#But this was real cute and I wanted to share it

[starryhyuck]

unconditional. (m)

pairing: boyfriendsdad!jaehyun x afab!reader

words: 4.4k+

summary: the attraction you feel towards your boyfriend’s father is just a silly little crush… right?

genre: smut

warnings: morally corrupt jaehyun and reader, fingering, daddy kink, kitchen sex, bigdick!jaehyun, spanking, spitting, breeding kink, overstimulation, blowjob

You wish you could say that you and Sungchan were a match made in heaven.

Your relationship began like a fairytale, with late night conversations over the phone and a bouquet of flowers greeting you at the door nearly every weekend. Sungchan was such a gentleman that you couldn’t believe he was real. You raved to all your friends about him, telling them you’d be married by the end of the year.

As time went on, however, the spark you once had began to die out.

You knew you were torturing yourself by extending the relationship longer, unwilling to let go. You had grown close to his family, becoming almost a permanent fixture in his life. So after four years, you were pretty set on seeing this all the way through simply for the convenience of it all.

“Look at you two! So cute, I hope we see a ring on this lovely lady’s finger by next year,” Sungchan’s aunt coos, pinching your cheek while you smile tightly.

Sungchan’s arm tightens around your waist. “We’ll see.”

Family events are nothing new to you, but for some reason, this year feels a little more empty. You used to glance around and feel warmth bloom in your chest, but now, standing besides your boyfriend who’s started to distance himself, you want to go home and forget this even happened.

You find solace in the kitchen, sighing as you pour yourself another cup of eggnog. You eye the bottle of vodka next to it, silently dumping a healthy amount into your glass.

“Slow down there, tiger.”

A chuckle comes from your right, and you look to the side to see Sungchan’s father, Jaehyun. He grins as he takes the alcohol from you, twisting the cap and raising an eyebrow.

“What’s got you so worked up? Usually I’m the one being berated out there during the holidays.”

You laugh at him. Jaehyun’s always welcomed you with open arms ever since Sungchan first brought you home to meet him. He was so sweet that it made you understand why Sungchan said his father had to fight off women constantly. When Sungchan’s mother left the picture, you’re certain that Jaehyun’s phone blew up with endless requests from the beautiful single women in his life.

Still, despite this, Jaehyun’s never had a serious relationship since you’ve known him.

You asked Sungchan about it, but your boyfriend would shrug, stating that his father would wait an eternity for the right woman to come along.

“I’m a little on edge, I guess,” you reply, bashful that your boyfriend’s father caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. “Work has me spinning cartwheels for them.”

He nods in understanding. “Sungchan told me you got a promotion recently. I’m glad they’ve finally caught on to your potential.”

You flush at the praise. Sungchan hasn’t even congratulated you once, only relieved that you stopped complaining about not feeling appreciated. Your late night talks where you would share your hopes and dreams with your partner are a thing of the past.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeong,” you say.

He shakes his head. “I told you to stop calling me that. Makes me feel like an old man. Jaehyun is just fine.”

You giggle, ignoring the butterflies that swarm your stomach. “Thank you, Jaehyun.”

After dodging a few more conversations of you and Sungchan’s inevitable engagement, you retire to his childhood bedroom together. He exhales as he scrolls through his phone, one hand resting underneath his neck as he leans against the headboard.

“I’m going to play soccer with a few of my cousins tomorrow,” he remarks, not bothering to glance up at you.

You nod, well past the point of waiting for him to ask you if you want to join. “Okay. Sounds fun.”

As you lay in bed, huddled to the farthest edge of the mattress while a few pillows are stuffed between you and Sungchan, you’re consumed by the thought that you’re wasting your good years away in this doomed relationship. You sigh when you realize you won’t be slipping off to dreamland any time soon, pulling yourself out of bed and heading downstairs to the kitchen.

You’re surprised to see the lights still on, wondering if Jaehyun forgot to switch them off before retreating to bed. You receive your answer when you spot him sitting on the island, nursing a glass of wine.

“Did the family really tick you off that badly?”

He laughs when you enter, licking his lips. “I think I’m past the age where I need to explain my relationship status to relatives over sixty-years-old.”

You shrug, occupying the barstool next to him. “And I think I’m past the age where I need to explain why I’m not engaged yet to relatives over sixty-years-old. I’m always proven wrong.”

“You and Sungchan are far too young to be planning something so serious. They should give you a break,” he says as he rises to retrieve another glass for you, pouring until the red liquid fills up halfway.

“It’s tradition, I guess. Once you pass the four year mark, they say you should start dreaming about a huge ball gown and dresses for your bridesmaids.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But you don’t?”

You don’t want to start discussing your troubles with your boyfriend’s dad. It’s crossing a line you’re certain is written into law somewhere.

You brush it off. “Sometimes I do.”

The conversation lulls into a comfortable silence. Your nails tap against your wine glass, taking small sips of the drink even though you’d prefer something stronger at this point. Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak, and you think he’s going to excuse himself to go to bed, but instead he murmurs, “You and Sungchan haven’t been happy for a while. I can see it. You used to come over with starry eyes and clutch onto his arm until I thought it would fall off.”

You smile tightly. “We’re going through a rough patch.”

His lips flatten into a thin line when he replies, “If the spark is gone, there’s no use in reviving it. You’re beating a dead horse. I learned that lesson with Sungchan’s mother.”

Sungchan hasn’t spoken much about his parents separating. All he told you was that his mother was unhappy, and she and Jaehyun got pregnant too young to actually explore what life has to offer. It was an amicable divorce, and Sungchan was already about to enter college so it hadn’t impacted his life much.

His mother is barely around now, flying across the world and getting the chance to see what she couldn’t in her twenties. Sungchan and her call every Sunday, and you’ve only spoken to her once or twice over video.

“I-I want to love him. I want to love him as much as I used to,” you confess in a small voice. “We used to be so happy and I know we could be like that again if we tried.”

Jaehyun swallows. “Change is hard, I know, but you’re a beautiful girl. You’re dedicated to your work and any guy in this world would be lucky even to get a chance to speak with you. My son hasn’t appreciated your talents in a long time.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, downing the rest of the contents in your glass. “I shouldn’t even be speaking about this with you! You’re his father, and- and-”

“And what?” He whispers, inching closer to you until you realize you’re only centimeters apart. “Just because I’m his father means I can’t recognize how extraordinary my son’s girlfriend is?”

The tension in the room wraps around your throat, tethering you to the man you once believed would become your father-in-law. You wish you could say it’s the alcohol clouding your judgment, but you’ve thought about having Jaehyun like this since the day you met him.

“Jaehyun,” you say, eyelashes fluttering. “We shouldn’t.”

“I’ve waited so long for the perfect woman to come along. Imagine my surprise when she walks through the door, hand in hand with my own son,” he chuckles. “The irony of it all.”

Your breath quickens, nearly about to deny him again before his lips collide with yours. Your hands fly up to his face, cradling his jaw while his tongue searches the inside of your mouth. His hands snake around your thighs, moving you until you’re straddling him on the kitchen barstool.

Knowing how wrong it is for you to be kissing your boyfriend’s father only spurs you on even more. You don’t know if that makes you a bad person, but you’re too lost in Jaehyun to comprehend the result of your actions right now.

“Jaehyun,” you moan. “We should stop.”

“Tell me you want to and I’ll listen,” he says when he trails kisses down your neck. Your hips subconsciously roll against him when his teeth sink into your flesh, marking you as his. “Tell me to stop.”

But you keep your protests to yourself, joining your mouths again in a fervent kiss. You haven’t felt passion like this since your first date with Sungchan. The electricity between you and Jaehyun bounces off the walls, buzzing in your veins until you’re drunk on him.

His fingers ghost over the waistband of your pajama shorts, tip toeing on the edge while waiting for you to give him the green light. You’re just about to tell him to take you when a thud echoes upstairs, forcing you apart.

You gasp, your mind clearing from the fog. “Oh my God,” you murmur, climbing off his lap. You comb your fingers through your hair and step away from him.

He calls your name gently. “Wait-”

“This is wrong. We should have never done this. I- I- I need to go.”

You dart out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, lips still tingling from Jaehyun’s touch.

—

“Uh, I’m heading out now. Are you going to stay in bed?”

You can’t look Sungchan in the eye, digging your face into the pillow as you nod. He doesn’t prod any further and you eventually hear the door click shut. You peek your head out to glance at the clock on the nightstand.

It’s approaching noon and you still haven’t risen from your spot, afraid of facing Jaehyun downstairs.

You know you’ll have at least some family members present to act as a buffer, but guilt creeps up your throat at the thought of what you did last night.

Your boyfriend’s father? That’s a new low, even for you.

Of course, Jaehyun is exceedingly handsome and beyond your wildest dreams, but you should hold some loyalty to your boyfriend of four years. He’s the man you’re supposed to marry, and you’re not sure how you’re going to face him after nearly riding his father.

Your bladder drags you out of bed, and you praise the heavens when you hear loud chatter occurring downstairs. Maybe you’ll get lost in the mix and before you know it, Sungchan and you will be departing for the evening with no mention of how attracted you are to Jaehyun.

“There she is,” Sungchan’s aunt laughs when you sit down on the living room couch. “We thought you had disappeared! I knew there was no way you joined those rowdy boys for a game on the field.”

You smile politely. “Not really my thing. It was just so warm under the covers that it made it hard for me to leave.”

She leans over to pat your hand. “Now that my nephew’s run off, why don’t you tell me the real reason why you two aren’t engaged yet? Why, you’re perfect for one another! A match made in heaven!”

A gruff call of your name echoes from your right, and you tense when you turn to see Jaehyun standing there.

“Can you come help me prepare lunch in the kitchen?”

“Oh, Jaehyun,” Sungchan’s aunt says with a roll of her eyes. “I was just getting quality time with her.”

He grits his teeth, jaw clenched as he stares at you. A strike of arousal burns through your core at the anger looming behind his expression. “You can speak with her later.”

You excuse yourself, tail tucked between your legs as you follow him into the kitchen. You’re startled when Jaehyun actually begins to take out the ingredients from the fridge needed to make lunch, handing you a cutting board and a knife to start chopping up vegetables.

He switches on the oven when he says, “Did you want me to forget about last night?”

You almost slip and cut off your own finger, swallowing as you reply, “W-What?”

He leans against the sink, hands folded across his chest as he gazes at you. The lust swirling in his eyes is enough to give him away to anyone walking by, and your doe-eyed expression isn’t helping your case of passing this off as a platonic relationship.

“If you want to forget about last night, say the word and I won’t mention it again.”

You chew on your lower lip. “I-I don’t know. I don’t know what I want, Jaehyun.”

He glances towards the entryway, ensuring the rest of his family are still mingling in the living room, not bothered by whatever is happening in here. He slowly circles around the island until he’s right beside you, hands inching towards your waist.

He whispers, “Did you enjoy it?”

“Jaehyun-”

His grip tightens. “Because I was dreaming about tasting you the whole night. Had to fuck myself into my fist to find some relief.”

Your breath quickens. Your nails skirt over his abdomen, mouth watering at the visual of him laying in bed, one hand wrapped firmly around his length while thinking of you. You arch into his touch, core pulsating as his name leaves your lips.

“Jaehyun, I want-”

“What’s for lunch, dad?”

You spring away from Jaehyun, barely able to contain your shock when Sungchan casually walks into the room. You quickly preoccupy yourself with cutting the vegetables like you were meant to while Jaehyun smiles as if he wasn’t about to pounce on you.

“Kimbap. And I'm warming up the leftover pie from last night,” Jaehyun replies to your boyfriend. Sungchan has sweat dripping from his forehead, not bothering to look at you as he combs the fridge for a glass of water. “How was the game?”

“Same old, same old. Donghyuck has gotten dirtier than usual with his tricks,” Sungchan replies when he turns around. His eyebrows raise at you. “Oh, hey, babe. Didn’t know you were in here.”

“Just helping your dad,” you say with a forced smile. “Did you want me to add some tuna to your kimbap?”

He nods, rounding the island to kiss you softly on the forehead. “Perfect. Thanks, babe.”

When he leaves, you shut your eyes tightly. “We can never do that again.”

“Meet me here tonight.”

Your jaw drops. “We’re leaving tonight with everyone else-”

He steps forward, cornering you as one hand grips your hip, tugging your leg until it curls around him. He hovers over you, pushing his hardened member directly against your clothed core.

“Tell him you want to stay another day. Tell him you’re not ready to return to normal life. Then come downstairs and wait for me here.”

“…Okay.”

—

Jaehyun will admit he’s a little sadistic.

Lusting after you was never part of his plan, but the moment you walked through his front door, he knew he wanted you. He had waited so long to find the perfect woman after Sungchan’s mother left. He didn’t resent her, knowing how their marriage was the only way to satisfy the pressure they faced by getting pregnant so young. He struggled to date afterwards, never understanding the right thing to say and shying away from the women who only wanted to get him into bed.

But you were perfect. He felt like a dirty old man crushing on you, even though you were a grown woman who could make her own decisions.

He would speak to you late at night when Sungchan’s already drifted off to sleep. At first, he could tell how much you loved his son and it made him keep his distance. You and Sungchan were inseparable, and he swore that Sungchan heard wedding bells whenever he looked at you.

Over time, however, Jaehyun noticed that the spark between you began to fade. You would dance around each other at family gatherings, pretending to chuckle when someone would ask you about your future wedding date. Sungchan never looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky anymore.

Jaehyun was convinced you would break up before the next holiday, but for some reason, you stayed together.

Not that Jaehyun was complaining since he got to see you, but this just made it that much harder to control himself around you.

He looks at himself in the mirror, wondering how far he’s willing to take this without telling Sungchan. But then his mind strays, picturing you waiting for him, riddled with anxiety over whether or not he plans to show. He pushes his darkest thoughts away, relieved when he spots the kitchen light burning brightly downstairs.

When he enters, you exhale, “He’s going to hate me forever.”

He treads over, lightly kissing the corner of your mouth. “No, he won’t. How could anyone ever hate you?”

He feels the thump of your pulse when he brushes his lips over your throat. His hands slither down until he’s cupping your ass, squeezing the flesh between his fingers. Your nails dig into his shoulders, whimpering when his assault on your neck continues.

“J-Jaehyun-”

“I want you,” he groans, humping into you like a lovesick teenager. “I want to fucking ravage you all over this kitchen. I want to take you on every surface of this house so that I can think of you when you leave.”

You almost go limp in his arms at the confession. His resolve chips away when you lean in and whisper in his ear, “Take me then. Do your worst.”

The way you two move is messy, scrambling to rip each other’s articles of clothing off. He bends you over the kitchen counter, grunting when he pulls down your shorts and sees you bare for him.

“My son’s a fucking idiot,” he growls, running two fingers up your glistening petals. You shudder against his touch. “How can he keep his hands off of you? How can he not appreciate how perfect you are?”

You moan his name when he slides his digits into you with ease. He curls his fingers, watching your expression with lust clouding his vision. You’re everything he’s dreamed of, pretty and pliant and wet for him as small gasps fall from your lips.

He thrusts his fingers inside you, observing your body’s sensitivity to his actions.

“Haven’t been touched like this in a while, hm?” He asks while you blubber, barely able to catch your breath. “A pretty girl like you should be worshiped. He should be on his fucking knees for you every night until you’re begging for him to offer you a break. Call in sick just so he can fuck you the way you want.” You squeak when his other hand collides roughly against your ass. “But maybe you should be punished for being a bad girl. Look at you bending over for your boyfriend’s father.”

“Jaehyun,” you murmur, whining when he inserts another finger. “It feels so good.”

“I know it does,” he replies smugly, prideful in the fact that he’s the one making you feel this way. “You’re so tight. I don’t think I’m going to be able to fit my cock in this tiny pussy.”

“It’ll fit,” you whimper. “We’ll make it fit.”

He closes his eyes, clenching his jaw at how desperate you sound for him. All it takes is another curl of his fingers to have you clenching down around him, moaning as the band in your stomach snaps.

He’s fast to discard his pants, kicking them to the floor while running a hand up and down his length. You peer over your shoulder to assess his size, and his ego inflates when your eyes widen. He chuckles as he runs his tip over your slit, coating it in your wetness.

“Bigger than him?”

You swallow. “M-Much bigger.”

A sense of clarity strikes him. “Fuck. I don’t have a condom.”

His mind wracks through ways of how fast he can run to the liquor store down the street, but he’s thrown for a curveball when you say, “That’s okay.”

“Really?”

“I haven’t slept with Sungchan in a long time and he’s the only person I’ve been with for the last four years. I’m clean,” you explain, blinking innocently at him. “A-Are you?”

He rubs circles over your hip assuredly. “I haven’t slept with anyone in years either and I always used a condom.”

You bite your lip. “Then please, Jaehyun. Fuck me raw.”

Jaehyun thinks he sees the gates of heaven when he pushes inside you. You’re so warm and wet for him, stretching you out until your walls hug his cock snugly. Your jaw drops as he continues to press in, mewling when he’s only halfway.

“Why are you so fucking big?” You question, jumping when his hand spanks your ass again.

“Why are you so fucking tight? Christ,” he swears. “I’m gonna blow my load before I get a chance to savor you.”

It’s hot and fast as soon as he rams in and out of your cunt. You’re so lost in each other that you forget all about Sungchan. He leans over to trace his tongue over your lips, sloppily mixing them together until saliva runs down your chin. He ruts into you until your hips slam against the counter, surely leaving you bruises in the morning.

You open your mouth for him to spit down your throat, and he batters into your pussy even harder when you swallow for him.

“You know what’ll happen when I cum inside this tight cunt, don’t you?” He snarls in your ear. “You know what’ll happen when I stuff you full until I’m dripping down your legs?”

You exhale, “You’re going to breed me.”

He grins, licking the shell of your ear. “That’s right. I’m going to breed this perfect pussy and show everyone who you belong to.”

It must be the thought of your stomach swollen with Jaehyun’s child that sends you over the edge. You gush around his length, thighs shaking while he continues to pound into you. He grunts when he watches his cock disappear into your tight hole, your pussy forming a creamy ring around his base.

“Please, Jaehyun, please. Want you to breed my little pussy. I need your cum so bad, daddy.”

It’s the last word that causes him to spiral. A string of moans leave his lips when he spurts ropes of white into you, shuddering as the most powerful orgasm overtakes him. He swears he cums for at least a minute, emptying himself until he pours out of your cunt.

You giggle. “I’ve never seen anyone cum that hard for me before.”

He kisses your cheek. “Then they clearly didn’t know what they were missing.”

You continue to fuck well into the night, careful to keep your noises to a minimum in fear of waking Sungchan. Jaehyun takes you in the living room, on the stairs, and in his bedroom. You’re doused in sweat and cum by the end of the night, bouncing on him as he observes you gasping for breath.

He spanks you roughly. “Come on. I know you can do better than that.”

You bite on your lip to prevent your loud whimpers from spilling out. “I-I’m so t-tired, daddy. I can’t do it anymore.”

Your thighs slap against his skin as you rotate your hips, and he can identify the exhaustion seeping through your bones. It’s already been hours since you started, and he knows he should let you rest before Sungchan wakes up.

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, flipping you over gently and thrusting into you. “Let daddy do all the work, hm? Poor girl, I really wore you out, huh?”

“Daddy,” is all you’re able to reply with, especially when the pads of his fingers rub against your clit.

You squirm away from the oversensitivity, but he holds you in place firmly. “Take it all, baby. Take everything that daddy gives you like a big girl.”

He runs his hands through his hair, pushing it away from his face so he can burn this memory into his mind for later. The sight of you spread out so neatly for him on his bed, dazed and delirious from your numerous climaxes is what he saves for when he’s lonely and thinking of you. This is an image he never wants to forget.

“Can you cum for me one more time, baby?” He asks, frowning when you shake your head. “I thought you were a good girl?”

“T-Too m-much, daddy,” you gasp. “It’s t-too much.”

His eyes narrow, angling his hips and pushing in until he finds the spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You spasm around him immediately, squirting over his cock and staining the sheets with your juices. Your body convulses from the force of the pleasure, and Jaehyun embraces you softly and coos in your ear until you regain your consciousness.

Your mouth drops open and he drops his knees on either side of you, pressing his cock between your lips. You suck eagerly, hollowing your cheeks out until he hits the back of your throat. He grunts, marveling at how well you take him before he cums on your tongue. You swallow every last drop, and he collapses on top of you as your limbs tangle together.

He hums, licking up the sweat on your neck. “Break up with him tomorrow. Then get your stuff and come back here.”

You laugh. “I need you to give me five business days until my body is ready to handle you again.”

He chuckles, digging his teeth into your skin playfully. “We don’t have to fuck. We can watch a movie, make dinner, lay in bed… I don’t care. I just want you here with me.”

Anxiety clouds your expression. “When people find out about us, they’ll make assumptions. No one is going to accept this easily.”

“That’s fine, I don’t give a fuck about them,” he replies casually, even though you both know that facing the music is going to become an upward trek. “Let’s just enjoy this moment together. I don’t want us to worry about Sungchan or my family’s judgment. Let’s be together and pretend we’re the only ones existing right now.”

So you and Jaehyun do exactly as promised, pushing away your real life problems in favor of falling for one another.

[norrisidous]

i know love

summary: cute moments between lando and yn during their relationship, based on "i know love" by tate mcrae warnings: none

[The Paddock – Saturday Morning]

The paddock was alive, like always — a whirlwind of activity that buzzed in your bones. Engines hummed in the background, the scent of fuel hung in the air, and media scurried from one garage to the next. But amid the chaos, you found peace. Because his hand was in yours.

Lando walked with his cap pulled low, his race suit half-zipped and hanging around his waist. His other hand gripped a protein shake, which you were pretty sure he hated but tolerated because “the trainer would kill me otherwise.”

“Did you bring snacks?” he asked, turning toward you with that ridiculous boyish grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally sponsored by half the paddock. You want my snacks?”

“Yours taste better.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching into your tote and pulling out a granola bar. He accepted it with a victorious sound and a quick kiss to your cheek, uncaring of the mechanics and press that passed by. You still weren’t used to how bold he could be sometimes. How effortless it all felt for him.

“Thanks, love.”

That word still made your chest flutter. No matter how many times he said it. Maybe because it felt like he didn’t throw it around the way people assumed he did. When Lando said love, it always meant something.

[Late Night Stream]

He was shouting at the screen again.

“NO—WHAT? That’s total BS!” he groaned into his headset, falling back dramatically in his gaming chair. You were sprawled across the couch behind him, one of his hoodies drowning your frame as you scrolled through your phone, giggling softly at his chaos.

The Twitch chat noticed.

“is that Y/N in the back???” “their leg 😭 soft launch era over” “she really is real, huh?”

You tilted your head toward the camera with a smirk. “He’s still losing, by the way.”

“Oi!” Lando wheeled around to face you, scandalized. “You’re sabotaging me live in front of thousands of people. I’ll never financially recover from this.”

“Skill issue.”

He laughed, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead, his hand brushing your hair out of your face. “Lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky you love me.”

He stilled for half a second, just a beat. Enough for you to realize what you’d said.

“I do,” he said quietly, his eyes soft and sincere now. “You know I do.”

You nodded, cheeks warming. “I know.”

And you did. You really, really did.

[Phone Calls at 2AM]

Your phone rang.

The contact photo — him in sunglasses with a ridiculous filter you’d added — lit up your screen. You answered without a second thought, already sitting upright in bed.

“Hey,” his voice was groggy, gravelly — and entirely too intimate for a call across the world. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” you lied. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

There was a pause. One of those comfortable silences you only shared with people who knew you too well.

��I’ve been thinking…” Lando finally murmured. “This…us. It’s kind of insane, isn’t it?”

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. But it’s a good kind of insane.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’ll get tired of all this. Of me being gone. The attention. The pressure. I don’t blame you if you do.”

“Lando,” you whispered, clutching the phone tighter. “I didn’t fall for the driver. I fell for the guy who eats cereal with a fork and quotes Shrek at 2AM.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Right. Can’t compete with that version of me.”

“I know love. It’s… messy, and inconvenient sometimes. But it’s you. And that makes it worth it.”

He was quiet again, but you could hear the soft exhale of breath on the line.

“I love you,” he said, a little cracked, like the words still scared him. “Just thought you should know.”

“I already did.”

[Arguments and Apologies]

It wasn’t always perfect.

There were days when texts went unanswered. When one too many sarcastic comments turned into a cold silence. When he forgot to call. When you snapped too quickly.

You stood in your kitchen, arms crossed as Lando leaned against the counter, the tension heavy in the room.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he said, voice low.

“Then why do you keep doing things that hurt me?”

He sighed, raking a hand through his curls. “Because I’m scared.”

That stopped you cold.

“Of what?”

“Of screwing this up. Of you realizing you deserve someone easier. Someone who doesn’t bring a circus everywhere he goes.”

You crossed the room slowly, wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face into his hoodie.

“I don’t want easy. I want you. Even when you’re stubborn and sleep-deprived and slightly dramatic.”

He let out a breathless laugh and hugged you tighter.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Then I’ll try harder. Because you’re it for me.”

[Fangirl Mode Activated]

You were trying to be chill.

But it was hard when your boyfriend’s face was plastered on a three-story billboard in central London, and he walked past it like it was nothing.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” you asked, arms folded.

Lando shrugged. “It’s not that big.”

You gawked at him. “It’s bigger than my apartment.”

“You wanna take a picture?”

“…Yes.”

You posed in front of it while he took twenty awful, blurry, tilted photos, laughing so hard he almost dropped your phone.

“Okay, but imagine if I had a giant billboard,” you teased.

“I’d buy every single one,” he said. “And hang them in every room I walk into.”

[Knowing Love]

Lando was lying on the floor of your apartment, head on your stomach, scrolling through something on his phone while you played with his hair.

“This is it, right?” he asked suddenly.

You glanced down. “What is?”

“This. Us. Love.”

You studied him, the boy who used to flinch at the word, who now spoke it like a promise. Who showed it in forehead kisses, lingering looks, and middle-of-the-night calls.

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.”

Because now you know love.

Not the kind that’s always perfect.

But the kind that stays.

That grows.

That chooses you — every day, even in the chaos.

And in Lando Norris’ arms,

you finally understand the song.

[rafesbabygirlx]

ONLINE LOVE | 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗

𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙰𝚄

✧ 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 | 𝙰𝚄 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 | 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

✧ Summary- Rafe Cameron used to avoid love, only having flings and never getting close to anyone. Now 27 and raising his 3-year-old daughter Harper alone, he wants something more, a real connection. Tired of being judged on the island, he tries Hinge and sets his location to the mainland. After days of no matches, he finds your profile and is instantly drawn to you.

✧ Prompt- for hingematch!rafe could you do one where hes been busy with his daughter and doesnt realise hes left her on delivered and she thinks hes ghosted her?

✧ Prompted here

It had been a month. A month of back and forth texting, FaceTime calls, and learning more about each other. Rafe surprisingly opened up about a lot to you, other than the fact that he had his daughter. He still didn’t know how to bring this up. Now worried it would ruin everything.

You had off today so you and Rafe had spent all night on the phone. You had fallen asleep first so when you woke up you wanted to make it a point to text him.

9:29am: Hi, how pathetic am I fallen asleep on you like that?

9:30am: My first year residency is kicking my ass, I’m shocked that I even stayed up as late as I did.

9:31am: I’m free all day today, finally have a day off, so don’t be shy in texting me! 🥰

9:44am: I’m sure you’re at work and busy. Like I said I’m free all day. I just can’t wait to hear your voice again.

You hadn’t mean to sound desperate. This past month you and Rafe had been on top getting back to each other the second with of you had texted. You had both shared your schedules, you knew when he’d be in meetings and he knew when you’d be working at your internship. The second either was over, one of you was immediately sending a text. Unless there was an emergency meeting he got pulled in to, this was a bit of a strange break in the pattern.

You busied yourself as best as you could. You made yourself a nice breakfast, something you barely get to do anymore. Then, you caught up on some of your tv shows and when they were done you began a new book. You took a full pamper shower, cleaned up your nails, did your hair routine, your skincare, and applied some makeup.

It had been 4 hours and when you finally picked back up your phone it was still radio silence from Rafe. You let out a sigh of defeat. Mind racing that something that seemed so precious could already be over. He hadn’t even read the texts. You don’t mean to jump to conclusions, but no matter how well this seemed to be going, he was only just an online dating match who ended up living 5 hours away from you.

On the other side of North Carolina, Rafe was a mess. Harper had claimed she had a stomach ache and refused to go to school, meanwhile he caught the toddler in the pantry sneaking cookies and gummies 3 times this morning. He told her the only thing she was allowed to do was lay in bed and get rest if she was that sick. This lead to full blown tantrums and Rafe wanting to pull out the short hair of his buzzcut.

Between Harper fighting him all morning and having to rearrange his business schedule, this glued Rafe to his office desk. His personal phone was forgotten on his nightstand and he didn’t get a chance to think about it. He left the office door open, which gave him a perfect view of Harper’s and the hundreds of times he caught her sneaking out of it.

“Harper get back here!”

“No daddy, I want more snacks.”

“You said your tummy hurt, were you lying to me?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to daddy, Harper.”

“Yes.”

Harper bowed her head in defeat. A cute way of defeat only a 3 year old could get away with. This caused Rafe to kneel in front of his daughter, lifting her chin delicately with his fingers.

“Why’d you lie Harper?”

“I don’t like school, I wanted to be with you. You mwake me safe.”

“Why would you need me to keep you safe baby?”

“Cause kids are mean and I don’t like ‘em.”

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. How about this, we spend the rest of the day doing anything you want? Snacks, movies, tea party. How’s that sound?”

Harper’s face lit up and she threw herself into her dad’s arms, wrapping hers around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Yes daddy! Come!”

Rafe laughed as he allowed the toddler to drag him into the kitchen. She pulled out the tea set from the lower cabinet that was designated for all her stuff. Rafe put on some water to boil, then she went to pantry to pull out snacks she wanted for tea time.

They brought up everything to her room. Harper knew exactly how to set everything up. A setting for her, a setting for Rafe, and two other settings for her stuffed elephant and American Girl doll Sarah had gotten her.

They spent the entire day doing what Harper wanted. Rafe let his assistant know he would be unreachable as he just wanted to focus on his daughter. This was the first she brought up having problems at preschool. How the hell were 3 year olds already having issues. He got her to open up about it and it was 2 boys that would take her crayons and break them when she’d color or steal her gummies at lunch time.

Rafe took offense to that personally because he was always proud of himself for making her lunches every morning. But he quickly shook off the feeling of being pissed off at a 3 year old. Heloved being a dad and making Harper happy. He didn’t want to be sad or afraid to go to school. So to just do this little thing for her to see her smile, he was more than ok to do it.

When the time came around for Harper’s bedtime, he brushed through her now dried hair from the bath and tucked her into bed.

“You’re gonna have to go to school tomorrow Princess. I know it’s scary, but you’re a tough girl, I’ll come in with you tomorrow and talk with your teachers. We’ll figure this out together. Ok?”

Harper gave a soft sigh and looked like she wanted to plead with her dad to not go in another day. “Ok. Ima tough girl.”

“That’s right. I love you little one.”

“I love you daddy.”

Rafe had given her one final kiss before making his way to his bedroom and plopping down onto his sheets. He had forgotten about his phone all day and had decided to pick it up. There were notifications from Sarah, Topper, Kelce and all the way at the bottom there were four missed messages from you.

He ran his hand over his face. He never missed a text from you. He always had Do Not Disturb on and you’ve been the only one this past month that could still get through to him. He was stuck on what to say. His entire day was spent making sure his daughter had been happy. His daughter, you had no idea about. What could he even say?

It was now 8:30 at night. You had just cleaned up the kitchen from cooking dinner earlier. Mind finally at ease from the doubt and wary feeling about being ignored. You knew you shouldn’t have gotten attached, no matter how good it felt. He probably found someone closer to him and forgot all about you. Online dating has never turned out great for you. This was just another disappointing failure.

