can confine their "updates" to things that make the product better (for example, patching security vulnerabilities), there's nothing to stop them from using this uninspectable, non-countermandable veto over your devices' functionality to do things that harm you – like fucking with your odometer.

Or, you know, bricking your car. The defunct EV maker Fisker – who boasted that it made "software-based cars" – went bankrupt last year and bricked the entire fleet of unsold cars:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/10/software-based-car/#based

I call this ability to modify the underlying functionality of a product or service for every user, every time they use it, "twiddling," and it's a major contributor to enshittification:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Enshittification's observable symptoms follow a predictable pattern: first, a company makes things good for its users, while finding ways to lock them in. Then, once it knows the users can't easily leave, the company makes things worse for end-users in order to deliver value to business customers. Once these businesses are locked in, the company siphons value away from them, too, until the product or service is a pile of shit, that we still can't leave:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/26/ursula-franklin/#franklinite

Twiddling is key to enshittification: it's the method by which value is shifted from end-users to business customers, and from business customers to the platform. Twiddling is the "switch" in enshittification's series of minute, continuous bait-and-switches. The fact that DMCA 1201 makes it a crime to investigate systems with digital locks makes the modern computerized device a twiddler's playground. Sure, a driver might claim that their odometer is showing bad readings, but they can't dump their car's software and identify the code that is changing the odometer.

This is what I mean by "demon-haunted computers": a computer is "demon-haunted" if it is designed to detect when it is under scrutiny, and, when it senses a hostile observer, it changes its behavior to the innocuous, publicly claimed factory defaults:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/18/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

But as soon as the observer goes away, the computer returns to its nefarious ways. This is exactly what happened with Dieselgate, when VW used software that detected the test-suite run by government emissions inspectors, and changed the engine's characteristics when it was under their observation. But once the car was back on the road, it once again began emitting toxic gas at levels that killed killed dozens of people and sickened thousands more:

https://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/29/upshot/how-many-deaths-did-volkswagens-deception-cause-in-us.html

Cars are among the most demon-haunted products we use on a daily basis. They are designed from the chassis up to do things that are harmful to their owners, from stealing our location data so it can be sold to data-brokers, to immobilizing themselves if you miss a payment, to downgrading themselves if you stop paying for a "subscription," to ratting out your driving habits to your insurer:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

These are the "legitimate" ways that cars are computers that ignore their owners' orders in favor of instructions they get from the internet. But once a manufacturer arrogates that power to itself, it is confronted with a tempting smorgasbord of enshittificatory gambits to defraud you, control you, and gaslight you. Now, perhaps you could wield this power wisely, because you are in possession of the normal human ration of moral consideration for others, to say nothing of a sense of shame and a sense of honor.

But while corporations are (legally) people, they are decidedly not human. They are artificial lifeforms, "intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic" (as HG Wells said of the marauding aliens in War of the Worlds):

https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/14/timmy-share/#a-superior-moral-justification-for-selfishness

These alien invaders are busily xenoforming the planet, rendering it unfit for human habitation. Laws that ban reverse-engineering are a devastating weapon that corporations get to use in their bid to subjugate and devour the human race.

The US isn't the only country with a law like Section 1201 of the DMCA. Over the past 25 years, the US Trade Representative has arm-twisted nearly every country in the world into passing laws that are nearly identical to America's own disastrous DMCA. Why did countries agree to pass these laws? Well, because they had to, or the US would impose tariffs on them:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/03/friedmanite/#oil-crisis-two-point-oh

The Trump tariffs change everything, including this thing. There is no reason for America's (former) trading partners to continue to enforce the laws it passed to protect Big Tech's right to twiddle their citizens. That goes double for Tesla: rather than merely complaining about Musk's Nazi salutes, countries targeted by the regime he serves could retaliate against him, in a devastating fashion. By abolishing their anticircuvmention laws, countries around the world would legalize jailbreaking Teslas, allowing mechanics to unlock all the subscription features and software upgrades for every Tesla driver, as well as offering their own software mods. Not only would this tank Tesla stock and force Musk to pay back the loans he collateralized with his shares (loans he used to buy Twitter and the US predidency), it would also abolish sleazy gimmicks like hacking drivers' odometers to get out of paying for warranty service:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/08/turnabout/#is-fair-play

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/15/musklemons/#more-like-edison-amirite

Image: Steve Jurvetson (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tesla_Model_S_Indoors.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[sugusatosluut]

World’s best Grandma

Synopsis: you and mark finally meet your baby, Debbie gets to meet her grandchild.

@mystar-girl57

Telling Debbie that you were pregnant with Mark’s baby and her first and probably only grandchild, needed to be very special. This was Debbie we were talking about, this woman has survived the worst, married the craziest, and has to deal with her boys being super heroes. At least she had her son’s girlfriend to keep her company when she wasn’t off being a hero herself.

You and Mark waited quite some time to figure out a good way to tell Debbie you were having her grandchild. Cecil had a team ready always to check on the status of the baby after every mission. You and Mark wanted to know that your baby was safe and would make it to term. This was very stressful for Mark, having a girlfriend who doesn’t know when to slow down was hard, but having a pregnant girlfriend who didn’t know how to slow down was harder. By the time you were ready to tell Debbie, you had already hit your two month checkup.

“Baby’s healthy, but I do have some concerns about the heart rate. Have you been on any missions lately?” The doctor asked

“Yes—against medical advice and the advice of the baby’s father and her employer.” Cecil complained.

“Yeah, kinda hard to get this one to relax.” Mark sighed sitting in the chair.

“If you don’t stop you’re putting the baby at risk and possibly yourself. It’s a miracle you’ve been able to keep the baby this long with the rate you’ve been going at. I’m recommending you light duty until a little after maternity leave.” The doctor said.

You sighed, you felt like an ass, you put your boyfriend and your child through so much already with your hard headed nature. Maybe it was time to suck it up and finally tell Debbie instead of hiding it. She never did anything wrong to you, it wasn’t fair that you’d been stressing her son and grandchild out already before she even got to know about it. The doctor left the room and Cecil left on official business. Mark sat in the chair with his eyes closed.

“Let’s finally go tell your mom.” You said, caressing his arm while you rested your head on him.

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, I promise I’ll follow the doctor’s orders. I’m sorry for not realizing i was doing too much.” You said sighing,

“Alright let’s go, I think I know just the thing.” He smiled.

You both arrived at Debbie’s home, her soft personality greeting the two of you and hugging you both tightly.

“My little Mark, I haven’t seen you guys in a while, what sweet surprise is this?” She chuckled.

“Mom, we just wanted to spoil you and let you know you’re appreciated.” He said hugging her back.

“Yeah we got you some stuff while we were out the last few weeks, we figured it was finally time to sit down and have you open the things we thought you would enjoy.” You said.

You all sat down, your legs crossed over Mark’s while you both sat in front of Debbie. She opened everything one at a time.

“Oh- these earrings are so cute! They’re the ones I was looking at online a couple months ago, how sweet! —-ugh and these shoes! I love them, the color is so nice. Wait Two tickets for a cruise?! What kind of favor did you have to pull for these? Are you going to space again? I cant handle when the two of you are in such danger.” She said placing the back of her hand on her head jokingly.

“Yeah, there’s not going to be any space trips for a while.” You joked.

“Good- aw look! A little mug.” She smiled.

She pulled the mug out, not thinking anything of the uktrasound picture printed onto it.

“Aww, is this my ultrasound picture of Mark?” She smiled.

Then she pulled out a shirt.

“What’s this? Best..grandma in the world?” She read aloud confused.

Shock filled Debbie’s face.

“Surprise!” You both smiled at Debbie.

Her face went through many different emotions until you were finally able to read her excitement. She was so happy she started to cry. She didn’t know how what to say. You both got up hugging her, she took the time to look at the extra ultrasound pictures that the two of you had gotten printed for her.

“You two- this is such big news, im gonna be a grandma! You’re both going to be parents.. this is all happening so fast.” She said wiping a tear from her face and sniffling.

“Do you know the gender yet?” She asked.

“No, we were hoping you would come with us to find out tomorrow.” You offered.

“Yes-I’d love that. I cant believe I’m gonna be a grandma.” She said clutching the picture close to her chest.

So Debbie joined you guys for every appointment, basking in the joy of being a grandma. Mark ended up proposing to you during a family outing and had invited a bunch of friends to your ceremony in the gardens. You both made the announcement at the ceremony that you were pregnant with a baby girl, everyone congratulating you both and hugging. Debbie helped you guys prepare your house for the baby, building a crib with Mark, helping you to appointments when Mark had to save the world, she was so happy that you and Mark had given her the ultimate gift, another little life with a big impact on her own. Someone she’d be able to share her love with and care for and watch grow.

You were due any day now, Mark was putting together the go bag for the hospital and the car seat for the baby. You were sitting in the rocking chair and Debbie was on her way back from the cruise with her boyfriend. Mark turned the music up a little and walked over to you, your peaceful face scrunching up when he caressed your soft face. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled, getting up slowly with his help as you danced together. You both swayed to the music as Mark held you from behind, picking up your belly to relieve the weight off your back.

“Thank you, you’re gonna be the best daddy.” You smiled.

“Only because our little girl’s gonna have the best mommy.” He hummed.

“Mark.. I love you.” You hummed back.

“I love you more.” He spoke just loud enough for you to hear.

Mark gently lowered your belly, and just as you turned around, you felt pressure and then your water broke. It splashed on the floor, alarming Mark. He turned quickly as you stood completely still, holding the rocking chair for support.

“Y/n..?” He asked.

“Mark im not ready I can’t do this.” You freaked out suddenly. The weight of this baby actually coming out of you was becoming too real. You were scared.

“Hey- hey listen we can do this. We went to classes, we did the birthing plan, we did everything the way we were supposed to. We did everything right. Let’s have our baby girl.” He said coaching you as he held both your hands, leading you to the car.

Mark hurried and installed the car seat correctly, then grabbed the go bag and grabbed your hand after making sure you were buckled in. The contractions were far apart, but you definitely felt them. Your cries of pain and labor filled the car.

“Ahhh-Aaagh- whoooooo!” You let out squeezing one of Mark’s hands.

“I know baby, almost there.” He said as he parked the car.

Mark parked the car, then picked you up, running you to the front of the hospital where you were given a wheelchair and taken to the labor and delivery room. Debbie wasn’t too far behind. She was able to wait in the waiting room with her boyfriend as you and Mark prepared to deliver your baby girl. Mark sat behind you on the bed, massaging your shoulders and rubbing your belly as you made all the loudest noises imaginable. The delivery team entered the room the epidural you requested started to kick in. You hated needles but if it helped reduce pain it’s what you wanted. This was it. Mark helped you with your breathing exercises and you were instructed to push.

“Push! Come on push push push!” The delivery team was coaching you.

Mark moved positions, getting to help you deliver your baby was something he’d taken very seriously.

“Come on baby, push, y/n push! You’re doing so good babe, I can see her head!” He said excitedly.

So the team helped you push and take breaks. You were delivering your baby for hours, labor was a bitch a six hour labor just to successfully push out a six pound seven ounce baby girl. Mark was so happy to cut the chord and hold his first born child, his little baby girl. She looked just like him.

“She looks like you Mark.” You smiled, your body exhausted.

“Give her some time, im sure she’ll take after her beautiful mom.” He said as you both lied in the bed admiring her little features. You kissed him as she grabbed on tightly to one of his fingers.

After a few hours, Mark went to go tell Debbie, Oliver and Paul they were more than welcome to come into the room to meet your baby. They all came into the room, first checking on you.

“Oh honey congratulations.” Debbie whispered.

“Thank you, we couldn’t have done it without your help.” You hugged her.

They all hugged you and the baby was brought back into the room.

Mark picked up your baby and handed it to his mother who was in tears. Paul was happy for you and complimented the both of you, congratulating you on parenthood. Oliver held the baby and was so entranced by how little she was.

“You used to be that tiny too.” Debbie said.

“She’s so cute. She’s gonna get her powers soon just like us! Right mark?” Oliver asked with joy.

“No quite buddy. But when she does, we’ll teach her. You’ll be the best uncle ever.” He poked Oliver’s nose.