You sat on the couch, trying to push aside your thoughts as you engulfed yourself in your favorite movie. Your phone is next to you laying face down. It was almost 9 and even with a relaxing day of doing what you loved you were already feeling tired again. You rested your head in the palm of your hand as you our eyes began to close, a ping from your phone shot them right back open.

Embarrassingly, you reached for it quicker than you’d like to admit. You look at the notification and see it’s Rafe. You hold back a smile, not ready for what it says.

8:55pm: Hi. I’m really sorry about today. From the second I woke up chaos was erupting at the office. I had to get up and ready and rush out the door. I completely forget my personal phone at home and just got back. I missed you today. 🩵

You let out a breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding and smile warmly at the message. You were scared of rejection and know he feels this way you reply instantly not caring how it makes you look anymore.

8:57PM: No need to apologize Mr. CEO. Some things are unpredictable, it’s easy to get caught up, I’m still here for you.

Rafe took a sigh of relief at your response. He didn’t want to ruin this. But the gnawing guilt of lying to you about Harper made him terrified of what was yet to come. You said you loved kids. But would you love him when you found out he had a daughter?

For now the only thing to do was to continue to talk to you. Learn more about you. Hopefully you would understand why he was doing what he was doing. It was to protect Harper. You’d understand, right?

Tags + some moots: @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @whydoesthemirrorhateme @currentresidentinhell @slut-4-rafey @akobx @rafesheaven @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @larema121 @tul1preads @wuluhwuhmaster @inthelibrarybtw @littlelamy @bellaballerina111 @pogueprincesa @daddyrafeslittleslut @nemesyaaa @papercranesandinkstains @frankoceanluvr11 @drewsephrry @zyafics @rafeysvenicebitch @rowdydevs @maybankslover @rafesgreasycurtainbangs

I think I have everyone tagged <3

[jarofstyles]

can we get a picture blurb for this picture 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Yes you can 🙂‍↕️

Check out our Patreon (sign up on your web browser to save $$)

Warnings- a real yearner, complicated feelings on his behalf, there’s only one bed (😁)

The bed was far too small, her feet were fucking freezing, and Harry’s heart was in his throat.

It had been a matter of necessity, sharing the bed. As many times as he had insisted he could take the floor, she had given him a glare and told him to get into the bed. The place was set at some sort of arctic temperature and the hardwood would kill his already aching back, so he was secretly relieved- but he was also terrified.

The crush he had on her had been festering for months. Pathetic, maybe, with how scared he was to try anything past friendship, but their dynamic was just so good and he didn’t want to fuck it up. It didn’t matter how many times he wanted to reach for her, didn’t matter how soft her lips looked and how he had noticed the exact brand of lip balm was apparently a newer variation of the one he carried around. It didn’t matter than she was touchy with him and tended to lean into his body, because for months she had been in a relationship.

A shit one at that.

Jacob was a dickhead. Harry had been shocked when he met him because he felt like one of the one ones who was seeing past his slimy little charming act, but he had tried to be supportive. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done for a friend, he thinks.

All things considered, his growing feelings hadn’t even been something he could appropriately bring up, so he didn’t. He continued their friendship, though he wondered how Jacob would have felt knowing how close the both of them had gotten, letting himself indulge in her easily given affection.

Their friends had told him many times that she liked him, mainly because she wasn’t half as much of a touchy person with a lot of them but he had let it slide off his shoulders. He wasn’t someone who interfered with relationships.

This time was different though, because she was single. One month into being single and their annual trip to Nora’s house on the lake and the both of them being the last to show up meant they shared a room and a tiny bed.

Her whole body was slightly cold as she laid against him, the duvet pulled up to her chin. Her body was cocooned inside the blankets but it wasn’t seeming to be cutting it.

“I know you’re awake.” Her voice was a whisper into the dark room.

“You’ve got me there.” He replied, stretching himself the best he could before returning to his base position. “You alright, Button?”

“No.” She grunted, turning her head to look at him. “I’m fucking freezing. I don’t know why Nora makes it colder than the arctic but I already run cold. The iron deficiency doesn’t help.” The huff nearly made him laugh because fuck, she was cute. An adorable little thing. “Can you do your job?”

Harry knew she was cranky because of the long drive and now the trouble sleeping but he held back the laugh again- he didn’t want to be subjected to a sleepy Y/N’s wrath. “M’sorry? What’s my job?” That was a genuine question, because he had already tried to mess with the thermostat and had his fingers nearly chopped off.

“You’re a man. You’re supposed to help with body heat n’stuff. So you’ve got to cuddle me, please.”

That sounded like a dream. Having full permission to hold her the way he wanted was something he wanted to jump at, but he was slow with it. “Oh? Well… M’sorry. Didn’t know I was fucking all of this up, I suppose.” He teased, rolling into his side and felt her grab his arm to pull it around her.

Scooting back into him, she got closer than was probably appropriate for two friends, bum nestled against his crotch and nearly molding herself to him. Her hand lifted the duvet over them again, trapping the heat in as he gave into her wishes. “Is this sufficient for you, princess?”

“No.” She mumbled, blindly moving her legs back and wriggling one under his own. Tangling their legs together wasn’t something he had expected her to want, but she had forgotten her weighted blanket at home. Maybe he would be a better substitute. “That is.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He spoke with a little bit of her hair in his face, but he didn’t mind. She smelled so fucking good that it was almost dizzying and the knowledge he was going to spend all night up close and personal was nearly enough to get him giddy. His heart was still fluttering.

“S’okay if you wake up with a stiffy or somethin’. It’s natural, so don’t be weird and embarrassed about it. Just don’t move too far from this spot, cause if I get hypothermia and die in my sleep ‘cause of it, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

[xylatox]

By a string || cyj

My first fic of nina’s which is absolutely diabolical to me. I am so happy I finally got to read one of her fics :). I always love a good YJ fic and spiderman brings me back hehe. Anyways unto my thoughts!!

Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. — off the bat this is cute as hell. Yeonjun is such a cutie and i can see him doing this

Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that! — He is such a cutie oh my word 😭

Soobin and Yeonjun being awkward is kind of endearing awwww :((( I also love how we get his thoughts hes so charming in his own kind of awkward way.

“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance. — love a man who’s a nerd and doesnt skip classes

He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind. — im going to be gushing about how cute he is for the entire thing i swear.

Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him — Taehyun my little boba-eyed cutie

“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment. — Man :::::((((((

Oh my god. Im so giddy over the mc talking to Kai about Yeonjun. Thats actually so damn cute. My heart is actually so soft. They are genuinely the cutest pair and they arent even seeing each other yet

“Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call. — this is so funny lmfao waw Yeonjun, priorities 

I think its nice to see that despite Yeonjun and Soobin not really being friends Soobin still asked if he was okay :( I, God, mc is so sweet and understanding. I love how she just helps Yeonjun, no questions asked

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former. — And the way she lightens the situation too :((((

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. — I love them so bad oh my god im dying???

I made the saddest face when I realized Beomgyu is not really a bad guy but?? Idk how to phrase it, just a not so nice person? Wait but oh. Okay. I take it back, sorry Gyu :((( I feel so bad for Yeonjun ahhh :(((( 

“We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” —  you know I’m a nerd cuz this made me giggle

“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now. — LOL????

“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile. — I giggled o good lord.

“That’s your cue, Spider-man.” — Such a cute end ahhh

I am again soso glad I finally got to read your work! Its so good and I love your style of writing. It makes me so happy just how seamless your write everything. Definitely can’t wait to share my thoughts on another one of your works :)) 

by a string

summary: Yeonjun’s got a lot on his plate. Not only does he have to worry about being a star student, but he also has to be the city’s web-slinging hero. And a lab intern. And a semi-decent roommate. And a little bit in love with you.

pairings: yeonjun x fem!reader

word count: 18.9k

tags: fluff, smut (mdni), some angst, spiderman!yeonjun, his webs shoot from his actual wrists like tobey maguire’s spiderman, college au, yeonjun is a cute awkward charming nerd, inaccurate science stuff sorry, blood, physical violence, lots of spidey shenanigans, campy weird action scene teehee, small arguments

smut tags: making out, heavy petting, webs as cuffs LOLLL, thigh riding, edging, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (f rec.), yeonjun is so playful and such a tease

notes: omg she’s finally here!!! i am so excited to get this out to u guys hehe<3 tysm for all the love on the teaser, i hope spideyjjun steals ur heart. enjoy the fic !!!

Saving the city can suck sometimes. Homework sucks significantly more. If Yeonjun had the option to zip through the city chasing some bad guys instead of sitting here trying to finish his calculus assignment, he’d be flying out his window in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, responsibility is a virtue, and Yeonjun cannot swing through the city for no good reason.

The one good thing about this tedious, awful calculus homework is that if it’s hard enough, he always gets a text from you. His body springs to life when he hears his phone buzz, rushing to pick it up and check the notification.

[you] have u done the calc homework

[you] how do you solve #4 :(

Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. Yeonjun never knew before that math talk could make his heart flutter.

“So, does that make sense?” he asks after a long-winded explanation. He’s almost out of breath after spewing out so much math jargon, but being on a call with you for ten minutes has similarly breathtaking effects.

“Yeah. Thanks, Yeonjun.” He bites back a giggle upon hearing your words. “You should seriously be teaching this class,” you say with a laugh.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t—I mean, I’m—I’m more of a science guy,” he stammers out, lips tightening into a thin line at the embarrassment of stumbling over his own sentence. “Our professor’s pretty cool, too,” he adds as if that saves him at all.

“Is he? Maybe I should start going to his office hours,” you muse.

Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that!

“He’s not that cool,” Yeonjun says. You laugh, and he huffs out a short chuckle too.

“Noted. I’m gonna go now, but thanks for helping me. You’re the best.” Your praise goes straight to Yeonjun’s head, making him feel like the greatest man to ever live. He doesn’t even feel this accomplished after going out on his little spidey-missions.

He’s a beat too late to say goodbye or good night to you, the call already hanging up as he opens his mouth to speak. He melts into a puddle over his desk, sighing out as he plays back his conversation with you in his head. He thinks you have the prettiest voice he’s ever heard. You’re so smart, too. He never has to over exert himself to get you to understand, though he would happily do that for you.

He jolts up as his roommate walks into his dorm. Yeonjun glances at him quickly as he straightens out his posture, picking his pencil back up and returning to his homework.

“Hey,” his roommate, Soobin, greets quietly. Yeonjun didn’t know Soobin prior to this semester, but he’s been pretty nice. He’s very quiet, but very respectful of Yeonjun’s space. It’s much appreciated, considering Yeonjun’s hiding a few of his red and blue spandex suits in his closet.

“Hey. How was your day?” Yeonjun asks, only half-interested in the conversation.

He watches Soobin shrug from his peripheral as he slides off his shoes. “Normal,” he answers.

Yeonjun nods. “Cool.” The conversation kind of dies after that, which is fine. Soobin isn’t the most extroverted person, and Yeonjun doesn’t push him to talk more than he’s willing to. He sometimes forgets he even has a roommate with how quiet it gets in the room.

Yeonjun regains his focus a minute into the silence. His eyes widen when he realizes that there’s now a doodle of your face on his calculus homework—when did that get there..? His face heats up as he grabs an eraser from his desk’s drawer. Thank god he didn’t do this assignment in pen.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s not really paying attention to the professor, finding more interest in taking quick glances at you. You’re wearing a different bracelet today. It’s really pretty—maybe he should compliment you on it. Is it weird to lean in and tell you that? Are you close enough where he can compliment you without looking weird and creepy?

He rests his head in his hand and starts doodling in his notebook, mindlessly scribbling on the page while he waits for the lecture to end. He thinks of quick conversational things to say, something to discuss in a few minutes when it’s time to pack your bags and leave. Interesting class, right? Who would’ve thought—Yeonjun looks up at the projector to see the professor’s notes—the shell method… would be so cool… Maybe he shouldn’t say that, actually.

He’s honestly better off not trying to strike up a conversation with you at all; the chances of it leading to total and utter embarrassment lean greatly towards one hundred percent. He just wishes he had a little more spine, or that he was naturally a little cooler. The only interesting thing about him is something he can’t even talk to you about, or with anyone at all.

Yeonjun barely registers it when the professor dismisses class. He steals one last glance toward you, lips parting like he finally built up the courage to speak, but the words build up in his throat and die on his tongue. He seals his lips and focuses his gaze back on his own things, closing his notebook and shoving it in his bag. It’s not worth it. He decides he’ll just keep his mouth shut.

“Hey Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun almost jumps out of his seat, and he has to fight away his nerves as he turns to you. You’re packing your things back into your bag, not even looking at him. A part of him thinks he might be hearing things until your eyes meet his, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah?” he responds, voice coming out strained. He clears his throat.

“We’re friends, right?” you ask. He blinks, feeling like this is some kind of trick. He analyzes your face, making sure there’s nothing snide or teasing hidden in your question. You look honest enough, which puts him at ease.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“I hope that’s not sarcasm,” you say, getting up from your seat and adjusting your bag over your shoulders.

“It’s not! Really, we’re friends,” he reassures. You walk past him and he follows, leaving the classroom and entering the busy hallway.

“Well, good. I wanted you to go with me somewhere.” Your statement is wildly cryptic, and it leaves Yeonjun’s mind whirling with the possibilities of what you might offer.

“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance.

You laugh, “No, tonight. There’s this party, and I”—you keep talking, but Yeonjun barely registers it. He’s never partied in college before. What would he even do at a party? He can’t handle his drinks well, and he’s not sure how well he’d blend into that kind of environment. He’s scared he’d make a fool of himself.

As you leave the academic building, you turn to Yeonjun, raising a brow in question. You must have asked him for his confirmation. Yeonjun forces his brain to rack up a response.

“Could you text me the details..?” Yeonjun asks. You relax a little at his words, nodding happily. You pull out your phone, ready to text him now. Yeonjun feels his heart pounding. He catches sight of the time on your phone, noticing he’s only got five minutes until his next class. The hall he’s supposed to be in is at least a three minute walk from here.

“There,” you say, awarding Yeonjun with a grin so bright that being late to class might just be worth it. “I really hope to see you there.” You tilt your head a little, and Yeonjun feels starstruck.

“You will,” he promises mindlessly.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun feared he might’ve been in trouble when his professor asked him to stay after class. Turns out, it’s something much worse.

“Yeonjun, do you think you could help in the lab later today?”

Yeonjun doesn’t think much before he nods. “Yeah, of course, how much later?”

“Around 6 this evening,” his professor answers. Yeonjun’s heart drops. That would be perfectly fine any other day, but he promised to go out with you today. Of course the party would start at the same time Yeonjun’s professor wants him to stop by the lab.

“I’m not sure I have the time,” Yeonjun says quickly, suddenly fidgety and feeling antsy to leave the room. “I’ve got this… thing to do.” His professor doesn’t look too convinced. Yeonjun wants to facepalm himself. Yeah, great excuse.

The professor sighs, but Yeonjun starts up again before his professor can say anything. “I can come in earlier! I’m free right now, so I could just go over after this.”

“The cells we’re working with need a full 24 hours in culture for the sake of our research. Are you sure you can’t push your plans forward? Or back?” he asks.

Yeonjun’s stomach twists with guilt. He knows he shouldn’t let his professor down. Yeonjun’s kind of counting on him to write his recommendation letter for a graduate program, too.

“I’ll push the plans back,” Yeonjun says, giving in. He hopes the dejection isn’t too evident in his voice. His professor smiles and pats Yeonjun’s shoulder in thanks. He half-listens as his professor gives him the usual rundown of what to do during and after the process, nodding along and holding back the frown that tries to tug at his lips.

When Yeonjun finally leaves the building, he lets out the heaviest sigh of his life. His shoulders sag, and he feels like he might be the unluckiest person in the world. You finally give him attention outside of just asking for homework help, and the universe just had to intervene. This is laughable. It’s also stupid. Annoying. Frustrating.

There’s a pout etched onto Yeonjun’s face as he walks back to his dorm. He’s got a couple hours until he needs to go to the lab, so maybe he can take a nap or tidy up his room a little. His head hangs low, gaze transfixed on the sidewalk, kicking along a small pebble that keeps him company on the way.

He only picks his head back up as he walks past a certain field of grass, one he often finds you sitting in. Sometimes you’re on your laptop, sometimes you’re taking notes in a textbook, but most of the time you’re just lounging and doing nothing. It’s almost inspiring. Yeonjun would probably benefit from relaxing and decompressing more.

You’re there, sitting cross-legged on the grass, peaceful and silent. You look up suddenly, making eye contact with Yeonjun. His face flushes, but before he can turn his head in embarrassment, you raise your hand and wave. Yeonjun almost stops in his tracks. You’re waving at him, acknowledging his existence yet again.

He smiles and waves back, failing to tame his heartbeat as he takes the sight of you in. He’s forced to look away when he nearly stumbles over the pebble he’s been kicking around—“Oh, shit!” he utters, quietly enough to not draw attention to himself.

He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind.

Back at his dorm, Yeonjun stands by his closet, contemplating what exactly to wear tonight. He also has to make sure his outfit is lab-friendly, so the loose sweater he’d been eyeing is a no-go. He sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe the t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing now will suffice.

Time passes slowly, slow enough for Yeonjun to clean his half of the room, make himself a small meal in the communal kitchen, and even read a chapter ahead in his calculus textbook. He almost feels relieved when his alarm sets off to go to the lab, eager to get his work over with.

He’s determined to get this done quickly enough to still see you tonight. The thought of letting you down the one time you ask him to hang out is almost painful. He imagines the frown you’d wear next time he sits next to you in class. He can’t let that happen; he has to make sure he gets to you.

He throws on his lab coat and adjusts the goggles to fit onto his face. He sighs as he grabs containers of various chemical compounds from the cabinet, leaving them on the counter as he fetches the other materials he needs. With everything set out in front of him, he grabs the petri dish of cells and glances at the procedural note his professor left.

Yeonjun’s done this enough times to get into the swing of things, so he’s not too concerned with double checking his every move. His bigger priority is getting this done as fast as possible so that he can get to you. Lab work is never particularly fun or interesting, so he passes the time thinking about you.

The smell of the chemicals burns Yeonjun’s nose a little, and he wonders for a second if he’d been zoning out too much. He picks up the procedural note and glances over the measurements again, making sure he’s been adding the right amounts of everything. If he does something wrong and messes with the cell culture, he risks not being allowed back in the lab. He should probably slow down a bit, even if it means making you wait longer.

He’s more careful throughout the rest of the process, pushing back the worries that he might’ve messed something up. He continues to reassure himself that everything’s okay as he finishes up his work, placing the lid back on the petri dish and storing it away. He writes the date and time on a piece of tape that he sticks onto the lid, then finally lets his body relax as he steps back.

He cracks his knuckles to alleviate the stiffness that had been building there and rolls his shoulders back, groaning at the soreness of his muscles. All the fine motor movements from working in a lab does a number on his arms and fingers.

He hears a rattle, and he turns quickly to make sure he didn’t knock anything over in his haste. His eyes scan the room, but nothing looks amiss. He shakes the feeling and sheds himself of his lab gear, eager to head to you at the party already.

It’s been over an hour, and the thought of you waiting so long for Yeonjun’s arrival strikes guilt inside his chest. He opens his phone to find the path he needs to walk to get to the house the party’s being held in, eyes bugging out when he sees that it’s a twenty minute walk from the lab. Shit, by then you’ll have been waiting an hour and a half for him to show up!

He groans, trying to think if there’s a better way to get to you. The buses around campus don’t stop at the street he needs to get to, and it’s not like he has one of those electric bicycles or scooters that everyone seems to love. He wonders now if it might be a worthy investment. He pouts and throws his head back, totally drained from everything happening today. His eyes land on the tops of the academic buildings and the tall trees overhead. Maybe there is another way to get there after all.

No, he shouldn’t. That would be way too reckless. He’s already gone through the whole power and responsibility spiel, and he’s not in the mood to get himself in trouble for acting rashly. But if no one sees…

He turns his head and scans for people in each direction. No one’s around. No one would know, and he really needs to get to the party before he makes himself look like an asshole. He checks for anyone one last time, then aims his wrist towards the sky.

“Yeonjun! What’s up!”

Yeonjun startles and brings his arm back to his side hastily. He whips around to see who’s talking to him and lets out a breath when he sees his friend who had just exited the lab building. “Taehyun, hey man,” he says, ignoring the anxious pounding of his heart. That was way too close. Lesson learned.

“Didn’t catch you at the physics meet last week. Everything alright?” Taehyun asks. Yeonjun really hopes this conversation doesn’t take too long. The last thing he needs is another ten minutes piled on top of how late he already is.

“I’m good, I was just”—controlling a fire set by some idiot arsonist, then trapping said arsonist with his webs until the cops arrived—“uh, kind of sick.”

Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him. He manages to get there in fifteen minutes instead of twenty, only at the expense of heavy breathing like he just finished a marathon.

When he gets to the entrance, there’s two men Yeonjun has never seen in his life guarding the door. He almost scoffs. What is this, some kind of nightclub?

“You got the money?” one of the guys ask.

“What?” Yeonjun scrunches his brows and leans his head forward a little, thinking he might have misheard him.

“No money, no entrance,” the other man says.

“Dude, come on!” Yeonjun whines.

“House rules. Stop wasting our time and get out of line.”

“No, no, I’ll”—Yeonjun sighs, reaching into the back pocket of his pants to fetch out his wallet. “How much?” he asks. The men tell him, and he bites back the complaints that almost push past his lips. Yeonjun slaps the bills into the guy’s open palm. They finally open the door for him, and Yeonjun steps inside.

He’s taken aback by how many people are cramped into this place. The house is pretty big, but there’s at least a hundred people mingling around, which makes space tight. He squeezes past the crowd with muttered apologies, but no one seems to pay him any mind. He scans every room for you, but it’s a little hard to do it efficiently when there’s so many faces to check. A part of him fears you might’ve left already.

He pulls out his phone, ready to text you and ask, before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns at the action and smiles when he’s met with your pretty face. “Hey, you!” you exclaim. “I thought you bailed on me.” There’s no real bite to your words, but it still makes Yeonjun frown.

“I’m sorry. I had to do this lab thing, and”—

“It’s alright, don’t explain. You’re here now!” you say. “Did you have anything to drink?”

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I don’t drink much.”

“Me either,” you say. You look out the window, then grab onto Yeonjun’s hand. His brain short-circuits, and he has to stop his eyes from going all dumb and wide. “It’s kinda stuffy in here. Let’s go outside.”

Yeonjun puts up no fight as you lead him out the back door, walking out into the yard. There’s almost as many people out here as there are inside, but the lack of walls means there’s more space to move. It’s much more breathable.

He takes quick glances at your face, trying to decipher what you’re staring so hard at. Your gaze is fixed on a small group of people just sitting and laughing. All the guys have girls in their laps, and a few girls stand around them, sipping their drinks. They all look happy. And drunk.

“Did you want to join them?” Yeonjun asks. He doesn’t know any of those people, but he’ll go if that’s what you’d like. It’s not like there’s much else to do when you’re not drinking or dancing.

The LED lights that line the house reflect in your eyes, making them dazzle extra bright. Your eyes dart to the group one last time before you shake your head. “Nah. Let’s just sit down and talk.” Yeonjun gladly obliges.

You find an empty spot to sit at, looking up at Yeonjun after you situate yourself. He laughs a little, “You really like sitting on the grass, huh?”

You smile at him and pat the ground next to you. “Don’t act like you’re too good to connect with nature.”

“It’s more about getting grass stains on my pants,” Yeonjun says, but sits beside you anyways.

You turn your head to him, and something about seeing your face this close makes it hard for him to keep eye contact. It’s quiet for a few seconds before you speak up, “So how come you said yes to the party?”

Something about your question strikes fear inside Yeonjun. Did you find him out? Do you know he likes you? Maybe this is some kind of humiliation ritual you’ve set him up for.

“Cause you asked,” he answers, voice a little meek as he fidgets with his hands in his lap.

“And if it was someone else who asked?”

Yeonjun thinks for a second, but he can’t come to an answer. “I don’t know. Like who?”

You hum and look into the crowd of people. Your head turns back to him after a couple seconds. “Like Yerim,” you say.

Yeonjun laughs as if the scenario is ridiculous, mostly because it is. Yerim would never even give him the time of day. She’s notorious for being cold to anyone who she isn’t interested in. Somehow, that seems to attract a bunch of guys to her. Not Yeonjun, though.

“No chance I’d go,” he says.

“So what makes me different?” you ask.

A lot of things. You’re nice, and you’re smart, and you’re down to earth, and you’re a beacon of warmth. Everything makes you different.

“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment.

You nod. “I’m just asking cause… well, I guess I’m just surprised you agreed to come.” Your eyes meet his, warm and kind. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

Yeonjun’s stomach does flips when you look at him like that. “You’re welcome.” It goes quiet for a moment, so he continues, “I think this was worth handing over the last of my cash for.”

You burst out laughing. “They made you pay?! Why didn’t you just say you’re here with me?”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he says. He bites his tongue after the words leave him. Who is he to assume there will be a next time? He hopes you don’t call him out on it.

“We should just go somewhere else next time. There’s a lot of places downtown that I want to visit,” you suggest, bumping his shoulder with yours. Yeonjun almost explodes.

“We should do that then,” he agrees. He’s not sure what suddenly drew you to him as more than some kind of tutor, but he thanks the universe for bestowing him with all this luck.

“There’s that bakery that opened a couple months ago,” you mention.

Yeonjun lights up. “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to go there too!”

You squeal in excitement and clasp your hands together. “Let’s do that next. Tell me you’re free on Sunday,” you say.

“I don’t know, things come up last-minute sometimes. I’ll let you know.” It’s hard to make plans when he’s basically living a double life. Then again, he did agree to going out with you tonight on a whim. He’s not very consistent with his rules. He pushes the thought back.

Your eyes land back on the group of people hanging out and laughing. Yeonjun frowns, and he wonders if he’s not entertaining you enough. He doesn’t want to keep you from having fun.

“Why do you keep looking at them?” he asks, curious and soft. He hopes he’s not prying.

“They’re just some friends,” you answer.

“Oh. Why don’t we go say hi, then?” he offers.

You pull your lips into a tight line. “I’d rather not.”

“That’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You give a small smile in appreciation.

“What about you?” you ask. He tilts his head, not knowing what you mean. You continue, “Who’s in your friend group?”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly and shrugs. “I mostly hang out with the physics honor society,” he admits.

“That’s cool. You must have a good bond.”

“We do,” he says. “How’d you meet your friends?”

You smile at him, and something in your face tells Yeonjun that it’s a complicated story. You sigh dramatically and lean back a little, “I met them at parties. Does that surprise you?”

Yeonjun’s not sure if that’s a rhetorical question. “No. You’re friendly. I can see why people come to you,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you say, voice a little quieter.

“Are you friends with your roommate?” he asks.

“I don’t have one. I live in a single dorm.”

Lucky. If Yeonjun had the extra money to spare, he’d be dorming alone too. It would definitely make heading out as Spider-man easier; he’d just be able to change in his room and jump out his window. Assuming no one is around to see, that is.

“That must be nice,” he says.

You shrug. “It’s alright. What about you? You got a roommate?”

“Yeah. We’re…” Yeonjun struggles to find a word to describe his relationship with Soobin. They’re not exactly friends, but they’re peaceful with each other.

You laugh and finish the sentence for him, “Roommates and nothing more.” There’s a lilt to your voice when you say that, and you wiggle your eyebrows like that’s supposed to suggest something.

“Ignoring your insinuations, yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m just kidding,” you say. He’ll let you make jokes at his expense all you want, it doesn’t bother him. Especially not when it means he gets to see you all giggly and happy. He thinks that you look the prettiest like this. Yeonjun would stare at you smiling up at him forever if he could.

The sound of a guy calling your name pulls Yeonjun from his stupor. He blinks at the man standing before the two of you, then looks at you with scrunched brows as if to ask who is that?

His unspoken question is answered the next second. “Hey, Kai,” you say. When Yeonjun gets a better look, he realizes that this is one of the dudes in the group you kept looking over at.

“Who’s this guy?” Kai asks, jutting his chin toward him.

“I’m Yeonjun.” He goes to hold out his hand for Kai to shake, but quickly puts it back down upon realizing that might be weird.

“Oh, Yeonjun from calculus. I know you,” he says.

“I didn’t know you’re in that class too,” Yeonjun muses.

Kai laughs, “I’m not. Y/n just talks about you.”

Yeonjun nearly melts. You talk about him. This is the best day of his life.

“Anyway,” Kai continues, looking at you again. “I need a couple more people on my beer pong team. You guys down?”

Yeonjun turns to you to gauge your reaction. He can’t really tell what you're feeling, not even when you face him as you contemplate your answer. Yeonjun shrugs, as if to tell you that he’s down for whatever you want to do.

“I think I’m good,” you say.

“Ah, alright, you bummer,” Kai jokes, stepping back and sending you a bright smile. “Continue your convo with the calc lord, I insist.” He’s gone after that, jogging off to the rest of his friends, setting up the game.

“Calc lord?” Yeonjun repeats, amused.

Your laugh is accompanied by a roll of your eyes. “He means it nicely, I swear.”

“Well, depending on how well he does in this game, I might start calling him beer pong lord,” Yeonjun says. You push at his shoulder as your laughter continues.

Yeonjun already knew he likes you a lot, but as the night goes on, he finds out that you’re even better than he thought. Conversation unfolds easily with you, even if Yeonjun’s answers are dorky and awkward at times. He feels exactly how he thinks you look when you sit in the grass alone: content and peaceful.

He’s not sure how many minutes or hours have passed when you ask him to walk you back to your dorm. All he knows is that tonight could have stretched into infinity, and that would’ve been fine. He follows you into the building, then into your room. He’s not sure why. It just feels right.

“Thanks for bringing me back,” you say. Yeonjun smiles and nods. He leans against the wall and stares out the window. You live on the top floor of your building, so the view’s pretty different from Yeonjun’s second story view. This would be a fun room to swing out of.

“Do you need anything else?” Yeonjun asks. A smile slowly takes over your face, and you cross the room to stand in front of him. You blink up at him, and something about it feels flirty. If he wasn’t biting his tongue so hard, his thoughts would have slipped right past his lips: you look cute.

You break the short moment of silence with a giggle. “Just for you to promise me we’ll hang out again,” you say, voice barely over a whisper.

Yeonjun has to remind himself to breathe and be normal. “I promise,” he says. He even holds out his pinky to seal the deal. You curl your pinky around his, accepting the playful gesture.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask. You look out the window, then back at him. “I’m okay with sharing my bed.”

That definitely flusters Yeonjun. “Oh, no, I’m—I was gonna just walk back to my dorm or something. Or take a bus. I don’t know. Thank you, though.”

You laugh. Hopefully not at his sputtering and rambling, but Yeonjun has a feeling that might be why. “Alright, then. Good night, Yeonjun.”

Your soft voice has Yeonjun wanting to backpedal and say he’ll stay the night, but he swallows down the words. He smiles at you as he backs away toward your door. “Good night,” he says, standing in your doorway.

“Yeonjun,” you call, stopping him before he could leave. He turns, waiting for your words. He’s surprised to see that you look a little shy. “I’m really happy I asked you to come with me. Tonight was fun.”

Butterflies erupt in Yeonjun’s stomach, and he feels like he could float from how giddy he is. “I’m happy too,” he says.

He steps out into the hall, thoughts lingering on how overwhelmingly good his time with you was. His mind is clouded with rosy memories of his night with you, and he finds himself repressing the urge to twirl around and jump for joy. He’ll probably be skipping all the way home, imagining all the possibilities of what could come next between you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

It’s Sunday, and Yeonjun knows exactly why you’re calling. He stares at his phone, then back at the man in front of him tangled up in webs. Yeonjun shoots another web over the guy’s mouth.

“Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call.

“Hey Yeonjun!” Your voice is so cheerful that it makes Yeonjun giggle. He even swings his feet in the air as he sits on the branch.

“Hi Y/n,” he greets, hoping his voice isn’t too muffled through the mask of his suit.