Your little family was complete, and this was all you could ask for.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

omg can you write one for Lewis where he makes a special helmet with some of the drawings his daughter has made for him, his helmet ends up having stars rainbows etc

A Helmet full of Art

The moment Lewis became a father, he knew nothing would ever matter more to him than his little girl, Yn. At just three years old, she had already captured his entire heart, filling his life with laughter, tiny hugs, and endless chatter about her favorite things. She was a bright little spark—curious, loving, and always eager to create something new.

And lately, that "something new" had been drawings.

Lewis had first noticed it when Yn would sit at the coffee table, her tiny tongue sticking out in concentration as she held a crayon in her chubby hands, dragging colors across the page with uncontainable enthusiasm. At first, her drawings were just a mix of squiggles and chaotic rainbows, but over time, they started to resemble actual things—flowers, cats, and even an attempt at drawing both of them together.

"Look, Daddy!" she'd exclaim every time she finished. "This one’s you and me!"

And every single time, Lewis' heart melted.

He was the kind of father who supported Yn in anything she wanted to do. If she decided tomorrow that she wanted to be an astronaut, he’d find her a tiny space suit. If she wanted to become a ballerina, he’d be at every recital. So when he saw how much she adored drawing, he went all in—buying her the best colored pencils, sketchbooks, and even a little artist’s apron.

But what he hadn’t expected was how much her drawings would come to mean to him. He kept every single one. The rainbow she had drawn with colors that didn’t quite follow the traditional order. The cat that had oddly shaped whiskers but still looked adorable. The one of them together, with his curly hair drawn way too big and Yn’s little stick-figure self holding his hand. The flowers and bees that she had proudly declared were for him because "you like flowers, Daddy!"

So when the time came for his first home race as a Ferrari driver, Lewis wanted his helmet to be special.

And there was only one thing that felt right.

The paddock was buzzing with anticipation. It was Lewis’ first home race wearing Ferrari red, and everyone knew he’d do something big. But no one expected what he revealed when he stepped into the garage on Friday.

"Alright, guys," Lewis said, grinning as he pulled the cover off his new helmet. "Meet my new favorite helmet ever."

The garage fell silent for a moment. Then—

"Oh my god," Charles breathed out, stepping closer. "Are these… Yn’s drawings?"

Lewis beamed. "Yep."

The helmet was a masterpiece. Instead of his usual bright yellow, it was now a canvas filled with his daughter’s art. Her rainbow stretched across the top, her wobbly cat drawing sat proudly on one side, the flowers and bees covered another part, and right at the back, a big, bold drawing of them together. It was messy, colorful, and absolutely perfect.

"You actually put them on your helmet," Carlos said, grinning. "Man, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen."

"She loves drawing," Lewis explained, running his fingers over the helmet. "And I love everything she makes. I wanted her to be part of this weekend somehow, and this felt right."

Oscar, who had just arrived, let out a low whistle. "This might be the most wholesome thing I’ve ever seen in F1."

Pierre nudged Max. "Admit it, even you think this is cute."

Max rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah, it's cute. Not as cute as my cats, though."

Lando burst out laughing. "I swear, you and your cats—"

"But seriously," George interrupted, shaking his head in admiration. "This is incredible, mate. I bet Yn’s gonna freak out when she sees it."

"She hasn't seen it yet," Lewis admitted. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

And oh, he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

Later that afternoon, after all the practice sessions, Lewis finally had time to call home. He was sitting in the Ferrari motorhome, holding his phone in his hands, waiting for the call to connect.

The moment the screen lit up, Yn’s bright little face appeared, her curls bouncing as she gasped.

"Daddy!" she squealed. "Hi hi hi!"

"Hey, baby," Lewis grinned. "I’ve got a surprise for you."

Yn's eyes widened. "A 'prise? For me?"

Lewis laughed, turning his phone camera around to show his helmet. "Look at this, baby. Do you recognize these drawings?"

For a second, there was silence. Then, an excited shriek.

"THAT’S MINE! THAT’S MY DRAWINGS!" Yn shouted, practically bouncing. "Daddy, you put them on your hat!"

"Helmet, baby," Lewis chuckled, his heart swelling at her excitement. "But yeah, I did! Now, when I race this weekend, I’ll have you with me."

Yn clapped her hands together, eyes shining. "I love it! I love it, I love it, I love it!"

On the other side of the call, Yn’s grandmother laughed. "Lewis, you’ve just made her entire year."

"That was the plan," he said, winking.

Yn leaned close to the camera, her tiny hands gripping the screen. "Win with my pictures, Daddy!"

Lewis smiled softly. "I’ll try my best, baby girl. Just for you."

When Lewis walked into the paddock on Saturday with his helmet under his arm, the cameras instantly caught sight of it. And within minutes, social media exploded.

@F1: Lewis Hamilton’s helmet this weekend is covered in his 3-year-old daughter’s drawings, and we’re not crying, you are.

@SkySportsF1: Lewis dedicates his home race helmet to his daughter Yn, featuring her personal artwork. A touching tribute from the seven-time champion.

The media went crazy over it. Every journalist wanted to ask about it, every interview started with the same question:

"Tell us about your helmet this weekend, Lewis."

And every time, Lewis proudly explained.

"Yn loves drawing, and I love everything she makes," he said during a press conference. "I wanted to do something special for my first home race with Ferrari, and there was nothing more special than this. It’s my way of carrying her with me on track."

The fans adored it. In the grandstands, they held up signs with her drawings, and Ferrari even arranged for a little sketchbook to be placed in the garage for Yn to "design" future helmets.

By Sunday, it wasn’t just a helmet—it was a symbol of love.

As Lewis strapped himself into the car, he ran a hand over his helmet one last time.

"For you, baby girl," he murmured.

And then, with the whole world watching, he raced.

He raced with his daughter’s rainbow on his head, with her flowers and bees bringing color to the Ferrari red, with her little cat keeping him company through every turn.

And when he crossed the finish line in P1, the first thing he did after climbing out of the car was point to his helmet.

That night, when he called home again, Yn’s excited squeal nearly burst his eardrums.

"You did it, Daddy! My pictures won!"

Lewis laughed, feeling his heart swell. "Yeah, baby. We did it together."

And as far as he was concerned, that made this the most special win of his career.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[kykyonthemoon]

His Mini Version

His reaction when he saw the little doll version of himself that you possessed.

── .✦ Character x Female Reader (MC)

Included parts in order: Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne, Sylus, Caleb.

♡︎. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, soft and sweet, plush dolls, established relationship, jealousy (Xavier's part), long distance relationship (Caleb's part)

♡︎. Word count: ~2k4

♡︎. Requested by Yue AuV.

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

Rafayel

“Huh?”

Rafayel picked up the plush doll on the table, examined it for a moment, then turned to you and asked, "Is this how you think of me?"

You blinked. "Lovely, right?"

Rafayel frowned. He raised the doll to your eye level and said:

“Hear me out, Miss Bodyguard. I do look handsome and stylish, my physique is toned, with a model-like form. Yet, why... Why is this doll that you believe to resemble me so... chubby?"

"Rafayel!" You shrieked and swiftly grabbed both hands to cover the doll's ears. "How can you say that in front of Little Fish?! He'll feel terrible for himself!"

Rafayel gazed at you, then at the plush doll you had just given a name. His body was spherical, with small arms and legs coming out of it. His face was likewise round and fully linked to his body, resembling a huge cotton ball with purple hair patches on top.

"I've gained a little weight lately," Rafayel said, pouting while rubbing his belly. “But I'm definitely not that round!”

“I made him exactly like you for a purpose. Criticizing him means you are criticizing yourself.”

Rafayel did not give up. He took up Little Fish and brought it near to your face so you could compare. 

“Don't you think he's muuuuuuuuch less attractive than me? His body is not as beautiful as mine. He is not as cute or talented as me. Can he paint? Can he make you laugh? What makes you think he can ever replace me?!”

You tried not to laugh when Rafayel puffed up his cheeks, looking like a pufferfish, even identical to that plump plush doll. You replied:

“Well, you don't know that Little Fish also has a very special feature that is different from other dolls!” 

"What's so amazing about it? Tell me."

You extended your hands to accept the doll from Rafayel. When you gently squeezed the center of his chest, Little Fish made a sound mimicking Rafayel's voice:

“Hello Miss Bodyguard! Hello Miss Bodyguard!”

Rafayel stared at him with wide eyes. His demeanor changed from astonished to slightly suspicious.

"I recorded your voice," you added. "Simply hit the button, and he will talk. I can make a new recording if you want. What do you think? He's good, huh?"

You enthusiastically hugged Little Fish and approached him. Rafayel simply scratched his head. “Humans certainly have many strange toys,” he commented. But in the end, seeing you having so much fun with the plush doll, he patted your head and said: "Even though it's a bit ugly and weird compared to my standards, I'm still happy that Miss Bodyguard likes me so much that she even owns a plush doll designed after me!"

Xavier

Since joining Lumiere's fanclub, which was founded by your colleague Nero, you frequently brought home merchandise related to him. There were badges, cards, decorations, and even cotton goods. Among the dozens of Lumiere products that take up room in your residence on a daily basis, you absolutely adored the plush doll named Lumi.

Lumi had two bunny ears and was only a little larger than your hand, making him easy to carry anywhere and at any time. When you worked, he would stand on the desk to encourage you. When you trained, he would slip into your coat pocket and patiently wait for you on the bench. Every time you went out, you carefully put him in your bag. When you arrived home, he was usually on the couch next to you, or cuddled in your arms while you watched TV together. Even when you slept, you would bring him into bed, place him next to your pillow and cover him with a blanket.

Needless to say, this made Xavier quite uneasy. He had not liked Lumi one bit since he appeared in your arms for the first time. The plush doll occupied all your attention. He accompanied you everywhere, all the time. Your phone was full of pictures of him. Even when you slept, the doll was allowed to sleep with you while Xavier was left out. He sat on the edge of the bed, crossing his arms and glancing at Lumi.

“That's it, kiddo.”

Lumi opened his large blue eyes to stare at Xavier.

“You must leave.”

A rabbit ear on Lumi's head drooped down. 

“Give her back to me. Besides, the place where you sleep used to be mine."

The plush doll continued to stare at him with such innocence. Just as Xavier was about to pick him up, you walked into the room. You had changed your clothing, and of course, your pajamas included Lumiere's chibi pattern on them.

“What are you talking about with little Lumi?” You asked.

“Ah, nothing. I'm just telling him to go away.”

"Huh? Why? He's so little, he won't take up too much room on the bed, right?"

Xavier gave him a glance before turning to you, and his eyes quickly returned to their round, watery condition.

“He's been following you all day. Why does he even take my place at night? Do you really like him more than me?”

Xavier knew too well that you easily got softened when he acted like that. If Lumi's cuteness captured your heart, he would reclaim it by the same method.

“It's not like that,” you replied. One of your hands caressed Xavier's cheek. “Lumi is the one who will protect me in my dreams on the long nights while you're not here.”

Xavier rubbed his face into your palm. He said, “But now that I'm here, Lumi can go elsewhere.”

You thought what he said was right. So you compromised and placed the doll on the opposite side of your pillow, rather than between you and Xavier as previously. You snuggled into Xavier's arms. He remained silent, as if he had a lot on his mind. Then, after you had fallen asleep, he covertly grabbed Lumi and threw him to the ground, then hugged you even tighter.

Zayne 

You set a lunch box on Zayne's desk, then placed something else on top. 

It was a little plush doll measuring about ten centimeters. He had black hair, green bean eyes with a little brownish-yellow tint, he also donned a white blouse just like a certain doctor. 

“What do you have there? A mini version of me, it seems?” Zayne asked while putting away the files on his desk to prepare for lunch with you.

“Hehe,” you happily took the doll. He nestled into the palm of your hand. “Doctor Zayne, look how small you are! I can hold you with just one hand.”

Zayne gave you a little grin. Then he grabbed your other hand, pulling you closer to him.

"Of course." But if you use both hands, you'll be able to handle more than one Doctor Zayne.

You grasped both big and small Zayne with care.

Lunch that day went really well. Before departing, you slipped the little plush doll inside your coat pocket on the left side of your chest, patted it a few times, and told Zayne:

“This is where tiny Zayne will stay every day.  I will take him everywhere, including work, amusement parks, and even home. He will always be by my side!”