“Did those last-minute plans end up showing, or are you down to try out that bakery?” you ask. Yeonjun frowns, hating to let you down when you sound so happy.

“I’m really busy today, I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging from how awful he feels. He’s got a whole lab procedure to write once he’s done sorting out the crime scenes of today.

“No worries, maybe we can go after class sometime.”

He frowns. “I wish I could, but I got another class right after ours. Let me check my schedule, I might be able to”—

“Are those sirens?” you interrupt, and Yeonjun looks out to the street. He’s grown so accustomed to the sound of those things that it didn’t even register. “Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m… uh,” Yeonjun stammers, focusing on the cops getting out of the car and making their way towards the criminal.

He tunes into the cops’ conversation. “Looks like Spider-shit’s been here already,” one of them comments in a gruff voice.

The other cop huffs out a laugh. “He’s always meddling in with petty crimes. What do you think this guy did?”

“Jaywalking?” The cops chuckle.

“Not like he can explain with that over his mouth.” He points to the web Yeonjun placed on the man a minute ago.

Yeonjun scowls. He’s not sure why the cops hold so much scorn for him, but if they’d like to know, then the petty crime that Spider-shit helped stop was an armed robbery. If these guys were a little better at their jobs, he wouldn’t have to meddle in all the time.

“Hello?” you ask, and Yeonjun reels his attention back to his conversation with you.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just coming back from the store. Crazy stuff going on today.”

“Oh. Well, stay safe,” you say.

“Thanks, I will.” He sees the cops looking around, probably trying to spot him, so he flattens his back against the tree and tries to talk a little quieter. “I’ll see you in class, I gotta go.”

“See you!”

Yeonjun sighs once the call ends. His suit doesn’t even have pockets, he just carried his phone with him today in case you contacted him. Stupid? Mildly. Inconvenient? Very. He had one less hand to work with when dealing with today’s crime culprits. To hear your voice, though? Worth it. He smiles like an idiot as he swings over to the next nearest building, making his way back to his dorm.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s professor accompanies him to the lab today, overseeing the procedures for the day. The feeling of his professor watching over his shoulder is more nerve-wracking than any day spent fighting crime on the streets. He’s usually careful with his work in the lab, but he’s extra, extra careful on these days.

He pauses when he retrieves the petri dish of cells. He briefly considers the possibility that he’s crazy and just seeing things, but Yeonjun’s pretty sure that the clump of cells just moved. Like, uncanny movement. He holds his breath.

He stares at the clump, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. It doesn’t jerk around anymore, so maybe it was just his imagination. Fear still creeps up his neck at the idea of the research going wrong. He remembers feeling like he messed up at some point last time he was here, and the realization is making his skin grow clammy.

“What is it?” his professor asks, taking a step closer to Yeonjun.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” he quickly responds, keeping his voice calm and steady. He brings the petri dish to the table and does his best to forget what he saw earlier. Yeonjun fears how his professor would react if he told him something unprecedented might be occurring. It happened so quickly that he can’t even tell if his mind was just playing tricks on him. Maybe he’s just extra nervous today.

He wipes the sweat off his palms onto his lab coat, bringing the necessary materials to the table to continue the research. His professor reads off the instructions slowly, and Yeonjun pretends he doesn’t feel his stomach twisting as he works with the cells.

He tries to calm down as he walks back to his dorm, but there’s a permanent chill shooting down his spine. There’s no way the clump should have moved like that—it shouldn’t show any observable motion at all, not without some kind of electrical stimulation.

Maybe he just jerked the dish too harshly. He was pretty nervous, so it would make sense. He must have been shaking and just didn’t realize. That would explain it. That would put Yeonjun at ease.

He can try to convince himself that everything’s fine, but he can’t stop the anxious thrum of his heart. Apparently the fear reads on his face, too, because Soobin’s quick to notice it when Yeonjun enters the dorm.

“Are you okay?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun’s not sure what must have given himself away. He pays more attention to breathing slowly and talking casually.

“I’m good,” he answers. He doesn’t expect Soobin to push the subject considering how quiet he always is, but Soobin’s gaze isn’t leaving Yeonjun. He must be really concerned.

“Did something happen?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun sinks into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands as he groans. “Sorry,” his roommate apologizes, turning away from Yeonjun to look at his laptop instead.

“No, you’re good, it’s just…” Yeonjun sighs. He might as well get this off his chest. “Some lab thing.”

Soobin nods, not asking any further. Now that Yeonjun’s started though, he doesn’t feel like stopping.

“I think I might’ve fucked up,” Yeonjun admits.

“How?” Soobin’s playing some video game on his laptop as he talks, which actually puts Yeonjun at ease. It feels less pressing, less like an interrogation or a confession and more like a normal conversation.

“The cells I’m working with are being weird. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I saw it right. I just feel crazy now.” Yeonjun rubs his palms against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, soothing the headache he’s got building up.

Soobin hums. The little shooting sounds and animated voices coming from Soobin’s game fill the room until Soobin speaks again, “Did anyone else see?”

“No. My professor was there, but he didn’t notice.”

Soobin shrugs. “You’re probably fine then.”

Honestly, Soobin’s nonchalance to the situation eases Yeonjun’s worries a lot. He knows he can get in his head sometimes, especially when it comes to doing everything right, so to hear he’ll be fine lifts a weight from his shoulders.

“Yeah, probably,” he agrees. He basks in comfortable silence for a minute now that his heart isn’t beating so hard.

“By the way, have you bought more laundry detergent yet?” Soobin asks.

Ah, shit. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Being Spider-man is tasking, but it’s usually pretty cool. Not everyone gets to zip around the city and restore peace in people’s neighborhoods. Not everyone, however, has to worry about getting stabbed by a criminal in the middle of the night.

Yeonjun always stays until the cops arrive. It almost feels essential, just to make sure justice gets served. This time, he can’t.

He has to stop himself from groaning too loud when he feels the knife pull out from his side. The man in front of Yeonjun is already stuck to the side of a building, held there with a thick layer of web, so there has to be someone else. He turns around to look at the perpetrator, but the world moves a lot slower than normal.

Yeonjun blinks hard, focusing on breathing and staying conscious. The coward who stabbed him is wearing a ski mask, and he’s running away quickly. Yeonjun can’t let him leave. He moves forward and ignores the searing pain that sets his body alight. He straightens out his shaky arm and aims his wrist at the man, but the web that shoots out is just as weak as Yeonjun is.

Frustrated, Yeonjun growls and forces himself to move faster. It burns, he’s never felt any kind of pain like this, but he can’t let this man walk free. He can’t let this man stab another innocent person. Even with his staggered pace, limping as he tries his best to catch up to the man, he advances quickly.

He breathes hard and holds the air in his lungs as he aims again at the man, brows furrowed with angry determination beneath his mask. He lets out a loud grunt as he shoots his web out, and finally, it lands. The criminal falls as the web captures his ankle, keeping his leg stuck to the ground.

Yeonjun huffs as he traverses the rest of the way toward the man, nothing but fury in his veins as he shoots another web out. This one’s bigger, covering the man’s back and securing him to the pavement. He picks up his head and looks at Yeonjun with fear in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. He can’t. All he feels is pain and anger and pain and pain and so much fucking pain.

Yeonjun’s not the vengeful type, but getting stabbed really tests a person’s limits. He shoots more webs over the guy, making sure he won’t be able to move a muscle until the cops arrive.

Yeonjun doesn’t waste his breath making snide comments, though he does have a few choice words for him. He takes off the man’s ski mask and resists the urge to deck his face. He’s got fear etched into his expression, but Yeonjun finds it hard to feel sorry for him. The man starts begging for his life, and Yeonjun scoffs. Of course he’s not going to kill this man—no matter what, he doesn’t end people’s lives. A city’s hero shouldn’t get to decide who lives and dies.

Yeonjun stumbles away after finding a passerby to call the police. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, Yeonjun feels less mad and more scared. He’s really bleeding now; his hand comes up soaked when it presses against the wound. What the hell does he do? He can’t die like this.

He can’t go to the hospital with a stab wound. There’s no way for him to make up some alibi that wouldn’t just trace Spider-man’s identity back to him. He hisses through gritted teeth as he frantically scans his surroundings, looking for somewhere to go. The only thing that’s coming to mind is you, and it’s aggravating. He could be dying right now, and all his useless mind can do is think of you. Maybe it’s all the blood loss, and he’s just getting delirious, or maybe it’s a sign. It’s not like he has many good options right now.

There’s not enough time to think about it. He zips through the city and back onto campus as fast as he can, ignoring the splitting pain in his side that shoots up his body every time he moves. It’s getting harder to breathe, suddenly feeling suffocated by his mask, but he has to hold on. He’s not far away now.

He remembers the view from your window. He remembers exactly which room to shoot himself up to. He adheres himself to the wall outside your room and pulls his mask off, leaning his forehead onto the cold glass of your window with a sigh of relief. He catches his breath and knocks with a shaky fist. He’s really sorry for having to wake you up at this hour, but he has a feeling you’ll understand.

He doesn’t wait long. You're trudging out of bed and making your way toward the window, tired eyes blinking slowly. You look really cute. Everything is spinning around him, but he focuses on you. You’re still groggy and out of it until you meet Yeonjun’s eyes through the glass. As soon as you see him, it’s like you wake up immediately.

He watches your jaw drop, your frantic hands racing to open your window. His vision is nearly blacking out, and he tries to blink away the dizzy feeling in his head the best he can.

“Yeonjun?!” you squeak as he drags himself through your window and into your room. He can’t even hold himself up anymore, weak body collapsing to the floor. He groans and leans against the wall, clutching his side. He ignores the sickening feeling of blood dampening his hand, sticky and warm against his palm and between his digits.

You pick him up by the underarms, grunting as you heave him toward your bed. He notices how shaky your arms are, and he tries his best to pick up his own weight, even if it hurts like hell. He’s burdening you enough as is coming here so late.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to go to,” he says, catching his breath as you guide him to lay on your bed. He’s half-aware of how bloody and dirty he is, but you seem fully ready to let him stain your sheets. Concern and confusion fill your wide eyes, and Yeonjun can hear every word that you don’t say.

Luckily, you save the unnecessary questions for later. “What do I do?” you ask. Your hands tremble as they peel the shirt of his suit up, just enough to expose his midriff and the nasty damage to his side. You gasp upon seeing how bad it is, hardly able to stomach it, opting to look into his eyes instead.

He wants to respond to you, if not to answer your question then just to comfort you, but breathing is enough of a chore on its own right now; talking seems almost impossible. Watching you panic about this is shattering him. He makes an effort to move his arm out toward you, just to hold your hand and reassure you, but he doesn’t have enough strength.

You lift from the bed and open up a bottle of water, pouring some of the cool liquid over his head. It’s relieving against his burning skin and keeps him from losing consciousness. It also makes him realize how dehydrated he is.

“Please sit up,” you beg, placing a hand underneath his head to lift it a bit. He comes up just enough to drink some of the water you feed to him, swallowing down the rest of the bottle. He collapses back against your pillow once he’s finished, feeling much better just from that.

You come back with another bottle of water and pour small bits at a time over the gash in his side. He hisses and tenses up each time it hits his skin, but he knows you have to do this. He doesn’t want to make it harder by thrashing around and complaining, so he bites his tongue and keeps his body stiff.

The sheets soak beneath him as you continue emptying the water bottle over the wound. He should help you clean up after this; he doesn’t want you dealing with his mess all alone. A few minutes pass before you discard the plastic bottle and grab a t-shirt from your dresser.

You press the bunched up cloth against his injured skin gently, and he holds back any grunts that threaten to slip out. It’s like you can sense his pain despite his efforts to hide it, because you keep murmuring apologies to him.

“I’m okay, don’t be sorry,” he reassures. He doesn’t think you believe him, judging by the way lips stay tugged into a frown.

A quietness falls over the room. You pull your t-shirt away from his body and observe the wound, and your fingertips on his torso send electricity throughout his body. It doesn’t hurt so much now.

“You’re not bleeding anymore,” you point out.

He hums. “That’s good.” Your hand grazes the skin just outside the gash. There’s a soothing effect in the way your fingers glide against him, pressure so light that it’s barely there.

“You need stitches,” you say quietly, like you hate to break the news to him.

Yeonjun doesn’t mind. “You got a needle?” he asks. You fidget with the fabric of Yeonjun’s suit as you sigh and look away.

“I do,” you say. You don’t sound too confident, though. He doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better.

You grab his hand like it’s second nature to do so, and the action would be romantic if only you didn’t have that nervous look on your face. He can practically feel your heart pounding, and he’s dying to let you know that everything’s okay.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. He makes sure he’s looking you in the eye so you can see how much he means it. He’s risking everything by trusting you, but he’s not scared. He feels safe even with his life in your hands, his secret identity in your knowledge. If there was something more sacred and dangerous to give up than that, he’s sure he’d be okay lending that to you too.

It feels much more real when you have your needle and thread in hand. Yeonjun can’t contain his noises anymore, whimpering in pain when he feels the sharp tip pierce his skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say quickly and desperately. “I’ll do it fast.”

He hisses as he feels the thread start to tug his wound shut. He throws an arm over his eyes, as if not watching you treat him will stop the piercing feeling. All his muscles are tensed up no matter how much he tries to relax, but he keeps his breathing steady and lets you do your work.

It’s not too long before you’re tying off the final knot and discarding your needle onto your nightstand. You run your thumb over the stitch, gentle and slow. Yeonjun takes his arm off his face and fixes his gaze on you, watching you scrutinize your work with scrunched brows.

“It feels fine. You did perfect,” he says, wanting to keep you from judging yourself too harshly. He wants to thank you, but the words feel so awkward building up in his throat.

“I don’t have a big enough bandage to put over this,” you say, still fixated on his injury. Yeonjun tries to sit up, but your hand on his shoulder eases him back down. “Don’t move too much.”

“Y/n…” he starts, but you give him a pointed look, and he decides to shut up and listen. He relaxes against your mattress.

“I wish I had some clothes to change you into,” you mutter after he pulls the shirt of his suit back down. The spandex isn’t super comfortable against his fresh stitches, but it’s easy to ignore in comparison to the searing pain of the open wound. He’ll have to throw out this suit; it’s bloodied beyond repair, and he has plenty of back-ups anyway.

“It’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You shuffle on the mattress until you’re laying down beside him. “Aren’t the sheets wet?” he asks, surprised at how unfazed you seem.

You let out a small laugh, and that frown finally leaves your face. “I don’t mind. I wanted to lay down.”

“I’ll buy you new sheets,” Yeonjun promises. “And a new needle. And I’ll explain everything to you, I swear. Please don’t”—

“Yeonjun,” you cut off. He shuts his mouth. “That stuff doesn’t matter. Are you okay now?”

He nods. “I’m okay.”

“That’s all I care about.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence. Yeonjun stares at the ceiling and wonders how much this is going to change things between you. He has some hope that this will make you two even closer, but a small part of him fears that you won’t want to associate with him anymore. He wouldn’t blame you; it’s not like being close to Spider-man isn’t a riskless situation. He doesn’t regret coming to you tonight, though.

He feels your eyes on him a moment later, and he can only bring himself to look at you for a second before returning his gaze to your ceiling. You must find that funny, because he hears you chuckling beside him.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former.

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he says.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

He turns his head to face you, and something feels awfully domestic about getting to lay this close to you in your bed. It’s hard to breathe when you’re smiling at him so eagerly, when there’s a glint in your eyes that tells Yeonjun you’re having fun. There’s an itch all the way down to his bones that begs him to push forward and kiss you already, but he resists.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispers.

The room gets quiet again, and Yeonjun supposes he should leave. It’s not like he can wait for the sun to rise and walk out of your room in his bloodied Spidey-suit glory. He’s not sure what time it is right now, but he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon and get some sleep, he’ll be passing out in his classes.

“Thanks for fixing me up,” he says, pushing himself off your bed and stretching his limbs. He feels beyond sore, wincing at the pain that shoots through his body. You sit up immediately, scrambling to stop him.

“You’re leaving? Are you crazy? Stay here!” you insist, trying to drag him back to the bed. He turns his head to you and smiles, and something about the silent plea in your eyes lights up his heart. He keeps his feet on the ground and resists your efforts, even though he wants nothing more than to spend the night with you. It’s just not smart and not worth the risk.

“I can’t,” he says. You pout and stand before him, blinking up at him so prettily that he almost changes his mind. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to keep you.” That makes Yeonjun giggle.

“Sorry. Maybe next time.”

You swat his chest. “Don’t let there be a next time. You almost scared me to death.”

“I’ll make sure to tell the next knife-bearer you said that,” Yeonjun jokes. It gets the laugh that he was hoping for out of you.

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. Your smile is just as soft and sweet as your kiss was. “Just stay out of trouble,” you finish, patting his chest gently.

“I’ll try.”

“I guess I’ll see you in class, then,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He should go now. He should make use of his feet and back away, but he stays planted in his spot. You sway girlishly in front of him, hands clasped behind your back.

“Good night,” you whisper. Yeonjun can’t help it—he pulls your face in so he can feel your lips on his again, more properly this time. They’re pillowy and dreamy, and Yeonjun could just melt into you. He doesn’t linger longer than he has to, backing up just enough to see your face. You mirror the glee that he feels in his own expression.

“Good night,” he echoes. He backs away and grabs his mask, slipping it back on. He opens your window back up and slings himself to the nearest tree. Each time Yeonjun looks over his shoulder, he sees you leaning at your window smiling right back at him. His heart does a little flip. On second thought, maybe getting stabbed is kind of cool.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Despite how well last night went, Yeonjun wakes up with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Every ounce of confidence that his interaction with you last night might have given him is completely gone the moment he remembers it, and sheds away at itself further when he notices you skipped class. A dreadful thought creeps up his spine: are you avoiding him?

Maybe you woke up regretting it all. Maybe you realized how ridiculous and stupid getting involved with Spider-man is, and you’re just protecting yourself before you can be burdened further. The classroom feels hot and suffocating, and fresh air sounds really nice right now, but Yeonjun stays put in his seat. He doesn’t want to make a scene and start freaking everyone out. To the best of his ability, he pushes his fears down and saves his panic for later—preferably for after he talks to you and gets some answers.

He doesn’t even open his notebook in his last class of the day. He shows up just for attendance purposes, then zones out staring at his desk for the rest of the hour. Time passes far too slowly; Yeonjun’s itching for the lecture to end so he can talk to you already. He’s practically running out of class as soon as it’s dismissed, but finds himself slowing down the moment he’s outside the building.

He’s pretty sure he knows where to find you. The bigger issue is figuring out what the hell he’s going to say. Is there any way to start this conversation without being awkward? Hey, thanks for saving my life last night. Also I am indeed that hero or whatever taking care of criminals in the city, hope you don’t mind! He feels so lame.

It’s wishful thinking to hope that you won’t care about what happened last night—well, except for the kissing part, but that’s probably not as important right now. He’ll push aside that conversation until the more important one happens.

He wants to run away the moment he sees your figure in the distance, sitting exactly where he thought you’d be. His tongue suddenly feels like lead, too heavy and useless to try talking to you. He gathers his breath and walks across the field, not letting himself back out now. You deserve to be given a little peace of mind. He’s sure today must have been confusing for you, that clarity hit you like a train this morning the same way it did to him.

You look over your shoulder when he reaches you, staring up at him and squinting your eyes from the sun. “How’d I know you’d come find me?” you ask, half-amused.

Yeonjun gives you a short laugh, unsure of himself as he sits on the grass beside you. It feels a little like he’s invading your space. He’s seen you sitting alone on this field as if it was all yours so many times.

“I thought I should thank you again,” he says, a little shy. He feels like he owes you a lot for last night. The whole city probably owes you a lot for saving him, honestly.

You look at him with a small smile, leaning your head on your bent knees. “Mhm. Shouldn’t I be thanking you, Spider-man?” There’s a teasing quality to your voice, and it makes Yeonjun laugh nervously. He should probably address that.

“I really hope you won’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t. I’m still finding it hard to believe anyway,” you say. Your sentences are all laced with a tiredness and exhaustion that Yeonjun can’t help but to feel at fault for. “It’s just weird to know it now.”

Yeonjun hums. He can sympathize with you on that—it must be really bewildering to know your classmate is the one swinging around town shooting webs at criminals. He just hopes you can forgive him for dragging you into this.

“Spider-man’s a little less cool now, huh?” he jokes, keeping his voice quiet even though no one’s around.

Your smile is full and genuine, and Yeonjun’s heart skips a beat. “I always thought he was a little lame,” you answer. Yeonjun’s ego bruises at that. You continue, “But I think he’s kind of interesting now.”

He can only hope that you don’t see the blush that takes over his face. He looks away to hide it, but he feels your gaze on him. “I don’t know if I’m that interesting,” he says, acting all humble. It’s clearly bait, and he hopes you’ll catch it.

“I can be the judge of that. Let me get to know you more,” you offer. Yeonjun bites his cheek to stop himself from grinning at this massive win.

“Well, we still have that bakery to go to,” Yeonjun mentions, and judging by the way your eyes gain a new sparkle, you seem to like the idea.

“You don’t have any more classes today, do you?” You already look ready to go.

Yeonjun doesn’t bother hiding his excitement anymore, letting his smile take over his face. “I don’t.” You’re standing up the next second, and Yeonjun’s quick to follow.

The bakery is a cute, cozy little place near some other restaurants downtown. There’s no seating inside due to the lack of space, but that’s made up for by the giant row of sweet selections to choose from. Yeonjun’s stomach rumbles in anticipation as his eyes jump around to look at each confection.

After buying your treats, you lead Yeonjun to a nearby bench. You both open your pastry boxes and bite down on the baked goods eagerly. You hum in satisfaction, nodding at the taste. “Wow, we should go here again,” you say, going in for another bite.

Yeonjun chose a sweet cheese bread, which he completely devours within a couple minutes. You don’t eat as fast as him, but he doesn’t mind waiting for you. He makes conversation in the meantime: “How come you skipped class today?”

You laugh a little around your mouthful of food, swallowing before you answer, “I barely slept. There was no way I could’ve focused if I went.”

Yeonjun hums in understanding. “I barely slept too,” he says.

“But you still went,” you add. “I guess you’re better than me.”

Oh god, he hopes you didn’t take it that way. “Not at all!” he rushes to say.

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know. You’re just a star student, that’s all.”

Is that a compliment? Yeonjun blushes anyway. “I like to do well,” he says.

“I mean, considering everything you’re balancing, yeah, you are doing pretty well.”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly in response, barely able to take your praise. He’s pretty sure you’re alluding to what you found out about him yesterday. “Thanks,” he mutters, all humble.

“Do you wanna talk about last night?” you ask, finishing your last bite.

“Sure,” Yeonjun answers, feeling a smidge of nervousness returning to him. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Did you have any questions?” he asks. He feels more bashful than anything else, but it’s better than coming off as braggadocious.

You hum in thought, pouting your lips while you conjure up some ideas. “Was that your first kiss?”

He’s completely taken aback by your question—and a little embarrassed, quite frankly—and he scrambles to spit out a response. You’re stifling your laughter before he can even get his defense out. “No! I had my first kiss in, like, high school!”

“I’m just teasing,” you admit. “You’re a good kisser.” The compliment goes to Yeonjun’s head, playing in a loop while he floats on cloud nine. You liked kissing him. He should do it again and again, just to keep you happy. And for more selfish reasons, too.

Your voice breaks through his thoughts when you speak again, “Do you feel better today? Are you healing alright?” The joking tone leaves your voice, replaced with genuinity and care.

“I feel fine,” he answers. He pulls up his shirt to show you the wound, all stitched up and starting to heal over.

You wince. “Good thing I finished my food already. That killed my appetite.” Yeonjun laughs at your grimace and releases his shirt, falling back into place. “You should really put a bandage over that,” you suggest.

“I don’t have any.”

You shake your head in disbelief, though your amusement reads on your face. “You should be more prepared.”

Your concern is cute to Yeonjun. “I know,” he says.

“So who stabbed you?” you ask.

He shrugs. “No clue. He’s probably in a cell now.”

“Did it hurt?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Like hell,” he says.

“How’d it even happen?” Honestly, Yeonjun’s not too sure about that either. He can usually sense imminent danger before it comes, but maybe he was too focused on the crimes he’d already been dealing with.

“He came up behind me while I was handling another criminal,” he answers.

You hum, getting off the bench and tossing your trash in a bin nearby. You start walking off then, and Yeonjun follows mindlessly. “Must be tough being Spider-man,” you say.

“Careful how loud you say that.” Yeonjun tenses as someone walks past the two of you, praying they were out of earshot when you said that. He sighs in relief when he sees the person had headphones in.

“Right, sorry. There’s just so much I wanna know now.” You turn a corner, taking a path leading back to campus.

Your curiosity excites Yeonjun, and he’s ready to answer whatever question you come up with. Some of his stories have serious entertainment value to them.

“Ask me, then,” he invites. You twist your head to smile up at him for a second.

“How’d you get like this? Were you just born this way?”

Yeonjun laughs at the idea. He swings his head around to make sure no one’s around when he answers, “No, a radioactive spider bit me.”

“When did that happen?” you ask. Yeonjun reminisces the first few weeks after the bite, thinking back to those initial feelings of fear and dread when he realized something had happened to him.

“In high school,” he says. It was super bewildering back then to change so drastically, yet be forced to act so normal. It’s much easier now—he’s had years to adjust—but he was a teenager when it first happened. That’s a lot for a kid to take on. He had to act like he was the same Choi Yeonjun his classmates had grown up with, and not some mutated superhuman dealing with the stresses of his new identity. Of course, he did that whole Spider-man thing to himself, but it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t regret it.

“Does anyone else know?”

“My uncle did, but he’s gone, so now it’s just you.” He looks at you, lips twitching upward.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you apologize, voice growing soft. He realizes that you’re in front of your dorm building now, and he supposes this is where he should leave. His eyes dart between yours, like he’s waiting for you to tell him to go. To ask him to stay.

“Are you doing anything today?” he asks. Maybe he sounds desperate. He doesn’t really care.

“Catching up on some work,” you say.

“I’ll give you my calculus notes.”

You smile. “That would be nice.”

Yeonjun didn’t even take notes in calculus today. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“Can I stay?” He’s teeming with hope and bravery today. You open the door to your building and signal him inside, and he has to hold back the victorious giggle that almost escapes him as he trails behind you.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of questions and answers. Yeonjun’s never talked so openly about being Spider-man before, and a part of it feels healing. You study hard while he rambles about stories of the little things he’s done throughout the years. Some are funny and make you cackle, and some draw your attention away from your textbook so you can look at him in shock. It’s impossible for Yeonjun to wipe the grin off his face—not when he bids you good night, not when he walks back to his dorm, not even when lays in bed to sleep. His heart never lets up on that jittery rush it has for you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

A quintessential part of the college experience, Yeonjun’s come to find out, is trying out all the different ramen brands to see which one is the best. He’s a fan of whichever one he’s chowing down on right now, and a 5-pack of this barely puts a dent in his bank account. Seems like a winner.

He glances over at his dorm’s door when it opens, curious to see that Soobin brought someone over. Yeonjun isn’t bothered by that, though; if this guy is anything like Soobin, he’s not worried about getting annoyed.

“You can remember to buy ramen but not detergent?” Soobin asks, chuckling. Yeonjun chooses to read that as a joke instead of a passive aggressive comment.

“Ugh, dude, I keep forgetting, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. Yeonjun points at Soobin’s friend and continues, “This your friend?”

“Yeah, I’m Beomgyu,” the friend introduces. Something about him looks a little familiar.

“Nice to meet you,” Yeonjun greets with a nod.

Soobin grabs some clothes from his closet then turns to the door. “I’m gonna go change and then we can head out,” he says to Beomgyu, then heads off to the bathroom.

When the door shuts, Yeonjun returns his attention to his ramen and ignores Beomgyu’s presence as best as he can. That doesn’t last too long, though, cause soon enough, Beomgyu’s breaking the silence: “Are you still hanging out with Y/n?”

Yeonjun turns in his seat to face Beomgyu. He’s not sure how Beomgyu would know that, but Yeonjun entertains the question nevertheless. “Yeah. You know her?” he asks.

“She’s my friend,” he says. “Kind of.”

Yeonjun already feels something weird in the air. He’s waiting for the turn that this conversation is bound to take. He finally pieces together why this guy looks so familiar; he’s one of the boys at the party in the group that you kept looking over at. Now Yeonjun’s really curious.

“Why do you ask?” The question comes out a little hesitantly.

“I’m telling you this man-to-man, I think you might be getting played,” Beomgyu says.

Yeonjun’s immediate reaction is only confusion. How would you be playing him? You’ve been nothing but sincere with your feelings—or, that’s what it seemed like, at least. Now Yeonjun’s doubting himself. A part of him doesn’t believe it and doesn’t want to indulge in this conversation any further, but he’d start spiraling whether or not Beomgyu explains himself now. Worry swirls in Yeonjun’s stomach.

“Why?” he asks despite himself.

“This is just what I’ve heard, but apparently she had a thing with Kai, and he started talking to another girl, so she wanted to get back at him. I don’t know, though.”

Kai. That boy who came up to you at the party. Yeonjun remembers him.

He doesn’t want to show how much those words affect him, but shit. Hearing that hurts. His body feels weightless, like he’d be falling over if he wasn’t sitting at his desk. He nods as he exhales slowly, keeping his heart from going haywire.

“Huh,” is all he says. Soobin comes back the next second, and Beomgyu heads out with him after that, and the world keeps spinning on, but Yeonjun feels trapped in that moment. He waits to wake up in a sweat, hoping this is all some nightmare that’s going to end, but the wake never comes. He’s forced to deal with his whirling thoughts instead.

None of this can be true. It wouldn’t make sense. You kissed Yeonjun. You said you were interested in him. If this was all a lie, how will Yeonjun ever trust anyone again? When he came to you bleeding out, you saved his life. When you found out his secret identity, you kept it safe. Yeonjun miscalculated something that night—there is something more sacred and dangerous to trust you with than those things: his heart.

He doesn’t even want to finish his ramen anymore. His fingers brush against the wound that’s healing pretty well thanks to you, and a thought crosses his mind. The night that you kissed him was the night you found out he was Spider-man. An especially sickening question starts to haunt him. Did you only start liking him because of that?

Yeonjun feels played. He’s always known that he was a fool, so he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, but really? Beer pong lord?

Five minutes is hardly enough to process the information Beomgyu dumped onto Yeonjun, but that’s all he gets, because now his alarm is going off and telling him to go over to the lab. He drops his head to his desk with a groan. It’s like an anchor’s been tied to his heart, sinking further and further until it makes him his stomach churn.

The fresh air feels good in Yeonjun’s lungs as he walks over to the lab. A permanent pout is etched onto his lips, unable to stop thinking about you. Good things. Bad things. Everything. Each memory hurts now.

He probably looks like some depressed college kid, walking around with his hood up and head down. He should be less pathetic, pick himself up and get himself together. It’s not like you two were really anything anyway. A kiss doesn't always mean something to everyone. Maybe it’s his fault for assuming that for you, it did.

It’s not just that, though. Yeah, kissing you made Yeonjun feel alive in a way that only swinging through the city could compare to, but there’s so much more to you than that. It’s the way you talked to him, the way you cared for him, the way you looked at him. How the hell do you fake that kind of connection? Hurt splits him at the seams like he’s being torn in two, but he keeps walking like nothing’s wrong.

“Yeonjun!” He recognizes that voice immediately. He pulls his eyes off the sidewalk and catches sight of you walking up to him. He almost forgot that he walks past your little field on the way to his lab.

It feels like he’s the one keeping a secret, palms clamming up as you stand in front of him. He stops in his tracks to allow you the conversation. “Hey,” he says.

“What are you up to?” you ask. He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Should he just act normal? Should he let you get away with using him? When he thinks about it like that, it puts a sour taste in his mouth.

“I’m headed to the lab. Got some stuff to do, and it’s time sensitive, so…” he trails off awkwardly, looking off into the distance instead of at you.