Zayne smiled and responded, "It turns out that I can cure not only your heart disease, but also your love sickness?"

You blushed. The Zayne standing in front of you suddenly leaned down, as if talking to the little doll in your pocket: "Miss Hunter and this plush doll's entire day would be so hectic. Would you mind asking her whether she still has time to join me for dinner tonight?"

You laughed when you noticed Zayne's childishness. You replied: “Of course I do. But after all, little Zayne is still an intern here. What are Doctor Zayne's thoughts about being his mentor?"

Zayne stood up straight, tenderly touching the doll's cheek with his finger. "All right. I'll be spending time with Intern Zayne. But when I do that, the lady who takes care of Intern Zayne should come along as well.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Zayne's fingers rose to push on your face. You puffed up your cheeks and nodded firmly in accord. From that day on, all your dates with Zayne were accompanied by little Intern Zayne, and he even made arrangements for the doll to have a separate seat by the windshield of his car.

Sylus

Sylus made frequent late-night visits to your place. That night was no exception. But he was astonished to see you open the door with a worn out expression, dragging a big plush doll on the ground.

"Why does it look so familiar?" Sylus spoke after studying the doll. He was around sixty centimeters tall, with white hair, red eyes like two rubies, and a signature smirk that looked so much like Sylus's.

"Huh? Oh, Baby Crow is a mini version of you!” You replied. After closing the door, you strolled back to the living room, holding the doll. You and him fell onto the sofa. Feeling tired after a long day, you had decided to hug the doll to bed before Sylus arrived.

He looked at you and that Baby Crow doll on the sofa and clicked his tongue. “It's a little huge compared to the definition of mini. And what the heck are you putting on me?”

Sylus snatched him out of your grasp. The doll - his little version - was dressed in pink Hello Kitty patterned pajamas,  identical to the ones you were wearing. He frowned.

“You and the doll even have matching pajamas. Where are mine then?”

Slowly opened your eyes on the sofa, you giggled: "Seeing that you like it so much, I will make you a set tomorrow. There are also Kuromi ones."

Sylus leaned down and kissed your hair, whispering: "Sleeping on the sofa will hurt your body." Then he helped you get up. You wrapped all of your limbs around Sylus's torso, as he held you with one hand and carried Baby Crow inside the room with the other.

Another night, when Sylus arrived home late, he caught you cuddling Baby Crow and sleeping soundly on the bed. Both of you were wearing the purple Kuromi pajamas you had mentioned before. He grinned as he softly punched Baby Crow. 

“Hey, you're taking up my space,” he told him.

The plush doll's challenging smile appeared to be taunting him. Sylus removed him from your arms and placed him at the end of the bed. Because there was nothing left to hug, you rolled over slightly, your fingers constantly searching for warmth until you found him.

Sylus took the doll's place, held you, and allowed you to immerse yourself in his arms. He said quietly: "You don't need a plush version of me anymore when you have the real one here, right?"

The next morning, still drowsy, you cuddled him and told him that your Baby Crow had grown into a genuine person.

Caleb

Caleb sent you a surprise package. Curious, you opened it and discovered a plush doll the size of a pillow inside. What was worth noting was that the doll resembled him, with purple eyes and an apple on his head. You phoned to show off to Caleb, who was still on duty at Skyhaven.

“Oh, you got him? I mean, Baby Cal?”

“You even have a name for him?” You grabbed the doll and placed him in your lap so Caleb could see him through the video call screen.

"Of course. I purposefully ordered him specifically for you. He's a present.” Caleb smiled brightly. He was free at the time, but his mission had yet to end so he could not come home to you right away.

You gazed down at the doll on your lap. He was so warm, and his adorable chubby face reminded you so much of Caleb. You inquired:

“But why did you send him to me?”

"To keep you company when I'm away on missions, of course," was his reply. "He will remind you to eat and go to bed on time, or hug you when you're weary."

You touched Cal's head. It was true; he was so soft that you simply wanted to squeeze him.

"Is this your compensation for not coming home for a month?"

Caleb laughed. He seemed a little sad. Then he instantly returned to his regular fresh appearance.

“Do you like him?”

"Of course. I can even release my rage on him every time I'm angry at you. Look!”

Having said that, you squeezed the doll's cheeks really hard. Caleb laughed from the other side of the screen. "Poor, little Cal. It looks like he'll have to take my position as your punching bag for a while now."

You kneaded the doll's cheeks again. He even donned a military uniform similar to Caleb's. The doll would not be able to replace him, you know; yet his existence would sooth your longing for the real person.

You leaned your head against Cal and asked Caleb:

“I have Cal here. What about you?”

“Oh, wait a minute.”

Caleb disappeared from the screen. You heard a rustling noise. A few minutes later, he emerged with another plush doll dressed in a Hunter suit. You immediately recognized it as a plush replica of yourself.

“This is little Hunter,” said Caleb. “She and little Cal are a couple. Every time I look at her, I will always think of you. For example, when I enter the room, she will appear and say: 'Why haven't you bought a ticket to Linkon yet?!' or 'You still dare to stay up late playing games?!'..."

You burst into laughter. "I didn't say it in that awful voice. But how old are you to even buy these things?..."

“I've been teased a lot by colleagues these past few days since I got little Hunter,” Caleb told you. “But since I think you also like plushies, I wanted to make something for you.”

"Thank you." You smiled, lovingly rubbing the doll he sent. “I like little Cal, but he's going to miss little Hunter very much. You mentioned that they were a couple. It means they should not be apart for too long, right?”

[chris-prank]

A desperate yandere in your area

Chapter 1 : Something warm

Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader

CW: NSFW, pet play?, praise kink, masturbation, humping, porn with plot, yandere behavior, mention of stalking and use of y/n

Next chapter

Word count: Over 3K

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

The winter cold had arrived in town, but you had underestimated it. You could clearly see the vapor escape your mouth as you breathed on your palms to warm them up. It was lunch break, so you had decided to treat yourself with a hot drink at the local coffee shop. They had a large variety of food and drinks, which was always nice when in a rush.  It was really close to the place you worked at, so the perfect opportunity to get some fresh air in your system. 

I wonder if Jacce is going to be there today, you ask yourself while rubbing your hands together and placing them in your pockets. He was one of the baristas. He always took the time to make little doodles on your cup to go or make foam art if you stayed for longer. You never really had a deep conversation, but you often thought it would be nice to get to know him. 

You arrived in front of the open sign and swiftly pushed the door to take shelter from the cold. Jacce seemed to cheer up as he noticed you. He made his way to the counter, a small smile gracing his lips while he adjusted his apron. Despite his tall figure, Jacce’s hunched over pose almost made him eye to eye with you. Emphasis on almost, he was still way taller.

“Welcome back! Wh-what can I get you today?” 

You told him you wanted a chicken soup with your hot drink, since you had the time to stay a bit longer today. While ordering, you noticed little button pins on his neck strap. One was definitely the pansexual flag and the other was the band Ghost’s logo. 

“I like your button pins!” You commented while handing him the right amount of money, your fingers brushing lightly against his palm. 

“O-oh! Thanks! you're the first client to notice them… well to say something about it at least.”

He started fidgeting with them and gave you a sheepish grin. You swore his face had gotten more flushed than before, but not thinking much of it you made your way to a nearby table. Soon, Jacce arrived with your food ready in hand. You took the tray and admired his work of art. It was a cute Shiba Inu made of foam milk coming out of the mug. He really made it impressively detailed. You took a glance at the soup and the croissant next to it… A croissant? Your neurons finally made the connections that you didn’t order this, after a good second of zoning out. You looked up at Jacce, but he simply glanced away. Oh, it was on purpose. 

“Aw! You didn’t have to!” 

“It’s nothing really…You are m— our favorite regular after all, I need to treat you from time to time.” He pouted, as if it was an insult not to give you special attention. His comment turned your cheeks slightly red. You didn’t know at all that the people working here liked you this much. 

Jacce stayed in place despite already giving you your order. It seemed like the barista wanted to chat longer, but another customer was waiting, so he left reluctantly. 

“The art is really cute by the way!” You shouted from your seat. You saw Jacce lit up with a giddy smile, but in a matter of seconds he returned to his neutral face when addressing the man at the counter. 

You took out your phone to take a picture of the little foam dog before it disappeared into the warm liquid. After that you decided to attack the croissant first, not wanting to give your tongue a second degree burn with the chicken soup or the drink. You took a huge bite, crumbs falling on your laps despite your best efforts. They really had amazing pastry here. The price reflected that, and your wallet definitely knew it well. You were so wrapped in your own little world that your brain blocked out everything going on around you, until an angry voice disturbed your peace. 

“DON’T try to give excuses!”

“S-sir, p-please…”

A man, probably in his fifties, was menacingly pointing his finger at Jacce. He anxiously ran a hand through his mud brown hair, looking everywhere except in the clients eyes. Your heartbeat picked up in pace as you watched the scene unfold, you didn’t want to imagine how the poor barista felt. 

“I don’t have any music playing, I swear! It’s just to take out surrendering noises when I’m —”

“Your generation are such snowflakes! I want to talk to your manager!” 

Jacce let out an anxious laugh before answering.

“I a-am actually the… manager, but I’m als–”

“FOR GOD SAKE! Proof that this place is run by idiots!”

Ok, this guy is seriously going overboard. You looked around to watch the reaction of the other customers. They were understandably all silent, almost frozen in their seats. Seeing no one ready to advocate for the poor guy caused your protective side to kick in. 

“How is it even a problem if he can hear you perfectly?”

The man turned to you with a surprise expression, not expecting anyone to intervene, but soon enough he gave you the same angry stare Jacce had received.  

“It’s a matter of respect.”

“Well you're not being really respectful right now.”

“Are you fricking— You know what? You just lost a valuable customer.” He spat out at the barista and stormed off, but not before knocking over a stand of straws. 

Jacce was visibly affected by this whole encounter. He almost looked like he was going to have an anxiety attack, because of the way he was gripping his shirt. You quickly went up to the counter and kneeled down to clean up the mess. 

“I am so sorry for you, people can be so rude! That’s why I prefer a job without any social interaction, a pure paradise I tell you!” you joked, trying to soothe him. “I hope it didn’t ruin your day…”

Your attention wandered away as you picked off the ground the reusable straws. You could hear Jacce say something, but only for it to be mixed with the background noises. 

“Mm what did you say?”

“Oh em— I just said that it won’t affect the rest of my day, don't worry.”

Jacce’s hand reached up and it looked like he was scratching his neck. He seemed to have calmed down which made you a bit relieved. After all that, you went back to your table and finished your food and drink. You told Jacce goodbye before going back to your own job. 

The rest of your day went normally, but it was still pretty intense. You were at least glad that you didn’t have to deal with angry clients unlike a certain someone. On that note your mind wandered back to Jacce. Next time you should try to get to know him better. He seemed to be eager for it as well. 

***

I hope they’ll come by today,  Jacce whined internally as he tried to search out the window for a glimpse of his beloved. It has been two days since the last time he officially saw them, two days too much in his opinion. He did follow them after work, but it wasn’t the same. The barista wanted to talk to them, even if it was just for a second. 

Jacce mindlessly twisted the sleeve of his forest green turtleneck between his fingers. He had a huge collection of thrifted knitted turtleneck sweater, but this one was definitely his favorite since it was the softest on his skin. 

After one more hour of torture, waiting for a certain someone, they finally pushed open the door of the coffee shop. It took merely a second for Jacce to notice them. He wanted to run to the counter to make sure his coworkers didn't steal this moment from him, but it would have looked suspicious. Luckily, everyone else was too busy to take care of it.

“Welcome back! Wh-what can I get for you today?” The question was more a force of habits than an honest one. Jacce knew perfectly their favorite drink and how they wanted it to be prepared. Just like he expected, y/n ordered the same thing as usual, but with chicken soup. That’s a good sign, he thought; they always order something to eat when they are planning on staying. 

Jacce told them the price and took the chance to admire their complexion while they were busy searching in their wallet. He really loved everything about his darling, from head to toe. As they paid, he felt the tip of y/n finger brush against his palm, shooting heat to his face and somewhere else. 

“I like your button pins!”

The sudden compliment caught him off guard. He was already overjoyed by the touch of his favorite client, but this was definitely making his face burn ten times more. He awkwardly thanked them, but thankfully they didn’t seem to notice his intense reaction, instead leaving to take a seat soon after their interaction. 

Jacce calmed himself down as he brainstormed what he could possibly make in milk foam this time. He ended up with the idea of a cute dog. Everyone likes dogs, right? He sure hoped they did. Furthermore, he took the opportunity to add a croissant next to the bowl of soup. It was a slow day anyway and it's not like it was making the business lose a lot of money. The barista carefully took the tray and brought it to their table. Normally they would just call people at the counter to get their order, but he seriously wasn’t going to bother y/n for such a silly thing. 

Jacce was so proud at the stunned look on his the customers face when they saw the little Shiba Inu made out of foam milk and the free croissant. He couldn’t help but sweat as they looked up at him. 

“Aw Jacce! You didn’t have to!” 

“It’s nothing really…You are m— our favorite regular after all, I need to treat you from time to time.” He pouted. 

He soon noticed that they were blushing. Fuck! I made them blush! That’s what he wanted more than anything, to make them love him just as much as he loved them. This definitely was a good sign.  If only he could stay longer to admire them from up close, but no. Another customer had to enter and ruin the only good moment of his day. 

“The art is really cute by the way!” He heard them shout from their table as he left. Jacce lit up with a giddy smile, but in a matter of seconds he returned to his neutral face when addressing the man at the counter. 

“What can I get you sir?” He asks with a monotone voice while gently tugging at his only dark strand of hair. 

“I’ll get a black cof– are you listening to music, young man?” 

Jacce looked up at the client that had noticed his earbuds.

“No sir, I can assure you I’m not.”

“DON’T lie to me!”

“S-sir, p-please…”

The man, probably in his fifties, menacingly pointed his finger at him. Jacce anxiously ran a hand through his mud brown hair, looking everywhere except in the clients eyes. This was going worse than he expected. He could feel himself sweating profusely. 

“I don’t have a-any music playing, I swear! It’s just to take out surrendering noises when I’m —”

“Your generation are such snowflakes! I want to talk to your manager!” 

Jacce let out an anxious laugh before answering.

“I a-am actually the… manager, but I’m als–”

“FOR GOD SAKE! Proof that this place is run by idiots!”

A worker named Pierre opened his mouth to intervene, but he was not quick enough it seemed.  

“How is it even a problem sir if he can hear you perfectly?”

Jacce had to hold himself back to not cry from happiness. There they were, his precious love standing up for him. 

The man turned to them with a surprise expression, not expecting anyone to speak up, but soon enough gave y/n an angry stare. Jacce couldn’t let that slide. This man was definitely banned from the shop.   

“It’s a matter of respect.”

“Well you're not being really respectful right now.”

“Are you fricking— You know what? You just lost a valuable customer.” He spat out in Jacce’s way and stormed off, but not before knocking over a stand of straws. 

Jacce could never get used to situations like this, it always affected him. Still, he tried his best to regulate his breathing as he gripped his shirt. Y/n quickly went up to the counter and kneeled down out of view. The barista leaned against the counter to look at what they were doing. His darling was cleaning up the mess the waste of air had just caused. 

“I am so sorry for you, people can be so rude! That’s why I prefer a job without any social interaction, a pure paradise I tell you!” They joked, “I hope it didn’t ruin your day…”

It was so sweet of them, not only did they advocate on his behalf but they were thoughtful enough to lift his spirit too. Jacce really couldn’t wait to be theirs and repay them for all their kindness. 

“No need to worry about that, you made it perfect already.”

“Mm what did you say?”

“Oh em— I just said that it won’t affect the rest of my day, don’t worry.”

The man could feel his erection pressing painfully against the restraint of his pants. Instinctively, he reached up to the collar hidden under his clothes to brush it with his fingers. It had a tag with Jacce engraved on the front. On the backside it said “property of” followed by y/n and their phone number. He clenched his fist, he really couldn’t wait to get home.

When they left, the rest of Jacce’s day consisted of him daydreaming about the chivalry of his sweetheart. Once he arrived at his house, it was a matter of seconds before his pants were taken off. He didn’t even wait to be in his room, instead opting for the cold tile floor of his bathroom. He took out of one of the cabinets a small bottle of lotion, opened it with his left hand and generously poured the content on the other. He had these bottles scattered all around his home, including the bag that he brought with him everywhere he went. Biting his bottom lips, he ran his hand down his happy trail, where it connected to the base of his shaft. A doggy-like whine escaped his lips as he began to wrap his finger around it and slowly moved up.

“S-shit Mmfff! Please…A-aahh use me master.”

Wet noises soon started echoing around the room and the hallway, accompanying the incessant buzzing of electricity. It was a true miracle that Jacce never got a noise complaint since he moved into this house. His neighbor could definitely hear his nightly worshiping session if they went out into their backyard. It's not like he was loud on purpose, but when it came to the object of his affection he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It made him wonder on some occasions if he didn’t end up in a neighborhood full of perverts that loved listening to his lewd activities. At this point, his legs had started shaking violently from how sensitive he was, making him lean more against the wall for support.

“I’m just a dumb little puppy for y-you, t-touching my-myself everyday …Nnhg.”

He arched his back as his hand stroked his cock at a higher speed, crying out for them desperately. His imagination couldn’t settle on one vision. He kept switching from images of them bouncing on his cock to them bobbing their head up and down on it and even having them fuck his little ass raw. He only slowed down his movements to run his thumb under the foreskin of its head, filling his brain with an other wave of pleasure. 

“I’m a… greedy little mutt, so Uugh so greedy.” 

He cursed at himself under his breath for having such lewd fantasies about the person he loved, which turned him on even more. Precum was abundantly leaking out of the tip of his dick now, resembling pearly water drops. Wanting more, he used his free hand to reach under his turtleneck and pinched at his nipples. Jacce bullied the poor thing by twisting it between is fingers. He couldn’t help but shiver from the stimulation he was giving himself. 

“I j-just Unnf want to b-be yours.”

He sincerely wanted them to use him, ravage him even, but he also yearned for the sensations his darling would give his body. They would be so good for him just like he would be for them. 

Despite the fact that he wanted to continue more than anything, it had to last longer. As he felt his climax approaching, Jacce loosened his grip on his shaft. A pathetic whine escaped his lips while he tried to keep himself from cumming. He staggered to his feet, gripping the sink for support. He felt so weak, his legs hardly supporting his weight anymore. Every friction his dick received made him fold in half, prolonging even more his travel to his room. As he continued his journey, a long string of precum was left behind him. He will have clean it later, but for now he didn’t care if he made a mess. In a way, it was part of the fun.

He finally crawled onto the bed, lazily placing a pillow between his legs. It was wrapped with one of y/n stolen hoodies, in other words, his most prized possessions. Jacce winced when the fabric made direct contact with his glistening cock. He closed his eyes, trying to picture them under him, praising him for being able to hold his orgasm. He was being such a good boy for y/n, why couldn’t they see? 

He started humping that thing like the horny mutt he was. His ass wiggling cutely from the incessant movement. Jacce wanted them to see him like this so badly. A pure mess that couldn’t help but make high pitched whines at every trust. 

“I j–just want to cum for you, all f–for you.” He mumbled, while tears rolled down his face, cheek flushed. 

His cock was so sensitive, giving him the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. He wasn’t capable of closing his mouth anymore, drool leaking out of it like a waterfall. Jacce tried to keep up the speed as he chased his inevitable climax.

“Master, I'm c-cumming, A-ah… I'm cumming! I… l-love you!” He cried out while thrusting his hips forward uncontrollably, shooting hot ropes of cum all over the pillow. 

After falling face first onto the bed, he pulled it up to his chest, cradling the dirty hoodie as if it was really them, but ultimately it wasn’t enough. He was just too impatient to tease himself for an extended period of time. In addition, the desire to cum and becoming dumb for a few seconds was way too alluring. Jacce was sure that if he was with y/n, they would edge him way longer than what he could ever do. 

He knew for a fact that's what they would do, since, one time at the cafe, he had the chance to watch them enter the code on their computer. With that crucial information he was able to open it when he broke into their house came unannounced. He was stunned when he saw the tags of the spicy fanfiction his precious darling reads. They both had the same taste in terms of kinky sex. Another proof to fill his delusion that he was destined to be theirs. 

As he laid there, tired and dazed, he thought about how nice it would be to be enveloped by their smell. He took a big breath into the hoodie. Yay it lost the particular scent he was looking for. He knew it was wrong, but maybe he could pay them a “visit”…just to feel a bit closer. Jacce looked at the clock. He still had time to do it before they arrived at their apartment. 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Even if I only post it now, this was actually the first yandere story I ever wrote, back in september of 2023, so the writing maybe be less good than my other stuff!

This story will also be posted on my ao3 account

Plus an old drawing I made back then for this chapter

[athenalvss]

ITS ALL GOOD MISS

summary: Dick has a lot of fun creating awkward moments when social services come to check on him at Wayne Manor.

a/n: I was reading Batman and Robin Year One and well, I'm a little obsessed with the dynamic that Bruce and Dick had.

pairing: Bruce wayne x civil! fem reader; Dick grayson x batmom

open request - batmom masterlist

It had only been a couple of weeks since Dick had arrived at his new life at Wayne Manor, the young boy had entered that home like a ray of sunshine, determined to move forward with his life despite the traumatic loss of his parents right before his eyes.

Dick Grayson was a special boy, with an energy that was too much for his small body, eager to help and be a part of anything offered to him, as long as it wasn't homework or school stuff.

Dick's arrival at the mansion had been something positive for Bruce, on more than one occasion Alfred had been surprised to see him smile, or when he was busy in the kitchen laughter could be heard echoing off the large walls of the Batcave, he was beginning to believe that it was a good idea for Bruce to decide to bring the boy.

But there were many people who weren't so happy about this. At the child protection services offices, they were a little surprised, and not in a good way. They were waiting for the day when they could take the child out of their hands.

Why would a billionaire, living his prime as a playboy, adopt an orphaned child who would be traumatized for life by the murder of his parents?

For that very reason, everyone at the mansion was more than attentive to Miss Lyn's imminent visit.

Well...,actually just you and Alfred were attentive to it, Bruce and Dick were very busy training, going out at night and returning in the early hours of the morning taking advantage of the fact that Dick was still on vacation.

Your relationship with Bruce was private, not to use the word secret since you weren't hiding from anyone, but keeping a lower profile would avoid certain harassment from Gotham's pesky prey.

You weren't interested in being on the cover of a tabloid or being named Woman of the Month in venomous columns. You knew what you had with Bruce, and he was more than happy to keep him out of the spotlight. There would be time to take pictures of you together once them found out you were getting married.

"Do you think she's going to give us trouble?"

"I don't doubt it," Alfred said, pouring the tea. "But this family has seen worse, miss."

Just then, hurried footsteps were heard. Dick was coming down the stairs, his training uniform half-buttoned and wearing a huge smile, while Bruce followed him with a calmness that could only be feigned.

"Is the paper lady here yet?" Dick asked, stopping in front of you.

"Not yet," you replied, lowering yourself to his level to straighten his shirt. "But she'll be here any moment. Are you ready to act like an angel?"

Dick nodded enthusiastically, and you smiled. He was a sweet boy, one who deserved to stay. One who was finding a way to move on with his life and have a better future.

And when the bell rang, everyone looked at each other for a second.

"Dick, go to the study and sit there, don't make a fuss and behave yourself," Bruce ordered the boy and turned his body to continue down the hallway.

Bruce walked down the long hallway, reaching the mansion's front door. Meanwhile, you stood with Alfred in the kitchen, your hands slightly shaky as you arranged the homemade cookies on a small porcelain platter. As if that could change anything. As if the scent of butter and vanilla could soften the judgment in the caseworker's eyes.

"It won't help if you bite your nails," Alfred told you without even looking at you, while he poured the tea with his usual precision.

"I'm not eating them," you said, even though you had already brought your thumb to your lips three times without realizing it.

"You can tell from your face, miss," Alfred added with a half smile. It was his way of comforting you.

You tried to take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on what you could control. You'd been there since Dick arrived. You'd seen him wake up from nightmares, heard him laugh himself silly in the backyard, and helped him understand that his life hadn't ended with that jump without a net in the circus.