“Oh, okay,” you say, sounding a little dejected. Yeonjun shouldn’t be feeling bad for you right now, but he can’t help it. It makes his chest clench to hear the joy leave your voice. “Maybe we can hang out after? Just to study or something,” you offer.

Yeonjun sighs, “Maybe.”

You’re quiet for a second as you assess him. “Are you okay?” Concern fills your voice, and when he brings his vision back to you, he can see it in your eyes too.

“I’ll talk to you about it later,” he says.

You frown, taking in his flat expression. You must gain some insight from that, because then you’re asking, “Did I do something?”

He wants to hold his head, feeling defeated and frustrated and sad and a million other different things. He’s not sure how to label it. He’s never felt emotions this complex before, probably because he’s never liked anyone this much before.

“Oh god, did I?” you repeat, more fear in your voice at Yeonjun’s lack of a response. It strikes him and deflates his will to be dismissive about it, not wanting you to sit here worrying for the rest of the day. Curse his soft heart.

“Just come with me,” Yeonjun says, continuing on the path to his lab building. You follow beside him, taking long strides to match his quick pace. He notices you struggling to keep up, so he slows down, even though it might make him a few minutes late.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. He can feel you looking at him, but he keeps his eyes ahead.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he mumbles.

“Tell me then,” you plead. The thought of having to talk about this with you makes him feel sick. He doesn’t know if he can even choke up the words without getting nauseous.

“Let me clock into my lab first.” The rest of the walk is silent; you keep quiet even as you enter the room with him, watching him take off his sweatshirt and put on his lab coat. You’re quiet even as he goes through the study procedure, not even lingering near him to see what he’s doing. He feels a little cruel for it, wondering if he’s just torturing you by forcing you to stand silently and worry about what he must be upset at you for.

He steals a glance at you. You’re leaning against the wall by the door, so many steps away, keeping so much distance. He bites his lip and looks away, figuring it’s time to start the conversation.

“I want to talk to you, but I don’t want you to lie to me,” Yeonjun says, breaking the long stretch of silence. He walks toward you, stopping before he gets too close.

“I won’t. I’m not gonna hide anything from you.” It’s funny you say that.

“Do you like Kai?” His question catches you off guard, your frown leaving your face.

“No,” you answer.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. So why did Beomgyu tell me you used me to get back at him?”

He watches you stiffen at the question. “How do you know Beomgyu?” you ask.

“Please just answer me,” Yeonjun says. He doesn’t want to run around in circles, he just wants to hear the truth from you.

“I don’t like Kai anymore.” Something about that sentence hits like a stab to the gut. Yeonjun would know the feeling.

He tsks and shakes his head, ready to walk away and end the conversation, but you continue, “Please let me say the whole story.” Yeonjun sighs and meets your eyes. He decides to hear you out, only because a part of him is dying for you to make this right.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“I invited you to the party because you’re my friend, and I think you’re cute, but also for really petty, stupid revenge. It was so dumb and I’m so sorry, I feel so fucking bad for that now,” you explain. Yeonjun thinks back to how excited he was when you asked him. He remembers the rush of butterflies, the nervousness that pooled in his stomach, the adrenaline through his veins when he realized he finally had your attention.

You continue, “But I swear on my life, Yeonjun, the second we went outside at that party, I realized how unfair it was. I wanted to make Kai jealous, but when we were standing out there, I couldn’t do it. You’re a good person, and I felt fucking awful, and I didn’t go through with anything, and I’m glad I didn’t. You gave me one of the best nights of my life that day. I mean that. Seriously.”

There’s sincerity in your eyes, so Yeonjun knows you’re not lying. The ache in his chest is dull now, but still there. He can’t believe you planned to use him as some pawn to get back at Kai.

“Why’d I have to hear it from someone else? Why couldn’t you tell me yourself?” he asks. It’s pathetic how his voice carries more heartbreak than anger.

“Cause I didn’t want you to misunderstand and leave!” you explain, desperate. “Yeonjun, please. I don’t care about Kai anymore. I haven’t even talked to him since the party.”

Yeonjun wishes he could feel comforted by your words, but all he feels is hurt. He has this terrible thing where he can’t stop asking questions that will only batter him worse. “So you didn’t really like me?”

You take a step closer to him, placing both hands over your heart. Yeonjun’s not blind; he can see the fear in your eyes, the worry that he might walk away. He doesn’t have it in him to relieve your stress right now.

“I always liked you. I like you more every day,” you answer. There’s honesty in your words, which Yeonjun appreciates. It doesn’t quite melt away his insecurities, though.

Yeonjun can’t bear looking at you any longer, dropping his gaze to the floor and stepping back. He’s ready to leave, thinking he needs the night to himself to stare at the ceiling and contemplate this whole situation.

You stop him before he can get too far. Your hand hooks onto the sleeve of his lab coat, shaking as you cling to him. It’s so pitiful that it ruins the monstrous image Yeonjun’s trying to fit you into in his mind. Against his better judgment, his eyes meet yours again.

He’s about to speak—maybe to console you, to get some of that sadness out of your eyes—but the sound of glass breaking behind him makes him turn with wide eyes, searching for the damage. He’ll be the one stuck replacing any broken equipment; he can only pray that it wasn’t a more expensive piece.

His eyes flit across the room, but he finds nothing. Is he seriously losing his mind? Every time he’s in this lab, there’s something new giving him a mini heart attack. He brushes this off as some kind of paranoia. He considers talking to his professor about taking a break from the lab, just until he can restore his sanity.

“Let’s just head out of here,” Yeonjun says, unable to rid himself of the chill down his spine.

“Do you still like me?” you ask, unable to move on from the conversation. You stay planted in your spot as Yeonjun takes off his lab gear. He groans internally at your question—of course he still likes you. Do you think his feelings are so malleable? His adoration for you feels like an immovable boulder. He can’t even stay mad at you for as long as he wanted to, though he tries not to let you win too easily.

He sighs out your name instead of answering. He waits for you at the door as he throws his sweatshirt back on, and you trudge forward with a pout. Once his sweatshirt is slipped over his head, he catches sight of something behind you, heart stopping entirely.

“What the hell—?!” he emits, eyes growing wide as the cell clump he’d been working with expands out past its storage spot, spilling out onto the floor. The broken glass earlier must’ve been from the petri dish—shit, he should’ve checked. It’s discolored now, so dark it’s nearly black, and growing more rapidly than it should be able to.

You spin on your feet to see what Yeonjun’s looking at, yelping when you see the growth. You back up quickly and bump into Yeonjun’s chest. “What’s happening?” you ask, turning your head back to look up at him.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He has to think fast, because it doesn’t look like the cell replication is stopping any time soon—if anything, it looks like it’s growing exponentially. The clump is a goo-like substance, slowly spilling out further and further onto the floor, looking something like tar as it expands out. “We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” he says.

“How do we do that?” you ask. Yeonjun’s not sure either, so he doesn’t bother to answer. He opens one of the cabinets and pulls out all the different liquid chemicals he can find. One of these is bound to do something.

You hold yourself and watch him carefully, still looking shy and desperate and nervous from your argument. Yeonjun’s not sure why you seem to be more bothered by him not reassuring you that he likes you than by the clump that grows behind you. Your attention remains on him the whole time.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“No,” he answers sharply and quickly. He has bigger issues to be worried about than staying mad at you.

“I promise I wasn’t lying. I won’t talk to Kai ever again.”

“Why are we having this conversation right now?!” Yeonjun asks, frustrated.

“Because it’s important to me that you know!”

He ignores you in favor of unscrewing the lid to one of the acids, hoping it could digest the cells. When he pours it onto the clump, a loud hiss rings through the room and smoke comes up from the mass. It doesn’t seem to dissolve the cells, though.

He emits an exasperated groan, opening the lid to another chemical substance, and you rush to do the same. He can’t stop to think about how dangerous this is, too focused on controlling the problem before it gets irreparable. You and Yeonjun pour chemicals onto it at the same time, and it seems to react. The tar-like blob thickens now, erecting itself up from the floor languidly.

You and Yeonjun back up, watching with fearful eyes as it stands. It moves like it’s alive, like it’s a living organism. It’s eerily silent for a room as you two stare at the mass in shock. Then, rapidly, it comes charging at you, attaching itself to your cardigan as you shriek. Yeonjun acts fast, running to you and grabbing your waist, adhering his feet to the floor to keep you from getting dragged any more. You shed your cardigan quickly before tugging it back from the blob. It tears from how harsh you pull it, but you don’t seem to care, chucking it to the opposite side of the room.

This is an unfortunate time to see you in a tight-fitting tank top. Your chest heaves from the panic of being grabbed by the organism, rising and falling as you start to steady your breath. You look over at him, and he finds himself blushing and removing his gaze from you in embarrassment. God, now he’s the one struggling to focus on the bigger problem.

Yeonjun directs his wrist at the blob, shooting a web at it to keep it from charging at you again. The web sends the mass flying back until it collides with the wall. Though it can’t remove itself from the confines of the web, it still slowly grows, and it will be able to expand enough to attack again soon. Still, this should buy you two some more time.

“You should leave,” Yeonjun says, coming to you and cupping your face. His eyes beg you to go, strung up on the possibility of you getting hurt.

“I won’t,” you say, grabbing onto his wrists.

“Please. You’re too important.” His hand strokes through your hair like you’re something precious.

You take his hand and kiss it. “You are too. I won’t leave.”

He sighs. He knows he’s not winning this, there’s too much determination in your words. Before he removes his focus from you, he thinks he should tell you one last thing. “Just so you know, I like you too.”

You’re barely able to hold back your smile, but Yeonjun can’t stay and watch your reaction. The mass continues to grow over the confines of the web, and he has to find a way to control it before it overcomes the binds. He opens the binder that holds the descriptions of all the lab materials, hoping he can find something useful in there. His eyes flit across the words, scanning for the chemicals that will be his saving grace.

He stops when he reads the description for nitric acid. The words digest and dissolve kick his body to life, hope stirring inside of him. “Come here with the nitric acid!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Which one is that?” you ask hurriedly, scanning through the different bottles of chemicals.

“It’s in a brown translucent bottle. Quick!” Before he can panic further, you’re racing to his side with a bottle of the acid. Yeonjun quickly pours it over the mass, watching it shrivel when the liquid hits its surface. A weight lifts off Yeonjun’s shoulders when he realizes he finally found something that works. The bottle doesn’t hold nearly enough, though, because Yeonjun empties it out before he can melt the organism completely.

He turns to you expectantly, and you’re rushing back to the counter where all the chemical substances are held. You’re turning each to read the labels, growing more aggravated as you fail to find another container of nitric acid. You curse as you swing the cabinet doors open, checking if there’s any stored away in there.

You pull out a bottle from the cabinet, reading it quickly. “Would sulfuric acid work?” you ask, looking at Yeonjun like you need him to say yes.

“It would react with the nitric acid,” he answers. You groan.

“You think I know any of this stuff?!” You go back to searching through the cabinet.

“Yes! You’re, like, the smartest girl I know!” Yeonjun exclaims, equally as frustrated.

“You must not know a lot of girls then,” you huff. You finally pull out a bottle that seems to match, running over to Yeonjun. He takes it from your hands and pours the liquid over what remains of the clump, watching it dissolve until all that’s left is a murky puddle on the floor. He plops the nitric acid onto a table, finally letting himself take a full breath. He tastes the chemicals swirling in the air, but he can’t bring himself to care about any toxins filling his lungs. He’s worn out, crouching down in exhaustion with a groan.

When he picks his head up from between his arms, he searches for you. You’re bent over one of the tables, head tucked between your arms as half your body rests over the surface. You must be just as drained as him. He stretches his body out as he stands back up, then approaches you at the opposite side of the table. He rests his elbows onto the tabletop, leaning forward to be closer to you.

“You get feisty when you’re working under pressure,” Yeonjun teases, breathless laugh escaping him. You lift your head to look at him, and he can see how you hold back your amusement.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond. You seem winded, still breathing hard as you push yourself off the table and pick up your cardigan from the floor. You hold up your cardigan and examine the damage. It’s stained and ripped and looks disgusting. You pout. “This was my favorite one…”

“Don’t worry, you’re pretty good at stitching things back up,” Yeonjun says, coming up to you and taking the cardigan from your hands to tie it around your waist. You look up at him, something fond shining in your eyes.

“I guess I am,” you say, tugging on Yeonjun’s sweatshirt to pull him closer to you. You wear a dopey smile as you stare at him, hands resting on his shoulders, and Yeonjun really hopes that you do what he knows you’re both thinking about right now.

You don’t leave him waiting long; your hand comes to his jaw to bring his face to yours, and the next second, Yeonjun’s having the best kiss of his life. It feels like a reward after the shitshow that today’s been. For it to come to this, he’d relive it a dozen more times.

“Wait,” Yeonjun says, pulling back. “Are we dating now?”

“Haven’t we been dating?” You look at him like he’s a fool, and it endears Yeonjun endlessly.

“I mean, boyfriend-girlfriend dating,” Yeonjun explains.

“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now.

“Good,” he says, coming in for another quick kiss. “I’m all yours.” His words are uttered against your lips, since he can’t seem to pull himself away from you.

You gladly accept his kisses, and he has to keep himself from getting too drunk off your taste. He has to remember he’s still in a lab with a bunch of chemicals filling the air—it’s probably a good idea to get out. Even though he doesn’t want to, Yeonjun steps back and looks around at the mess throughout the room. Given everything that happened, it’s not awful. A mop would take care of ninety percent of the problem.

“We should clean this up,” he sighs.

“Yeah,” you agree. Neither of you make a move. You start laughing after a few seconds, and Yeonjun returns his attention to you with a cheeky grin.

“No, let’s just leave,” he suggests. He’s exhausted. He’ll explain everything to his professor tomorrow, he can’t take any more of this today.

“Should we go back to my place then?” you ask. Yeonjun does a very poor job of hiding his excitement. He wants more than anything to hold you to his chest and zip across campus to get to your dorm, but alas, he does the smart thing instead. A ten minute walk has never felt more like ten hours in his life, and seeing your dorm building finally come into view has his heart racing in anticipation.

Yeonjun’s all over you the minute your door closes behind him. He doesn’t let your lips disconnect for a second—not to talk, not to breathe, because nothing’s more important than tasting your lips on his.

Your back falls to your mattress, and Yeonjun’s mind briefly wanders to the last time you two were here. Having you sprawled out beneath him is quite different than you patching him up above him. In a way, that moment felt like the start of something bigger between you. The initial spark came long before it, but that night is what caused fire to catch. He feeds the flame now, fingers untying the cardigan at your waist and throwing it to the floor. Your shirt’s the next thing to go, and he only pulls away long enough to shed the cloth off of you.

His mouth on yours is ravenous and unwilling to waste any more time. He feels up your stomach, cherishing the warm flesh with eager fingers. He trails his hands up to your chest, feeling your breasts over your bra. You gasp when he squeezes experimentally, and it encourages him to continue, movements growing hungry.

You break away from the kiss, panting for air while Yeonjun latches onto your jaw. He’s insatiable, sucking your skin and placing kitten licks over the mark after. He hovers his face over yours, biting back his grin when he sees how hazy your eyes have become.

You catch his face in your hand, cupping his jaw and thumbing his cheek. The action makes his heart soar, and he leans into your warm touch. Your smile turns from soft to wicked when you push your thumb between his lips, and he engulfs the digit without a fight.

“I like you,” you say as he sucks your thumb, blinking up at him adoringly like he’s not doing some lewd act right now. He swirls his tongue around you before popping it out of his mouth, kissing your fingertip then taking your hand in his own.

“I like you too.” His free hand goes behind your back to search for your bra clasp, fumbling with it clumsily until he gets it to disconnect. You pull the material off, and Yeonjun’s cock twitches in his pants when he takes in the sight of you. A part of him feels wrong for doing this, like this is too dirty, but a larger part of him can’t wait to indulge in you. He’ll just make sure to take you out for dinner after.

Yeonjun throws his sweatshirt and shirt to the floor, pride swirling inside him when he sees the way you ogle at his skin. You lay your hand over his chest, trailing your fingers over the expanse teasingly. He takes your wrist and drags your hand away.

“You don’t deserve to touch me. I’m still upset about Kai,” he says. It’s a lie, but he’s in a playful mood. Your hand makes its way back to his chest despite that, so he grabs it and brings it to the bed, shooting a web over your wrist so you can’t move it. He giggles. The whole web-slinging thing comes with some perks.

“Oh, come on,” you sulk as he does the same to your other wrist. He leans back for a moment, looking down at you all proud. A few different sights flash through his mind, endless possibilities of how he could make the most of your hands being restrained. Maybe he should punish you for ever liking Kai in the first place, keep you on the edge until you’re chanting apologies into the air. He could also just indulge in your body greedily, taste every inch of you without your hands pulling him away. The ache in his pants grows at the thought.

You sigh in satisfaction when his hand meets your clothed core. Your hips grind against his hand, and he allows you to use him to find your pleasure. Your hands close into fists as Yeonjun lets you ride his open palm, still fighting against your restraints.

“How much do you like me?” Yeonjun asks. His free hand holds your waist, fingers brushing against your skin gently.

“So much,” you answer, never abandoning your rhythm. “You’re so smart, and handsome, and funny, and—nngh—and good to me…” Yeonjun’s hand travels from your waist to your chest in reward, thumb rolling over one of your nipples.

“Yeah, I am good to you. I stay with you even though you’re mean to me.”

You shake your head at his statement. “I’m not mean to you,” you say.

He laughs at how you try to control yourself, how serious your tone gets. Your hips slow, so he takes measures into his own hands and moves his palm against your cunt instead. If he presses down hard enough, he can feel how wet you are even through your pants.

“You are,” he says. “You use me to get other men.” He knows that’s not true now, but a part of him is still a little bruised by the idea. He figures that airing out his insecurities like this might help him, and it makes him feel less vulnerable.

“No! That’s not true!” Yeonjun ignores you and takes off your pants, letting them join the other articles of clothing on your floor. He short circuits when he sees the wet patch on your panties. A sense of shame must fill you then, because your legs clamp shut to block his view.

“Hey, be nice,” he says, opening your legs back up. He holds you open as he presses his knee to your folds, and he can feel your arousal even through the fabric of his sweatpants. He’s squealing internally, overjoyed to have you soaking for him, but he keeps his calm on the outside.

Your hands push against the webs again, shaking the mattress a little. You pout at him. “I want to touch you,” you whine.

“Sorry about that,” he says. He matches your pout as his hands smooth down your legs, lazily exploring your flesh. He grabs your hips and positions them up a little so that you’re pressing into his thigh. He hears the moan that gets caught in your throat as he drags your cunt against him, holding back a satisfied smirk.

“Should I tell you what I like about you?” Yeonjun asks, something silky and smooth in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips over his thigh. “Say pleaseeeee,” he prompts.

“Please,” you echo. He giggles.

“Again.” He’s having fun.

“Please, Yeonjun,” you beg, sweet voice dripping with need.

He releases your hips so he can pull off your panties, tugging you back onto him once you kick the cloth off your ankles. He can really feel how wet you are now, and it makes a knot form in his stomach. He wants you more than anything.

“I like how pretty you are,” he starts, leaning over you to press kisses against your neck. “And I like how cool you are.” His mouth travels a little lower, sucking at your collarbone. “And I like how I can talk to you for hours and never get bored.” His lips smother your chest, just above your tits, familiarizing himself with every inch of your skin. Your hips buck against him when he presses his thigh more firmly between your legs. “And I like how wet you get,” he laughs.

His mouth finds your breasts then, tongue swirling teasingly around one of your buds. Your nipples perk up, begging for his attention. He drags his tongue over to your other mound, sucking at the swell of flesh, moaning against you. The taste of your skin in his mouth makes him feel high.

You whine, hips rolling more fervently against him, chasing your approaching high. Yeonjun busies himself with delivering kitten licks to your nipples, watching the way they glisten with his saliva after he runs his tongue across them a few times. He peels himself off of you when your rhythm gets unsteady, not wanting you to cum yet. There’s a look of betrayal on your face as he disconnects from you, not touching you at all anymore.

“Yeonjun,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in. “I need to cum.” Your needy cunt grinds against the tent in his boxers, hungrily trying to get yourself off. He lets you have your fun for a minute, enjoying the feel of your warm, wet slit coating his clothed cock, before holding your hips still and keeping you from moving. That doesn’t stop you from digging your heels into his back, pushing him harder against you.

He removes your legs from him, holding you open as he plunges two fingers into your cunt. Your heat takes him in so nicely, the slide of his digits inside you made so easy from how slick your cunt is. You arch your back, moaning out as he curls his fingers inside you.

“Tight girl, gotta stretch you out,” he says, scissoring his digits to prepare you. Your arousal pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress as Yeonjun fucks you on his fingers. “Need to get you ready for me.”

“Mhm, need your dick,” you say. You look so helpless like this, laying back and letting Yeonjun fuck his fingers into you however he wants. He increases his speed just because he can, knowing you can’t pry his hand away, grinning when you emit a surprised gasp. Your walls start tightening around his fingers, a warning of your orgasm, and Yeonjun pulls his hand away before you can get there.

You’re whining his name again, thighs clamping shut to relieve the pressure. He shushes you as he tugs his boxers out of the way, stroking his cock as he watches the way you tremble. Poor thing.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks. Your legs spread open immediately in invitation. He watches as a glob of arousal drips out from your core.

“Yes,” you breathe out. He pumps his shaft a few more times before bringing it to your folds, letting your wetness coat his tip. “Put it in,” you beg, jerking your hips up. He ignores your plea, bringing the head of his cock to your clit to tap on it a few times. The stimulation sends a buzz through you, and Yeonjun coos at you sweetly.

“Want you to feel so good,” he says, aligning his tip to your hole and starts pushing in. You throw your head back and groan, and he gives your neck a wet kiss. “Wanna be the best you’ve had.” He sinks in slowly, letting your walls adjust to him inch by inch. You feel like heaven around him, and his fingers dig into your hips to keep himself from losing his mind. He wants to meld himself into you.

He grinds his pelvis against you when he bottoms out, steadying his breaths so he doesn’t lose himself too quickly. His moans are deep and airy, while yours are whiny and pathetic. He trails a hand up your body until he’s cupping your face, bringing your attention to him. You look dazed, and he wants to watch you fall apart. He needs to see your perfect face scrunched up with pleasure, eyes glassy and mouth open, going stupid from how fucked out you are.

He presses a light kiss against your lips, then leans his face into the crook of your neck. He finally starts pulling back, slamming back into you with a whimper. Your cunt takes him so readily despite how tight you are, your arousal making him glide in and out of you so easily.

“Gonna be perfect for you,” Yeonjun promises. “Be a good boyfriend. Fuck you every day. Keep you happy.” He lifts himself up to watch your mouth fall open as he thrusts into you. He presses against your stomach to feel himself inside you, moaning whorishly when he does. It makes him fuck you harder, desperation coursing through his system.

You can barely speak from how far gone you are, stuttering out curses and whimpers of his name. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing at the swollen bud to get you clenching around him. He groans at how tight you get, sucking him in like your body was meant to take him.

“Need you to cum now,” Yeonjun says, feeling his high looming over. “Gotta feel you milking my cock, let me see it.”

“Kiss me,” you say breathlessly, mouth hanging open as you wait for him to take it. He obliges eagerly, shoving his tongue into your mouth with a needy whine. He licks into you as if this will coax your orgasm out, and it does. Your walls clamp around him, and he’s barely able to move from how tight you get. He circles your clit diligently, only letting up when your body jolts in overstimulation.

He pulls out soon after, only having to stroke himself a few times before he’s spilling his seed onto your stomach. He groans as he milks himself for every last drop, hand shaking as he releases the last of it. You look hot painted with his cum; he bites his lip and squeezes your thighs, needing more and more of you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, making you turn your head away shyly.

“Thanks. You are too.” His stomach flips, feeling proud that he earned your praise. He lowers himself to your torso, lapping at the milky strands of his cum. He cleans you nicely, swallowing down his own release until your stomach’s coated in only his saliva. He brings himself to your slit to lap at it languidly, loving the little whines you emit at the sensation.

“Did so good for me, thank you,” he murmurs into your cunt. He pushes his tongue into your entrance, slowly fucking the muscle inside you. You sigh and roll your hips against his face, relaxed and melting into the feeling.

“Y-you’re good too,” you praise. He licks his way up to your clit, taking it into his mouth and letting his tongue roll over the bud. He likes to hear that he’s being good for you, it makes him feel like he’s worthy of you. He thrives off your happiness, so he feels content as he pleases you with his mouth.

He never wants to let you go. He wants you in his arms forever, he wants to stay in this room and live the rest of his life with just you by his side. This much is enough for him. He glides his hands down your thighs, letting his fingers lightly drag along your skin. He opens his mouth a little more to taste more of you, to kiss your folds more hungrily. He presses the tip of his tongue to your bud, focusing the pressure right against it until he hears you mewl.

“Right there!” you gasp out, pressing yourself further into Yeonjun’s face. He hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, making sure you don’t jolt away when your orgasm creeps up on you. He flicks his tongue over your clit repeatedly, feeling your thighs shake in his grasp. He doesn’t stop until you’re releasing on his face, coating his mouth and chin with your essence.

He detaches himself after a minute, licking his lips and letting go of your legs. He sits up and smiles at you, taking in how pretty you look. He holds your jaw so he can kiss you, and he can’t help but to giggle into the kiss. This is so surreal. He would have fainted if he knew one month ago that this would be happening to him.

“Hi,” you say when he finally pulls his face from yours. This feels like a dream.

“Hi,” he echoes, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He cherishes the smile you give him.

“So when does this dissolve?” you ask, tugging at the webs holding your arms in place. Yeonjun scratches his neck bashfully. That's enough of an answer for you. “Yeonjun…” you sigh, body deflating.

“Less than two hours!” he rushes to say.

“Two hours?!”

“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile.

Your eyes flit down to his stirring cock. “I guess I have nothing better to do,” you give in. Yeonjun sees right through your nonchalant act, but he lets you get away with it. He has better things to busy himself with than arguing about that.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You bring Yeonjun to the market after learning about the laundry detergent debacle. You place the item in your basket, shaking your head at him as you do. “I can’t believe your roommate had to tell me to get you to buy this.”

Yeonjun raises his hands in defense. “I get busy sometimes,” he says.

“With coming to my dorm every other night?” you ask with a raised brow, walking into the next aisle.

Yeonjun drops a candy bar into the basket alongside the detergent. “No, with lab stuff, and class stuff, and Spidey stuff,” he corrects. He picks up a bottle of your favorite drink as he passes by it on the shelf. “And with girlfriend stuff,” he adds sweetly.

“Right,” you say unconvincingly, smiling as you nod your head.

Yeonjun grabs a pair of sunglasses off a rack, placing them on his face and turning to you with a grin. “How cool are these?” he asks, pointing at himself.

You laugh and lift the sunglasses up so they rest on his head. “So cool,” you answer. You tilt your head to check the price on them. “You should totally spend the last of your money on them.”

He pulls the glasses off his face to check the price tag, eyebrows raising in reaction. He puts them back on the rack. He can’t get rid of the smile on his face as he watches you shop, endeared and swooned by every little thing you do. It’s small moments like these that make him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

“We should get bandages. I can’t believe you don’t have any,” you say, looking for where the item would be in the store.

“There’s a lot of things I don’t have. I’m operating on a limited budget,” he explains. It’s not like he can tackle a job on top of everything else he does. He’s grown accustomed to his ways of living, accepting that he’s become the male college student stereotype.

“I’m glad I stepped into your life then,” you say, throwing a box of bandages into your basket. “I’m actually scared you’d die without me.”

Yeonjun can’t help but to laugh at that. “I would die without you,” he agrees. He follows you as you continue walking around the store, aimlessly searching for anything you might need. You stop when you feel your phone buzz, pulling out your phone upon receiving a notification, checking it curiously. He reads the message over your shoulder; it’s an alert from your local news station about some rescue mission for a bunch of dogs that ran loose from their shelter just now. You turn to him with a knowing smile.

“That��s your cue, Spider-man.”

notes: god i loved writing this so much…. i hope u like spideyjjun just as much as i do<3 i would love to hear ur thoughts if u have anyyy!!! tysm for reading hehe

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© delugyu 2025, do not translate or reupload

[sidemari]

• Bun in the oven •

Some texts about you telling them that you’re pregnant and some headcanons about how they’re during the pregnancy. 

Characters included: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Keegan P. Russ, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, König, Nikto and Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader 

TW: Mild angst, mentions of abortion and insecurities, implied smut. But everything works out in the end. 

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You call him from the corner of the room, that nervous smile on your face. Soap knows right away that something big is coming — he feels it, like he senses danger on the field… But this time, it’s something different. Something good.

“Johnny… Do you remember the night you came back home after being away for so long due to that mission?” You tested the waters by avoiding telling the truth right away.

“Yeah… How could I forget that night?” He smiled warmly, his mind flashing with the images of that day. “What about it, hon?” 

“Well… You know we got carried away and…”

“And…?”

“We’re having a baby.” You finally share your secret. 

He blinks. Once. Twice. His usual playful smile disappears for a second, replaced by a stunned look, as if he’s trying to decode what he’s just heard.

“Are… are you serious?” You nod, and he… explodes with joy. He literally lifts you into the air with a surprised cry, almost laughing and crying at the same time.

“Oh my God! We’re going to be parents?! Aye, fuck, baby, is this really real?”

He kisses your forehead, then your belly, even though it hasn’t even changed yet. He murmurs a bunch of sweet things in that warm accent — promises, plans, dreams. And then he whispers very softly, just for you to hear:

“I swear I will be the best father in the world… to our baby. And the best man to you. Always.”

When the morning sickness starts, he becomes your personal bodyguard against any suspicious smells: “What the hell is that in the air?! It smells like poison, honey. Close that window!”

He researches everything about pregnancy and becomes the most emotional “expert” on the planet. He sends you messages like: “Did you know that the baby already has little fingers today? LITTLE FINGERS, BABY!”

He talks to your belly every day, telling them about his missions, his friends on the team, and asking if the baby prefers soccer or rugby: “If you kick now, it’ll be rugby, okay?”

He starts to become obsessed with photos. He takes a thousand selfies with you and your belly, even while you’re sleeping. 

He refuses to let you carry anything, literally: “Not even the bag. Not even the remote. Let me carry it, honey.”

He massages your feet every night, and even develops a ‘military relaxation technique’ just so you can sleep better.

He has a hospital bag ready with 30 unnecessary things, like three types of chocolate, a teddy bear, and a mini speaker to play Scottish music for the baby.

He’s always reminding you how beautiful you are, even when you feel uncomfortable and insecure. “No matter how big your belly is, you’ve always been the love of my life, and now you’re carrying our little miracle. And no, I don’t give a single fuck about those stretchmarks. You’re nurturing a life inside your womb and your body is adapting itself because of it. I still think you look damn hot and I’m forever thankful that those pregnancy hormones shifted you into a little insatiable thing.”

He gets touchy-feely, sometimes hugging you in the middle of the night just to say thank you. 

He makes up nicknames for the baby while he’s still in the womb, like “Little Soap”. 

He gets really emotional during the first ultrasound. He holds your hand tightly and tries not to cry… but fails miserably.

He makes special playlists with soft Scottish music, movie soundtracks and even records himself talking so the baby can hear at night.

He buys miniature army clothes, but also absurdly cute ones, like animal costumes, because “he needs to have style in the nursery”.

One day he shows up with a crib set up in the middle of the living room just because “he wanted to see if it would look nice in natural light”.

He learns to cook your favorite foods (even if it turns out to be a disaster) just so you can eat what you want safely.

He keeps notes with the dates of the first times: first kick, first time their heartbeat was heard, first photo of your belly. He’s creating a secret “dossier” of love.

He swears he’s going to be the most present father in the world. No matter how much life changes, he will always be there for you two. 