And if that woman came with the intention of taking him away, you would have something to say.

On the other side of the mansion, Miss Lyn presented herself with exactly the air you had expected: professional, impassive, and with a clipboard in her hand that seemed to weigh more than any sentence.

"Mr. Wayne," she greeted in a high, measured voice. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Come in" was all Bruce said, moving aside for her to enter.

In the kitchen, you cleared the tray of cookies and tea, feeling your heart pounding. Alfred glanced at you and nodded gently, as if to say, "It's your turn now."

Because even though your name wasn't on any document, even though the press didn't know who you were, within those walls you were also part of that family.

You were just entering the living room when you heard Miss Lyn's voice speaking to Bruce. "Bruce, you're the one who provoked all this questioning by presenting yourself as a tutor, even though you're single and have a reputation for... too much socializing."

Your eyebrow rose without being able to help it. Too much socializing. What a polite way of saying irresponsible playboy, you thought as you took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open with your hip, walking in with the tray in hand.

"Tea?" you asked with a calm smile, interrupting the awkward moment. Alfred would be proud of your punctuality.

The woman looked up, clearly surprised by your presence. Her eyes dropped to the tray and then back to you, assessing you as if you were part of her report.

"I didn't know Mr. Wayne had company," he commented neutrally.

"Not many people know that," you said, placing the tray on the table. "And that's how we like it."

Bruce didn't even flinch. He just crossed his arms, letting you handle the situation as only you knew how.

"And you are…?"

"She's my fiancée, Miss Lyn."

Miss Lyn blinked, barely for a second, trying to maintain her composure.

“Oh… I see. Congratulations, then,” she said, though her voice didn’t quite manage to sound natural.

You nodded with a gentle smile, pouring the tea with measured movements, as if the scene didn't intimidate you at all. Bruce, beside you, remained silent, but his posture relaxed slightly.

The conversation continued for a few more minutes, with questions about Dick's routine, his study habits, his emotional state. Bruce answered in short but clear sentences. You added details when necessary, with the same calmness with which you served the cookies.

"I hope you don't mind if I want to talk to the boy alone. I want to make sure he's safe."

"You have my word as Wayne and as a trauma survivor that the boy is safe in this house." Bruce looked at her seriously and showing great confidence in his words, he looked at the woman and guided her to the door. "Come with us, ask him yourself, he's waiting for you in the study."

The three of you stood in front of the large door of the study where Dick was, but as he had said before, Dick is a boy with great energy, and a little unconscious given his age.

When you opened the door, the first image you saw was Dick doing a somersault through the air, the large lamps in the room were in motion, revealing that he had grazed them when he jumped, leaving Bruce and you totally scared, not for him, but for Miss Lyn who looked at the whole situation with surprise and a look of horror.

"Hello," Dick greeted cheerfully. "Please hold your applause," as he stood grandly in the study chair.

You quickly gave him a reprimanding look and quickly walked over to his side. "Dick... for God's sake" you whispered as you guided him toward the door.

The woman looked at Bruce with disgust, who remained serious. "im upset as you are, and no, I don't approve."

── .✦

The next few times Miss Lyn approached Wayne Manor by surprise she got no response, of course someone was always in the mansion, but the people who mattered weren't, so to avoid even bigger problems, you and Alfred decided to go to the garden and enjoy the sunny day while ignoring the sound of the door being knocked.

But you couldn't escape any longer; if you continued ignoring these visits, even more problems would come, but you didn't expect the next visit to be on a Sunday at seven in the morning.

"Alfred, what the hell do we do now? They haven't arrived yet." You came out of the Batcave after hearing the door slam.

"Calm down, we have to stall for time. Take a deep breath, miss." Alfred walked firmly toward the door and opened it as usual. "Miss Lyn! What a surprise! We were expecting you?"

"No, Mr. Pennyworh, wasn't that one of the conditions in Mr. Wayne's contract? Occasional visits?"

"Of course, it's just too early," letting her into the mansion and guiding her to the living room as they continued their conversation.

You stayed there waiting in the living room until they arrived, if Bruce Wayne didn't arrive right now with that child you were going to kill him.

You settled into the armchair with a frown, arms crossed and a cup of coffee in your hands, trying to maintain your composure as Miss Lyn scanned the room, as if looking for dust in the corners or any evidence of neglect.

"Are you often alone with the boy, Miss…?" she asked, taking out her notebook in that inquisitive tone disguised as cordiality.

"That's right, I help him a lot with his homework, and we like to cook too" you replied with a friendly smile, although your eyes were already starting to stop hiding your impatience.

"Cooking?" Miss Lyn repeated, raising an eyebrow, as if it were a potentially dangerous activity. She jotted something down in her notebook. "And what kind of meals do you usually prepare?"

"Whatever he wants," you said, still smiling. "Although he's been obsessing over oatmeal and banana cookies lately."

"Umm, okay, I don't mean to be rude, but where's Mr. Wayne?" Lyn asked, just as a soft metallic sound was heard from the main hallway.

The front door opened with a soft creak, and you immediately turned your head. Bruce strode out, wearing his workout clothes and a towel draped over his shoulder.

"There's nothing like a good morning workout, dear! I..." Bruce stood in the doorway with a calm smile, the complete opposite of everything you were feeling. "Laura! We weren't expecting you here. Alfred, please get something for our guest."

"That won't be necessary Mr. Wayne, I'm just coming for a quick visit to see how Richard is." He looked at his watch.

"Alfred, would you ask Dick to come with us? He probably didn't hear the doorbell. He's quite a slouch."

"Why? What do you do at night when you can't rest?"

"He really likes watching movies. Sometimes we just stare and don't notice," you quickly replied. "My bad."

Then the sound of bare feet on marble broke the silence.

Dick appeared in the hallway, his hair disheveled, his eyes squinting, and his pajamas wrinkled as proof that he had at least tried to look asleep.

"Did someone say my name?" he asked hoarsely, rubbing his eye.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you smiled at him as he approached and hugged you confidently around the waist, resting his head against your side as if seeking comfort.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, gently stroking his hair, checking for any bruises from their nighttime adventures.

"Mmm-hmm. Can I have breakfast now?"

Miss Lyn watched carefully, but something about the way Dick snuggled up to you spoke volumes. There was no coldness in that house. There was no neglect. There were bonds.

"Sure, in a moment," you told him. "But first, Miss Lyn came to see you."

Dick sat up a little, smiling with that mixture of shyness and charm that only he knew how to manage. "Hello Dick! How have you been? What have you been doing?"

"I went swimming"

"And do you like being here at Mr. Wayne's house? What do you think of him?" she asked Dick as she got down to his level.

"I like it, and Bruce is a great teacher."

"Oh yeah? And what has he been teaching you?"

"A lot of things! Do you know what the crime rate is in Gotham?"

[requiemforthepoets]

you say good morning when its midnight ⟢ OP81 (part 5)

main masterlist | fic playlist | series masterlist

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar grew up together, and despite being neighbors and best friends with her sister, hattie, you never really talked or had a conversation with him. until one day, where he randomly texted you out of nowhere.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: use of y/n, (a little) slow burn, humor, fluff, inaccurate information, no consistent face claims, all photos are from pinterest, weird, awkward, unhinge, reader is a little bit ball of a mess, long distance relationships, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 555

AUTHOR'S NOTE: part 5! sorry if the update took a little long, i was away for a vacation. but i'm now back, and i'll try to update this series as much as i can. also, this series will be my primary focus for the meantime. i would like to apologize if this is a bit rushed, indecided not to some parts since i wanna focus on the plot, but i hope you'll enjoy this one!

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

It was four days later when the front desk called up to your apartment at Kent Ridge Hill Residences, letting you know that there’s an express package that had arrived for you. Couriers weren't allowed to go up to the units, so you had to head down to the lobby to collect the package yourself.

You linked in confusion, slipping on your slippers as you mumbled a soft, “I didn't order anything.”

You certainly haven't ordered anything. Not even a midnight retail therapy binge your forgot about. Still, you took the lift down and approached the reception desk, signing of the delivery. The box was not heavy, but it was neat, its brown cardboard edges sealed perfectly with a transparent tape that has the “fragile” word printed on the tape, and your name printed clearly on the shipping label. It wasn't large, nust enough to cradle in both arms comfortably.

You carried the box back to up to your apartment, the elevator ride feeling longer than usual. Once you reach your apartment, you quickly went in and locked the door. You sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor of your living room, scissors in hand. You stared at the package for a good minute like it might explain itself if you waited long enough, and then you began carefully slicing through the tape until the flaps peeled back.

As always, your curiosity won out.

You opened the box with care, like it might contain something so fragile. Inside, nestled in a bed of brown paper, were four things: a fridge magnet in the shape of Mt. Fuji that has the word "JAPAN” lettering under it, a tiny sakura petals swaying in a snow globe dome, a frog mug that is oddly shaped like a tiny pitcher, curved and handmade-looking—like it was plucked off the shelf of a sleepy Kyoto ceramics shop, and finally, a delicate matcha tea set—complete with a bamboo whisk, ceramic bowl, and a tin of fragrant powder so green that it could’ve only have come from somewhere special.

You felt your hear skipped a little in your chest. You definitely knew who it was from before you can even see the the note that was tucked neatly beneath the matcha set. But still, your fingers trembled slightly as you opened the small card, written in careful handwriting:

< I didn't buy you a postcard. I figured that’s somethinf you should do yourself, someday, when you’re finally there. I didn't want to take that moment away from you, but I thought I’d help you get started on the fridge magnet collection. Oh, the frog thing was just a spur of the moment thing, it reminded me of you and it looked like it should belong with you. - podium boi >

You read the note not only once, not twice, but three times. You couldn't help it and bit you lip, cheeks burning. The smile that grew on your face didn't stop for a long while. You tucked the note safely on your journaling notebook, then grabbed the fridge magnet and stood in front of your fridge, and with a soft click on the surface, you pressed the magnet into place. There was a quiet warmth blooming in your chest that you didn't quite know what to name just yet.

Postcard-less, for now. But not empty, not anymore.

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

yn.jpg posted to their story!

liked by hattiepiastri, yourmom, your brother, and 13 others

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

taglist: @uuoozzii , @freyathehuntress , @littlemisskavities , @elieanana , @rexit-mo , @imagine-it-was-us , @satorinnie , @pessismisticpotato , @milkysoop , @random-movie , @supersanelyromantic , @greantii , @chirpchirp69 , @purplephantomwolf , @mimisweetz , @frogiemushr0om , @angxedxtz , @hevzo8 , @pandora108 , @ms-darcy23 , @sluttybitch , @proudshinsoukinnie , @pinklemonade34 , @gemi-boi , @elizamoe133 , @sideboobrry11 , @mrrayjay , @curlylando , @soleilgrec , @nothingjustaninchidentt , @suns3treading , @dramallama9 , @1-queenofpotatoes-1 , @suibianupyourass , @armystay89 , @verstappen-leclerc-inchident , @landossainz , @martygraciesversion381 , @larkkyoris , @iloveotters11 , @isagrace22 , @bagelsbitch , @gigigreens , @wolfbc97 , @esw1012 , @raesblues , @mashmashi , @chxseversion , @fairyjinn , @hoseokjin194 , @ihaveitprinteddout , @henryspersonalver , @fctnllvrs , @pinkdeadtopia , @noimnotmae , @henna006 , @quenanababy , @formulaal , @mits-vi , @urmomsgirlfriend1 , @yeahimcrying , @ardentsnowfall , @teamnovalak , @mmsimp

[whorelaud]

reader thinks rafe cancelled their new year's plans, nearly melting upon discovering the surprise he prepared for her

Despite always spending the new year’s eve with your boyfriend, the latter decided it would be a good choice to abandon the plans you thoroughly thought through halfway into your ploy, leaving you cluelessly staring into the void, as you reconsidered your whole life decisions in the middle of the diner. 

Had you known he’d cancel the dinner reservations, you would've saved yourself the embarrassment, and never showed up. It was humiliating, the smile fading off your lips the moment the receptionist informed you there was no history for the name of your reservation. He didn't even tell you, simply letting a random person at a restaurant break down the information for you. 

The drive back filled with your choked cries, mascara smudging the downside of your eye as tears welled nonstop, messing up your makeup base. You didn't even care at this point, ditching plans to hangout with his stupid friends? Mind you, ones whom he clearly stated he hated. Spending such an important day with them made you feel pathetic, like a fool, hence he knew how special this is for you.

You caught glimpse of the time upon your arrival, scoffing and kicking your shoes off when you noticed it was five till midnight, the realization that you were spending the year alone making your heart clench. You didn't need a man, you were going to order takeout, have a drink, turn on your favorite show, and waste the night away. On your own.  

Those were your plans, however, they were swiftly interrupted when you noticed the shredded confetti along with flower petals trailing a path to your room, as you followed it with haste, the said scene raising suspicions in your head. 

To your surprise, the lights suddenly turned on, as you were met with more confetti, jolting from your spot the moment it made a loud pop. You held your hand close to your heart, feeling it increase in pace as you took in your surroundings, the nicely decorated space earning a shuddered breath out of you. 

Your mouth gaped in awe, gaze eventually shifting to the person in charge of this mess, heart melting into a puddle when you caught sight of your boyfriend, grinning like a fool while he waited for a reaction, face immediately dropping when you didn't give one in response; not one that's pleasant, that's for sure. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He questioned, halting when he walked in your direction, merely for you to step back. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry, I didn't mean to startle–” 

“You cancelled plans to do this?” You cut him off, words dripping with venom. 

“I– Do you not like it?” He hesitated to ask, lips parting with a shaky exhale. “I thought you would, I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“This is stupid, Rafe. You should've at least told me, I wouldn't have gotten ready to humiliate myself! You call this a surprise?!” You wipe away your tears, mouth moving faster than your brain 

“I’m sorry, baby.” Rafe's voice dropped into a whisper, approaching you with haste, and cupping your face in his hands once he was within your presence. “It was selfish of me to not think it through, and not see it from your perspective. I thought it would be a nice surprise, ‘cause we always celebrate out.” 

You relaxed when Rafe embraced you in a hug, the smell of his musky cologne intoxicating your senses. He rubbed soothing circles to the blade of your shoulder, as comfortable silence heaved the chilly air. 

“Whatever,” You muffled, suppressing your smile as you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his chest. “That wasn't cool, I actually thought you were ditching me to hangout with Topper.”

“I would never,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your head. “I was busy preparing this for you.”

At that, your eyes roamed around the decorated room, giggling upon realizing the amount of effort he put into it. It was absolutely adorable, made your chest swell with joy, fully forgetting the reason you were upset. 

“Do you like it?” He cooed, tilting your head with the hands around your chin. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, scrunching your nose when he captured your lips in a kiss. “I’m still mad at you.” 

“Happy new year, baby.”

a/n happy new yr's mls <3 js sum nonsense to celebrate eheh!!

[leeechin]

𐀔 YOUR EYES ONLY [l.hs] ⊹ ꠋ ⋅

⋆ summary: you’re eager to give your boyfriend a nice birthday celebration on your free day from work, despite his late work schedule. ✧ pairing: idol!heeseung x model!reader

⌗ warnings: kinda cute in the beginning but then gets real nasty loool, alcohol consumption, slightly intoxicated sex, unprotected sex, hee spanks the reader literally 2 times, fingering by a skyline window, size kink, 2 different positions, oral (m.rec), creampie, nicknames & petnames, mdni. let me know if i forgot anything !

word count: 2.5k

(note: happy birthday to my man 👰🏻‍♀️ and yes, i changed the title from the original preview i posted a couple days ago :p. i know i’m late 🤦🏻‍♀️but it’s still his bday in my timezone so..)

★ find my other works here !

you couldn’t wait for heeseung to get home.

today was one of the only free days you had from your jam-packed schedule. but unfortunately it was not the same for your boyfriend. checking the time on your phone, it was around 10:30 ish, with heeseung usually coming home a couple hours earlier.

you ordered a set of cupcakes for heeseung to enjoy with you when he arrived back to the apartment you guys lived in, along with candles with the numbers of the age he was turning. you were eager.

and you might’ve also deliberately chosen a short white nightgown that covered the lacy panties you were wearing, choosing to not have a bra on, knowing how much heeseung would love that. that was a present for later, a robe covering your body to be revealed later.

pacing around the large living room to kill some time, you peer at the skyline view of the city at night, down the the busy road that was never empty, the cars looking so small from how far up your apartment unit was. you loved how heeseung picked a unit with such a nice view.

‘how much longer until he is home?!’ repeated in your head, continuously pacing around the living room, skipping by the window. you decide to blast some music and dance to it, letting your body flow to the music.

“did i make you wait that long, you’re dancing in our living room?” heeseung bursts out laughing, closing the door behind him. you jump at the sudden sound of his voice, but excitement takes over your face as you dash to your boyfriend, jumping into his arms and peppering kisses all over his face. “happy birthday hee.” you smile, arms wrapping around his neck as he held you up with both his hands. you wipe the residue of your lipstick off of his cheeks, placing your lips over his as he carried you near the dining table, carefully placing you down.

“what’s all this?” heeseung grins, glancing at the box of cupcakes, along with the fancy bottle of champagne with two glasses that you two only used for special occasions. you cling to heeseung, his taller frame enveloping you against his body in a hug, resting your chin on his chest as you look up to him.

“just a little something for the birthday boy.” you respond, eyes looking up adoringly to your boyfriend. heeseung swears he’s the luckiest man in the world, pulling you into another kiss, this time longer and you notice how heeseung’s hand roamed to the bottom of your nightgown, grasping a handful of your ass, causing you to gasp against his lips, giggling after you push him away. “enjoy the cupcakes and champagne first, hee.”

he nods, knowing how much effort you put into getting all these nice things for him, it’s the least he could do, especially with practice the past week running much later than it should be, making you go to sleep by yourself sometimes. but god, you just looked so cute in that nightgown, he wanted to devour you on the table.

“i love you so much y/n.” heeseung says, watching as you pour the fancy champagne into the two glasses. you smile, handing him a glass, clinking it with yours. your smile never leaves your face, as you’re overjoyed with the time spend you are spending with heeseung.

“i love you too, hee.” taking small sips of the champagne, you admire his after-practice look, you loved it when he wore compression shirts that hugged his body flawlessly. a small beat of silence fills the room that makes heeseung speak up.

“what’s on your mind pretty girl?” you take another sip from the glass, choosing to just down the rest of the drink. “just thinkin’ about the cupcakes. i’m gonna go get a lighter for the candles.” heeseung nods, as you jumped up from you seat, skipping to the kitchen, looking through the drawers for a lighter, your nightgown rising up to reveal your lace panties with each small jump. heeseung shifts in his seat, fighting the urge to follow you into that kitchen to forget about the cupcakes and bend you right then and there.

“i found it!” you exclaimed, emerging from the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear as you get closer to the table. you take out the two cupcakes that had the candles of the age he was turning. “my favorite flavor, how sweet.” pulling your waist flush against his as you fumble with the lighter to put on the candles. you tipsily sing a happy birthday, clapping your hands together infront of your boyfriend, being slightly off tune but, it didn’t matter.

sitting down to enjoy the cupcakes, you teasingly swiped a piece of frosting on your pointer finger to swipe on heeseung’s nose, giggling loudly at his reaction. he gets up to do the same to you, but you get up and run around the living room, heeseung chasing you until you stop by the large window that gave a skyline view of the city.

your back is facing towards heeseung as you admire how the stars are exposed so clear for you pupils to see. he takes this opportunity to sneak up behind you. “did you wear this on purpose for me?” he murmurs, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his hands lower to under your nightgown, grasping at the soft flesh of your ass. your breath hitches, as you press your hands against the glass of the window, stabilizing yourself as you fall weak into heeseung’s touch.

“mm yes, just for you, hee.” pushing your hips back, desperate to feel more, but one of his hands grips your waist tightly to hold you in place. he pulls the bottom of your short nightgown up, to fully reveal your pantie-clad covered ass, his bulge forming painfully hard in his boxers. you whine as one of his hands kneads at the soft flesh of your ass, the other arching your back at an angle that had him groaning at the sight of your wetness seeping through your panties.

“all this, just for me.” he speaks, more to himself, but his words send another fresh wave of arousal as his cold fingers trace teasingly along your lower half. you keep your back arched, forehead and hands pressing against the window as you feel heeseung place a smack on one of your asscheeks. you let a moan, enjoying the contact.

“oh you like this, huh?” he taunts, placing a smack on the other side, a curse leaves his lips when he pulls down to your panties, looking at how it sticked to your folds. “mhmmm.” you hum, nails attempting to grasp at the hard glass of the window. “so wet too.” heeseung adds on, tracing his digits along your soaking heat.

“please hee, been waitin’ for you all day.” you whine, wiggling your hips as he continued his teasing touch. “since you said please, anything for you baby.” he obliges your request, wasting no time pump two of his thick digits into your tight cunt. gasps and moans of pleasure leave your lips and you leave your handprints on the window, blurring the glass. heeseung chuckles at you trying to keep yourself still, the simple pleasure of his two fingers making you feel so good.

the feeling of your tight walls continuously sucking in heeseung’s digits had him feeling like a mad man, he could nearly cum in his pants at the sight infront of him.

“feels so good!” you pant, the tips of his finger hitting that one spongy spot that had you spiraling. “yeah?” he responds, speeding his pace, leaving you a panting mess. ”already clenching so hard, are you gonna cum on the birthday boy’s fingers?” he pokes at you. you let out what heeseung would decipher as a ‘yes!’ making him add a third finger with his fast pace, feeling your slick drip down his hand to his wrist.

“you can cum anytime for me now, angel.” he coos at your ear, leaning forward to place a small kiss on the side of your nape. his hands rubbing your arched back gently as you ride out your orgasm, standing up straight. heeseung pulls up your panties so that you’re now wearing them again. but it doesn’t really help with anything because, he’s gonna rip it off of you once the two of you reach the bedroom.

heeseung picks you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he guides you to your shared room with a trail of messy kisses on the way.

“oh shit, keep doing that baby.” heeseung groans, head hitting the headboard of the bed as your warm mouth envelopes as much of his thick cock as you can. you hollow your cheek as you choke a little over halfway down his thickness, looking up with tears pooling at your waterline.

the sight is enough to heeseung to fill your mouth up, but he holds himself back. not knowing what to do with his hands except run them through your hair and make a soft grasp as he guides your head to bob up and down. your hand ran up to stroke at what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, heeseung letting out a string of curses and groans at the stimulation. you moan around him, the sight of his contorted face in pleasure making your panties uncomfortably soaking wet against your pussy.

“mm good girl. such a good present—fuck!” his eyes closing as he feels himself twitch in your mouth, only spurring your to suck harsher, sloppy sounds of your mouth around his cock fill the room. “gonna fill that mouth up, such a good fucking mouth.” heeseung babbles, guiding your head to bob faster as he chases his release, stilling his movements as he paints your throat white. you swallow his seed, opening and sticking out your tongue to show heeseung proof.

the birthday boy moans at your action, exhausted as he’s just gotten the best head ever, slumping his back against the headboard, chest heaving as he tries to regain his strength.

you take things into your own hands, crawling further up on the bed so that your now straddling both side of his thighs. giving heeseung a mini show as you sit up slightly, lighting your nightgown up so that he can watch the way you peel off your panties to reveal your puffy pussy for the second time of the night.

“heeseung, can i?” you ask, moving yourself to hover your entrance directly over the thick mushroom tip of his cock, eyes trailing down to his again, hardened length.

“mm yeah baby.” he groans, hands placing on your hips as he guides you down his thick cock, the stretch stinging slightly as he bottoms out. you stay still for a bit until you feel adjusted, taking slight control as you bounce yourself on him at a pace that both of you moaning in content. “hee, ‘s so big!” you mewl, hands finding purchase on his exposed chest, trailing your nails around the toned muscles. he lets out another moan in satisfaction, feeling himself nearly split you open.

you find a pace that has you seeing stars, riding on his cock ruthlessly. he lifts the bottom of your nightgown up to reveal your tits bouncing in tandem to your bounces, dangling in front of his face. heeseung couldn’t help but latch his mouth onto one of of your tits, tongue swirling around the hardened bud adding stimulation to the feeling of his cock hitting all the right spots.

your eyes shut tight as you slightly change the angle of his cock diving into you, tip repeatedly hitting your cervix. you were starting to feel tired and your legs were wearing out, heeseung noticing and taking things to his own hands, grabbing at both of your asscheeks to hold himself as he thrusted his hips up, making the both of you let out a moan in unison.