It was a quiet night at home. The sky was clear, with a million stars shining through the open window. You were sitting on the couch, with a cup of hot tea in your hands, and Soap was lying next to you, with his head on your lap, apparently tired from the intense mission of the day. The conversation was calm, but you knew it was time to tell him the news. He was so focused on caressing your stomach as you played with his hair, that he didn't notice how nervous you were.

"Did you know you're going to be the best dad in the world?" You said softly, feeling your heart race. Soap looked at you with a crooked smile, his eyes shining with evident affection.

"I have no doubt about that, love. But what do you mean, best dad? If I'm not, who will be, huh?" You laughed, but you were feeling overflowing with happiness. Suddenly, the moment was there, and it was as if time had slowed down just so he could hear your words.

"Well… I can't say who's going to be the best father, but you're the best for me, and… Our daughter is going to be very lucky." There was a pause. Soap stood up quickly, looking at you, confused, as if he hadn't quite understood. His eyes were curious, but his smile stubbornly wouldn't leave his face. 

"Wait… What?" He asked, his eyes shining even brighter. You laughed, feeling the heat rise to your face. 

"I… we're expecting a little girl." Soap's eyes widened for a moment and he was silent, processing the information. When it finally sunk in, he leaned forward, with a dazzling smile.

"A little girl?" he repeated, his voice full of disbelief. 

"Yes, a little girl," You said, your heart almost jumping out of your chest. "You're going to be the father of a little girl." And then, he simply laughed. A genuine, happy laugh, one of those laughs that seemed so honest that you felt your soul warm. He stood up from the couch, holding your hands tightly before he jumped close to you, not caring about the teacup that almost fell to the floor.

"Are you sure about this? A real little girl?" He asked again, his eyes shining with happiness.

You laughed then, finally, the feeling of nervousness disappearing. He was more excited than ever, and his happiness was contagious.

"I'm sure!" You answered, laughing along with him, the two of you hugging each other tightly. "We're going to have a daughter, Soap." He ran his hand over your belly, still not fully believing it, but with a sparkle in his eyes that didn't fade. 

"I promise that I'm going to be the best dad in the world. It's going to be a pleasure to watch our little girl grow up." You leaned back against the couch, feeling your heart beat faster. 

"I know you will." And as he continued to rub your belly, smiling like a fool and in that moment, you were more certain than ever that he was the kind of father who would do anything for her. 

Keegan P. Russ 

You hadn’t planned to tell him like this. You wanted something elaborate, symbolic… maybe a candlelit dinner, a note written in your nervous handwriting. But there, sitting on the couch, with his hand resting on your thigh and his eyes intently watching a movie, you felt the right moment — a comfortable, intimate silence, just the two of you.

“Keegan…” You began, your voice low, almost as if you were keeping a precious secret between your lips. He turned his face to you right away. He always did that — when you spoke, he listened. With his eyes, with his whole body. It was a habit of his to offer you his total presence.

“Is something wrong?” He asked immediately, already with that protective look that always came when you hesitated.

“No… it’s just...” You took his hand and brought it to your belly, as if that would be enough. Maybe it was. For a moment, he didn’t understand. He looked back at your face, at your eyes filled with unshed tears, at his hand under your still flat stomach, but which held a secret growing in silence.

“Are you...?” He didn’t finish the question, but his eyes said it all. You nodded, with a shy, uncertain, but hopeful smile. The air between you changed. He didn’t say anything for a second too long — but you saw it. His shoulders relaxed as if he had been waiting for this news without knowing. His eyes watered, and his mouth opened slowly, a whisper coming out between his lips:

“Are we becoming a family...?” The way he hugged you that night was different. It was a protective, reverent grip. As if you were made of porcelain. As if the most important miracle of his life was inside you — and it was.

The focused, meticulous soldier appeared in a new form: in nutrition spreadsheets, reminders on his phone with alarms for his snacks, vitamins, and appointments. He went with you to all of them—even when he was exhausted, even when he had just returned from a mission the day before. He sat next to you, held your hand, and listened intently to every word the obstetrician said.

Keegan was the type of person who didn’t say much, but showed it all through his actions. He learned to cook healthy meals even though he didn’t know how to cut a tomato properly at first. He would run his hands over his belly before bed every night, with a caress that felt like a silent prayer.

And when the symptoms got tough — the nausea, the aches, the bloating — Keegan didn’t run away. He showed up with tea (and if you refused to drink them, he’d force you to, saying it was for the good of the baby you were nurturing), warm blankets, and concerned eyes. He sat on the floor beside your bed when you didn’t want to talk. He was just there and it was enough. 

Sometimes, during the night, he would wake up just to check if you were still sleeping well. He would run his hand over your forehead, carefully adjusting your position, as if he could protect you even from nightmares.

Keegan, during your pregnancy, was as firm as steel and as gentle as a cozy blanket. He became your safe haven, your silent and constant guardian. He slept with his hand on your belly, talked to the baby when he thought you couldn’t hear, promised he would be there, always, that he would take care of you, that no one would ever hurt you both. 

You found him in the kitchen, cooking your latest craving: berry pie.

“Baby,” You called, leaning against the door frame. He looked up immediately, a small smile forming when he saw you there.

You walked over to him slowly, your heart racing, and pulled out the small pair of blue booties you had bought that morning.

“For when he gets here.” You said, placing the booties in his hands. A cheesy way to reveal the gender of your baby, yes, but those booties were just too cute for you to ignore. 

Keegan frowned, confused at first — until understanding dawned on him. He blinked a few times, in disbelief.

“A little boy?” He asked, almost in a choked whisper.

You nodded with an excited smile. He laughed softly, shaking his head as if he was still processing it. Then he pulled you slowly closer, resting his forehead against yours before spinning you around slowly and carefully to not make you nauseous.

“My little boy… Our little boy!” He murmured, his voice cracking with joy.

When the time arrives, Keegan is incredibly calm on the outside, but inside he is a whirlwind of emotions. He has never been so scared and so happy at the same time. He held your hand through every contraction, whispering “You can do it,” “I’m here,” “It’s going to be okay” like a mantra — as if his voice could protect you from the pain. When he heard the baby cry for the first time, his eyes filled with tears instantly. He tried to hide it, but the emotion overflowed in his eyes and in the way he smiled at you and when he held his son for the first time. He was completely mesmerized: his big fingers touched the little body with the greatest delicacy in the world, as if he was afraid of hurting his own son. 

Keegan refuses to sleep while you rest. He sits in an armchair with the baby on his lap, just observing every little detail of the newborn. When the medical team came back and found him with the baby sleeping on his chest, and you sleeping in bed, they said it looked like a scene from a movie. 

He talks to the baby even though he knows he doesn't understand: "You have your mother's eyes... And you'll be strong like her too." 

Takes pictures of the tiny feet, of the baby grabbing your finger, of you breastfeeding him, bathing him and sleeping with him and keeps them all in a folder that only he has access to.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

You realized something was wrong when you woke up with an upset stomach for two days in a row — and without having eaten anything heavy. The smell of the breakfast you loved started to make you nauseous… and that was the first warning sign. Kyle even jokingly commented: “Are you abandoning me in our sacred coffee ritual?” — and you forced a smile, pretending you weren’t worried. A few days later, you realized your period was late. A week. Then ten days. And then fifteen. And then, sweet fear hit deep in your chest.

You bought the test by yourself, on a quick trip to the pharmacy, and hid it in your purse as if it were a state secret. On a cold, slow morning, you took the test while Kyle was still sleeping. The silence in the bathroom was almost deafening as you waited the five minutes that the package indicated. Two lines. Two lines that changed everything. You stood still for long minutes, in the same position, holding the test with shaking hands and teary eyes. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. You did both. The first thing you thought was: "How am I going to tell him?" — and right after: "Will he want this with me?" 

You tried to plan a cute way to tell him. A special dinner, a little box with the test and a note. But anxiety got the best of you. You told him in a simple way, on a normal afternoon, when it was just the two of you, sitting together. He noticed something different about you, and when you shared the secret you were carrying alone, time seemed to stop.

He was sitting on the couch, his eyes softly focused on you as you walked slowly toward him, your hands clasped in front of you, as if trying to contain your racing heart. He could tell right away — you were nervous.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, his voice low, full of affection.

You nodded, but your throat was dry. You took a deep breath, then walked over and sat down next to him. His hand came naturally to yours, his warm, firm fingers wrapping around yours as if to say ‘I’m here, talk to me.’

“Kyle…” Your gaze met his, and there was so much tenderness there it almost hurt. “I’m pregnant.” For a moment, the world seemed suspended. His smile froze mid-smile, his eyes wide with surprise. You saw the emotion building there — first confusion, then a wet gleam in his eyes, as if he’d just heard something sacred.

“Are you… pregnant?” He repeated in a whisper, as if he was afraid to break the moment.

You nodded, with a small smile. His answer came in the form of a soft, almost breathless laugh, before he pulled you into a hug full of warmth and reverence. He held you as if you were made of glass, but at the same time with such intensity that your heart seemed to fit into his.

“We’re going to have a baby… Fuck’s sake!, that’s so amazing...” He whispered against your neck, as if he still couldn’t believe it. 

“Kyle… No swearing around the baby.”

“Copy that.” He smiled. “I'll be here. Every step, every beat of this little heart… I want to live it all with you.” After that, he placed his hand lovingly on your lower belly, as if he could already feel the new life you had started together. And in that moment, between soft smiles and slow kisses, the whole world seemed to fit between his arms.

He became obsessed with learning everything: he read medical articles, downloaded three different pregnancy apps, and asked the internet if certain strange food cravings were normal. 

He created a ritual: every night, he would lie with his head on her belly and whisper stories, just to “familiarize the baby with his father’s voice.” He would always say proudly: “Our baby will be born hearing the most beautiful accent in the world, honey.” 

He was so protective, but in a sweet way —  accompanying you to every appointment, carrying healthy snacks in his bag, and talking to doctors like you were a secret agent on a mission. 

When your belly started to grow, he bought funny “Loading… Baby 50%” T-shirts and forced you to wear them just to see your grumpy little face. No need to tell him they look awful, he’s already taking pictures of you. 

One day, he found you crying watching a random video of a stray dog being adopted and he just sat down with you, hugging you tightly, and getting emotional too, without even knowing why. 

He insisted on putting the crib together with his own hands. He made several mistakes, got his fingers stuck, and cursed the manual — but in the end, the crib was perfect.

When the contractions started, he went into military mode in 0.1 seconds. He grabbed the hospital bag, checked the checklist, warned everyone and took you to the hospital as if he was on a mission.

During the birth, he held your hand the whole time, letting you crush his fingers without complaining as he kept murmuring something along the lines of “Breathe with me. I’m with you.”

When the baby was born and cried for the first time, he cried too — the kind of silent, emotional cry that comes from deep in the chest.

He was paralyzed for a few seconds when he saw the baby in his arms, with teary eyes, whispering: “We did it. Look… we did it.”

You waited to find out the baby’s sex until the birth. It was a huge shock when the obstetrician said that a little boy had been born: “Hell yeah!”, he celebrated. “My little boy,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Our son...”

König

He finally returned from that mission that seemed to have no end. 

You call him by name with that soft voice that makes him feel weak to his knees. He notices something in your tone. The blue eyes fixed on yours with attention… and a hint of anxiety. “Was ist passiert, mein Schatz?” (“What happened, my love?”)

You take a deep breath, smiling with a nervousness that he immediately picks up on — and you finally say three words that change everything: 

“I am pregnant.” For a moment, he freezes. Not with rejection. Not with anger. But as if the world had gone silent. His eyes widen slightly, he takes a step back as if he’s been shocked, only to then approach you again with visible hesitation in his hands. The mask covers half of his reaction, but his eyes say it all. Pure vulnerability. The doubt of whether he deserves this. The desire to believe he still deserves to be happy. 

“Is it… mine?” He asks, his voice lower than ever.

“Of course it is, König!” 

When you say that — of course he knew it was his — König lets out a shaky sigh and puts his hands on his head, walking a few steps as if he doesn’t know what to do with his own body. Then he stops and he comes back to you. He kneels and he hugs your still-flat belly, pressing it against his face with an almost religious reverence.

“Mein Gott (My god)… you gave me a new life.” He murmurs, his voice hoarse and muffled.

Then he looks down at you, with teary eyes — the intimidating giant now looking like a lost, happy boy — and says something you would never forget:

“I never thought I would have something so precious. I will take care of you. The both of you. Even if the world falls apart… you will be safe.” 

In the first few months, König is on constant alert. Every moment of nausea, every different expression on your face, makes him stop everything to check if you are okay. 

He obsessively researches pregnancy in silence, on his cell phone, reading scientific articles, forums, and even mothers' groups — all in secret, with his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were studying military tactics. 

He tries to cook for you (with… variable results), just because he read that certain foods help with morning sickness. 

When your belly starts to grow, König starts talking to you when he thinks you are sleeping. He lies down next to you, his head resting gently on your belly, murmuring in German with a sweetness that seems unthinkable for such a huge man. "Dein Vater liebt dich sehr, mein kleines Wunder..." ("Your father loves you very much, my little miracle...") 

He starts to accompany you to every medical appointment as if they were a mission, paying attention to every comment from the doctors and nurses as if his life depended on it. 

When your belly is already heavy and your steps are slower, König starts carrying you to any place that involves stairs. Literally. He doesn't even ask. He just picks you up with the greatest care in the world, as if you were made of glass. 

When you start having false contractions, he goes into a state of absolute focus—the hospital bag has been packed for weeks, the routes have been planned, the emergency numbers are posted on the fridge. But despite this, he is always kind, always calm with you, even though he is seething with nerves inside.

He has internal crises of insecurity, but he never burdens you with them. He writes everything down in a hidden notebook, as a way of letting off steam. 

You find him on the balcony, the sky tinged with gold by the sunset. König’s back is turned, still, silent, as he usually does when he’s thinking too much. His large hands are resting on the railing, his broad body almost blocking the light. He turns when he hears your footsteps, and his soft gaze immediately lands on your belly with an almost reverent affection.

You smile, and he responds with that shy little smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes still seeming to search for more signs that you’re okay.

“What did the doctor say?” He asks in a low voice, waiting for each word as if they were sacred.

You walk towards him, slowly, feeling your heart beat faster — not from nervousness, but from excitement. Then you take one of his hands and guide it to your belly.

“She’s fine,” You begin, looking into his eyes. “And yes... I said she.”

König’s eyes blink, as if it took him a second to process.

“She...?” He whispers, almost in disbelief. You nod, smiling even wider.

“We’re having a little girl.” His breath catches for a moment. His blue eyes — usually so restrained, so trained not to show too much — shine with immediate moisture. He kneels, letting his forehead touch yours while his hands wrap around your belly with a delicacy that doesn’t match its size.

You run your fingers through his hair, feeling him snuggle closer, his arms around your waist as if he wanted to protect the two of you from the entire world.

“She’s already so loved, König. By me… and by you.”

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready. But I’ll give everything. Everything. For both of you.”

“You’re already everything she needs. And everything I need too.” 

Nikto

The truth is that you found out you were carrying his child only in the third month of pregnancy. The missions, your dangerous job, the obligations, plans and goals, your own complex relationship with Nikto… all of this was too much for you to handle. The days became weeks and the weeks became months as you just ignored the symptoms, thinking that the nausea and exhaustion would pass. But they remained very present, and your suspicion only increased.

You took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. And to be sure, you also took a blood test some days after and then, an ultrasound, which finally revealed the baby's gender: a little boy was coming into the world. You did all this without saying a word to Nikto, fearing that he would hate the news. You weren't stupid, you knew he would soon realize something was out of place. Your body was changing, your symptoms were still present, and you even avoided exposing yourself to any kind of risk, as much as possible, unlike before.

He suspected the possible reason why this was happening, but he never forced you to admit anything. Not until you were ready.

When you told him the news, at first he reacted with silence and a hard look, trying to process the information. He’s not the type to show emotion easily, so you thought he was angry or indifferent… But inside, he would be conflicted. Part of him would feel vulnerable — the idea of ​​having created a new life would hit him harder than he expected. Another part would be on edge, worried for your safety and that of the baby, since his world is too violent for something so innocent.

But he wouldn’t shy away from responsibility. He just wouldn’t know how to show he cares in the traditional way. You’d see him more protective, more present, but also more silent. His love would be shown in actions, not words.

The base was silent that night—just the hum of the generators and the occasional sound of boots echoing in the hallway. He was sitting at the table, cleaning his weapon with the meticulous precision of always, his mask pushed up to his forehead, revealing those hard eyes… but that always softened when they landed on you. You walked in slowly, your fingers intertwined in front of you, your heart beating fast.

He noticed it instantly. He dropped the metal piece on the table and watched you silently. Not like a soldier, but like a man. Your man.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, standing up immediately, his tone low but attentive.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s not that. But… I need to tell you something. And it’s important.”

His eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms, his body firm as steel, but his gaze… almost nervous.

“I’m pregnant, Nikto.”

The silence that followed was as thick as the darkness outside. He didn’t answer. He just stood there, motionless, as if time had frozen. What did you expect? A scream? A sigh? A “how did that happen?”?

None of that came.

He walked towards you, slowly, as if he were stepping on unknown land. He stopped so close that you could feel the heat of his body. His gloved hand rose to your face — it hesitated in the air for a second — and then landed with a delicacy that no one would ever imagine that man was capable of.

“My son?” He murmured, his voice so low that it seemed like a secret between you and the universe.

Son… And he even had guessed the baby gender right.

You nodded, tears in your eyes, but smiling.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, there was something there. It wasn’t fear. Or anger. It was… instinct. A raw kind of love — unconditional, protective.

"How do you…" You hugged him, and that took him by surprise. It took Nikto a few seconds to hug you back, but when he did, he stroked your hair with affection. "How do you know it's a boy?"

"Is it?"

"I mean… yeah."

"Perhaps it was just my intuition." He kissed the top of your head, wanting to protect you from the world.

“You will not leave my sight.” His voice had returned to its firm tone. “I will take care of you both. From now on.” And then, for the first time since you met him, Nikto knelt down, making himself vulnerable before you. Lifting your shirt, he pressed his lips to your slightly swollen belly, so gently that it barely seemed real. But it was. It was his promise. No pretty words. Just presence. Just surrender.

Nikto was already a controlling person by nature, but from the moment he found out about your pregnancy, he became a constant shadow by your side. He checks safe routes before you go out, monitors the environment where you sleep, and leaves discreet trackers on everything you wear “just in case.” He doesn’t say, “I’m afraid something will happen,” he just acts—as if he could take on the whole world for you and the baby.

He’s not the type to say, “You look so beautiful carrying my son” but out of nowhere you find a soft blanket on the couch, hot tea on the table, or maternity clothes in your size neatly folded on the bed. When you ask him if that was his doing, he just answers curtly, “Maybe.” But if you insist, he might say, “I like to see you comfortable.” (And he looks down, because that was the most vulnerability he could show that day.)

If you’re lying down and you let out a whimper of pain or discomfort, within seconds he’ll be there, kneeling beside the bed, pressing his hands firmly against your back. He never comments anything, he just keeps going until he feels you’ve relaxed. When you say a weak “thank you” he’ll give you a quick nod and maybe — just maybe — press a kiss against your forehead before leaving the room.

At night, when you are dozing on the couch or in bed, he will slowly come over and, if he is comfortable doing so, he will rub your belly while speaking to the baby in Russian. They are short, almost military phrases, but sweet in his own way: "Your mother is stronger than anyone. You will get this from her." Or even: "You will not know war. I swear."

Even with all his confidence, he sometimes stays silent for long periods, staring at you from afar. When you ask him, he ends up saying something like: “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I only know how to fight.” It’s at this moment that you see his most human side. He’s not afraid of war, but he is afraid of failing you. And when you hold his hand and tell him he’s already doing more than enough, he doesn’t respond. He just squeezes your hand tightly — and doesn’t let go.

Simon “Ghost” Riley 

Hot and intense nights became common when the pressure of the world became great enough to suffocate you both.

You sought refuge in sex, night after night indulging your most primitive and sinful desires as a relatively effective, but twisted, way of enduring the horrendous reality of serving the country.

Even though you knew that being careful was relatively far from being part of your routine, you felt the world fall apart when the first symptoms began.

Nausea, fatigue and insecurity had become part of your essence and the fear of the future permeated your soul.

You tried to hide your pregnancy for as long as possible, not wanting to tell Simon, much less your team members.

Bringing an innocent life into the hell you lived was a senseless act. Then why did you feel so much love for someone who hadn't even been born yet?

You were almost four months pregnant when, during a mission, you fainted for no apparent reason. You weren't taking care of yourself enough — eating little, sleeping little and keeping so many secrets to yourself... It came as no surprise to anyone when your body couldn't handle all of that.

"Stay with me... Hey! She needs medical help!" Ghost shouted, looking around desperately, protecting your body as if you were the most fragile thing in the world at that moment.

Your consciousness slowly returned, and you realized that you were being carried by him to a safer place.

"I'm sorry." You stammered, feeling guilty for having interrupted the gathering of such important information.

"Don't apologize. I've never seen you so pale and weak like this, not even on worse missions." You were finally in a calmer place, still alone with him, and before other people entered the room to check on you, you decided it was time to tell him the truth.

"Simon, I..." You hesitated, wondering for a moment if being honest with him was really what you wanted.

"You...?" He encouraged you, squeezing your thigh affectionately, as usual.

"I... I'm pregnant." His eyes widened, and his grip on your thigh tightened, almost hurting you.

"What...?" He mumbled to himself, slowly fitting the pieces of the puzzle together and everything made sense — your extreme sensitivity to the tastes and smells that you usually liked, your endless naps, your hurried and unannounced trips to the bathroom, your lack of complaints about cramps, almost as if you hadn't had your period that month... It all made sense, and his head almost exploded.

"How did I not notice?" He whispered, pulling you close, hugging you tightly as if he wanted to protect you from all the evil in the world. "How far along are you?"

"Almost four months." You mumbled against his chest as he stroked your hair lovingly. "I think it was on your birthday..." 

That night... That fateful night.

"How are you feeling about this?"

"I... I don't know what to think..." Your hands involuntarily went down your body, caressing the slightly swollen belly due to the life that was developing there. "But I love them so much already..."

He smiled against your hair, hugging you tighter, a genuine happiness slowly forming inside his heart.

"I'm scared, Si." You admitted. "I'm scared of bringing them into this world only to suffer and see horrible things like the two of us."

"Hey, don't say that. Even in hell I found you. I found someone worth fighting for and waking up to everyday. Life isn't all bad, you taught me that yourself." You didn't answer, but he understood what you meant.

"Regardless of your decision — whether you’re keeping them or not — I will support you and stay by your side. Until my last breath." And he kissed the top of your head.

You couldn't muster the courage to abort that life. They were the fruit of the love between you and Simon and they were the best thing you had.

So you decided to keep it, to face the consequences of your acts, to carry the responsibility of bringing a life into this world. 

Months passed without you wanting to know the baby's sex, until Simon convinced you to investigate it.

"Guess." You murmured against his lips, your hands cupping his cheeks.

"Hmm, I have a feeling it's a girl." He secretly longed for one. You guided his hand so he could feel the baby moving, kicking you weakly every now and then.

"It's a girl! We're having a little girl, Si!" His heart fluttered with joy.

"Bloody hell, love... Fuck, I love her so much already. I can't wait to finally meet her."

He has a habit of murmuring sweet nothings your swollen stomach as his fingertips caresses the skin of your belly.

He doesn't let you lift a finger to do almost anything and he even asked captain Price not to allow you to leave the base for any more missions. He couldn't bait to lose both of you.

He helps you with your craving and pregnancy pains —  his massages are divine and melt away any tension you may be feeling.

Close to delivery, when you can no longer bear the weight of your very own stomach, he holds your belly gently with both hands, slowly freeing you from the weight of your little girl for a few seconds — seconds that relieve you absurdly.

Actually cries when he sees his baby for the first time — she's just so tiny, all wrapped around a blanket and her baby clothes, her foot is barely the size of his thumb and she's a little carbon copy of him in appearance. He's utterly glad you decided to keep her over five months ago. He couldn't imagine a world where you three didn't exist anymore.

He is completely disarmed by his daughter. He can face any enemy without hesitation, but if she cries in the morning or asks for something with that look in her eyes, he simply melts.

Protection is his second name. He checks locks, cameras, and sleeps lightly, as if he was still in the field. But the truth is that he just wants to make sure that nothing will hurt the two people he loves most in the world.

As your husband (fucking finally, right?), Simon is silent… but constant. He doesn't need big words; he shows it with actions. Coffee ready, blanket pulled up in the middle of the night, arm around waist without saying anything. He is simply perfect.

[fizzyapplecandy]

Ateez as Romance Tropes

The one where you fall in love for real

Other members

Genres and warnings: fluff, best friends to lovers, fake relationship, wedding guests, mature language, some angst, suggestive content, happy ending

Word count: 4.9k

When you tell a lie to save yourself from the judgement of your family, you need Yunho to play the part of the perfect boyfriend. For some reason, he does it so effortlessly you wonder if there is something more underneath.

"I did a thing."

"I'll go find a shovel, but tell me who it is? It's your ex, right?"

Your mouth dropped, going over to punch your best friend in the guts.

"You idiot! Why would that be your first thought?"

Yunho laughed, rubbing at his stomach.

"Because you really hate the dude? Come on, lighten up."

"I can't, I really can't."

You sighed, throwing yourself on the couch and pushing your head into a pillow. Yunho ran over to you, kneeling down and placing his hand on top of your head.

"Hey, honey, what's going on? You only get this depressed when they don't have your favourite cookies in the store. And... What did you do?"

There was no easy way to explain your poor decision making to him, but you knew he'd understand. He may not like it much, but he'd follow along. Or at least you hoped he would. Sighing again, you turned your head to look at him.

"You know how my cousin is getting married in two weeks?"

He nodded. "Yeah, the one you don't like, but your parents do. Why?"

"Well... She made fun of me when I went to dinner with her and our families. She said how I'm going to be single forever, and I don't have a date for the wedding."

You paused, not able to look Yunho in the eyes. He urged you to continue.

"So? Come on, Y/N, spill it."

"I told them you were my boyfriend and I'm bringing you as a plus one."

After rushing the sentence out, you smashed your face into the cushion again, not wanting to see his face. His chuckle made you lift your head again.

"Is that it? Oh, honey, that's cute. We're going to a wedding!"

You shot up, scaring him slightly.

"Cute? Do you know what I've done? My mother won't leave us alone, my cousin as well, because they don't believe me! I had to convince them for half an hour before they stopped laughing straight at my face. They'll make us... I don't know, do couple shit."

"Okay, breathe! Slow down, chill out and just breathe."

You rubbed your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. Yunho took this all way too lightly that he was supposed to, but that was his nature. He was always the casual one in your friendship.

The friendship that you two built over the years, going strong after so many ups and downs in college to adulthood. At twenty six, you were sharing an apartment and trying to tackle everyday obstacles. You wouldn't do this with just anyone.

"Why are you not mad? You know how my family is, and you know they'll be annoying us the whole time. We'll have to be all lovey dovey."

He smiled, plopping down on the couch and throwing an arm around you. You naturally gravitated into his embrace, letting him run his fingers through your hair.

"Why would I be mad? I love you, and I'd do anything for you. Nothing will change after one or two days pretending to be your boyfriend. You're still my Y/N, my best friend, right?"

You turned your head to look into his eyes, a bit confused by his expression. Yunho was always the fun one, the free spirited one, but why did he look so serious now? It almost felt like he was hiding something, but you didn't want to make this situation even more complicated.

"I love you too, Yun. Thank you, you're a lifesaver."

Ah, there it was, the face of your goofy friend. His grin was wider than ever, and before you knew it, his arms were strongly wrapped around you in a soul crushing hug.

"You love me? My, my honey, I haven't heard you say that since I got you two boxes of those cookies you like and couldn't find for a whole week!"

"Oh, shut up."

.

.

"You cannot wear that, absolutely not."

"But Y/N it's-"

"Bright green and ugly! Stop messing around, we have a family to impress - my family."

Yunho pouted, taking off the vomit coloured blazer and reaching into his closet for something else.

"I don't know why you're so obsessed with what I'm wearing to that shit show."

You sighed, feeling guilty about antagonizing your best friend when he was blindsided with your poor attempt at salvaging yourself.

"Look, all I'm trying to do is save us from any heavy judgement, you know how my mother gets. Lisa is even worse."

At the mention of your cousin's name, he shivered, making a sour face.

"Okay, okay. I'll look for something normal."

Yunho rummaged through his closet some more, before gasping excitedly.

"This is it! My 'boyfriend' armour! Yeah!"

"Whatever do you mean?" You questioned, already afraid it might be something ridiculous. But you were stopped in your tracks when he pulled out a sleek black suit. The one he wore on your graduation day.

Or as you remember it - The day you officially fell in love with Jeong Yunho.

"It's perfect, isn't it? You can't say no because you already complimented me when I wore it, if you weren't lying."

Even if you hated it, you couldn't say no to that happy expression of his. You just nodded, a lump forming in your throat.

"Y-Yeah, I think that will do."

"Oh, by the way, what are you wearing?"

You were quickly snapped back to reality with his question.

"Don't. Just don't ask me that. I'm a bridesmaid, per my cousin's request. The dress she chose... I'd rather not look at it until I really have to."

He winced.

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse."

"Okay, but knowing you, you'll manage to pull it off. You're just..." He stopped, suddenly averting his eyes from you.

"What? I'm just, what?" You urged him to continue, but he turned away to place the suit back into his wardrobe.

"You're just that beautiful."

For a moment, the world stopped. Yunho has always been the more affectionate one in your friendship, but you've never heard him sound so sincere. Without a word, you stood up from his bed and went over to where he was standing. He still hasn't turned around, rummaging mindlessly through the closet. You put your hand on his shoulder, standing on your tip toes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. Instantly, his ears turned bright red, and he looked at you with wide eyes. You only smiled in return.

"Thank you, Yunho."

He shrugged, trying to brush you off like it wasn't a big deal.

"Yeah, yeah... So, what's for dinner tonight?"

.

.

"Y/N, dear! What on earth are you wearing?"

"We've been travelling for three hours mom, I just wanted to be comfortable."

Your mother made a disappointed face, and you could feel the judgement oozing out of her. Suddenly, her whole face lit up.

"Oh! Yunho! What a surprise!"

Yunho, ever the polite gentleman, offered your mother a handshake before placing his arm so casually over your shoulders.

"Hello. Sorry we're a bit late, traffic was terrible."

She waved him off. "Don't be silly, you're right on time! The rehearsal dinner doesn't start for another two hours, Y/N will have enough time to be presentable. I'm quite surprised by the sudden turn of events, I must say."

You sighed. "What do you mean?"

She gestured between the two of you.

"Well, this. The relationship. I thought you were just friends? You've known each other, what, over five years?"

Oh. Maybe you hadn't really thought everything through, like explaining how you got into this supposed relationship. Luckily, Yunho's brain always worked overtime, and he was quick to answer.

"Well, it took a lot of courage for me to confess my true feelings to Y/N. But I did it. This girl here... I'm a lucky guy. I still can't believe she's finally mine."

Your head snapped towards him, surprised by how casually he came up with an explanation. One you almost believed as well. It seemed like your mother bought it without trouble.

"Isn't that wonderful! Maybe you'll finally be able to tame that little firecracker. Please, go unpack your bags in the guestroom, and try to be ready on time Y/N."

"Yes, mother."

Anxious to run away from your judgmental family, you took Yunho by the hand and led him towards the guest bedroom on the third floor of your house. The only good thing about the situation was the fact that you had the whole floor to yourselves. You don't want to hear your mother's shrill voice first thing in the morning.

"Your mom's as fun as I remember her."

"Shut up. She couldn't wait to criticize me. I'm so glad I'm not alone in this."

Yunho closed the door behind you, throwing himself on the queen sized bed. The only bed in the room.

"Oh God, how are we going to sleep? We can be in two rooms, they'll immediately figure us out."

"Don't be dramatic, the bed is big enough for both of us. You won't even feel me beside you."

You watched as he rolled around the mattress, almost purring like a cat.

"How are you this calm about... All of this? And what was that before with the speech? You really gave your everything."

He froze, leaning up on his elbows, but you could tell he was a bit more apprehensive now.

"I had to be convincing, don't read too much into it."

"Right..."

Silence overcame you, so you decided to unpack your things to keep yourself busy.

"Do we really need to go to that dinner?"

You sighed, feeling sorry about putting him through the whole ordeal.

"We do. It's the big rehearsal before the wedding, and I'm a bridesmaid. Although, I don't know why Lisa chose me in the first place. We've never been particularly close."

"Maybe she had a change of heart?"

You chuckled, glancing at him, seeing he was now in his stomach staring at you.

"Yeah, no. That evil spawn has had it put for me since we were kids. Do you know she chopped off my hair when we were seven? I had to get a bob. A bob! I looked like a sauce pan. Don't laugh!"

You threw a shirt at his head, but his laughing only got louder.

"Cut it out!"

Before you knew it, you were headed towards him, trying to silence him. Yunho grabbed your hands, and you toppled over him. In a mess of limbs, you somehow landed on top of him.

His laughing was cut off sharply, the grip he had on you tightening slightly. Your eyes met, and you were confused by the way he was gazing up at you.

Almost as if... No, no way. Yunho was your friend, and this was an awkward situation.

"Yunho?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to get up now."

"Oh!"

He let go of you, trying to sit up himself. You were now next to him, staring off in front of you. No words were said by either, so you slowly got up and continued rummaging through your things.

"I'm.. I'm gonna go take a shower and get ready. You... I don't know, do something. We need to be there in less than two hours, so don't fall asleep."

He nodded, avoiding your gaze.

"Got it. No sleeping. Off you go."

Leaving him be, you rushed out of the room and into the bathroom, all of your clothes in hand. You'd rather eat mud than have to walk into the room in just a towel. No way.

It took you an hour to get ready completely, and by the time you re-entered, Yunho was fast asleep.

"Silly boy."

You reached over to pat him on the back since he was sleeping on his stomach.

"Yunho? What did I tell you about falling asleep?"

The tall man jolted up, eyes still closed.

"I'm awake! I was just resting my eyelids. Yes, just resting."

"Well you have under an hour to get ready so I'd suggest you hurry it up."

He saluted you, eyes shut, and saluted you.

It took him a minute, but once he finally came to, he let out a gasp. His eyes were wide as you turned to look at him, mouth open.

"You... Wow."

This was the second time you found yourself questioning Yunho's expressions aimed at you. His eyes, usually full of joy, had a different glint in them.

"Oh? This? It's just an old dress I've never bothered to wear before."

"I can see why. You can kill a man with your looks honey. It's dangerous."

The blush on your cheeks was instantaneous.

"Stop that. What's going on with you?"

He laughed, grabbing his things to head out and get ready.

"I'm only speaking the truth. I think your cousin won't be happy when you outshine her tonight."

Yunho didn't give you a chance to reply because he was out the door in a second. You chuckled, going over to the floor length mirror in the corner of the room.

Your reflection was never something you appreciated enough, but Yunho always managed to make you feel special. Right now, you were gazing at yourself with another set of eyes, a set you were so familiar with. His words made you fall in love with the way you looked tonight. He just had that kind of charm.

You lounged around and waited for Yunho to get ready, your nerves starting to get the best of you, again. The door opened, and in came your best friend, dressed to the nines. Yunho somehow pulled off the checkered blazer and causal jeans combo like he got straight off the runway.

"What do you think? Too plain, or too weird? I really can't be bothered to wear slacks tonight."

Your heels made you a couple inches taller, but he still towered over you as you stood in front of him. No words were said from your end, and you grabbed the lapels of his jacket to straighten them out.

"It's crazy, you know?" You whisper.

"What?" Yunho looked confused, trying to decipher what you meant.

"How handsome you are, but you don't even realize it. You just make it all look so... Easy. So casual."

His eyes softened, placing his large palms over your shaking hands. The touch grounded you, making you aware of how close you were. If you just stood on your tip toes, if he just bent down a bit more...

"Y/N! I told you to get ready on time, we're going to be late!"

Your mother's shrill voice pulled both of you out of the trance you were in, separating like you were caught doing something naughty.

"Let's go. I can't stand her nagging me the whole night about not being on time."

He only nodded, following after you like a lost puppy.

"Oh just look at you two! Yunho, I'm impressed! You could pass as a model. How did my daughter get herself such a handsome man?"

Of course she would try to put you down in any way she could. You were about to burst, but Yunho beat you to it.

"I'd have to disagree with you. I think I'm the lucky man who got to have this beauty by his side. I'm still wondering how I managed to do that."

Your mother looked taken aback, not used to people taking your side. She quickly pulled herself together, and a smile appeared on her face.

"Well then... Both of you can consider yourselves lucky. Come on now, let's get going."

You just mouthed a silent thank you in his direction, and he winked before taking your hand in his and walking out of the house.

It wasn't a weird gesture, you two always held hands, but your brain was too jumbled to notice the tingly feeling you got in the moment.

"I think you should take up acting, you know?"

Yunho chuckled, buckling up and starting the car.

"And why is that?"

"Come on, my mother is smitten by you. I'm sure the rest of my family will be, too. You just saved my sorry ass from explaining why I've been single for so long."

He was silent for a while, and you thought you might have said something wrong, but then he reached over to take your hand again.

"You know, it's not all acting."

"What do you mean?"

"The things I say about you... I really mean them. You're special, Y/N, and I'm angry when I hear other people brushing you off."

"Yunho..."

You squeezed his palm tighter, not believing how you managed to get yourself a man like him. The little crush you had only grew bigger every time he opened his mouth in the past week. Something was up, but you didn't want to get your hopes up too much. This was still your best friend, doing you a major favour.

"I'm just being honest. This isn't as difficult as you made it out to be. I'm just being myself, and everything I say is completely honest."

He glanced at you briefly, giving you one of his smiles that made your knees weak.

"You're going to make a girl so lucky one day, I'm actually jealous."

You said it fleetingly, trying to sound casual.

"Oh..."

"But not like that! No, hey. You're my man. I mean, not mine, but you know? My best man! My friend! Yeah..."

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes to stop rambling. Yunho chuckled, raising your intertwined hands and placing a light kiss on yours. You froze, looking over at him. His eyes were on the road, but his ears were now bright red.

"You're my woman, too. Best one."

The rest of the ride was mainly silent, both of you blushing like crazy after the confessions. The restaurant your cousin chose for the rehearsal soon came into view, and you took a deep breath to prepare yourself.

Yunho parked the car before getting out and walking over to open your door. You just smiled, used to it by now. Ever since you became friends, you haven't opened a single door by yourself.

You said hi to a few people out front before entering the restaurant. From your left, someone shrieked.

"There you are! You're late! We have to start, come on, move it!"

"Hi Lisa, good to see you too."

Your cousin Lisa was in a short white dress, heels higher than you ever dared to wear, but she looked like she was about to have a break down.

"No time for that! Is this your boyfriend? He seems strong, he can help the others to rearrange the tables. Let's go."

You glanced at Yunho, ready to apologise, but he only shook his head and went over to the group of men in the corner.

"You got yourself a hotte Y/N. Who would have thought? Honestly, is it the sex? You must be good at it if he's still around."

"You're as classy as ever."

Lisa scoffed, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the buffet.

"I'm just curious. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you have your qualities, but him? How did you manage to snag that?"

Honestly, sometimes you wondered how you did that as well. Yunho was charismatic, friendly, and not to mention drop dead gorgeous. You were... You. That's why you made peace with the fact that he would always be your friend, nothing more.

"I'd rather not talk about my relationship right now. It's your day, isn't it?"

Your cousin smiled, nodding immediately.

"You're right! We'll talk about it some other time. Now, I don't like how they placed the flowers, so do something about it."

"You know this is just a rehearsal, right?"

Lisa gave you a look, making you cower slightly.

"It has to be perfect. Now, do as I say."

She turned around and stalked off to yell at someone else, and you sighed in relief. Glancing over, you saw the men in your family talking to Yunho. They seemed to be having a good time, regardless of the fact that they had to move ten tables around. He just had that kind of charm, you thought.

As if sensing your gaze, he turned around and winked. You smiled, knowing this whole event would be slightly more bearable with him by your side. With another sigh, you made your hands busy with the roses and carnations in front of you.

.

.

"And she had the audacity to mention my failed science project! I know I may have ruined our kitchen table, but I was proud of that volcano, you know?"

"What a jerk!"

"And then, she said how she couldn't believe I had a boyfriend because I was "too plain". Plain? Is she serious?"

"Y/N, I was there, I heard her."

You huffed, crossing your arms and leaning into the passenger's seat. The rehearsal was over, and you couldn't wait to get home. Yunho was the main attraction, and everybody loved him. You knew it would be like that, but you hoped your cousins would leave you alone for once.

Instead, she threw jabbs at you throughout the whole dinner, but you ignored her for the sake of your peace and sanity.

"Honey, whatever she said, and she talked a lot, wasn't true. Sure, you may be clumsy and sometimes awkward, but that's you. I love the way you are, and I'd never change your personality."

You glanced at Yunho, surprised by his sudden confession.

"You really mean that?"

"I really do."

You reached your home, noticing your parents' car wasn't there. Your mother mentioned going over to Lisa's house to sleep there before the big day so that she could be available for her at any second.

For some reason, you felt a bit sad. Yunho noticed how your mood changed, but he didn't want to make it worse by questioning you, so he just followed you to the shared room.

You took off your heels, sitting on the bed and holding back your tears.

"Hey, are you okay? I know tonight was crazy, but you seem so... Devastated."

He knelt on the floor in front of you, grabbing both of your hands. With him looking at you with those big eyes, full of concern, you broke down.

"I just can't take it anymore."

The first tear fell, but the second couldn't follow because Yunho instantly reached for your cheeks to wipe them away.

"Oh honey... Don't waste your tears on them. I know you love your family, you're just that kind of person, but I can't stand the way they treat you."

"It didn't bother me before, you know? But my mom never talked about how she couldn't wait to see me get married, it was always about Lisa. Am I that bad? Is it so impossible to imagine me in a wedding dress?"

Yunho stood up, crowding you in his embrace. He gently lifted your legs to place you into his lap, squeezing you to his chest.

"You want to know something?" He whispered.

"What?"

"I always think about how you would look in a wedding dress."

Your head snapped up to look at him, and his eyes were already on yours.

"You?"

He nodded, placing his forehead on yours. His gaze was now darker, and you noticed how his hands trembled while holding you.

"Me. You know what else? The person you are walking towards is always me. Standing there at the end of the altar, waiting patiently for you to come."

"Yunho... What are you..."

His hands cupped your cheeks again, face so close you could count his eyelashes.

"Those people... They don't know how much you are worth. You're the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on. You're funny, so smart and witty it's not even real. You..."

His lips, the ones you've been dreaming about for a while now, were a breath away from yours. He hesitated, trying to decipher your emotions. You didn't want to let him get too into his head, so you grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in.

Your lips smashed together, and Yunho finally let go.

The kiss was different from any other you've ever had. After all, it was Yunho kissing you instead of someone random. Yunho, the man who stood by you through thick and thin.

Yunho, the person you turned to when your bad thoughts took over.

Yunho, messy, lovable Yunho, who talked about you like you were his lifeline.

Your lips danced together, his hands squeezing your cheeks as if you would disappear at any moment. Yours were placed on his sturdy chest. The chest you loved cuddling to when you watched sappy movies.

The air grew hotter in seconds, and you had to stop for a second to take a breath. As you detached yourself from him, you were surprised how natural everything felt.

There was no awkwardness, no doubt.

You just kissed Yunho, your best friend, and it felt as natural as breathing.

"Now that... That was super hot."

It took you a second before you burst out into laughter. Leave it to Yunho to say something a frat boy would in a moment like this.

"Yeah, it was. You're such a dork, oh my God."

"But I'm your dork, right?"

You looked into his eyes, seeing how serious he actually was.

"Do you... Want to be?"

"I thought I already was, but let's make it official."

Before you could respond, Yunho got down on one knee in front of you. Your eyes widened, and you panicked slightly when he reached into his pocket.

You soon realised there was no need, because he only took out his wallet. Strange, but okay.

"I know this is so sudden, but I always knew we'd end up together. I was just too shy to do anything because I'm me, and you are incredible. And so sexy it's not even real."

You gasped, knowing there was no chance Yunho could do a standard, normal, romantic confession.

For some reason, you loved him even more for that.

"Look at this."

He took out a piece of paper from his wallet, giving it to you.

There, on a random sticky note, was your writing. It only said "gone out, eat breakfast you idiot!!! love you"

"It's funny, but when I looked at the note you wrote about six months ago, I couldn't help but wonder. Do you love me in the same way I love you, or was it just something you said because we've known each other for so long. I realised I had to step up my game, so I tried to be obvious. But you... You are as dense as honey sometimes."

Your eyes widened.

"Is that why you..."

"Call you honey? Part of the reason. You're just the sweetest person I've ever met, so it fits. Do you get it now?"

You nodded, realising he was still down on one knee. You pointed at his position, raising your brow.

"If you propose to me on my cousin's wedding day we might as well be exiled from planet earth afterwards."

Yunho gasped, seemingly realising himself how this might look to you.

"No, no! Don't worry, I plan on proposing, but not today. I need to figure out where I can rent a unicorn."

"You do know those aren't real? And why the hell would you need a unicorn?"

"Doesn't matter. Let me get back to my point. I love you, and I want you. Do you want me?"

The two of you looked into each other's eyes, not knowing whose smile was bigger.

"I love you, and I want you. Come and kiss me again."

"Yes ma'am!"

.

.

"We totally broke your bed."

"Let's hope we did not, because my mother would freak out."

Your back was pressed against Yunho's front, his arms wrapped securely around you. The position wasn't foreign to you, but the state of undress you were in was.

After his grand confession, Yunho couldn't keep his hands off of you. Soon enough, you were tangled in the sheets of your old bed, your moans making the sweetest melodies.

"You know, we can skip the wedding if you want to."

You turned to glance at him, totally unprepared for the suggestion.

"We can't do that. My family would... You know, I don't think my family would mind much."

"Do you want to go?"

"No! No, I don't! You're a genius."

He laughed, placing a kiss on your hair.

"I pride myself in having a big brain. I don't think that's the only thing that is big abo-"

"Okay! We get it."

You turned around in his arms, placing your hands on his cheeks.

"I love you. Thank you for going through this hell with me. And thank you for pushing me to do something I want, but don't have the courage to."

He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips, his arms strengthening their hold on you.

"You can always count on me. You deserve to be surrounded by people who worship the ground you walk on."

"There aren't that many."

Yunho smiled, chuckling afterwards.

"There's me. I will be there, for as long as you want me."

"Somehow, I think that will be more than enough."

The two of you enjoyed the feeling of finally being together for some more, before you silently packed up your things and headed out to the car.

Finally, you were able to escape the horrible behaviour you'd been exposed to since you were little.

Your heart didn't feel so heavy anymore, and with Yunho's hand covering yours, you knew it never will.

.

.

.

[peachesclose]

Us ◎ Kwon Ji-yong

◎ Summary: A whirlwind year of secret mornings, stolen kisses, and shared dreams with Ji-yong turns into a quiet rebellion against time—where love dares to skip the middle and rush headfirst into forever.

◎ Warnings: only cuteness

◎ ◎ ◎ ◎ ◎ ◎

You never expected to fall in love with a man who lives between time zones and headlines.

But here you are, heart racing, knees curled beneath you on a velvet hotel couch in Paris, watching Ji-yong pace the length of the suite like he’s about to walk on stage. Not for a show. For you.

Your phone buzzes, forgotten on the table next to a room service tray and two half-drunk glasses of expensive red. Ji-yong doesn’t notice it. His eyes are pinned to you like you’re gravity.

“We’ve only been doing this for a year,” he says suddenly, almost to himself. “One year.”

You nod slowly. “I’m aware.”

“But I’m starting to…” He hesitates—Ji-yong doesn’t do that often. Onstage, he’s swagger and smoke. Offstage, with you, he’s peeling back layers like a dare. “I want stupid things.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like?”

“Like a house with a white fence I’ll probably hate. Like... two IKEA beds we shove together because we’re too tired to care. Like walking into a room and knowing you’ll be there.”

You don’t laugh, even though part of you wants to. Because it’s so unhim. Or maybe it’s the truest version of him. The version the world doesn’t get to see—the one who wears oversized hoodies and reads books he never finishes, who kisses you like he’s starving and whispers “Stay” like it’s sacred.

He exhales, rubbing his hands over his face. “God, this sounds lame.”

“Yeah,” you say. “But it’s the best kind of lame.”

Ji-yong walks over, drops to the floor in front of you, kneels between your knees like he's about to propose, even though you both know this isn’t that moment. Not yet.

His hands wrap around yours. “What if we skipped all the in-between shit?” he says, eyes burning into yours. “The waiting. The career timing. The everyone-says-we-shouldn’t.”

You blink. “You want to fast-forward?”

“No.” His grip tightens, voice low. “I want us to write the rest. I want to kiss you in front of your friends. I want to ignore the headlines. I want to wear a ring that doesn’t match my outfit. I want to build something real before we’re ready. I want the scary parts. All of it. Now.”

You don’t speak for a second. The air between you vibrates with unsaid things. Like how you’ve already imagined your names next to each other on mail. How you secretly look for him in dreams. How you caught yourself wishing on 11:11s again, like a child.

You lean forward, forehead pressed to his, and whisper, “Dare.”

He laughs softly. “That’s not how this works.”

“Then make it work. Dare me.”

He tilts his head, grin fading. “I dare you to tell me you’ll be there at the end.”

You close the space between you. “Only if you promise to go second.”

He kisses you then—hungry, reckless, like the start of a war and the end of one. And somewhere in the middle of it, you realize: you’re not scared.

You’re ready.

And as your bodies press together in the dim golden light of a city that doesn't care who you are, you know this isn’t skipping ahead.

The next day, you wake up to paws on your chest and a tail flicking your nose.

Zoa—Ji-yong’s oldest cat—is doing her usual morning inspection, tiny face too close to yours, breath smelling faintly of the salmon treats Ji insists on feeding her before bed. Ji-yong is behind you, one arm slung low across your waist, bare chest pressed to your back, the weight of him warm and unshifting in sleep. You’re caught between two worlds—the persistent pawing of a spoiled feline and the slow rhythm of his breathing against your skin.

“Zoa,” you whisper, squinting one eye open. “This is harassment.”

The cat meows, entirely unbothered, and you shift a little, accidentally nudging Ji in the ribs. He grunts in protest and pulls you tighter.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles into your hair.

“It’s not me you need to convince.”

He cracks one eye open. “She likes you more than me now, you know.”

“She’s just obsessed with my warmth.”

He smirks, sleep-drunk and beautiful. “Same.”

Later, in the kitchen, he’s shirtless in gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, hair a wild mess that makes you ache a little. He’s making your coffee exactly how you like it, not because you asked, but because he remembers. He always remembers—how you hate the taste of burnt espresso, how you prefer almond milk even though you claim not to be picky, how you hold your mug with both hands like it’s a sacred ritual.

“You know what I was thinking about last night?” he says suddenly.

You raise an eyebrow as you steal a piece of toast from his plate. “Besides that very creative thing you did with your hands?”

He grins, leaning over to kiss your jaw, quick and mischievous. “Besides that.”

“What then?”

He turns serious for a moment, toast forgotten. “That time we got caught making out in the dressing room at your friend’s wedding.”

Your laugh echoes through the small kitchen. “You mean your friend’s wedding?”

“I didn’t see any friends after I saw you in that dress.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Impossible about you,” he says simply.

Later that morning, you’re both sprawled out on the living room floor, surrounded by laundry neither of you intends to fold. Ji-yong’s laying on his back, shirt half-tugged up, Zoa now using his chest as a throne. You trace your finger down the tattoo behind his ear—the one only people this close to him ever get to see.

“What are we doing?” you ask, almost whispering.

He glances at you. “Right now?”

“No. Us. This.” You sit up slightly, the question catching in your throat. “What if it’s too much? Too fast?”

He props himself up on one elbow, eyes soft but sure. “Then let it be too fast. Let it be too much. I’d rather love you in chaos than wait for permission.”

And just like that, you kiss him—slow at first, just the brush of lips, then deeper, messier, until you’re straddling him, laundry forgotten, cats fleeing the scene. His hands find your waist like they’re meant to live there. Your name leaves his mouth like a secret. He’s looking at you like you’re gravity again—and this time, you let yourself fall.

Later that week, you're at a market together, disguised in masks and oversized hoodies. Ji-yong’s pushing a cart with entirely too much fruit and exactly one box of sugary cereal you said you “weren’t going to buy this time.”

“You’re such a liar,” he teases.

“Excuse me, you bought it.”

“For us.”

“Mmm. Sure.”

He leans down, whispering in your ear, “Don’t make me kiss you in aisle five.”

You smirk under your mask. “You won’t.”

He does.

Quick and hidden, behind a shelf of ramen and instant coffee, and your heart flips like it’s the first time all over again.

That night, you fall asleep tangled in his hoodie, both cats draped over your legs, Ji-yong beside you, hand on your stomach like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

Before your eyes close, he whispers, half-asleep, “I know everyone thinks we’re rushing this.”

You hum. “Let them.”

“I don’t care if we’re young or if it’s crazy,” he says. “Let’s skip to the part where forever starts.”

You smile into his chest. “We already did.”

[fandoms-in-law]

Lips

Summary: Steve asks Robin her opinion after getting distracted by his reflection at work. It leads to her being the supportive best friend over his crush.

Author's note: My brain is tired, the prompt I had for today was a bunch of words from loveheart sweets. It happened is all I can say.

~

“Do I have hot lips?” Steve asked one quiet afternoon at Family Video. He’d been looking at his reflection in the window instead of hoping to see customers coming in.

Robin gave him an odd look, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Are my lips hot?” He repeated, “Attractive? Sexy? The alluring pout boys go crazy for?”

She shook her head, “Lips aren’t hot. Smiles are cute and actions made with a mouth can be hot but I refuse to believe hot lips exist unless burnt or covered with like chilli or hot sauce to make them feel like they’re burning.”

“So my lips aren’t hot?” He pouted at her.

Robin nodded resolutely, “Nobody’s are.”

Steve crossed his arms, huffing a little, “I think Eddie’s are when he’s quiet.”

She threw up her arms, moving to tidy the shelves. “I give in. Go and ask him!”

“You’re letting me leave work early?” He smirked at her, turning around.

“No! You’re on till until the end of the day.” Robin clicked towards it, laughing at his groan.

~

Robin had noticed the comment earlier on, but decided not to question it while they were in the shop. It wasn’t a good place to bring up the subject when too many people could overhear. Now they were at his home she had to ask, “So Eddie’s lips? You’ve noticed them before?”

“Haven’t you? They’re hot and gorgeous.” Steve agreed. “Why is that interesting?”

“Pretty sure we could ask everyone we know and they wouldn’t agree.” She stated, “Also because it’s nice to hear you talking about one person you like rather than vague attributes. It’s got to be my turn to tease you over a crush now.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Really? Can’t I just be happy to have something that stands half a chance of happening for a while?”

“You entirely can be happy, but best friend rights say I can tease.” She agreed cheerfully, “Cause that’s what real love is.”

Playfully frustrated, he nodded, “Fine.”

~

“Maybe I should try playing DnD with them,” Steve muttered, waving the party out of Family Video. “Casually spend more time with Eddie that way.”

Robin scoffed, “Casually play DnD? You? Dream on Steve, none of them would be casual about that, and only Henderson knows you’ve even tried playing. It’d be major drama and all of Eddie’s friends would be suspicious of it.”

“What do you suggest then? I can’t hope for another town disaster to casually fold clothes next to my crush like you and Vickie.” He complained.

She thought for a moment, before gesturing, “Use that empty house of yours to advantage. Let them play there. You heard the brats say they’re having trouble arranging it since the school isn’t letting any clubs run while rebuilding work is happening.”

“Now who’s dreaming? If my parents get wind of that then I’ll be looking for somewhere new to live, not just a place to play a game.”

“And you’ll live with me. Besides, that’d require them actually coming back to the town they barely set foot in even before the ‘natural disasters’.” Robin pointed out easily.

~

The Corroded Coffin boys looked at Robin in confusion when she opened the door, getting shoved aside a moment later by Dustin who rolled his eyes when seeing the cause for the delay. “Come on, I want to get set up.” He called vanishing into Steve’s house.

“What’re you doing here, Buckley?” Gareth asked cautiously, taking slow steps as he entered the house, looking around as if expecting someone to attack him.

“It’s my besties home so I’m gonna be here whoever he’s got hanging out.” She simply explained. “Steve’ll be your waitress today. You know the rest of your roles. Anyone need a tour?”

The men shared a glance before following her through a little less cautiously.

~

They had a sleepover after the DnD had ended and everyone had gone home, collapsing together onto Steve’s bed, Robin curling into his side.

“Are you still teasing me about the new crush or can I ask you to be kind now?” Steve spoke quietly into the dark.

Robin had insisted they could talk better without lights on and it had actually become truth from the amount of times they’d done it. She didn’t try to turn and look at him, just made a quiet affirming noise.

He took a deep breath, “Do you think I actually could ask Eddie out? That he might agree if I do it right?”

“I think that if you just be you, he’ll be leaping at any chance to date you offer.” She answered slowly. “He’s always been pretty open about being queer and definitely flirts with you. Don’t change though. That’s one of the things people back off from when you do it. Just be you.”

“I can try that. What’d I do without you?” He sounded thoughtful, and horribly sentimental.

Robin nudged him gently, “Same answer, you’d just be you, lonely, stressed, babysitter you.”

“Hey!” He tickled her side in a short burst in retaliation for the tease. “I’m glad I’m not lonely when I’m just me with you.”

“Me too.”

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 16

Summary: Suede turns four

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: 🥺🥺🥺

Warnings:  mild language, Audrey 🥺, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Big boys seep in hewe?” Suede shouts loudly as you help him put away his clothes. “Pease?” you turn to look at him, and he quickly throws the rest of his socks in the drawer. “Pease?”

“You want Cooper and Connor to stay in your room?”

“Chess. Right dere,” he gives a point over to his bunk beds, and gives you a cheesing grin, “Pease?” He knows how to turn on the cuteness already.

“Where are you going to sleep then?”

“In hewe wif dem,” his speech has vastly improved. Speaking in full sentences, even if the words weren’t the most clear. You can’t help but smile at his communication. He’s clear, and to the point. Very much like his dad. His father was a snake in the grass, but Andy says what he means, and means what he says. Suede is literally a little him now.

“Pease?” He reiterates, and points his finger back towards the bunks.

“Where are you going to sleep then, buddy? If Cooper and Connor are on the bunks.”

“In da foor, duh. Connow up der, Coopa big bed,” you giggle. Suede got along great with your nephews. They entertained him well, and included him in their football tossing, so it’s no wonder that he would want to share his space with the cool older boys. “Not funny, mama. Dey seep in hewe, pease?”

He’s so polite, even if he’s sassy. “We will ask. Uncle Ryan said he was going to bring a tent for them to sleep in the backyard.”

“Me, too!”

“No,” his arms cross over his chest, and he glares at you. “Nope, you’re not sleeping outside where I can’t be near you. If the boys want to sleep in here, they can. And we’ll get out an air mattress for you.”

“Ugh,” he groans, and picks up the rest of his clothes to shove in a drawer. Boys. “Oo no fun.”

“I know, mama is boring. But now the clothes are put away. Put your shoes on, and we’re going to take Rosie on our evening walk,” his quick pouting session is now forgotten, and he smiles looking at you.

“Otay. Me weaw my bits.”

“Your boots?”

“Yeah, me boots. Me hold Osie’s ope?”

“Daddy is going to hold the leash, buddy. Rosie is getting just about too big for you and Audi, huh?”

“Chess. Too big. Big big,” he walks over to his closet, pulling out his favorite rain boots to slip on. “Wain?”

“It’s not raining, Suedey,” he just shrugs, pulling the boots out anyways. He loves them mostly because they’re easy for him to slip on, “You want to get Audrey and Rosie, while I get us some water bottles?”

“Otay. Me bewwy watew, tay?” he says bouncing on out of his room, and into Audrey’s. Berry water has become both his and Audrey’s walking water. Because they get a snack on the walk. And Rosie, sweet puppy has already grown again, but the vet assured you that she should be at a stable weight. One of the best decisions you and Andy made as parents was to let Audrey have a dog.

You glide down the stairs, and get an eye full of the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen; Andy with boxes of diapers. “We got another order,” he says, scrunching his nose. “I feel,” his eyes move over your highly swollen stomach. “I feel this is becoming more and more real,” with every order for the twins Andy mentions this. The reality of him having infants to hold. Diapers to change. Two more kids in the house.

“Yeah, daddy, they’re growing. And Ryden and Everly thank you daily for bringing in all the boxes of things we’re getting. Can Ransom ask Linda to calm down?” Smiling he walks over to you, and kisses you before he’s carrying the box of diapers to the growing nursery. It’s already getting packed. There is always something to put away in their room.

He’ll tend to Rosie’s harness and leash while you get water bottles. You’re not even walking too far, but your kids love feeling independently responsible for their own water. And what could be wrong with more hydration? And actual quality family time. Andy loves his evenings with his family. You can tell it’s his favorite part.

You groan as Ryden gives your stomach a kick. Andy always questions how you know which baby is which, and you just do. You could be crazy, but you’re doubtful of that. Andy’s head pops into the kitchen, “You’re good?” Always worrying about the noises you make.

“Andy, I am fine. Your son just likes to kick my ribs. Tell him to take it easy on his mom, and make sure to help the kids with Rosie,” babies kick and move, but Andy worries about everything. He’ll ask you ten thousand times while on the walk if you are good. It’s sweet, and sometimes annoying.

“Mommy! We’re ready,” Audrey calls from the front door. Scritching behind Rosie’s ears while she waits on you. You gather up the water bottles, and smile as you peek to the front door. Everyone is already piling out of the door. Andy has been the lifeline to you and your kids. The missing piece that you always needed, and also wanted.

Suede is his shadow. Stands up straighter, smiles more, has more confidence, and his speech is improving. While Audrey clings to Andy’s attention, and approval. Someone that actually put her wants ahead of her future. Someone that made her laugh and smile daily. You know it’s because of her father’s absence, again. The last fiasco, and having court ordered visitations isn’t something he has been willing to do. So instead, she gets her fatherly attention from Andy. Or Ransom, but that’s more in a heart eyes way. Cutest little first crush.

Andy takes on the role of a father like he was born for it. Like you always knew he would. All those stupid little fantasies that the two of you had in high school have come true. You hoped they would, but you didn’t realize that an accidental ride on the school bus when you were a kid would lead to your best friend, to your partner in crime, to your first love, first boyfriend, first everything, to your dreams of a family, to your reality.

That’s what Andy provides; the dream turned into reality. There’s hard and difficult moments. Times when the two of you argue over stupid things. But at the end of the day you wouldn’t want to do any of this without him. You wouldn’t want to have any of the dreams with anyone else but him.

Andy turns, and catches you gazing at your family. He bites on his lips, and looks around him nodding. He feels it, too. Maybe even more than you do. He’s wanted a family so much. Wanted to create something he never had. Become the father he didn’t have. He’s succeeded. While Billy doesn’t deserve it, you wish he could see all that his son has accomplished. Not just accomplished, but how loved he is. How respected he is. How the kids wait for him every evening, and welcome him with the biggest hug, and then he walks over to you with a kiss. Dreamlike.

“Honey, you coming?” He asks, his eyes going glossy. He’s thinking the same thing. You would tell this man every second of the day how much you love him, desire him, and how proud you are of him, and it would never be enough for what he deserves. He sniffles as he holds a hand out for you.

“Thanks, babe,” you whisper, closing the door behind you.