“fuckkkk, you’re always so tight.” heeseung rasps out, head hitting against the headboard again, the warmness of you wrapped around him, the grip on your ass moving to your hips to pull you on him repeatedly, meeting his sloppy thrusts. eyes looking down to where the two of you connected, the nasty sounds of your walls sucking him in sending you into overdrive.

“hee i’m cumming, fuck!” you nearly scream, barely giving him any time to process as your walls tighten even more around his thick cock, convulsing around him as you let the knot in your stomach untie. “oh shit.” he cursed in response, hands on your hips dragging you up and down as he chases for his own release, following you not long after, filling you deep with thick ribbons of cum.

you fall against his chest after you ride out your second orgasm, breathing heavily against him as he softly pats your back, allowing you to relax into his touch. but you know you’re not done yet.

with heeseung’s stamina, you knew that you had one or two more left in you. and your point was proven when he flips you onto your back, pulling your nightgown over your body fully, leaving you laying bare in his sight.

another curse leaves his lips, looking at your now ruined state. but he’s quick to pull both of your legs over his shoulder, his tip aligned to the entrance of your spent cunt. you let out a soft whine, attempting to buck your hips up to take in his tip. “you can take more?” he double checks, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

you’re quick to nod, too incoherent to say actual words when you feel him snap his hips harshly, filling you to the hilt, leaving you no time to adjust as he sets a merciless pace, cock dragging along your tight walls. you were splayed perfectly to him, the pretty sounds that escaped your lips being muffled by his moving against yours.

you pull away from the kiss, already feeling your third orgasm of the night approach, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you relish in the sounds of his hips hitting the back of your thighs, along with the nasty glide of his cock leaving your cunt and re-entering.

“such a good fuckin’ pussy.” heeseung praises, strings of groans following along. placing his hand over the small bulge in your stomach, seeing how deep he was in you. “you’re close again?” he adds on, hands moving to hold the sides of your face as he leans in to place another kiss on your lips, so sweet and tender, opposite from the way his hips battered his cock to your release. his name repeating like a prayer when your orgasm approaches again, no warning as you loosen your body, walls clenching even tighter as you milk every last drop around your boyfriend.

you let out a soft moan of relief as you feel him paint your walls white for the second time. heeseung tiredly flopping onto his back and pulling your into an embrace where your face rested against his chest.

“so pretty baby.” he hums, fingers running through strands of your hair, you looking up to him with half lidded eyes as you mumbled another ‘happy birthday’ before drifting of to sleep.

— @00kittenz @selleprotection @simbabyj @friendlyuser57

i didn’t know how to end this off sorry 💔💔

[lamb-teaa]

` Choose Us, Choose Me

` pairing: colonel!Caleb x mechanic!reader

` tags: canon divergence!! strictly doesn't follow canon timeline!! but might seem similar?? idk tbh. anyway ANGST. full hurt no comfort. vague plot. vague relationship. vague mentions of betrayal and double agents. vvvery short scenario.

` teaa's note: having to wait for 22 Jan for Caleb's full lore to drop, imma indulge in my personal headcanon for this ficlet instead - a special (&painful) treat for all the Caleb girlies (and me ehe!) (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

Your silence is the cruelest punishment he had ever endured.

Yet Caleb too remained silent as he watched you meticulously work on repairing his damaged bionic arm, not once had you uttered a single word since his impromptu arrival at your workshop stationed within the massive spaceship.

You merely glanced at him, your tired gaze instantly flickering towards his shortcircuiting arm before letting out a small huff of annoyance as you slammed the coffee mug on the messy table. Like a routine checkup, you wordlessly pointed towards the empty seat and began working on fixing his bionic arm back to good as new.

All the while the tense atmosphere remained palpable within the workshop. Even your trusty little invention-slash-companion robot, Brownie had jumped over the table, holding out all the necessary tools for you to fix Caleb up, yet the presence of the adorable little brown robot cat wasn't enough to shimmer down the tension in the air.

Your expression remained aloof yet the look in your eyes held a strong suppressed rage. Caleb winced when you purposely handled his arm a tad bit too roughly, shooting a side eyed glare at Brownie snickering at him, a clear message of 'you deserve it!' written all over your little companion's face.

Caleb was tempted to send the smug rascal flying across the room using his Evol.

...But he wouldn't want to risk facing your wrath, not when you're still mad pissed at him right now.

"...You know I had to do it." Caleb decided to break the silence first, his eyes locked onto your face, hoping to ease down your anger even just a little bit. "I was following orders."

You stayed silent, nonchalantly avoiding his gaze as your attention was solely on the holographic screen displaying the restoration process.

Caleb gritted his teeth, growing agitated by your lack of response. Why were you so stubborn? Why couldn't you understand him? Why do you have to subject him to this stupid silent treatment of yours?

Why can't you see he's doing all this for your sake?

"It's done." You finally spoke after a long tense silence, your voice cold and detached as you did the final adjustments on his bionic arm. His piercing stare was suffocating you and you wanted nothing more than to be out of his sight. "Now get out."

You had only turned around for a brief millisecond before his hand suddenly snatched your wrist, pulling you close to him. His taller frame towering over you, his face confronted in a mixture of anguish and pain - a sight that made your heart ache, but you refuse to show any weakness, not in front of him, especially not in front of a cruel man like him.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Caleb spoke lowly, struggling to suppress his own anger. "Aren't you tired of these charades of yours?"

You glared up at him defiantly, despite the slight tremble from his iron grip. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me." He scowled, his grip on your wrist tightened slightly. "How long are you going to play both sides? Do you think they're going to let you off easily once they find out you've been secretly colluding with the enemy?"

His heart sank in dread at your unfazed reaction, as if you've been expecting this to happen sooner or later, that the consequences be damned if it meant fulfilling your own secret mission no matter the cost.

Even at the expense of your own wellbeing.

"..Choose us." Choose me. Caleb shut his eyes briefly before letting go of your wrist, his voice strained with a soft plea as his hands gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him. "I can guarantee your safety if you choose our side, please Princess. You'll die if you keep this up."

He sees the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, the conflict swimming in those alluring gaze that never fail to make his heart stutter. But as soon as that raising hope for you turn to his side came, it vanished in an instant when you slapped his hands away.

"I'd rather much die." You spat, your fist clutched the collar of his shirt as you glared up at him, the hatred and disgust written all over your face as your final words shattered his heart into pieces.

"Than to serve the likes of abominations like you.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Four Walls, Two Windows, No Doors.

Pairing: Yan!Wolverine|Logan Howlett x Reader (X-Men).

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Dub/Con, Fem!Reader, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Mentions of Human Experimentation, Logan Gets Hurt (He's Fine), Mentions of Pregnancy, and Controlling Behavior.

This Was Supposed To Be A Warm-Up. It Got Out Of Hand.

The cabin was about an hour’s drive from the mansion.

An hour and a half if he took his time, less than thirty minutes if he rushed it. He brought back supplies once a week, maybe twice if he knew he had a mission coming up, but your constant reminders that you’d rather burn down the cabin with you inside than starve to death because of the man you hated most in the world were usually enough to keep the pantry stocked. There weren’t many things Logan was willing to go out of his way for, but you were an exception. You were special, you guessed, as sick as the idea of being special to someone like him made you feel.

He arrived a few minutes past sunset, while there was still light in the sky. You heard the low rumble of his bike, the hollow weight of his footsteps as he made his way across the raised porch. You were able to count out the seconds it took him to undo each of the shining, silver deadbolts mounted above the rusted-out doorknob. It was more than excessive, but you knew how he justified his security measures, how he rationalized your continued isolation. From his warped perspective, you were a problem child – the type to make bad decisions when left to your own devices. Since hiring a babysitter wasn’t on the table (an idea you’d not-so-playfully suggested more than once), limiting how much trouble you could get yourself into was the next best option.

The last deadbolt was slid out of place, then stillness. You could picture him on the other side – waiting for you to move, to yell, to throw yourself against the door as soon as it was unlocked. Fine. If he wanted to play, you’d play.

With a shoulder braced against the wood, he pushed open the cabin door and crossed the threshold. There was a flash of silver in the dull light, the weight of his body against yours as you barreled into him, then your knife buried in his stomach.

The strain was sharp, familiar. It took more effort than it should’ve to pierce the skin, to break the tension, to stab into whatever felt the most vital and twist. You didn’t wait to see his reaction – pulling the knife out and spinning on your heel, throwing yourself towards the open door. His fist was wrapped around the collar of your dress before you could make it so much as a full step, your body hauled back into the entryway without the slightest hint of strain. You swung for his throat, and he let you. It wasn’t until your knife was half-buried in his jugular that he grunted, catching your wrist. He didn’t squeeze, but he didn’t have to. Your meager weapon was already clattering to the floor, forgotten in the same time it took for the skin and muscle of his neck to knit itself back together.

His voice was raspy when he finally spoke – whether from whatever damage you’d managed to inflict or a long day of barking orders to super-powered brats, you couldn’t be sure. You’d like to think it was the former, if only to give yourself the satisfaction of having left some kind of mark on him. “Get it out of your system, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” You thrashed against his hold, kicking and clawing where you couldn’t stab. Of course, you were about as dangerous as a kitten might’ve been to a lion, and of course, his only reaction was a breath of a laugh, an arm wrapped around your waist as he carried you back into the cabin proper.

He claimed it was a gift – on lease from some vaguely wealthy, vaguely telepathic employer. In another context, you might’ve enjoyed a rustic getaway to a one-room cabin small enough to feel intimate but large enough to dampen the all-consuming sense of claustrophobia slowly mounting inside you, and yet having your world confined to four walls and a handful of bullet-proof windows had lost its charm quickly. Logan dropped you onto the fleece-drowned mattress and crossed to the kitchenette, rummaging through the well-stocked liquor cabinet. “Most wives greet their husbands with a kiss, y’know.”

“I’m not your wife.” Denial came first, the dread second. “If you ever try to marry me, I’ll hang myself with the veil.”

“Do what you want– I’m still getting a ring on that finger.” When he resurfaced, it was with a glass of wine in one hand and a highball of whiskey in the other. The latter was for him, obviously, and the former was slid into your hand as you dragged yourself to the edge of the mattress, a knot of ache quickly forming in your neck, your wrist. It was embarrassing, honestly. You could drive a knife into his lungs and he wouldn’t even flinch, but a few seconds of mistreatment was enough to leave you sore for hours.

Thankfully, physical exertion wasn’t exactly at the top of your list of concerns, not with Logan. While you pretended to nurse your drink, letting the wine wash numbly over your pursed lips, Logan downed his in a single shot and, with a bark a laughter, pulled your body back into his arms. This time, you were deposited in his lap as he collapsed onto a broken-in sofa. There was an darkened fireplace a few paces away, a century-old radio on the mantle above it, but his attention was already elsewhere, his eyes already wandering. With both hands planted on your waist, he hauled your hips against his, forcing you to straddle him. You rolled your eyes and moved to get up, but there was a row of fingers drummed against your side by way of warning, a sudden sharpness to his lazy smirk, and you fell into place.

Satisfied with your lack of resistance, he let his touch slip under the skirt of your dress. Logan didn’t have the patience to pick out your outfits by hand, but he decided what made it into your closet, how much skin you were able to cover day-to-day. His preferences skewed pastoral – all sundresses and frocks, occasionally one of his patched-up flannels or a pair of jeans too tattered to make you feel any more secure. While you couldn’t be sure if it was an intention or a happy coincidence, easy access was a reoccurring theme. His thumb slipped under the seat of your panties, dragging the thin fabric aside. Two fingers traced the shape of your cunt, pausing to rub circles into your clit.

Logan leaned back, his head settling against the armrest, his body spread out underneath yours. “Keep talking.” There was a slight drawl to his voice, a lull in his tone. You bristled on instinct, memories of bourbon-tinged kisses and metal claws pressing into tender skin bubbling up from the deepest recesses of your mind, but you pushed them back down quickly. He wasn’t drunk, just relaxed. You only had his normal brand of unbearable to deal with, tonight. “Tell me what you did today.”