“No, thank you,” he pulls you into his side for a quick hug. “Suede, you and Audi lead the way. We’ll stay back far enough for Rosie to walk between you.”

“Chess! Dis way day, Audi?” Suede gives a point, and Audrey nods her head. The four and half of you start your evening walk. Just the beginning of your ending routine. You love ending the day as a family.

Tomorrow will of course be a new day with its new challenges. Ryden and Everly are growing nonstop. Audrey has quit making excuses for her father for today. Suede is a ball of energy and learning something new daily. Even going back to the daycare center three days a week. You’re making it. One day at a time.

“Nini! Papa!” Audrey darts down the front porch steps, followed by Suede as they capture your parents into a tight hug. “Where's Uncle Ryan?”

“And Coopew and Connow?” Your mom gives a look up to you with a smile at Suede’s voice. “Me boys hewe?”

“They’ll be here tomorrow, but Papa and I are here now,” Suede gives a little pout, but Audrey still hugs tightly to your father tightly. “It’s beautiful out here, sweetheart,” she says admiring the outside of the house and property. ”Come on, why don’t we go inside and you can show me your bedrooms.”

“Me dinoso, rawr!”

“Suede has dinosaurs in his room, but daddy said I could have a princess room,” Audrey is most proud of her overly pink room. A room that her daddy let her design all on her own. The two of them actually picked out the color of the walls together. He let her help paint, but he took so much pride in painting the walls for her. They even were singing Taylor Swift together while he painted.

“Scott’s been…” you clear your throat, shaking your head as you walk up to your mom with a hug. The last thing you want to talk about is Scott. Especially with little ears present, “Oh. Oh, that’s right. Wow, you look huge.”

“Thanks, mother. That’s just what every pregnant woman with twins wants to hear. Hey, dad,” you give them a hug, looking at their copious amounts of luggage. “What’s…that’s a lot for a week.”

“Well, let’s go inside, and talk to your hot husband. Okay?” Your father clears his throat. Motioning to the luggage. “Oh, honey, she isn’t allowed to carry suitcases, Andy won’t allow it. And I’m old.”

“I’m older than you are. Sweetheart, tell Andy he can stop hiding and avoiding me, and get out here, and help with this,” for emphasis he points at the suitcases.

“Oh, he’s not hiding. He’s in the back starting up the grill,” it is only a bit of a lie. That is where he was about to go. And sure, it was slightly to avoid being alone with your father. “But I will go get him.”

“Me fiwst!” Suede runs back towards the house, followed by Audrey. They love being in charge of getting their dad.

“They’ll go get their dad. You want to talk about the luggage?” You ask, and you silently count how many they had.

“Nope. I want you to show me the house with the kids, while Andy and your father get the luggage inside, okay?” Nope. This is your parents' way of wrangling Andy to be alone with your father. He notoriously wasn’t ever the biggest fan of your husband. But he did somehow approve of your relationship with Scott, and that didn’t turn out well. If they want to be weird, Andy can hold his own.

—

“Andrew,” your father stares at Andy with his hands on his hips. “Took you long enough.”

“I had just started to take the food out to the grill,” there’s no amusement on your father’s face, and no attempt at reaching for any of the suitcases. “So I guess we should get these inside.”

“For a man that has all your power, why are you cowering away from me when you’re alone.”

“With all due respect, sir, but I still see you like I did as a little boy, and you hated me. I just want to keep the peace so my wife and kids have a great day and week,” it’s all he wants to do. You love and respect your father, and that’s what he’ll do. Even though he finds him to be terrifying. Retired cops can do that.

“I never hated you.”

“Yeah, if I recall correctly, you, well — you were never nice.”

“I never thought you were good enough for my daughter,” Andy shrugs. There really isn’t much use in trying to change your father’s mind now. He’s married to you, impregnated you, and will adopt your other two children. Andy is in. He’s always been in.

“And it seems I was very wrong. I judged you harshly because of your own sperm donor,” Andy just nods. Hoping that the man will further iterate his frustrations. “And dammit, I knew you’d take my daughter away from me. You two were too young.”

“We’re not too young now, sir. And I’ve kept my promise. I will become a judge someday. But more importantly, I love your daughter, and your grandchildren.”

“I truly don’t care what you do. You’ve gone further in your career than I ever saw happening. You were too young to be playing house,” a little mishap that Ryan couldn’t keep his mouth shut about, and Andy truly became enemy number one. “That playing house was supposed to stay when you were kids. You know what you did.”

“Loved her?”

“Cute. You — you were too young.”

“She was seventeen.”

“And too young to be,” your father groans, running his hand down his face.

“I loved her then, too. We waited. And then, well…things happened.”

“Then you made promises you couldn’t keep, and focused on school, and forgot about her. How is that fair?” And college is where everything changed for Andy. You were once the priority in his life, but then it became his school because he would make you proud. Mistakes were made that he can’t change. But he’s here with you now.

“You broke her heart.”

“I know. And it’s something I have to live with. It’s one of my biggest regrets, but I can’t change that now.”

“I thought with the douche bag she was going to have a brand new start. He came from a good well off family. He spoiled her with things. And I think for a while she was happy. Happiest when she became a mother. My wife never cared for him. I see now why,” there’s a silence that falls between the two of them. Both realizing that there were so many things that aren’t worth dwelling over.

“When are you adopting my grandchildren?”

“Suede’s petition has just one more week in the paper. So far nobody has contested it. Audrey is a bit different. Scott thinks he wants her,” your father’s brow lifts up, and Andy sighs. He’s aware that you don’t care if your parents know Scott’s dirty business. He’s heard you talking to your mom about it. “He doesn’t want my wife, but he still wants to control her. You should know by now the only way to control her is through her kids.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was born to be a mom. She’s always wanted it, and she’s a damn good mom. She’d do anything for her kids, and either you are present with her and them as a whole, or you’re not in her life,” it’s a simple fact. You loved and mothered fiercely. And still made time to be a wife to him.

“Is that why you accepted my grandchildren quickly?”

Andy nods. No reason to lie now. Only Ransom truly knew Andy’s inside thoughts concerning the relationship. “Initially, yeah. If I wanted her, I had to want them. But,” he smiles, and runs his hand down his beard. “They make it easy to fall in love with them just as much as I did their mother. I knew it was a need for me to be good to them if I wanted her. But I didn’t even have to try. Second nature. I want to be good to them, but mostly be good for them. It’s what they and your daughter deserve. I made mistakes when we were young, but I’ve never stopped loving her or the extensions of her. And when Scott realizes that it’s not his kids he wants, but the status of fulfilling his caveman needs, he’ll let Audrey go. He doesn’t love her like a father. If he did, he wouldn't have been drunk in front of her, and he’d call her on a regular basis.”

“Do you drink?” Andy nods. One thing the kids had never seen Andy was drunk, and they never would. “How many a night?”

“No more than two, but usually it’s just one beer.”

“Good man. Anyways. Umm, thank you for not being the deadbeat I thought you would be. I wish you all the luck with Suede, and eventually Audrey. And you’re right, the kids are my daughter’s life. So where do you fit in the picture?” This is where your father saw yours and Scott’s relationship go rocky. The moment someone else became her priority.

“The difference between me and Scott and I is I realize that they need her in that way. I don’t. I also came into their lives while she was a mother. I’m aware of how devoted she is to them. We’re partners, sir. We parent together, and when they go to sleep, we…”

“That’s good. We don’t need to go on,” Andy smirks, running his fingers down his beard. He finally has the approval of your old man.

“We’re not playing house anymore, sir. We’re a family.”

“You treat his kids the same as you do your own, and I don’t care.”

“They’re all mine,” Andy grunts as he picks up a suitcase. “He was just the sperm donor. And make no mistake, your daughter will cut my balls off if I don’t. Why are there so many suitcases?”

“Because Charlene says that you guys need us,” Andy sets the suitcase down, and stares at him. This is going into enemy territory. He didn’t know anything about this, so he’s guessing you don’t either. “It was joked that we could come and live with you for a few months until after the twins were born. Your wife said there’s a guest bedroom until the twins are old enough to be separate,” Andy stares confused at your father. “I don’t know how serious she was, but my wife is very serious. We’re here to stay until the twins are a few months old. You’re going to be working. She’s got the older two kids, and just two arms.”

“You’re living here?” Danger. He needs you.

“We won’t be in the way. And we’re not staying out here yet. We’ve got another trip to go on, and we’ll be back before the babies are born. She is. I’ve got some business to attend to with my other daughter,” Morgan. Always needing her dad to coddle her and tell her how perfect she is.

“Here here?” Andy’s voice goes up an octave. Your dad is serious. He’s stating that your parents would be living here.

“Yeah, we’re going to be housemates. That is unless you think we’re overstaying our welcome. A few extra hands to help with four kids would be nice though. So we’re leaving some stuff here. Going on vacation, Charlene will come back, and I’ll be back probably when the twins are born.”

“Here with us?” This is unbelievable.

“I feel like you have a problem with this,” Andy shakes his head. Not a problem. A bit blindsided. He wonders how you’re going to feel about this. The extra help once the twins arrive could be nice. Not a long term thing though. No, he’s going to need the two of them out before it becomes too long.

“Have — you just assumed that this was a good idea?”

“My daughter mentioned it would be nice. So here we are being nice. Do you have a problem with us being here?” Andy grits his teeth, shaking his head. “Is this going to cause a fight with the two of you?”

“Nope. No, sir. We don’t have fights because stress is not good for her,” but there would have to be a conversation with you. Just you and him. Your parents didn’t need to be privy to the conversation. He would let you decide if you want them here.

“I feel you have a problem.”

“I feel you’re a bit testy,” wanting to see if Andy will actually blow up. He won’t.

“Jack, I’m not testy,” your father gives him a nod as he hoists up some suitcases. “Was that a test?”

“Yep. The first one would have already blown his top. Anyways, I know my wife imposes herself when it comes to the kids, so if it is an issue, we can change things. It’s not that big of a deal. You’re the man of the house now,” your father taps him on the shoulder, and walks inside.

Andy is the man of the house, but he wants this decision to be made by the both of you. He doesn’t particularly have a problem with your parents staying, but they can’t stress you out. The doctor gave clear instructions, no stress. The babies had too far to go for you to be getting stressed regularly.

Actually, your mom being here didn’t sound like such a bad thing. Especially now with Suede back in daycare. Leaving you at home alone. Something that bothers him immensely. He even taught Suede how to call 911 in case of an emergency. Home isn’t too close to town. Her being here could solve some of that problem.

And then once the twins got here, there would be two of them, and still Audrey and Suede need him. And you may need him. And the twins will need him. And suddenly her being here, if she’s offering sounds great. He could make it work. Whatever you wanted. But he’s definitely on board.

Now he has to wait for your brother and his boys. And then a party. Hardly anyone is going to be here apart from your family, but he could sense Audrey’s anxiety rising already. He can’t imagine having to watch someone losing air the way Suede was at her age. All on her birthday. It is already agreed that you would stay right with Audrey the entire time, and he would stay right with Suede. No food apart from preapproved food from the two of you would be here.

Whatever it takes to make her comfortable. She knows the plan. And once Ransom and Tatum arrived that just gave extra adult eyes. But images like Suede unable to breathe never leave you, especially when you’re such a small little girl.

“Me race!!” Suede gives a scream as he jumps in front of your nephews. “Me yittwe, me fiwst, tay?” This is great logic. He is little, he should go first.

“Are you finally admitting you have short legs?” Connor says, teasingly. Suede loves them. Loves that they spend time with him. Anyone else might have got a pout with this comment, but not Connor and Cooper.

“Chess. Me yittwe. Onwy fouw. Yittwe yegs. See,” he holds out his legs for emphasis. “Oo taww boys. Me yittwe, but me gwow big big wike my daddy!” He gives a point over to Andy. “Oo dad showtew!”

“Dad! A three year old is saying you’re shorter Andy,” Cooper giggles, getting into position to run.

“Me fouw today!” Suede stomps, growling up at the older boys.

“Yeah, Andy is just a tall asshole,” Ryan laughs at his oldest son, and Suede turns to look at him gasping.

“Ass hoe?” Andy cringes as he looks at Ryan. “What is ass hoe? My mom ass hoe?”

“No,” Ryan shakes his head, realizing that he’s with younger kids than his own teenagers. His two sons laugh, listening to Suede repeat ass hoe for the thirteenth time. “Forget I said anything.”

“Suede, uncle Ryan is an idiot, and mommy is going to put him in time out. Now run your race, buddy.”

“Mama be mad? Unk Yan is ass hoe?” There is no winning in this situation. Once Suede realizes that it’s something he shouldn’t do, he smirks as he repeating the word or action. Testing to see just how long he can go without getting in trouble.

“Stop saying that word.”

“Ass hoe bad?”

“Suede,” Andy narrows his eyes, using that tone, and Suede sighs, turning back to the race. “Your sister is going to kill you for that.”

“You just said his name, and he stops? You didn’t even offer him to get in trouble or raise your voice. How?”

“Your teens are too far gone now,” Ryan scowls at Andy as he watches the boys mostly just run around more than race. It wouldn’t have been a fair race between the three of them. They adapt. “You guys live too far away.”

“Yeah, well, their mom will not be entertaining me moving out here with the boys. We have 50/50 custody. You on the other hand. Suede’s almost legally yours,” Ryan wiggles his brows, insinuating that you guys should move back to Michigan.

“Moving isn’t in our future. This is our home,” this is the most perfect house for your soon to be family of six. Andy can’t even fathom leaving the area, much less this house. This home. “Is Connor thinking about what he’s going to do after high school?”

“Welder like me. Cooper is my dreamer though. He thinks pro soccer is in the future.”

“Daddy!” Andy sits forward and looks behind him at the screaming girl who runs right towards him. She doesn’t stop until she’s colliding in his arms. “Are you watching Suedey?”

“Yes, princess.”

“And he has eaten anything he shouldn’t?” Ryan looks uncomfortably at Audrey, and turns to look at you with your parents. Carrying trays of food to set on the table. He didn’t realize how Audrey’s anxiety about Suede's birthday affected her. Nobody realizes how serious it her behavior change is until they see it. All morning she watched as you and his mom prepared food, asking questions nonstop.

“No, princess. Remember, we checked all labels as a family,” she sighs watching the three boys running around, and scratches her nose. “Baby, he’s okay, and he’s going to be okay.”

“What about the bees? Y-y-you you you know that he got stung, and we had to use his pen. And and and I don’t know if Connor and Cooper can can can deal with that.”

“Rosie,” Andy gives a whistle waiting for the sweet dog to be by Audrey’s side, and he taps her leg. Rosie lays her nose on Audrey’s lap, and Andy holds her just a bit tighter, “Connor and Cooper don’t have to deal with anything; me and mommy are here. And I’ve got my eyes on Suede all day, okay? Mommy, too. But if you need anything, mommy will be the one helping you, so I can stay watching, bubs, okay?”

“I know, but but but I just worry. You p-p-promise nothing will happen to him? I just just just worry. It was — it was scary.”

Andy leans forward, kissing her on the forehead, and nods his head, “I promise I won’t let anything happen to bub. Now, Uncle Ann and Miss Tatum will be here in a little bit. Didn’t you make something for Miss Tatum?”

“It’s just a coloring page. Uncle Ann said her favorite flower was an iris. But I’ll go get it. Don’t take your eyes off him, okay?”

Ryan watches Audrey run off, and back towards you. She gives you a quick hug, and a look up to you before she and Rosie go back into the house, “She stutters?”

“Only when talking about Suede’s allergies, and her father now. It was just randomly. Stress causes her brain and mouth to not work together,,” Andy’s voice clips off. He pays far too much attention to Suede. The atmosphere around the two men changes immediately. “He doesn’t even realize how much he’s messed with her mind. Doesn’t even care that we could have lost Suede. Doesn’t even care about him. It’s a good thing for me, but I look at that little boy, and wonder how in the world could he even consider that? How does he sleep at night not knowing if his kids are okay? If they’re healthy?”

“You could argue he feels comfortable knowing my sister is their mother. And he knows you’re a better option as a father.”

“No,” Andy responds resolutely. “He’s an ass. One that doesn't deserve these kids. He also doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of his actions with Suede. Audrey will deal with that trauma for the rest of her life. While her father can’t even tell her the truth. Suede is trash and disposable for him. And Audrey is no good to him broken.”

“You think she’s broken?”

“I know she is. She’s five and stutters when we have get togethers. She stresses about the food that her brother eats so much that she has to read labels with us. She wants to make sure that someone is always watching him. Yeah, she’s broken, but we’re doing what we can to fix her. And maybe this will always give her anxiety. And while I’m annoyed, it’s not at her. I will do whatever I have to to make sure that tiny little girl is assured as much as possible. I will give her what she needs if it means that she has one less stressor in her life.”

“She is very small,” Andy rolls his eyes as he looks at Ryan. “Is she eating regularly?”

“Really? You think we’re malnourishing her?”

“No,” Ryan changes his tone, attempting to tread lightly. “I mean has she continued to eat regularly since the stress with Scott?”

“Yes. She’ll go through ebbs and flows after seeing him where her appetite isn’t the best, but she hasn’t seen or heard from him in three weeks now. Coward. And he can’t deal with the fact that he has to see her at a center. His lawyer informed me that it could be uncomfortable for Audrey, meaning him. So the simple solution was dinner with all of us, and he declined. And as for Audrey being small, she’s petite, but perfect,” Ryan gives a nod, staring out at the boys playing again.

“I’m going to get a beer. Want one?” Ryan answers with a short yes, and Andy stands up to walk away. He continues to look towards Suede as he walks towards the garage. Having to take his eyes off the little boy in order to retrieve him and his brother in law a beer, and to use the restroom for a moment.

You give a little laugh to your mom as you, her, and Audrey walk out of the house with Rosie. Your sweet little girl looks at her brother screaming, and laughing, and then to the seat where Andy had vacated before she drops the bag of chips, grasping at her chest. “Mommy,” she chokes out.

Setting the plate of food on the table, you turn around, and your smile quickly fades. Audrey’s face is all ruddy, and eyes filled with tears as she points to Andy’s empty chair. Rosie walks in circles around her as she pulls at the bottom of Audrey’s dress.

Your legs are already carrying towards your daughter, “Audrey, baby, breathe for mommy,” she shakes her head pointing at the chair, and Ryan turns around, and stands up to walk over to you.

“No! Suedey! He can’t breathe! Stay with him!!”

“Audrey, Suedey is breathing just fine. Eyes on me,” your voice tries to calm her as you get to your knees, and on her level. “He’s breathing hard because he’s running.”

“Daddy promised!” Stepping out of the garage, Andy looks towards Suede, and then over towards the two of you. “You — promised. Mommy, I can’t — can’t breathe. I can’t breathe! It hurts.”

“Princess…”

“No!” Her small body crashes into you in the tightest embrace that she can give you, and you motion for Andy to assist you to get back up. “Mommy, I can’t…”

“Shh, baby, we’re going inside. Rosie, come here. Come see your girl with me,” she’ll never regulate her breathing out here with everyone looking at them.

“But — daddy.”

“Daddy is going to stay outside and watch Suedey,” her breathing is still too ragged to be around all these people. Audrey doesn’t like people as it is, and now there’s more in her safe space of home, so you need to get her away from the conversation, and let her breathe.

“Doe,” Andy says, looking at you regretfully. “You got her?” Nodding your head, you point over to his perch for him to watch Suede, and you carry your baby inside. Poor Rosie follows you with her head looking up at Audrey. Yipping at you when she can’t get to her.

“Come on, Rosie girl. Uhh,” you let out an exasperated breath, sitting on the couch, and pat on the seat for Rosie to join you. The sweet pup jumps onto the couch, and lays her head on Audrey’s leg, but she still clings to your body haphazardly due to the twins. Her head rests on your chest, and she hiccups trying to catch her breath.

You sit and let her hear your steady heartbreak. Let her feel you breathing before you ever even attempt to talk. Just be present. Be her constant during her fearful panic attack. Her fingers pulse on your ribs. The little chubby digits slightly digging into your body, matching her steadying breaths, and you just hope that she can vocalize her feelings.

Audrey’s tiny hand rubs down your side, searching for Rosie before the chocolate lab’s nose pushes up on her hand. Softly she starts petting her snout, sniffling and whispering inaudibly. “Why did daddy leave?”

“Is that why you were struggling to breathe?” In lieu of responding with words, she nods her head on your chest. “I think daddy had to go to the bathroom, and uncle Ryan was there. Mommy was just inside.”

“But he promised.”

“Suede was running around with the boys, and remember how we all checked his labels?” She nods on your body again, still unable to lift her head. “Do you know why we all checked his labels?”

“To make sure he wouldn’t eat any allergy.”

“That’s right. So even if his sticky little fingers made it to the food, Suede could have safely eaten everything,” you want to hit Scott, and you’re not someone that resorts to physical pain. But it would feel good to hit him.

“But the bees,” she taps on her knee, urging Rosie to come closer, and her friend inches as close as possible. Laying her head down on her leg.

“Suede isn’t allergic to bees.”

“But at the pumpkin patch?”

“That was because he was stung so many times. Remember he had to take an allergy test, and he’s not allergic to bees,” she lets out an annoyed puff of air.

“Suede is okay?” Audrey lifts her head up to look at you, looking so much younger than she actually is. For how mature she is, she’s still just your tiny five year old. You nod your head, and give her a kiss to her forehead. “Has my Scott dad called him?”

“No, baby.”

“Because he doesn’t want Suede?” You look at her without saying anything. Staring at her as her eyes go red. “He doesn’t love Suede, does he?”

“I think he thought parenting Suede was difficult. Maybe Suede scared him with all his allergies.”

“Does he scare you?” You push back her baby hairs, nodding your head. You can’t forever coddle Scott’s reputation. You won’t speak ill of him, but if Audrey puts the thoughts together, you won’t stop her. She’s smart enough, “Do you want to — give up on him?”

“Never. I’ll never give up on any of my kids. I never even want to spend a day without any of you.”

“Were you sad when I went to my Scott daddy’s?” You nod, and Audrey looks down at Rosie. You can almost see the thought rushing through her brain as she tries and processes something. “If he asks me to see him, do you not want me to go?”

“Baby, all I want is for you to be happy and safe. And I will do whatever I can in my power to make sure that you are. You know that for now you have to see your father at either a visitation center or with me and daddy present.”

“Because he had that square bottle and was acting weird?” You give her a nod, and she retreats back into her thoughts. You almost hate that it’s at this moment that she looks like your baby again, but it’s for the worst reason. She looks so angelic and little as she tries to figure out her father’s behavior, “It’s alcohol, right?”

“What do you know about alcohol?”

“Well, Scott daddy said that Andy drinks alcohol, too. The stuff in the garage that stays locked up. The beer. He drinks it at dinner,” there isn’t much to add. You have made it clear that you always want the alcohol away from kid hands. The solution was a tiny room built onto the garage that housed a separate fridge, and space for wine and liquor. The lock always stays on, and Andy has never gone past his limit.

“How come daddy never acts weird?”

“He doesn’t drink too much.”

“Do you like alcohol?”

“Sometimes. But I can’t drink when I’m pregnant because it will hurt the babies. Does it bother you that Andy drinks?” She shakes her head no, and you want to sigh in relief. You’d make him drink after they fell asleep. But she remembers and recognizes Scott’s altered behavior. In her tiny little mind she’s comparing the two men.

“Does my Scott daddy hate me and Suede?”

“No, baby,” he should be the one responding to these questions. He should see her face scrunch up in confusion as she tries to figure out why her father doesn’t see her as much as Andy does. Why Scott gave up Suede but not her. And she wonders why Scott makes mean comments towards her brother.

“Does my Scott daddy love me like daddy does?” You sigh, shrugging. Shaking your head because you have no idea how you respond to that. How to even begin to figure out an answer. You don’t know Scott. As long as you were with the man, who he is now is not who you married.

“Do you think daddy and your scott daddy love you differently?”

“I think daddy misses me when I’m gone.”

“He does. He paced around the house, and was checking his watch nonstop. And was even looking at his phone to see if you had used the iPad mini to call,” she winces, recalling why she didn’t call on her iPad. Her Scott daddy broke it.

“Do you know when he goes to get a drink of water or a snack, he comes upstairs and checks in on me and Suede?” You nod your head yes. Suede had a camera put in his room to make yourself feel relaxed about him being so far away from you since they are upstairs.

Andy also told you he’d go check on them, and he does, every night before he settles into bed. But if he woke up to check on them, you didn’t sleep well without Andy, and you watched the camera to see him just looking at Suede, and he always checks on Audrey while upstairs.

“He got scared one time when I wasn’t in my room. I had to go potty. Is he afraid that my Scott daddy will come and take me?” It is a fear that Andy has. He’s told you so many times that he worries Scott will come here. Cameras were at every entrance, and set up in hallways. You hate the paranoia. You didn’t quite have that anxiety, but it made him comfortable.

“I think Andy is just scared.”

“Because of his dad?” You and Andy never discussed his father. Hadn’t since before you met Scott. You didn’t have to. You knew Andy’s story, and you didn’t care, “My Scott daddy said he’s in jail for,” she leans closer, and cups your ear, “For killing a woman.”

“That happened when Andy was a young boy. He never raised him. Your father shouldn’t have said anything about that man, or told you things much too adult for you.”

“I’m sorry,” shamefully she looks away, but you lift her chin up for you to look at you.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re a child that doesn’t need to know adult things. But if there’s ever anything that your father says or does that confuses you, will you talk to me and daddy? I’m not mad, but I want you to be a child for as long as possible. I don’t want you to worry about your brother the way you do, but I’m thankful you love him so much. I don’t want you to have so much anxiety because your biggest concern should be what color dress you want to put on your dolls, and what you want your clean clothes to smell like.”

“I like the new kind. The maggie-olia,” magnolia. You want to put that in your vault of cute things your kids say.

“Remember, all I want is for you to be happy and safe. And above all to feel loved.”

“Did I look like a dork out there?”

“No, in fact I think everyone, including Suede, were worried. I think you were overwhelmed by your fear, and the way your body reacts to that isn’t your fault. You have seen and heard so much for such a sweet five year old. You’re still so young, and you’re growing, and you have these complex emotions that your brain just can't understand.”

“Will it understand some day?”

“Yes, princess. But I think that you, and all of us as a family, maybe need to look into talking with someone,” hers and Rosie’s head both tilt at the same time and in the same manner. “Someone that can help us heal as a family, and maybe if you want to talk to them alone they can help you understand these big feelings that you have.”

“You promise Suede is okay?”

“Yes. But can you promise me that Audrey is okay?”

She giggles, and leans forward, pressing her forehead against yours, “You’re a good mommy,” you doubt it sometimes. Doubt if you’ve made the right decisions concerning Scott, so confirmation from the cutest five year old feels so good.

“And you’re my most beautiful perfect Audrey. You’re such a good daughter, baby.”

“Can I sit with daddy?” You whisper out a yeah to her. You see in her eyes how exhausted she is. She might even fall asleep in Andy’s arms. Knowing just how much your baby is pretending to be okay some days, breaks your heart “I know you can’t chase after Suede, but he can sit with you.”

“I think I’ve been traded for Cooper and Connor. How about they sit across from us at the table?”

“Okay,” Audrey’s head perks up when she hears a familiar laugh talking to Andy. She peeks towards the front door, and smiles at you. “Even though Uncle Ann and Miss Tatum are here, I still want to sit with daddy, okay? But can you tell Uncle Ann? I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“Yes, darling. Are you ready to go back outside? I bet everyone is hungry, and I know Suede will be excited about presents,” without responding she slides off your lap, and waits on both you and Rosie to get off the couch. These babies are crowding your belly. It is becoming more and more difficult to get up off the couch.

“Thanks, mommy,” Audrey holds up a hand for you, and you take it in your own before walking outside to your family. Everyone out there is your family. Andy’s, too.

Sitting beside your father, your mother smiles at your family on the opposite couch. One part of the luggage was old photos of you when you were a child. Ryan snoozes in the chair, waiting on everyone to leave the living room so he can stretch out.

The teenagers are upstairs “sleeping” when in reality they’re watching a scary movie that Suede couldn’t watch. It’s fine. You hadn’t got to truly spend time with Suede today, so extra time with him is nice. The four of you are clad in the matching dinosaur pajama sets that ’Miss Tatum’ gave Suede as a family gift. She already told you it was Ransom that picked them out.

Audrey hugs on the swell of your stomach, resting her head at the top, while Suede sits between you and Andy. He flips through some of the photo albums, and you can’t help but to glance up at Andy. He looks so happy and at peace.

“That not daddy,” Suede laughs, pointing at a scrawny little boy that was very much daddy.

“Buddy, that is definitely me,” Audrey covers her mouth with her hand and giggle, while you lean over to kiss your husband.

“Oo wittwe wike me!”

“It took me several years to start growing.”

“Mommy!” Audrey gasps and sits up. She causes Rosie’s head to jolt up, and she looks at the little girl long enough to realize that she is okay before laying her head back down on her bed. “Is that you and daddy?”

“It is. That is daddy’s junior prom,” you hear your dad groan, turning up the television a bit more. Your mom gives him a playful whack to his belly. Your mom clearly told him that Andy’s junior prom was the night you lost your virginity. Rude. He didn’t need to know that.

“You look like a princess.”

“She was my princess,” your dad growls again. Rolling her eyes, your mom settles back further into the couch, and smiles as she watches the four of you. The random little kisses you and Andy give each other. The way he watches at both Audrey and Suede as they ask questions about the photos, and even the constant touches he gives your baby bump.

Against all odds, you and Andy did it. You made it. You’re exactly where you said you would be, loving each other. Creating your family, and he has surpassed every thing that she knew he could be as a husband and father.

So much is going in your custody, but she knows that deep down the family will be okay. Andy loves you too fiercely for it not to be. He enjoys you, and your kids. He wants to spend time with you, and your kids. He wants to create memories with you, and your kids. He is the man that you said he was.

You peek up at the top of the stairs as Connor gives you a head nod that the movie is over, and it is time for bed. You’d linger a bit longer if it wasn’t for your exhausted brother. “How did you and daddy meet?” Audrey asks, pointing to a photo of the cute scrawny boy again.

“We’ll save that story for another time. Uncle Ryan is exhausted though. And it’s been a long day, so why don’t we go upstairs and tuck you two in bed, huh?”

“No, oo no need tuck me in. Me big boy,” he would say that since Connor and Cooper are here.

“I still need to be tucked in.”

“Oo no baby, Audi.”

“I know, Suedey. Rosie, bedtime,” your mother watches you and Andy both walk upstairs with the kids before she gets off the loveseat, and wakes up her oldest baby. She looks back at your father, and smiles before he stands and they walk into the guest bedroom. It’d been a long day. But she has doubts on your future anymore, and she knows your father doesn’t anymore either.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @rnurse-kole @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

@hisredheadedgoddess28 @capswife @distractingbeth @talk2trish @shoegal73

[normalbrothershow]

sambrady headcanons question mark

• brady is gay (closeted besides maybe to his siblings and one or two close friends). he was a pretty shy kid but good with acting like he wasnt in front of employers/school officials/his parents work friends etc. but when he saw sam (see: gilmore girls era jared all tussled up from the bus drive with nothing but a duffel and laptop bag) opening the dorm room theyd share, that whole facade dropped and brady was like uhm hi😦😳🫣 stumbling over his words and tripping over nothing. instantly had a crush on sam and was unintentionally VERY obvious about it. sam of course was like Whaaaat no he isnt when other people were like "brady is crushing on u". but then he paid more attention to it and noticed that brady is actually really cute. they only fooled around at first, then they went on a few dates and sam started crushing back and feeling secure enough at stanford to try an actual relationship. they were ready to try and date– and then brady got possessed. sam thought maybe brady came out to his parents over the holidays and they didnt accept him or something

• brady was conscious inside his body when he was possessed. partly because the demon just had fun with that, but also because brady knew a lot about sam intimately that they could use. at some point the Demon acted more like the real brady, and got sam convinced that brady wanted to try and get sober/clean/back on track. they got closer again and had sex. sam was bradys first time, but it was the Demon who took his virginity. brady/the demon might've been sams first time with a guy, but not the first time in general🤔

• the Demon convinced sam to go to a frat party with him. similar to the seven deadly sins, the Demon had a really easy time with manipulating drunk frat kids/lowering their inhibitions. sam thought it was weird how brady seemed to know all those guys and always touched their shoulders. later, the Demon brought sam a spiked drink and gave the frat guys the sign to take sam upstairs, where theyd gang rape him and the Demon made brady watch. all sam could hear during it was the guys laughing/joking and talking down on him. maybe sam had even prepped himself before, because he thought the night would end up with him and brady having sex. the demon told the guys that sam wanted it, so when they see him all wet and open already theyre like "shit, the guy was right, hes asking for it". later when sam wakes up in his dorm room and brady acting all worried about him, sam thinks brady rescued him. the whole time brady was inside the demon trying to fight it and screaming and crying and telling sam hes sorry but he was too weak to do anything...

• brady is still alive in 5.19. its clear he stayed alive after college considering the body aged. i like to think that the demon told sam brady is dead, so he wouldnt exorcise him right away. and then later once crowley implicated him in crowleys "crimes" he knew being exorcised wouldve been worse than being killed so he couldn't even save himself with "Brady is still alive in here" anymore. but he could go out with the satisfaction that he made sam winchester murder his best friend and former boyfriend, and making brady see and feel it all. the last thing it hears is brady begging sam to listen to him 🤷

[lyn31]

Since my last request was angsty, here’s a fluffy one in exchange haha!

I remember going shopping with my sister when she had her daughter. All the clothes and accessories for cute little baby girls are so tiny and adorable’

So, can I request a fic where Zayne and MC were out and ended up shopping a bunch of cute things for baby Serena to dress her up in?

Bonus, Zayne and MC playfully argue over what to name their baby before choosing “Serena” (cuz I wheeze whenever I think of Zayne naming the squirrel after a drug “Clopidogrel”)

Thank you for your time! I hope you have fun with this prompt!

Ahahahaha thank you! This is such a cute prompt to write! Too sweet! And omg what are the odds of me getting the post in game about just that, I'll put it down tho, because this is too long already ahaha (the part after this) sorry 👀🫶🏻🥹

Also, for the names—I actually combined Zayne’s and MC’s (theoretical) Chinese names to create their children’s names. Yes, I’m that serious about it! MC’s Chinese name is Xiang Yun, which I love for its meaning: “multicolor auspicious cloud.” Zayne’s name, Li Shen means “dawn,” or at least the one that they used for him! So together, it just felt perfect.

Originally, Serena was going to be Selene, but that felt too moon-themed. Since the vibe I wanted was more like a sunrise, I shifted to Serene, which eventually became Serena 😄 The same thought process went into Lucas and Callum—I wanted them to have unique names, but with a shared warmth. When you name your kids, you wish them health and happiness, and while their names don’t all need to mean the exact same thing, I wanted them to feel broad enough, similar enough, but different enough.

Serena for the peacefulness that comes with a new beginning, like the dawning of a new day.

Lucas for the light that begins at dawn, someone who brings warmth and clarity to those around him.

Callum for the peace and fresh start that the dove symbolizes—complementing the idea of dawn and auspicious beginnings.

I know... I really love names, ahahaha—even my internet name was picked super carefully 😂💕

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Baby Girl

Summary

A heartwarming and humorous exploration of parenthood, as a couple — you and Zayne — navigates the joys and challenges of raising your newborn daughter while deepening your bond through love, laughter, and shared moments.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Family fluff, domestic fluff, silly, banter, going overboard, cute baby!

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The baby section smells like powder and gentle chaos, with the faintest trace of vanilla in the air. Fluorescent lights hum softly above, casting a sterile glow over the rows of pastel onesies and stuffed animals.

The shelves are lined with tiny socks and soft, ridiculous things shaped like animals—everything in soft hues of pink and blue, as if the store itself is whispering ‘sweetness’ at every turn.

Serena is nestled against your chest in the wrap, warm and drowsy, her tiny hand curled against your shirt’s fabric. She’s only been awake long enough to blink at the sunlight when you left the car.

You barely make it past the first rack before you stop. A little dress hangs there—cream-colored, with the faintest blush undertone and tiny embroidered flowers on the collar. The kind of thing you’d always thought was cute but distant, like a magazine page or a window display. Not for you. Not real.

But Serena is real. She’s right here, her small weight pressed against your chest like a secret.

“Zayne,” you say, holding it up.

He turns, mid-step. His eyes settle on the dress, and then on you. And then on Serena.

He doesn’t say anything.

You wait—expecting the usual gentle teasing, something about how impractical it is or how she’ll outgrow it in a blink—but his gaze just stays on the fabric like he’s studying something fragile. Like it’s not a baby dress at all, but some abstract idea of softness and time.

Then, with no change in expression, he takes it from your hand and places it in the cart.

You blink. “No commentary?”

Zayne glances at Serena, then back at the dress. “It would be beneath her to wear anything less.”

Your laugh is quiet, surprised. He says it so matter-of-factually, as if it’s obvious. As if the embroidery itself should be honored.

She shifts in the wrap, murmurs, and he reaches over to brush her cheek with his knuckle. “She suits this color,” he adds, like that settles the matter.

It kind of does.

You watch him push the cart forward, already eyeing the next rack, and something warm fills your chest. The kind of warmth that doesn’t come from sunlight or tea or even sleep. It’s that very specific kind—serene and a little awed—that only shows up when you realize someone you love is loving something you made together.

And in this case, that something is squishy and sleepy and currently chewing on the corner of her bib.

“Wait until you see the socks,” you murmur, adjusting the wrap as you follow.

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You don’t even know how you ended up in the toddler section.

One moment you were cooing over mittens smaller than your palm, and the next, the soft hum of a nearby overhead speaker caught your attention. The bright colors of the baby section fade away as you step into the toddler area.

The racks here feel more structured, organized. You stand in front of a rack labeled 2–4 Years, eyeing a burgundy cardigan with tiny wooden buttons and elbow patches. The soft rustle of fabrics around you fills the air, accompanied by the occasional squeak of a stroller rolling past.

It’s objectively too big. You know that. But you hold it up anyway, pinching the shoulders and already imagining Serena in it—hair a little longer, hands a little steadier, walking unevenly across the apartment with her arms spread wide for balance. Maybe she stops, turns, and looks over her shoulder with that same serious stare she already has, and then—

“She’ll grow into it.”

You jump slightly as Zayne appears at your side, two more hangers in hand—one with a forest green dress that has little embroidered rabbits, and the other with a soft grey jacket, also far too big.

“Zayne,” you start slowly, “she’s three months old.”

He blinks. “Yes.”

“These are for kids who can spell their own names.”

He studies the tag as if it might reveal a loophole. “Six letters is hardly a challenge.”

You squint at him.

But he just slides both items into the cart like you haven’t said anything at all.

“You’re serious.”

“She’ll need clothes in the future. This is... efficient.”

You gesture vaguely at the now two-thirds full cart. “We came here for pacifier clips.”

He looks you over for a second, eyes flicking down to where Serena is half-asleep against your chest, and then back up. “We needed more than that.”

You don’t even argue. Not when he reaches out to straighten the wrap on your shoulder with a quiet gentleness, thumb brushing under Serena’s jaw on instinct. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t have to. She’s here. She’s herself. And she’s going to grow—faster than you want, probably.

So if he wants to be ready, even a few years early, who are you to stop him?

You reach for the cardigan again.

“Okay,” you mutter. “But if she refuses to wear it in three years, I’m blaming you.”

Zayne hums, already distracted by a shelf of winter boots half her size. “We’ll cross that tantrum when we get to it.”

You laugh again, soft and helpless. There’s no stopping either of you.

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You don’t need baby sunglasses.

You’re fully aware of this.

There is no reason for a three-month-old—who squints at indoor lighting and naps through half the day—to need heart-shaped, rose-tinted sunglasses. But here you are. Holding them. Turning them over in your hands like they’re some precious artifact instead of plastic frames barely wider than two of your fingers.

Zayne walks up beside you, holding... a hat.

It’s not just any hat. It’s soft pink with long floppy bunny ears. You meet his eyes slowly. The sudden quiet of the aisle wraps around you, making the hat feel even more absurd as you meet his eyes slowly.

The store’s low background music plays something gentle, an instrumental lullaby—almost like a soundtrack to your own personal moment of disbelief. The polished wood of the shelves reflects the soft glow of the register lights as the cashier taps on her tablet, oblivious to the fashion debate unfolding nearby.

“What is that.”

“A necessity,” he says without hesitation.

“She can’t even hold her head up straight yet.”

“That’s why the ears are soft.”

You stare at him. “Darling.”

He hums, gently plucks the sunglasses from your hand and holds them next to the hat. As if testing for coordination. As if it matters.

“I hate how cute that would be,” you mumble.

“Then it’s settled.”

“No. No, it’s not.”

But he’s already walking toward the cart, the sunglasses and hat in one hand, the other reaching out to adjust a tiny gold bracelet hanging near the register. It’s engraved. Tiny star. His hand pauses, but he doesn’t pick it up. Maybe even he knows that one’s too far.

You wonder if he’s thinking what you’re thinking—that time is already moving faster than you can track.

I’ll come back for it later.

You chase after him with mock seriousness. “Zayne, she doesn’t go outside. She’s not even aware of the sun.”

“She will be,” he says, placing the sunglasses in the cart with the gravitas of someone arranging delicate lab equipment. “And when she is, she’ll look fabulous.”

You make a helpless noise, half-laugh, half-defeat. “We’re those parents.”

“We are.” He doesn’t even blink. “You chose this.”

“Excuse me?”

He glances pointedly at the frilly booties dangling off the edge of your cart. The ones that look like strawberries.

You’re caught.

You sigh and reach back for the floppy bunny hat, smoothing one ear. “Okay but we'll take a lot of pictures.”

Zayne adjusts the cart handle. “That's a must.”

You look down at Serena, blissfully unaware of the fashion decisions being made in her name. Her lip twitches in her sleep. You don’t know if it’s a smile, but you decide to take it as one.

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The cart squeaks a little as you turn down another aisle, and that’s what finally does it. Not the pile of pastel outfits. Not the third set of unnecessarily fancy socks. Not even the sunhat with a ribbon bow.

It’s the weight of the cart.

You glance down and suddenly see it all together—tiny hangers sticking out at odd angles, a pack of blankets you don’t remember grabbing, some kind of plush rattle shaped like a lemon.

A small wave of guilt rolls over you.

“Okay. We should—maybe—be practical,” you say, already slowing to a stop. “We don’t need all of this now.”

Zayne stops too. “Define ‘need.’”

You give him a look. “She wears diapers and drools on herself for fun. She doesn’t need a themed wardrobe.”

“She doesn’t know she needs it yet.”

“Zayne.”

He gives the cart a small nudge with one hand, just enough to rock it gently. Serena sleeps on in the wrap, her head resting against your chest. You look down at her, then at the pile in the cart, then back at her.

Finally, you sigh, pick up a few of the smaller items, and start “measuring” them against her like it’ll help you decide what to put back.

You hold up a daisy-print romper. “Too much?”

You shift her slightly, hold the outfit in front of her.

Zayne tilts his head. “She looks peaceful. I think it’s working.”

You try again with the bunny-eared onesie. “This?”

“She’s glowing.”

“She’s asleep.”

“Exactly.”

You huff a soft laugh and move on to a third—an absolutely unnecessary tulle dress with a velvet bow. “We really shouldn’t—”

“She’ll wear it at home,” he says. “While doing nothing.”

“She’ll spit up all over it.”

“She’ll spit up regally.”

You pause, the dress hovering over Serena like a curtain, and then—against all better judgment—you laugh. You try to be practical. You really do. You even hold up a simple white bodysuit, your version of restraint.

“She makes that look good too,” Zayne murmurs.

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I have to be the reasonable one here? You’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying.”

The truth is… he’s right. Every ridiculous outfit you hold up just fits. Not literally, of course—they’ll all need rolling sleeves and folded waistbands—but they feel like her. You imagine yourself dressing her in these things in the coming months. You imagine her looking up at you, holding her arms out, babbling at nothing. You imagine trying to capture it all before it slips away again.

Your throat tightens a little.

“I just didn’t think we’d be like this,” you say softly, barely loud enough to be heard over the faint music from the store speakers. “So easily—gone over her.”

Zayne doesn’t say anything at first.

Then he steps closer and brushes a stray piece of hair from your face, fingers lingering at your temple. His voice is quiet.

“She’s ours. We’re allowed to fall.”

You let that sit between you a moment, heavy and warm. Then you glance back at the cart.

“I still think we need to put something back.”

He picks up a set of plain burp cloths.

“Not that,” you say instantly.

He raises an eyebrow.

You exhale. “Okay, fine. Nothing goes back. But we are leaving now before one of us finds matching shoes.”

Zayne gestures for you to lead the way, completely unbothered. “I make no promises.”

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You don’t realize how much you bought until you’re unpacking it all on the living room floor.

Zayne's already peeled the tags off half the clothes and started folding them neatly into color-coded stacks on the couch. Serena’s napping again, this time in the little bassinet beside you, one fist curled loosely by her cheek. She hasn’t stirred once.

You hold up the bunny hat again and let out a helpless little noise. “Okay, but I get it now. I get the parents who go overboard.”

Zayne doesn’t even look up. “You say that like we aren’t those parents.”

You toss a sock at him. It’s fuzzy and shaped like a bear paw. “We blacked out, Zayne.”

“We were lucid the entire time.”

You narrow your eyes at the four different sizes of footie pajamas now lined up on the floor like some sort of cotton evolution chart. “Were we?”

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps folding. Calm. Methodical. Unapologetic.

You pick up one of the sweaters—cream-colored with a scalloped hem, still slightly too big—and lay it out beside Serena’s bassinet.

It swallows the space beside her.

You stare at it for a long moment.

“She’s going to grow into this,” you say quietly.

Zayne’s hands still. You don’t need to look at him to know he heard it. You say it again, softer this time, almost to yourself. “She’s going to grow. Into all of this.”

Not just the clothes. Not just the boots or the headbands or the over-the-top tulle dress.

She’s going to become someone—bit by bit, minute by minute—right in front of you. You’ll blink and she’ll be walking. And before you know it you’ll turn around and she’ll be saying full sentences, reaching for things on her own.

These ridiculous outfits won’t fit forever. Some will be worn once. Some maybe not at all. But right now, they’re proof of something you can’t say without your voice catching.

Zayne crouches beside you without a word. He looks at the sweater, then at Serena. Then he rests his hand lightly on your back, thumb moving slowly, back and forth.

“She’s already different than when we brought her home,” you whisper.

“She is,” he agrees softly. “But she still fits in your arms. And she still fits here.”

His hand shifts slightly, pressing over your heart.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of it settle into your chest. When you open them again, you both just look down at her. At her tiny frame, curled like a comma. At her slow, steady breaths.

After a while, Zayne leans closer and presses a kiss to your temple.

“We’ll keep every piece,” he says quietly. “Even when she outgrows them.”

You nod. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else.

Later, you both end up on the floor, backs against the couch, watching as Serena stirs and stretches in her sleep—just enough to wrinkle her nose and kick off one bootie.

Zayne calmly picks it up and sets it on the coffee table.

You turn to him, already smiling. “So... next week’s trip?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Matching pajamas.”

You laugh, bright and full.

And just like that, you both fall a little harder.

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Bonus

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It’s a quiet morning at home, the kind that feels wrapped in cotton.

You’re lounging on the rug, legs tucked to the side as Serena wiggles happily on her mat. The sun spills through the window in soft stripes, catching the tips of her little tufts of hair and the curve of her cheeks.

And the tail.

The very fluffy, very unnecessary tail of the onesie she’s wearing.

It’s brown. Soft. Has tiny little ears on the hood and a curled tail on the back. A squirrel onesie, because clearly, restraint doesn’t exist in your household anymore.

“She looks too good in that,” you say, grinning as Serena kicks her legs and flaps her arms like she’s about to take off. “You know we’re never going to take it off her now.”

Zayne, sitting beside you with a mug in hand, hums in agreement. “She matches it perfectly.”

You glance sideways at him, lips twitching. “Good thing you agreed with me on Serena, then.”

He takes a sip of his tea, unbothered. “Clopidogrel had charm, the same as the squirrel. But it’s meant for Clopidogrel. I still think Amaryl isn’t bad.”

You nearly choke on your laughter. “Zayne—”

“It’s an important medicine.”

“Yes! To control blood glucose in patients with type 2 diabetes! Not for names!”

He’s unrepentant, calm as ever. “Amaryl has a good ring to it.”

You stare at him. “Look at your daughter now,” you say, gesturing toward the mat, where Serena has now rolled halfway over and is grunting softly at her own fist. “And tell me—with a straight face—that you want her named after a diabetes drug.”

Zayne sets down his mug, and after a dramatic pause, leans in just slightly.

“She doesn’t need to be,” he says, his voice softening. “Serena is perfect. It was the best pick.”

You tilt your head, caught off guard by how quickly he's backing off this time.

He continues then, leaning closer, one hand brushing your waist like he’s trying to draw your attention. “Because, after all, it came from her mother.”

Your smile breaks without warning. “Flatterer.”

“Is it working?”

You wink at him, still smiling. “Flatterer gets you anywhere.”

His other hand lifts, fingers trailing to the back of your neck, his eyes glint with something more—amused and affectionate. “Anywhere?”

You meet his eyes, heart skipping, a flutter of hesitation as the world narrows to the space between you.

You close the distance, matching his closeness, your own hand curling behind his neck. “Anywhere.”

You’re a breath away from kissing him when Serena lets out a babble that sounds vaguely triumphant. You both pause. She kicks her feet, arms flapping, tail bouncing behind her like punctuation.

You burst out laughing. Zayne’s smile is soft and full, completely content.

He shifts to crouch beside her and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Clopidogrel would be proud.”

You snort, reaching over to smother his face with your palm.

Then you both lean in together, planting a kiss on Serena’s warm cheeks, one on each side.

She babbles again.

And just like that, the moment stretches—gentle, glowing, and absolutely yours.

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Notes

Guhhh damn it..... It got me a little bit, I was doing silly little thing but ofc this is how it ended up with 🥹💕 Love it tho! And here's the Clopidogrel reference that show up with the right timing! Ahahahahaha

I'm going through this series to add the part per order..... You're at Baby Girl! Here to:

Customize AI

Arm Wrestle

Good Morning? (Smut)

Game on (Smut)

Aftercare

Another Game? (Smut)

Restraint (Smut ⚠️ Mild-Dom/Sub)

How it all happen

Honeymoon part 1 (Smut)

Honeymoon part 2

New Chapter of Life Together

Exploring (Smut ⚠️ Mild-BDSM)

Try For Baby

Little Joy

Lonely?

Love

Lingers

Labor

Lapse (Smut at the end)

Baby Girl

Uh Oh

Desserts Mission

Emergency Matchmaker

Morning Kisses

Like a Star

Phone Calls

Seed-baby

Little Surprises

Big Sister Serena

Wait and see

Jealousy, Revisited

Family Time

Chaotic Morning

Rainy Day

In Sickness and In Health

Girls vs Boys

In the Quiet Moments (Smut at the end)

[viinustars]

Kirisaki brothers HCs & thoughts

I'm thinking too much of them so this is just me word vomiting ಥ⁠╭⁠╮⁠ಥ they're so cute and doomed and AUGHHH im SICK. and this is probably part 1/??? i have a LOT of thoughts lmfao

I'm gonna be using Zenji's real name and probably spoilers here and there — just a gentle warning!

Jiro calls Taro "nii-san" — Taro always preferred to call him "Jiro-kun" though

Jiro's favorite past time with him is just him sitting nearby with a book to read while Taro plays something and sings/hums a song. Sometimes Taro leans closer to see what Jiro is reading and maybe ask a thing or two (not that he could really understand what Jiro is explaining LOL)

They used to share a room when they were living together / before going to Darkwick

They like making tea together! They like tea parties! Taro likes picking up new flavors when he could, Jiro likes making the tea precisely and methodically like it's an experiment?? Lol, and then Taro wants them to drink the tea like it's a tea ceremony, I think he'd used this opportunity to share his recent poetries too!

They rarely have snacks to go with it tho.. it's a very rare occasion. But when they do, they'd go for Wagashi! Dango, daifuku, taiyaki too. Unfortunately they couldn't buy/have much..

Taro LOVES to play-pretend, especially when his lil brother interacts with his stories — but I don't think they have a lot of toys to play with either.. (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠) Taro would use whatever he has however! The story must go on!

It seems like they're rarely allowed to go out and have fun outside, but I think they still like to make plans or lists on where they should go together. Taro usually go for theater plays (traditional and not), art museums, historical landmarks, festivals too (his all time favorite!) Meanwhile Jiro prefers libraries and museums, nature, science and technology.. but I think he'd prioritize on science fairs since they usually pop up once a time. He'd LOVE to wander around and ingest every information there lol

Related to ^ point : I feel like Taro is the type to hold his lil brother's hand just incase he wanders around lmao 😭 my guy is very aware of his surroundings while Jiro is just?? following.. around..

When they were younger, Taro was taller - like Jiro is somewhat around his shoulders. They both have growth spurts but Jiro was much more later on, but it was definitely worth it since he's slightly taller than him now (⁠@⁠_⁠@⁠)

Taro once brought Jiro to sight seeing nature, but Jiro doesn't really get why they're not doing anything in specific. He kinda follows him behind until he sees something that interests him and parts away and Taro is like — "..wouldn't you think so, Ji- wait, Jiro-kun?!?" Taro panics and goes on to search for him, just to find Jiro watching stag beetles fighting in a broken tree trunk..

Now they're both watching the beetle fight intensely LMAOO

Taro is cheering "Go! Go! Go!" and Jiro is silently watching, but he laughs once there's a winner, he actually find it entertaining

I think that's all for today, or else this post might get too long (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠) lemme know ur thoughts, feel free to add or interact!!!

[batsovergotham]

OKAY so i have two drafts of the next chapter and the only real difference is one of them includes a full blown threesome with eve. </3 not just mark and eve being cute, NOPE. it’s mark and eve absolutely folding reader like laundry. they’re on earth, staying with her and terra, it’s all domestic and sweet until they’re both in her guts like they got something to prove.

it isn't mark and eve rekindling anything. mark is still all about reader, he just doesn’t mind sharing. eve just shows up like “wow. y’all are nasty. can i help?” and then proceeds to casually assist in wrecking reader’s entire pelvic structure like it’s light work. she’s not interested in mark like that, she just thinks reader looks cute when she begs.

i don’t know if y’all are ready for that or if i should keep it between mark and reader :)

[lady-de-mon-coeur]

Can you share more about the sickness representing periods im super curious!

Anon refers to this post of mine.

Of course I might be wrong, so take my words with a grain of salt, it's just how I interpret that subplot. Let's see:

A body liquid that won't stop leaking.

Marinette feeling sick, but still not sick enough to skip classes.

She finds what happens to her gross and doesn't want Adrien to know about it. Because, let's be real, periods are still very much a taboo to talk about and many guys feel grossed out by it (and many fans saying this subplot is disgusting and unnecessary only further proves my point).

Marinette running out of the room every now and then to be able to sneeze in peace (or to check if there was a leak?).

See? It all checks out.

But it's all just speculation. I'm not saying that that's exactly what writers had in mind. But it would be great if it was the case, because why not? Periods are natural and many girls are dealing with them. And seeing Adrien not being grossed out is so cute. It'd be a good message to teenage girls to not be ashamed of their bodies.

[mmochammoss]

Oh Captain my Captain

The only thing better than being a pro hero was being a pro hero alongside your boyfriend. You and Iida were the hottest power couple out, an instant fan favorite. Despite your public popularity though your hero schedules rarely aligned. You both ran your own agencies prior to getting together so naturally you both decided to keep your offices separate. (At least until you got married or something…) But for the first time in your hero careers you both were assigned on an away mission with a small group of heroes.

The mission would be nothing too serious, just aiding in upping the patrol zones of a prefecture that was seeing a spike in non organized crime. You were elated, seeing the mission as work, of course, but also a sort of get away for you and your boyfriend. Iida on the other hand was…less than thrilled.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with you, he loved you so, so much. And he had always hoped that you two would be able to collaborate as heroes one day, he just knew that an assignment like this one required peak vigilance, patience and awareness, all things that he struggled to maintain when you were around.

The mission started with a train ride to the city and having your things dropped off to your shared hotel suite while all the involved heroes met to get their assignments for the weekend. Iida, or Ingenium, was assigned the groups captain, most likely due to his speed as well as his diligence and discipline.

You both left the meeting, heading to the agency that was hosting the heroes during their trip to suit up. You met Iida in the lobby and got a little excited again seeing him in his hero costume. You two were finally getting to work together and not just on a whim, on a real mission. You walked up to him and placed both your hands on his shoulders before whispering, “let’s go, captain.” Letting your voice drop a bit on the last word to tease him.

This was going to be a long weekend.

Your afternoon continued with the pair of you patrolling different sections of the city and listening closely to your in-ears just in case you got an emergency alert. Any time Iida would suggest a new route or ask you to get an aerial view you would answer with a quick, “yes, captain.” He kept his composure, needing to remain as professional as possible for the mission, but it was obvious you were trying to kill him.

By the end of your patrol everything had gone well. No injuries, no complications. Just long hours of reconnaissance and walking, followed by a debrief, a walk back to the hotel, and now quiet.

You stood by the window with your arms crossed, a fluffy hotel robe wrapped around you, your skin still warm from your shower. Outside, the city lights flickered like distant stars. Behind you, Tenya moved around the hotel room with practiced precision. Placing his hero costume in the closet, he began to pace the room a bit, checking his phone like mad every few minutes to see if he had received any updates. You chuckled a bit at him. It was cute that he was taking this ‘group captain’ thing so seriously.

“Tenya, you know we’re off the clock,” you teased gently, glancing at him over your shoulder, “you don’t have to keep checking for updates every 5 seconds. Everything is fine.”

He paused mid-motion, meeting your eyes with a tired smile. “I just want to make sure every possible route that needed to be checked has been. I just want to double check to put my mind at ease.”

You chuckled, turning back to the window. “You know what’ll put mine at ease?”

There was a moment of silence, then the creak of the mattress as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I suspect you’re about to tell me.”

You walked toward him slowly, letting the barley tied robe slip off one of your shoulders. The chill of the room air kissed your exposed skin, but the way his gaze swept over you, hungry and restrained, warmed you all over.

He swallowed. Hard.

“Ingenium,” you purred, stepping between his knees and running your fingers through the soft fringe of his hair, “we’ve been so good all day. So focused. So professional.”

“As we should be,” he said, voice lower now, hands twitching where they rested on his thighs.

You leaned down, lips grazing his ear as you whined. “But now we’re alone. Off-duty. Don’t you wanna…relax? I feel like you’ve barely acknowledged me all day.”

The crack in his composure was instantaneous. A sharp inhale. A sudden tension in his shoulders. And then his hands were on your hips, gripping firmly as he looked up at you flushed, breath uneven, glasses still on.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice tight with restraint, “this is a mission, not a couples retreat, our duty comes first.”

“And it has,” you defend while straddling his thighs. “Unless you have any more orders for me, captain?” You pull away from his ear to look him in the eyes.

You can see he’s at his breaking point. He lets out a shaky sigh as he begins to slowly slide his large hands up and down your sides. “Darling, you can’t speak to me like this and expect me to behave.”

You smiled, moving closer again, and licking a long stripe up the side of his neck.

“Then don’t.”

He groaned loudly as his mouth fought to find yours with desperate precision, controlled but still so needy, like he’d been holding back all day, all week, and you had finally flipped the switch. His hands roamed your back, your thighs, your waist. Memorizing you as he tried to ground himself.

“I love you,” he breathed between kisses. “You’re so breathtaking my love. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I know,” you whispered against his neck, nipping lightly just beneath his jaw. “That’s why you like me on top.”

He let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into your hips as you ground down against him.

“You’re terrible,” he groaned.

“And yet you’re still sitting here, you know you love it. ” you teased, pulling back just enough to see his eyes, his pupils blown wide.

“You know I do,” he said simply.

You kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. His hands slid from your hips to the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and laying you onto the bed, his body following. His weight pressed into you making you moan into his mouth as he began to open up your robe completely exposing you to him as he took control.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against your skin, lips grazing the slope of your shoulder.

“You,” you breathed. “I just need you.”

That was all it took.

He kissed a trail down your chest, pausing only to worship and mouth at every inch of you, making your breath hitch. He didn’t rush. Not this Tenya. He’d waited all day for this. And now that he had you? He was going to savor it.

“Spread your legs for me, love,” he murmured, voice low and precise. “Let me see you.”

You obeyed, every nerve in your body lit with anticipation. His hands slid down your thighs again, parting you slowly, reverently, his eyes locked on yours.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re so perfect, my love.”

He dipped his head between your legs, the warm press of his tongue making your whole body jolt. You gasped, back arching, and he held you steady with firm, calloused hands.

He worked you open with maddening patience, tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, pausing only to whisper praise, to kiss the inside of your thighs like you were sacred.

“You always taste so good,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “So soft for me.”

He was getting drunk off just the taste of you. Your fingers tangled through his hair, tugging just a little, and he groaned into you in response. Deep and guttural, the sound vibrating through you. Bringing you to your limit.

When you finally came, you cried out his name, your body trembling, and he didn’t stop, not until he felt the aftershocks of your climax leave your limbs limp and your legs shaking.

Only then did he sit up, kissing his way back up your body, his mouth slick with your juices, his eyes full of something almost reverent.

“I love you,” he whispered. “But I think I’m going to have to teach you a lesson after teasing me like you did today.”

You nodded, dazed, pulling him in for another kiss. “Then stop being so polite and fuck me, captain.”

His eyes darkened almost instantly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, groaning low as your body welcomed him in, inch by aching inch. He whispered your name like a prayer, forehead pressed to yours, one hand gripping your hip, the other cradling your cheek like you were the most precious thing in the world.

And then he moved. Long, deep, controlled strokes. Everything he did was with intention, just like how he treated his work. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t lost in you. He absolutely was. You could feel it in the way his voice cracked when he moaned your name, and the way his rhythm faltered when your nails raked down his back.

“You feel—fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, breath stuttering. “What’s my name, love?”

You met his thrusts, wrapping your legs around his waist, dragging him deeper, harder.

“Tenya,” you gasped, “please—”

“Not that one,” he said, snapping his hips harder now. “Say my name, the one you’ve been calling me all day.”

“Captain!—”

He kissed you then, messy and desperate, thrusts growing rough and erratic as he chased both your release and his own.

“Come for me,” he growled against your mouth, his voice strained and low, every thrust hitting deeper. “I want to feel you.”

You whimpered, nails digging into his back again. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“That’s it,” he murmured, thumb slipping down between your bodies to rub tight, practiced circles over your clit. “Be good for me. Let go for your captain.”

Your body tensed, breath catching as pleasure surged hot and sharp through you. “Tenya—!”

“Aht aht,” he corrected, voice dark with need, “Say it.”

“Captain!” you cried, coming hard around him, legs trembling, back arching beneath his weight.

Only then did he let himself unravel.

His hands flew to your waist as he came with one final growl of your name. His body shuddered, face buried in your neck as he continued to desperately fuck you through his high.

Eventually, his thrusts slowed, and he softened his grip on your waist, pulling you close, breath still ragged. His forehead rested against yours, sweat-slicked and flushed, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You stroked his back lazily, still catching your breath, your body humming with the aftershocks of release.

“If I would’ve known you liked being called ‘Captain’ that much,” you murmured, voice husky with exhaustion and amusement, “I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

Tenya huffed a laugh against your collarbone, still panting. “That was… incredibly unprofessional of me.”

You smirked, tilting your head to press a slow kiss behind his ear. “Guess we’ll just have to make this a regular part of mission protocol the next time we work together, huh captain?”

He groaned softly, “please don’t tempt me, love.”