“Fuck all.” His touch dipped lower, heel of his palm grinding into your clit. “You were gone when I woke up. Again.”

“Left you a present, though.”

He must’ve meant the new hickey on your collarbone. You’d found it while you were brushing your teeth and spent the next forty-five minutes sobbing into your pillow.

“’s just boring. The closest thing I’ve seen to a person all day was a herd of deer, and your cameras scared them off.” Dampness staining the inside of your thighs, his ring finger slipping into your pussy. You shut your eyes, biting into the inside of your cheek. The stretch was far from alien, but no less painful for its familiarity. Every part of him was too big – from his shoulders to the corded muscle laid over his back to the unnaturally pointed canines you sometimes caught a sliver of when his lips curled back. It spoke to the universe’s boundless cruelty that fingers weren’t the largest thing he could force inside of you. “You know I don’t like being alone.”

Your voice was cold, but it was true. You’d been alone when he found you – all curled up in the darkest corner of that prison cell, little more than wild terror and waking nightmares. It’d been a mutant testing facility, set on crafting living weapons out of whatever specimen they could get their hands on. Your mutation wasn’t dangerous, but there’d always been something new to learn, another needle to force into your veins. It’d been torture, but your captors hadn’t seen it like that. Your isolation, broken up only for the application of a new drug, a new pill, a new injectable, was a means to end. You weren’t a person inside the concrete walls of their laboratory, and they hadn’t thought of you as one.

And, when Logan’s lips split apart into an unabashed grin, it was clear that he didn’t, either. “I know, darlin’. Still remember the way you held onto me, how long it took you to let go.” His middle finger, next. You clenched your eyes shut as his palm rocked against you, encouraging your body to sway, your pussy to clench around his digits. “Thought you might’ve actually liked me, back then. But you were always gonna latch onto whoever let you out of that cage, right?”

“I was—” He curled his fingers inside of you, and you cut yourself off, swearing softly under your breath. His affection was slow and heavy-handed, no harsh thrusting or unnecessary spontaneity, just steady grinding and his fingers splitting apart inside of you. You crossed your arms over your chest, digging your nails into your bicep. “I was scared.”

You were still scared. It was just that, now, your kidnapper wanted you to pretend you weren’t.

“Exactly. Scott eats that shit up. Ororo, too.” You could feel his cock pressing into your ass, rough denim against flimsy cotton. He was hard. Obviously, he was hard. Blood loss was probably the only reason he hadn’t fucked you as soon as he stepped through the door. “You’re lucky you ended up with me. Either of them would have you on a leash, by now.”

A leash would’ve been better than a cage. Being a pet was better than being locked inside of a box, left to gather dust until he wanted something warm to dig his teeth into. You bucked your hips into his hand, fisting at the fabric of your dress, doing your best to block out Logan’s chuckle, to ignore his free hand kneading at your thigh. Like everything else he did to you, your climax was slow, humiliating, and terrible. You managed to swallow back any sounds that would’ve furthered your embarrassment, but tears leaked from the corner of your eyes, a pitchy whimper rising from the back of your that. Logan picked himself up, cupping your cheek as he pressed what, if you were feeling more generous, might’ve been called a kiss into your forehead. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he was trying to comfort you.

He nursed you through your orgasm, only drawing back after the last of the aftershocks had faded. Sniffling, you were lowered onto the floor – your back pressing into the bear-skin rug in front of the unlit hearth. You kept your eyes on the ceiling as he positioned himself in the space between your legs, as he eased himself into you. There was no pretense of a condom, and you weren’t on birth control. You’d lie awake that night wondering if he’d finally managed to knock you up, but it wouldn’t do any good to voice that anxiety in front of him. You could still remember the way his eyes lit up the first time you begged him not to finish inside, the strain as he pushed your knees into your chest, the tremor in his voice as he muttered something about swollen tits and ‘tying you down for good’. Now, you just tried to keep your mouth shut.

His hips pressed into yours, the veined shaft of his cock filling your cunt to its breaking point. Like his foreplay, sex with Logan was vicious, unrushed. It was worse when he was mad, unendurable when he was drunk, but most nights, you could melt into the faux tenderness of it all, let yourself drown in the colorless, shapeless, stomach-turning pleasure. You tried to let your head lull to the side, to drift, but Logan was quick to drag you back down to Earth – catching you by the chin and pulling you into a tragically undeniable kiss. Only half-consciously, you wrapped your arms around his neck, let your thighs clench around his waist. When he drew back, more to leer at you from a better vantage point than for air, you managed to spit something out.

“I want to go outside.”

His smile lulled into something more sympathetic. “That eager to run back to the mansion, darlin’?”

“N—not the mansion, just outside.” You dug your nails into his shoulders, breaking the skin, and Logan groaned. You guess it made sense. Pain was bad because it meant injury, and injuries were bad because they meant you were that much closer to death. He couldn’t die, and he never stayed hurt for very long. After a while, the pain would have the pain would have to turn into something else, something less unpleasant. “Just into the city, or town, or wherever. I’d settle for a walk, I just—”

Your voice broke as he pulsed inside of you, his pace growing more erratic. “Tough luck,” he muttered, all gruff and edge and acid. Still, his expression softened, his eyes taking on that half-lidded, lovesick look. He liked it when you needed him, when you were dependent on his help. Maybe if you’d been more aware of that during your recovery, been more proactive about asking him to open jars or help you shower, none of this would’ve had to happen.

“Logan.” His hips pressed into yours. You couldn’t remember the last time you said his name aloud. “Just a walk. Please?”

It was awful, the way he looked at you. No shame, no decency, just his stare burning into your skin as he spilled into your cunt. Cursing under his breath, he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, lapping and sucking at the curve of your throat – the very same spot you’d driven a knife into less than hour ago.

His body pressed into yours, radiating searing heat. Cum dripped around his shaft, down the inside of your thighs, and you forced yourself not to think of cradles and bloating and pain, so much pain. Minutes later, he resurfaced, pulling back with a rasp of an exhale. You laid still – weary, but not quite catatonic – as he positioned himself on his knees in front of you, guiding your legs over his shoulders.

“Five minutes.” His lips against your skin, teeth against flesh. “Tomorrow morning. No farther than what you can see from the porch.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you smiled, nodded, played as eager and as doe-eyed as you could. Logan only chuckled, burying his head between your thighs. You’d gotten what you wanted, if a bit less. That was good – or, a good start, at least.

It might’ve been less bittersweet if you didn’t have to wonder how much he’d take, in return.

[fairyhaos]

❖ kiss your heart // xu minghao

minghao x f!reader, 1.1k+ words

tags: established relationship, both xmh + yn are RICH rich, fluff, kissing, marriage/proposal talks, minghao is literally so in love omfg

warnings: pet names (angel, sweetheart)

notes: literally me rambling about rich + devoted minghao with absolutely no direction planned and i think it's super obvious HELPP but it does not matter !! ur honor i luv these 2 theyre so sassy smitten and it devastates me

“you’re actually the worst person i’ve ever met.”

you glare at your boyfriend as he gets out of the driver’s seat, walks around the front of the parked car and opens your door for you. he’s still smiling that faintly smug smile that’s been on his stupidly handsome face ever since you left the restaurant, and you hate it.

“sweetheart,” minghao says, taking hold of your hand and helping you out of the car, “it’s really no big deal.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. releasing minghao’s hand, you deposit your purse into his waiting palm and flounce away, across the car park and to the apartment building doors.

minghao struggles to hold back a laugh as he trails after you. “y/n. you’re not truly mad, are you?”

“of course i’m truly mad,” you huff. “you said i could pay for our date this time.” 

during the five years you’ve been dating minghao, he’s taken you on a whole variety of incredible dates. from the impromptu long weekend to paris to the days where you just go to the restaurant down the block for dinner, minghao has never failed to take care of you and always pays for your meal.

any other person would be flattered to have such a rich and devoted boyfriend. and really, you adore that about him, too.

but, well. you’re rich also. and sometimes, you want to be the one to dote on your boyfriend.

you punch in the building code unnecessarily hard and stomp through the automatic doors before minghao can catch up with you. from behind, you can hear him laughing, and it makes you whirl back around to look at him, pouting extravagantly.

“i don’t see why that’s so funny. you promised, hao,” you whine, and minghao just laughs again.

that night had been just a normal date night, nothing more than the two of you dressing up to go to that one upscale chinese place that you both love. and so, it seemed like the best day to finally start paying for your dates—if it was any big occasion, minghao would’ve definitely protested against the idea, insistent that he wanted to treat you on such a special day.

and at the time, it seemed like it would work.

minghao had smiled at you, adjusting the pearls around your neck, and agreed.

you’d felt ridiculously satisfied, excited at the fact that finally, you’d have a chance to pay for your boyfriend. but oh, how wrong you were.

“i’m sorry, angel,” minghao says now, brushing a finger over your cheek fondly before pressing the ‘up’ button for the elevator. “it just so happened that i’d already paid for our meal before we’d even got there. i didn’t want to burst your bubble by telling you so, but i guess that made it even worse, hm?”

you whine again in frustration. “hao, that’s not even a thing! you can’t pay for a meal in advance!”

“i can when i know exactly what we’re going to order,” minghao grins.

“what?! i swear, that must go against restaurant etiquette! that's actually crazy behaviour. i can't believe you did that."

the elevator arrives then, and minghao gestures for you to get in first. you do, still arguing with him over restaurant rules and whatnot. even as you do so, supposedly very upset over his behaviour, you still hold onto his arm and lean against him to take off your heels, and then pass them over to him once they’re off your aching feet.

minghao smiles amusedly, terribly smitten. 

“—going to get you back for that stunt one day, xu minghao,” you say, stabbing an accusing finger into his shoulder. “gonna book out the entire restaurant. no, wait, the entire street! we’re going to venice one day, and i’m going to close down a whole road for us only. just you wait.”

the elevator doors open with a ding, and he trails behind as you continue talking, dreaming up big plans on how to treat your boyfriend sometime in the future.

it’s devastatingly endearing. he knows it was maybe a tiny, tiny bit mean to advance-pay the bill tonight, but in his defence, he does that most nights anyway. plus, he likes seeing how pouty you get over it, knowing you're not actually upset, but still insisting you are because you can pay for your own meals, without minghao's card, thank you very much.

and you very much can—he hasn’t run the numbers in a while, but he’s pretty sure you’re richer than him right now—but he likes paying for you. likes taking care of you like this.

he inputs the keycode to the apartment, chuckling as you continue to rant.

“okay, alright,” he finally concedes, opening the door and letting you enter first, taking off your wool coat for you and hanging it up by the door. “in which case, how about a compromise? i pay for our ordinary dates like these, and you can pay for special occasions.”

your eyes light up at his words. “wait, really?”

minghao laughs. “yes, really.” he puts your purse on the dresser by the door, your shoes in the shoe cupboard and then takes off his own. “except for valentine’s day, white day, our anniversary, and your birthday. i’ll be paying for those.”

“what?” you complain. “hao, you’re leaving me with nothing!”

“you can pay for my birthday.”

“come on, that’s a given. i would do that anyway.”

you’re giving him those big, sad eyes again, and minghao can’t help but smile even wider. lord, you’re just so pretty and you love him so much and he’s never been more grateful for that because he loves you so much too.

“well,” he says, pretending to think, “we don’t have an engagement or wedding anniversary yet. so if those things ever happen… then maybe…”

your eyes widen, little sparkles appearing in your irises even as your entire face softens, gentle and hopeful. “you’re… you want to marry me?”

minghao can’t take this anymore. he walks over, takes your face in his hands and kisses you, once. and then again, deeper, softer, for good measure. just to get his point across.

“of course,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away. “i love you.”

you lean in and peck him on the lips once more. “i love you too,” you say, and then pull away so he can see the mischievous glint in your eyes. “hey. if i propose to you, then i’ll definitely get to pay for every engagement anniversary we have, right?”

minghao laughs, pulling you back into his embrace. “sure, sweetheart. that’s only if you propose to me first, however.”

“are you trying to start a proposal race, minghao?”

“maybe. will you join in, y/n?”

you laugh, looping your arms behind his neck and bringing his face close to yours again. “oh, it’s on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery