#I’m grateful to be done with this issue

[harmonizewithechoes]

Did you know you can get carded for children’s mucinex? Because I sure didn’t this morning when I walked to the store without my id to get cold medicine for my children 🙃

[followfire]

I’m saying something quite obvious already but omg it’s so good to use characters as role models when facing difficulties

[wintrbears]

Cradle Robbers: The First Trimester | JJK

Summary: Jungkook makes a proposition you can't don't want to refuse, and there are seemingly no consequences to your friendship at first, but then you miss you period and have to explain to all your loved ones how you got knocked up by your childhood best friend.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Pregnancy AU, Childhood Friends to FWB to Lovers, Slow-Burn, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst (barely, you have to squint to see it)

Word Count: 26k+

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy, fear, anxiety, crying, screaming, arguing, vomiting, cravings, drinking (not OC), mention of withdrawal, doctor's offices, ultrasounds, pregnancy tests, mentions of a break-up, pet names (bambi/bams, babygirl, baby), cats, dogs, wealth, sex in a movie, tickling, karaoke, medication, talk of childbirth, periods, birth control failure, video games, parental expectations. SMUT: kissing, unprotected sex (obviously), neck kissing, penetrative sex, missionary, dick riding, sideways/from behind, oral sex (both receiving), face riding, face fucking, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, BIG DICK JK!!!, spanking, cream pie, titty sucking, pleasuring with underwear, ripping underwear, implication of sexual favors, hickies, soreness, aftercare, masturbation (f), cuddling, cock warming, alright I think that's all folks!

Author's Note: it's finally hereeee. this is the first of three parts for my new series and i'm so, so excited to share it with you guys! koo and bambi have my whole heart along with all their friends and family we meet. I know pregnancy fics aren't always the most loved, but I assure you this Jungkook is so worth it... he's tooth-rottingly sweet and soooo sexy! also, I linked the video of the boys performance bc it's too freaking good not to watch, so look out for that (and also ignore yoongi not actually being there lmao). please let me know what you guys think and/or any predications you have for the next chapter, the baby's name and/or gender, etc. I LOVE hearing what you guys have to say! OK ily bye :)

-> Cradle Robbers Masterpost

ZERO

The sound of some garbage eating rodent is the first thing you hear after kicking your apartment door open with the tip of your boot. Muscle memory brings your hand to the light switch, but you aren’t able to flip it up because the lights are already on. So, the rodent is big enough to reach that height… wonderful. 

You toe your boots off and hang your coat up, tossing your keys in the old stolen ashtray you use to house them. When you round the corner, the familiar, lovable vermin is bent over as he rummages through your fridge. 

It’s ridiculous, honestly, given that this particular species of rat earns quadruple your salary. 

“Koo,” you get his attention. 

“Hm?”

He doesn’t budge an inch when responding to the call of his nickname. Eyes rolling back, you stroll over and smack his ass as hard as you can.

“Yo!” Jungkook jerks up and just barely misses hitting his head on the refrigerator. “Take me to dinner first.”

“I am,” you reply. “You’re eating my food.”

Jungkook smiles innocently and squishes your cheeks with his fingers before shaking your head back and forth. 

“And I’m so, so grateful,” he teases in a baby voice. 

You swat his hand away, but the light in your eyes and the remnants of a smile on your face reveal your true feelings about his teasing.

This predicament is one of your own creation, since you gave Jungkook a key a while ago in case of emergencies. The issue is, an emergency for Jungkook can be your place being closer to the gym than his, and he needs a snack after his workout. In your mind, the purpose was so he can bring you chocolate ice cream on your period and take down intruders. He’s only done one of those things so far, and the intruder was a stray cat.

Falling to your couch with a soft thump, you groan and tilt your head back against the cushions. Today was egregiously long and definitely not worth the money it made you. The only upside is it’s Friday and you have two whole days to lounge around your apartment and do nothing at all. 

Jungkook comes around the peninsula which separates your kitchen from your living room with a fresh bowl of instant ramen in his hands. He blows on the noodles for a second before slurping them into his mouth, all without noticing the glare you’re sending his way. His eyes crinkle when he sees you, letting you know he’s smiling, even though you can’t see his mouth behind the bowl. 

“What’s with the face, Bambi?” 

“You seriously didn’t think of making one for me?” You ask through a pout.

You finally see Jungkook’s smile when he lowers the bowl to place it on the peninsula. He looks proud, his head tilting as he chuckles to himself. 

Then, you hear the microwave go off, and your glare quickly turns into a grin. 

Jungkook grabs the second bowl from the microwave and sets it on the counter. You watch appreciatively as he rips open the sauce packet before putting it between his teeth and using his chopsticks to pour it all into the bowl. The crinkle of a cheese wrapper opening brings your eyebrows up your forehead in delight. He drops the orange square into the bowl and mixes everything together with the chopsticks before holding it out towards you. 

“You gonna take that shit back now or what?”

You beam and giggle as you stand, practically skipping across the room so you can take the bowl of delicious noodles from him.

“Thank you,” you sing-song.

“Mmhmm.”

The two of you eat on your couch in a slurp filled ambiance. It’s an old, familiar scene and one you always appreciate even if you don’t say it outloud. 

They say you choose your friends, but Jungkook was pretty much forced on you. Your mothers are college roommates who became best friends and later married another pair of best friends. The women proceeded to plot and plan accordingly so they would be pregnant together and their kids would be the same age. Unfortunately, your parents went off script by about six months, but you and Jungkook are still close enough in age to be in the same grade throughout school. 

Even though your friendship was intricately planned long before your conception, you’re close of your own volition. 

Jungkook is not only your best friend, but the most amazing person you know and probably in existence. You wouldn’t trade him for the world if it came down to it. In fact, if the zombie apocalypse ever happens, and somehow his death is the only way to find a cure, you will Joel Miller-style kill every single person who dares to try and take him from you. They can rip your dorky, caring, smart-ass best friend from your cold, dead hands. Everyone else can become zombies for all you care, everyone but him.

The sound of a bowl meeting the coffee table pulls your attention back to the man beside you. He kicks his feet up and stretches his arms above his head in relaxation. When the action reveals a sliver of skin from below the hem of his shirt, you use the opportunity to tickle him and laugh when he groans and folds into himself.

“Is this really the game you wanna play, Bams?” He speaks to the floor, still hunching over from your attack.

Bambi, or Bams for short, is the only name Jungkook calls you. Sometimes, you jokingly accuse him of forgetting your real name altogether, which then spurs him on to attempt “guessing” what it is. Ironically, neither of you nor your parents can recall the origin of the nickname. Like some strange Mandela effect, one day he started calling you by the Disney character’s name and never stopped. 

If memory serves correctly, you think the last time you heard the syllables of your name leave his mouth was in fifth grade when he defended you against a clique of mean girls. Something along the lines of “leave my Y/N alone,” in his adorable kiddie Jungkook voice.

He’s certainly gone through some drastic changes since then. His voice now filters out in a deep, honey tone, he doesn’t use his bangs to conceal his starry eyes anymore, and he’s got you beat by a few inches in height. You’re different, too, mostly in the way you no longer need him to defend you on the playground. He still would, though, and he often tries on nights out when someone tries testing your patience. 

Jungkook would never hurt a fly, but he’s got an entire sleeve of tattoos, multiple piercings, and broad shoulders, so he uses his outward appearance to his advantage and scares people away when necessary.

You don’t respond to his taunt, instead you slowly slide across the fabric of the couch, as quietly as you can so he doesn’t pick up on the movement. He, of course, notices right away, and a cheshire grin appears before your eyes.

Standing up like lightning, you make a break for your bedroom, but you only reach the back of the couch before his arms are clinching you by the waist. 

“No!” You shout and kick the air as he tugs you back towards the furniture. 

“You asked for this.”

“Koo, no!” 

He drops you unceremoniously onto the cushions where you flail in an attempt to escape, but it’s futile because Jungkook is already bending down to tickle your sides. Hysterical laughter fills the space as his fingertips pitter-patter on your skin. Your best friend is ruthless as always, never halting his actions even as you squirm and swat at him to get away. 

“Say you’re sorry, Bambi.”

“Jungkook, I’m gonna fucking pee my pants,” you threaten.

“Not my problem,” he responds. 

You gasp and recoil when he starts tickling your neck, rendering you completely useless to do anything but suffer. Eventually, your brain returns from its momentary vacation and you find the will to fight back, grabbing his hands and pulling them away as you attempt to catch your breath. Jungkook’s smiling like the devil himself above you and you resist the urge to slap the smirk right off his handsome face.

This behavior is par for the course for you both, because you’re a brat who likes to test his limits, and he’s too competitive to let you have the last laugh. 

Jungkook stands to his full height, smirk still intact, while you struggle to slow your jackrabbiting heart. He moseys over to your bookshelf to survey its contents, and once you’re sitting up again, you chuck a throw pillow across the room at him. It meets his back before pathetically falling to the floor. Jungkook doesn’t even flinch. He just shakes his head and tsks at your feeble attempt at payback.

His fingers trace over the items occupying your bookshelf before settling on a thin rectangle and removing it from its home.

“Movie night?” 

He rests the corner of the DVD case against his head to show it off to you. You call him towards you with your hand so you can inspect the item for yourself. It houses a movie you haven’t seen in a long time, some low budget rom com with good sex scenes. Shrugging, you nod your head at him and watch as he goes to play the movie in your now ancient DVD player.

“I’ll go make popcorn,” you announce before standing and heading to the kitchen. 

Jungkook plummets into the couch and grabs your fuzzy blanket to spread over his legs. When you return with a large bowl of popcorn to share, he lifts the blanket and readjusts it to cover your legs as well. 

Neither of you pay much attention to the plot, too busy joking around when characters say stupid lines. You spend your time talking about your week and any plans for the upcoming weekend instead. Jungkook’s just finishing up his story about his boss accidentally unmuting himself on Teams when the first sex scene catches your attention. You both actually focus on the screen for the first time and Jungkook tilts his head while tonguing his cheek as the male character descends down the female character’s body and kisses her skin as he goes. 

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks as he throws a kernel of popcorn into the air and catches it with his mouth. 

“About what?” You look towards the screen. “Sex?” He nods and puts his arm behind you on the couch so he can face you. “Like, in general, or —”

“No, no,” Jungkook chuckles. “Like us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, have you thought about us having sex?”

The popcorn in your mouth goes down the wrong tube when you choke in response to his question. You hit your chest once to help it descend your esophagus before reaching for your drink on the coffee table. The time it takes you to gulp down the fizzy beverage isn’t nearly enough for you to gather your thoughts.

“Koo, what the actual fuck,” you scold him. 

“Is that a no?” He raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Because I know I have.”

“Ew, when?” 

“It’s not often, just like, every once in a while,” he explains. “I just think it would be fun! This is not me making some grandstand announcement about how I’ve always wanted you or some shit.” He readjusts so his entire body faces you directly. “Listen, we’ve done everything together. Skydiving, parasailing, swimming with dolphins, stealing from the grocery store, sneaking into the movies, you name it. Doesn’t it make sense that we should do everything before we aren’t able to anymore?”

“You forced me to go skydiving, Jungkook.” 

“That’s not the point, Bambi,” he playfully grits his teeth. “Eventually, we’re gonna settle down with our own partners and the window of opportunity will be gone. Why not try something new together while we still can?” 

Your teeth hold your bottom lip captive as your mind processes his proposal. Truthfully, you have thought about it, same as him. Not in some romantic, storybook way, but just from a perspective of knowing he’s a handsome guy with a great build and it would probably be a fun night for both of you. This conversation scares the shit out of you, though. Thinking about it is one thing, but attempting to manifest it into reality is a whole other beast. The list of things that could go wrong is longer than a CVS receipt. Then again, you and Jungkook have been through everything together and you’ve always made it out on the other side. 

“Koo, I don’t know…” you admit. “I love me some good casual sex with no feelings involved, but this is us we’re talking about.”

“Exactly!” He claps his hands together eagerly. “It’s us, probably the only two people in the whole world who nothing can come between.” Jungkook sighs and eats more popcorn from the bowl still in your lap. “I’m not trying to pressure you, Bams, I just really think we’d both have a great time. I mean, I’m hot, you’re hot, I’ve got a big dick, I’m sure your pussy is tight, what else could you want?”

You laugh at his reasoning, throwing your head back and holding the position as you blow air from your mouth. A couple anticipatory moments pass as your mind weighs the options. A large intake of air fills your lungs before you lift your head.

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Okay?”

“Okay, Koo.”

Jungkook giggles like a little kid, his feet stamping the ground repeatedly as he pumps his arms in excitement. Your laughter returns in response to his celebration, rolling your eyes affectionately at the familiar behavior of your childhood best friend.

“You said yes because I called you tight, is that it?”

Shaking your head, you push his shoulder back with your hand, using your other one to place the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. Jungkook’s eyes turn into big oases of black as his pupils dilate and conceal the normal chocolate color of his irises. You take your time straddling his thighs, your knees digging into the couch beside his hips. 

“No,” you answer him. Making a show of flipping your hair over your shoulder and bending down until you’re face to face. You avoid his lips, which are pouting slightly, to place a kiss over the tiny mole on his neck. “I said yes because you said you have a big dick and now I need to find out if that’s true,” you whisper into his ear. 

Your voice has a sultry edge you’ve never used in his presence before. Sitting back on your heels, you gaze at him with an innocent smile as you bat your eyelashes. 

Jungkook’s look of surprise is long gone, his eyes sharpening until they’re a quarter of their normal size as he stares you down. The muscles in his jaw clench and the skin of his brow creases, his eyebrows nearly kissing. Your eyes catch the thick vein in his neck pulsing with adrenaline and it makes your thighs tingle.

He laughs incredulously, running a hand through his hair as he tongues his cheek.

“Alright, so we’re doing it this way,” he muses.

In an instant, Jungkook is grabbing your hips and slamming you down into his lap. You gasp and brace yourself on his shoulders. Your reaction brings a satisfied smirk to his face, and you have the urge to roll your eyes again, but then his fingers rake into your hair and he yanks the strands to expose your throat. A needy whine passes through your lips as your neck beckons him to give it attention. He places a single, gentle kiss to your pulse point before leaving you wanting. A second noise of complaint is about to leave you when Jungkook finally starts devouring your neck with his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan quietly. 

Jungkook chuckles melodiously against the wet spots he’s leaving on you. The feeling of his warm breath on your skin forms goosebumps across your arms and sends a shiver straight down your spine. His teeth are maiming your neck as he works diligently to paint you in pretty, purple bruises shaped like his mouth. Once the artwork appears before his eyes, he licks over the mark and kisses it before moving to conquer another spot. 

Meanwhile, your hips spring into action and you start moving in languid circles across his lap. The initial plan is to keep the pressure of your movements teasingly light, but once you feel the apparent bulge forming in his pants, you can’t resist grinding down hard against his clothed cock. 

Jungkook groans responsively and bites into your skin with his canines.

Soon enough, he ceases his assault on your neck so his lips can travel across your shoulder instead. His fingers push your shirt down your arm so he can kiss and lick your skin unimpeached. You moan loudly, the rhythm of your hips picking up in tempo as he seeks out every inch of exposed skin he can.

“Fuck, I could come in my fucking pants, Bams,” he whispers. “Please don’t stop.”

His words only motivate you to push your hips into him harder. He groans again and nods his head approvingly. You agree with him internally, the friction from your underwear rubbing against your clit steadily sending you into a frenzy.

“So good, Koo.”

Jungkook hums and leans back to appreciate the portrait of his lips he’s left on you. His fingertips gently trace over the hickies and he wears a proud smile as he turns your head back and forth to examine his work. 

“You look so pretty, all marked up,” he praises. 

Pushing him down by his shoulders, you grab his face with both hands to kiss him. There’s an electric shock when your lips meet for the first time, but you aren’t sure if it’s only in your head or if he felt it, too. 

The kiss is anything but romantic. Within seconds you’re licking into his mouth and chasing his tongue while his teeth pull at your bottom lip. Jungkook moans and his fingers press down against your scalp. Tilting your head, you kiss him like he’s your only source of oxygen. Your body and mind are in overdrive, your thighs twitching with need and you need his lips to bring you back down to earth. 

He tastes sweet like the cola he was drinking and it makes your head spin. The pretty, pink, doll lips you’ve always admired are magical in the way they move. Jungkook has you trapped between his mouth and the hand on your head, but you don’t mind when he’s kissing you until your mind blanks. 

It's a scramble of fingers and hands as you undress one another as fast as humanly possible. His warm hands brush against your stomach as he lifts your top over your head. You feel his abs beneath your fingers when you tug off his shirt. Jungkook accidentally pinches your skin when unhooking your bra and you don’t even notice, too busy kissing him like your life depends on it.

When Jungkook sees your tits for the first time, he fucking loses it. His head hits the arm of the couch as it falls back, and the growl that comes from deep within his throat is fucking demonic. 

“God, you are so fucking hot,” he declares.

You’re unable to respond because he’s already wrapping his mouth around your nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, forcing the air from your lungs instantaneously. Jungkook’s tongue circles your nipple a couple times before he sucks the erect nub into his mouth, keeping the same pace with his fingers on your other breast. 

The moans coming from you are unrecognizable in comparison to your normal timbre, and they only grow in volume when Jungkook switches sides and repeats his debilitating ministrations.

Lacing your fingers through his black strands, you pull his face away from your chest to see his eyes. He barely looks like himself anymore, a scorching fire behind his usual soft gaze. The image lights you up inside, and you kiss him again hard enough that he tumbles back into the couch cushions and brings you along with him. 

His hands explore the smooth skin of your back and shoulders, massaging you with his big hands as he traverses across the previously uncharted territory. 

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook,” you tell him as you kiss his jaw. “Everything about you.”

His skin is searing hot and flushed red, the tint going all the way down his neck and chest. You take your time moving across his jawline and throat, sucking just below his ear and letting your tongue trace the perimeter of his earlobe. Descending down his torso, you kiss his collarbones and pecs while digging your nails into his abs, your ample attempt at showing him exactly what you mean by your comment. 

“Need you, Bambi, so fucking bad,” he whines.

The only acknowledgment you give him is by looking up with a devilish smirk before your hands start to unbutton his jeans. You pull them down just enough to reveal his boxers and hold his eye contact while you kiss the fabric covering his cock. Jungkook’s hips twitch and his eyes squeeze shut, an undeniably sexy groan leaving him. Your hands caress his thighs while you mouth at his boxers and you can feel him getting harder with each press of your lips.

He hurries to pull his pants down the rest of the way while you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. When you tease him by letting them snap against his hips, he hisses and you see his Adam's apple bob. His hips buck towards your face desperately, making you snicker at his attempt to create friction. 

“Patience, Koo,” you tease him. Jungkook grits his teeth at your taunt, but only a second later the tension seeps from his body when you reach into his boxers and palm him. “Let’s see if you were exaggerating or not, hmm?”

Once his boxers are gone, you realize he was, in fact, under exaggerating. He knows it, too, because when you glance up, he’s smirking with pride, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. 

“Whaddaya think?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“How about you see how much that pretty mouth of yours can take?” 

One thing about you and Jungkook is you're both competitive as hell, and you’ll be damned if his whole dick isn’t situated down your throat soon just to prove a point.

Gathering spit in your mouth, you lean directly over his hard cock and let it slowly fall from your lips to his head. You wait for the sound of Jungkook moaning before doing it again, this time actually spitting instead of letting it drip down. Your hand gathers the saliva to spread it over his head and down his shaft. Your best friend is panting above you as he studies the way you work his cock with your hand. 

Jungkook is stupid fucking big, and you genuinely fear he’ll split you in half when you fuck. Not only is his dick long, but it’s so thick your fingertips don’t touch when you grasp him. He’s rock hard and throbbing in your hold and there’s a perfect bead of precum just waiting for you to lick. 

When you do, Jungkook cries out in pleasure and it's hands down the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. He’s always been the tough one between you, and having him like puddy in your hands is more satisfying than you care to admit. 

Your tongue flattens over his slit and you groan at the taste of his cum, your mouth already watering at the thought of more coming your way. You lick around his head in one long stroke and then circle your tongue just under the sensitive ridge. Jungkook whines at the feeling of your tongue on his aching dick. Your hand is still using your self-made lubricant to glide up and down his shaft. 

“Bams, fuck,” Jungkook pants the words across staccato exhales. 

It’s nearly impossible for you to say no to the man begging for your mouth, so you finally end your teasing and take him between your lips. You suckle on his head and let more saliva drip down his shaft before removing your hand to focus solely on the movements of your mouth. Your hands hold onto his muscular thighs as you finally take him deeper into your throat.

It definitely takes time for your lips and throat to adjust to his size. Each time you slide down his cock you take more of him into your mouth until your nose hits his pelvis. You breathe through your nose and stay there for a moment, swallowing and moaning around him. 

“Oh, shit.” Jungkook looks down at you in awe, watching in wonder at the way your lips stretch around his cock. “Bambi, holy fucking shit.” 

The chuckle you release sends vibrations around Jungkook’s dick and his hips buck up responsively. You moan again and squeeze his thighs, attempting to send a message that he’s free to repeat the action. He must interpret your message accurately because you feel him forming your hair into a makeshift ponytail and thrusting his hips up. 

Jungkook would never want to hurt you, so even though his body is screaming at him to animalisticaly fuck your mouth, his thrusts are shallow and modest.

Even so, his strokes make you gag every time his tip hits the back of your throat. He’s pulling on your hair and the sensation of being used like a sex toy makes your eyes roll back. Tears form and roll down to meet the drool that’s leaking from your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you suck harder to make a tighter fit for him. He’s appreciative, growling and yanking on your hair as a thank you. 

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he warns you. Hearing his words, you massage his heavy balls in your hand to push him over the edge. A broken moan comes from above you and his hips start to lose their cadence as his orgasm nears. “Can I… your throat…”

His words are clipped, but you understand and squeeze his thigh to give him permission. Within a single moment you start tasting his cum at the back of your throat. Moaning endlessly at how good he tastes, you move your lips up and down his cock as he comes, swallowing his seed and licking him clean at the same time. 

When you’re certain you’ve stolen every last drop and sucked him dry, you come up for air with a harsh gasp.

“Holy fuck,” you curse and massage your jaw. 

Jungkook grabs your chin with his hand and makes you look at him so he can see that you’re alright. You nod assuredly and sit back on your heels. 

“That was, on God, the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jungkook states. 

You laugh and shove his chest, but he snatches your hand and pulls you towards him. He kisses you like he fucking means it, grabbing the side of your face so you can’t move an inch. Your moans meet in each other’s mouths as Jungkook sucks on your tongue to taste himself. 

“Can we move this party to the bedroom?”

Jungkook nods, his hand still caressing your face, before helping you up so you can both head to your room at the back of the apartment. When the door opens, your grey munchkin cat scurries out from behind the door. 

“Oh, Usagi, I forgot you were in there,” you say as she bolts for her scratching post. 

“Probably a good thing,” Jungkook notes, his eyes gesturing down to his dick still on display. 

You chuckle and grab his hand to lead him into the room before shutting the door behind you. He immediately takes a seat on the bed while you stay standing to pull your pants down your legs. 

Jungkook’s eyes trace the movement, his pupils blowing even wider when he sees your black lace panties and the evident wet spot on them. Reaching his hand out, you take it and stand between his legs. Your hands push his hair back, scratching at his scalp to hear the pretty moan that accompanies the movement. 

He leans forward and kisses your abdomen, just above your panties. You sigh as his lips traverse the expanse of your stomach and hips, leaving a hot, wet trail in their wake. 

“Koo, need you,” you whimper. 

The feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin of your waist makes you jump, but then he soothes the ache with his tongue. 

“You know, since you made me come already, I’m going to have to fuck you in other ways until I’m ready to go again,” he states. You hum in acknowledgment and he rests his chin against you to gaze upwards. “You gonna be able to handle that, Bams?”

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

Jungkook scoffs and turns you around, slapping your ass harshly before pulling you down into his lap. You yelp at the sudden change in position, but the feeling of his warm chest on your back makes you melt into his embrace. 

“Do you even know me at all, Bams?” He scoffs again. “How many orgasms have you had in one night before?”

“Like… three?”

“Pussy fucking numbers,” he snaps. “We’re aiming for double digits here.”

“Jungkook!” You look over your shoulder at him in shock, but his facial expression is completely serious. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m really fucking not.” 

“I’ll die.”

Jungkook just shakes his head disapprovingly and licks his lips. He grabs your jaw to turn your head, his hand diving into your hair again to hold you in place so he can ravish your mouth. His kiss has you completely hypnotized and you barely remember the conversation you were just having.

“How about we compromise and aim for five?” He suggests.

You want to kiss him too badly to muster a response, so you just hum in affirmation before turning around and bringing his lips to yours. He pulls you into him as he falls back onto the bed. Your legs return to their position on either side of his muscular thighs, and your lips work earnestly to kiss every inch of his face and jaw until they reach his neck. 

Your clothed cunt grinds over his dick as you mark him with a matching bruise to your own, the friction created by your panties making you groan. You continue to lick and torment the delicate skin of his neck while he guides your movements with his hands. 

All too soon, Jungkook stops you by grabbing your shoulder and you eye him curiously. His eyes flit around the features of your face for a minute. When he smiles in satisfaction, you know he’s got a tantalizing idea for how he’s going to make you come. 

“Sit on my face,” he commands. 

You don’t need to be told twice to get your pussy ate. 

Jungkook moves to the center of the bed and taps his chest to beckon you over. Bending to remove your panties, you look up in surprise when Jungkook halts your actions by grabbing your wrist. 

“How expensive were those?” He asks. 

“$20 maybe.”

“Leave ‘em on, I’ll buy you new ones.”

Sometimes you conveniently forget your best friend is rich until moments like these when he reminds you. 

When you and Jungkook were in college he coded and designed an entire video game in his spare time, because he’s a freaking genius, and then he sold said video game for millions of dollars. Now he works as a lead designer at the biggest video game company in the country and consistently makes six figures. 

Jungkook has a huge dick and an even bigger bank account, and here you thought God made everyone equal.

Shrugging at his instruction, you do as he says and climb onto the bed. As tactfully as possible, you maneuver your legs around Jungkook’s head and sit up on your knees so your core is a few inches above his mouth. His hands hold your hips and he takes the time to trace over your curves while looking up at your pussy slowly soaking the lace of your underwear. 

After several long moments of eager anticipation, he yanks you down by your thighs until the tip of his nose is tickling you. Your head tips back as you sigh, the feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit through your underwear satiating the craving for his touch. He presses a few chaste kisses to the black fabric as he nuzzles his nose into your cunt to give you more friction. You grip his hair beneath you as he continues to tease you with featherlight touches of his nose and mouth. 

“Koo, don’t,” you beg. 

His only reply is a hum and you feel the vibrations from it against your core. Then he bites at your underwear to give him access to your pussy before licking you from bottom to top. The fabric sinks between your folds as Jungkook’s tongue presses the panties into you and the friction feels unbelievable on your clit. 

Your hand yanks on his hair in appreciation as he continues to eat you out and use your sopping wet panties to pleasure you. 

Once he’s ready for more, his hands move towards your cunt and a loud ripping sound permeates the air. You gasp when you feel him throw your torn panties to the side before forcing your pussy down harder on his face. He collects all the essence you’re leaking with an erotic slurping sound. His tongue slides through your folds and fucks into your hole while his nose continues to apply pressure to your clit.

“Holy shit, Jungkook.”

He laughs against your pussy and slows down just enough so you can hear him.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Bams.”

Your free hand claws at the bed frame haphazardly as he eats you like it’s his goddamn job. He kisses your cunt messily, spitting into it and smearing your cum around his face along with his own salvia. His tongue travels up to your clit and the pure, unadulterated pleasure makes you scream. When he flattens the muscle against your sensitive nub you swear you’ll fall over, but his hands on your thighs are still holding you steady above him. 

“Koo, holy fuck.” Your head tips back and your nails bite into the fabric of the headboard. “Make me come, please.”

Jungkook moans responsively beneath you and dives in even deeper, licking you menacingly without reprieve while guiding your hips to ride his face. You take the hint and begin moving your hips on your own, letting your pussy press against all the outlines of his face as his tongue laps up your juices. 

He returns to your clit again and scrapes his teeth against it, causing tears to escape from your waterline as you whimper. Soothing the ache of his bite with his tongue, he slows to a tortuous pace as he kitten licks you for a while. You’re crying continuously now, your hips desperately seeking anything they can get as you move across his face in an erratic rhythm. Jungkook takes pity on you and finally sucks your clit into his mouth before moaning so he can send you right over the edge.

Your hand sinks further into Jungkook’s hair and your nails scratch his scalp as you come all over his face. The bedframe rocks from how hard you’re holding on while your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. Absolute, unbridled euphoria moves through you and makes your eyes roll back. 

Jungkook continues to lick your cunt until you jump from the oversensitivity and move away from his face. You hear a disappointed groan as you crash onto the bed beside him. 

“You taste so fucking good, Bams,” he tells you. “I could do that all fucking night.”

Chest swelling with pride, you’re about to reply when you feel something against your back and frown in confusion. The scratchy material rubs awkwardly against you and you bend away from it to grab it. 

Your soaked, ripped panties dangle from your fingers as you click your tongue and throw them into the trash can. 

“You’re a fucking gremlin,” you note.

Jungkook doesn’t respond to your statement, he just maintains eye contact while moving to kneel before pulling you closer by the waist. The pretty vision of him above you makes your breath hitch. 

His hand travels ostentatiously from your neck all the way down to your hip, lighting an internal fire within you wherever his touch goes. You wait with bated breath as his fingers dance across your skin until they reach your center. Jungkook deliberately teases you, his fingertips just barely touching your clit before moving away again.

You hiss and grab his wrist so his hand can’t move towards your pussy again.

“What?” Jungkook smiles down at you with a tilt of his head. “You’re not ready for more yet? We’re only at one of five, Bambi, we’ve got a lot more work to do.” He twists his hand out of your hold and presses down on your clit. You whimper and silently beg him with your eyes. “Plus, I’m an overachiever, so you know five is really going to be more like seven.”

“Seven?”

“Ilgop.”

“Fuck, don’t speak Korean to me right now. You know how hot it gets me.”

Jungkook giggles, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You smile at the sound and run your fingers through his hair. 

He takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, and you instinctively lean your head away to give him more of you. His lips caress you gently for a while, but then he growls against your throat and grabs your jaw to hold you still. Your gasp settles into a moan and Jungkook takes it as a cue to continue playing with your pussy. His fingers circle your clit and your noises become even needier. He dips into your folds to collect your cum so he can rub over your nerve endings and it nearly expels all the air from your lungs. 

Jungkook  touches you like he’s done it a million times already and that thought alone leaves you breathless. 

“Koo, baby, please,” you whimper in a tone even you don’t recognize. Jungkook’s big, boba eyes are back when he captures your gaze to wordlessly ask what you’re begging him for. “I don’t want to come. I want you.”

A dazzling smile appears on Jungkook’s lips, and a pretty, pink blush spreads across his cheeks and turns the tips of his ears red. 

“Alright, Bambi,” he responds with a peck. “Condom?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for more kisses.

“I’m on birth control.”

Jungkook kisses you again before you can do so yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod against his lips. “Want you raw, Koo.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook chuckles. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Jungkook goes to pump his cock with his hand, but before he has the chance, you bring his palm to your lips and spit into it. He groans, his eyes rolling back, as he reaches down and uses your spit to fuck his hand. 

Your eyes follow the movement of his wrist jerking himself off. It’s honestly mouthwatering to watch his thick cockhead push past his fingers as he gets himself hard again for you. 

He kisses your shoulder and collarbone, then licks up your neck until he reaches your ear. His teeth softly sink into the cartilage. 

“You ready for me, Bams?” 

His deep voice melts your insides into goo and forces your brain into another frequency. Everything is static except for the feeling of his body hovering above yours. 

All you do is nod your head in response to his question.

Jungkook’s tip pushes past your tight circle of nerves and already you feel too full to function. A wanton gasp and whimper follow the intrusion as he slowly enters you for the first time. Your nails create crescents on his shoulders as you inhale through your nose to relieve the pressure in your core.

“Koo… you’re so fucking big,” you whine. 

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. 

He kisses your temple appreciatively. 

By the time his entire cock is deep within your walls, his pelvis pressing against your own, you already feel yourself losing it. Jungkook fills you up completely, and you can barely bring yourself to exhale the air you’re holding in. 

“Fuck, Bambi, are you a virgin or some shit?”

“You know damn well I’m not a virgin,” you grit.

Jungkook groans deeply as his head falls forward and his hair tickles your cheeks when he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Then what the fuck are you so fucking tight for?” 

You loudly hum and pretend to think it over before glancing at him with a sultry tilt of your head.

“I think my pussy’s just that good,” you say. Pulling his face down so it’s only centimeters away, you let your lips brush for a split second before replying. “And it’s all yours, Jungkook. So fuck me like you mean it.”

Jungkook rears back and ferociously thrusts into you before your next breath can even exit your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

A sinister chuckle comes from your best friend.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Any semblance of control is forcefully taken away when Jungkook grabs your hands and slams them into the mattress above your head. Simultaneously, he begins pumping his cock into you at a disastrous pace and you can’t do anything but incoherently moan. 

There’s no adjustment period, no slow-moving start. Jungkook is already fucking you like a goddamn ragdoll made solely for his pleasure. 

“Koo, oh my fucking God,” you cry. It’s barely been a minute and hot, salty tears are already streaming down your face. 

Jungkook kisses you and his moans filter into your mouth. His grip on your hands is bruising and it makes you whimper pathetically against his lips.  

“Jungkook,” you sob as he abuses your pussy. 

“Shh, shh.” He kisses you gently. “You can take it.” He kisses your cheek and up the side of your face. “I got you, Bams.”

You keen and your hands clasp around Jungkook’s in an effort to protect whatever’s left of your sanity. 

His cock is buried in your pussy but you swear you feel yourself choking on him in your throat. Everytime his tip kisses your cervix you fear being split in two and yet there’s nothing you want more than for him to continue. You want him to rip you in half if it means feeling this full. He’s combining his strokes with a grind of his hips and it makes your cunt greedy for him, sucking him inside and squeezing his cock so he’ll never leave again. 

Jungkook is throbbing and scorching hot inside you and the heat travels from your pussy throughout your entire body, lighting a fire in your bones and between your muscles that only he has the ability to stifle. 

Your senses are amped up to ten and you scream over how deep he’s sending his dick into you. 

The fire escapes externally when Jungkook releases your hands to explore your body instead. They travel down your entire outline until they find your hips and he tilts them upwards to create a new angle. 

“Fuck, I always knew your pussy would feel this good,” he grunts. “You’re a fucking dream.”

The combination of the closer angle and Jungkook’s praises genuinely turns you to ruins, scattering pieces of your soul around and covering them in ivy. You kiss him again even though you know there’s no use, you’re shattered already. You devour his mouth, responding to his compliment through the movement of your lips instead of the words your body can’t produce at the moment. 

Your fingers tilt his head so you can mouth at his sharp jaw, letting your tongue slide across his skin as he growls in your ear. Alternating between biting and kissing, you soak his honey skin in your spit and listen for the moans coming from deep within his chest. 

“You feel so good, Koo,” you whisper into his ear. “Your cock fills me up so fucking well.”

“Shit,” he grunts. Jungkook grabs your thighs and pulls them up higher until you’re practically bent in half, your knees next to his shoulders. “So fucking good. You take me like a fucking champ, Bambi.”

Jungkook slows his pace by a hair, but only so he can thrust into you harder. Each clap of your skin connecting pulls a pornographic moan from your throat. You feel his balls slapping against your ass and the way your bodies are pressing together adds just the right amount of pressure on your clit. 

It makes for a mind boggling combination that has your brain disintegrating into nothingness. 

Your next orgasm is looming just around the corner. It builds inside you like a rollercoaster slowly moving up the track. Jungkook ups his pace again when he feels the telltale signs of your cunt pulsing and tightening around him like a vice. 

“Cream my cock, Bams,” he commands. “C’mon, beautiful.”

A splintering gasp chokes you as you obey and come around his dick, coating his entire shaft in white essence. 

The climax is brain chemistry altering. It feels as though your blood is ablaze and your heart can’t beat fast enough to push it through your body. Your legs clamp around his waist as they shake and convulse from the pleasure. All the while, Jungkook continues fucking his cock into your hole and sending you straight into oversensitivity subspace. 

You’re still catching your breath when you grab Jungkook tightly by the shoulder to halt his movements. He looks at you with curious eyes, but he doesn’t completely stop, just slows down significantly and thrusts shallowly into you.

“Wanna ride you, Koo,” you tell him. “Wanna make you come so you can stuff me and watch it drip out.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, his teeth grinding together. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to bust!”

You laugh mischievously as he grabs you by the waist to flip you both over. Your bodies are only parted for a mere moment before you’re sinking back down onto his dick and scratching at his pecs with your nails. 

“Oh my God, I didn’t think it was possible for you to reach any further inside me,” you note.

“Of course, Bambi, gonna rearrange your fucking guts,” Jungkook proudly states.

It’s disturbing how exciting the thought of that is.

The rhythm of your hips is nowhere near as monstrous, letting his cock slowly leave your cunt before feeling him fill you up again one inch at a time. Using his chest to stabilize yourself, your thighs work religiously to bounce and fuck yourself on him. You look towards the ceiling, a groan rising from your throat due to his thick cock pressing against your walls and hitting just the right spot inside you. 

Jungkook reaches up to play with your tits dangling over his face, massaging them in his big hands before pushing them together. His fingers pinch your nipples until they’re pebbled and stiff. He leans forward to take one into his mouth and you have to grab onto his hair for support. 

He smacks your ass and you yelp, but you understand the message he’s trying to send and pick up the pace. You push him back down and lean over so your hard nipples are pressing against the heat of his chest. 

“Atta girl,” he praises with another stinging slap of his hand on your ass. His digits make a home in your hair again and he uses the leverage to force you to stare into his eyes. “Pussy s’fucking good, Bams.” Jungkook kisses across your neck torturously slow before speaking again. “So fucking tight, warm, wet… could stay in here for-fucking-ever.”

“Koo,” you whisper breathlessly.

Your hips swivel in desperation to send his dick as deep as it can go, honestly hoping your guts do part for him so his cock can nestle permanently inside you. 

“You gonna come again?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good,” he speaks into your ear. “Come on my big, fat cock, babygirl.”

The moan you let out is the most humiliating sound to ever come from your body. 

Luckily, no more are able to escape because Jungkook kisses you senseless. His tongue shoves into your mouth and licks around your own as you bounce on him as fast as your thighs will allow. He perpetuates your efforts by grasping your hips and rolling his own against you. It creates the perfect amount of friction on your clit and sends you tumbling into a pool of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

You weep over the intensity of your orgasm while he continues kissing you. Not wanting to lose an ounce of momentum, Jungkook takes over for you as your orgasm paralyzes your mind. 

He fucks you relentlessly to bring about his own climax and the sound of your skin clapping together is so loud you worry it will shake your doorframe and alert the neighbors. 

“Gonna fill you up, Bams,” he warns you. 

He thrusts hard once, twice, sending his cock so deep you swear you see your stomach bulge, and then he grunts and a strangled cry breaks from his lips as he paints your pussy with his cum.

The heat of it makes your eyes roll into your skull.

You kiss him through the come down, slowly traversing across the bottom half of his face and scraping his jaw with your teeth. He moans weakly, the hand still in your hair moving down to your neck and squeezing it affectionately. You make out as he goes flaccid within you, the mixture of your juices slowly dripping out and soaking your thighs. 

Jungkook grabs your ass in both hands and massages the fatty flesh like he owns it, giving you one final spank to tint your skin red in the shape of his hand.

“Jungkook,” you mumble against his lips. “That was s’fucking good.”

A prideful chuckle meets your ears as Jungkook rests his head against the pillows to gaze up at you. 

“Yeah? Told you we’d have fun,” he brags. 

Lifting yourself off of him, you curse at the sticky mess between your legs. In one motion, you swing your leg over Jungkook’s thighs and fall down next to him with a bounce. You’ll worry about the sheets being drenched in the morning. 

Jungkook grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles before holding it against his heart thumping wildly in his chest. 

“Thanks for trying something new with me, Bams,” he says sincerely. 

Your eyes meet with twin smiles. Running your fingers through his hair, you tuck a piece behind his ear and lean in to give him a final peck of gratitude. 

It takes a minute for your body to stop screaming at you so you can stand. When you head for the bathroom, Usagi meows angrily from her spot just beyond the door. You coo at her and bend down to scratch under her chin.

“I’m sowwy, baby,” you apologize to the little creature. 

She saunters right past you to hop on the bed and curl up next to Jungkook who’s covering his bare body with your comforter. His eyes light up when he sees her approaching and he bends down to kiss her little head repeatedly until she meows at him to stop. 

You return from the bathroom in a large sleep shirt fresh from the dryer and toss a pair of equally fresh sweats to Jungkook. Both items are originally his, anyway. 

He eyes you knowingly when he clocks the familiar article of clothing. His tongue clicks with a single shake of his head before he’s slipping the pants on and securing them around his hips.

“You want me to sleep on the couch like usual?” He asks with his arms behind his head. 

You scoff affectionately.

“You already look pretty comfortable right there, Koo,” you retort.

“Oh, I am.” He pets Usagi dramatically as she purrs. “And Usagi wants me here, you can’t so no to her!” 

“You’re right, I can’t.”

Jungkook lifts the covers so you can join him in the snuggle puddle he and your cat are partaking in. You make yourself comfortable beneath the sheets and he mirrors you, much to Usagi’s chagrin since she’s sequestered to the foot of the bed to accommodate the extra body. 

It takes you all of thirty seconds to fall asleep once your head hits the pillow, and Jungkook is already halfway into dreamland himself when you do. 

You wake with a pounding headache and unbelievably sore thighs. Groaning at the aches and pains, you leave your bed and attempt to walk normally even though you feel like you got fucked by a semitruck instead of your best friend. It’s a mess of stumbling feet and running into furniture corners as you groggily head to the kitchen for some pain pills. 

Grabbing some for Jungkook after swallowing your own, you head back and set them along with a water bottle on your nightstand for when he wakes up. 

The smell of breakfast must coax Jungkook back into the land of the living because he stumbles out from your bedroom soon after it’s ready. You laugh at the way his hair sticks up in a million directions and his eyes barely open. 

“Morning, sunshine,” you sing-song.

He only greets you with a wave as he heads towards your bathroom. 

When he emerges again he looks slightly more put together, at least, you can see his big, brown eyes again as he makes his way to you.

“Morning,” he says. 

“Brekkie?”

You push a plate of assorted breakfast food towards him before turning around to place your own in the sink. He eats with that lovable scowl on his face which indicates you successfully cooked him a worthwhile meal. 

Neither of you bring up the events which took place last night because you don’t need to, there’s no unspoken tension or uncomfortable vibes floating around. Jungkook was right when he said nothing can come between you, and as fun as it was, now everything just goes back to normal.

It does not stay normal for long.

ONE

Women are beautiful, complex, intricate beings, whose bodies and minds can do extraordinary things. Women can move mountains when they strive to and you’re proud to call yourself one. 

Simultaneously, they can be dumbasses who can’t remember when their last period was. 

While sitting at your desk typing up a bullshit report for some bullshit exec who can’t be bothered to read his own emails, you open the drawer on your left. It houses all your office essentials like pens, tape, paper clips, and tampons. 

Your head tilts as you examine the colorful packaging you haven’t seen in a while. There seems to be a lot of them, especially since you usually run out and have to restock halfway through hell week.

Glancing up at your calendar, you count the weeks backwards and then flip it one month prior to check the exact date. 

You laugh aloud to yourself, because, surely, you just forgot to mark the calendar like you always do and you don’t remember restocking the tampons after your period ended. That must be the case because there’s no way in hell you’re two weeks late. It’s simply an impossibility and abundantly more plausible that your memory is failing you rather than your body. 

The skin of your lower lip is bitten raw as your eyes flit between the calendar and the menstrual products which are both staring into your soul. If they could speak, you think they’d be saying “we know what you did.” 

Pushing away from your desk, you take a deep breath and decide the best course of action is to walk around the office. 

Maybe seeing the inside of a bathroom stall will jog your memory of the last time you were bleeding, or passing by the kitchen will force you to recall when you last grabbed some extra candies from the community bowl. 

It’s all for nought. Your excursion around the building is an utter failure, and suddenly the walls of the office feel as though they’re closing in on you. 

Deciding to head home after lunch because you can’t focus anyway, you stop at the corner store by your house and grip your purse strap to stop your hands from shaking as you enter the women’s health aisle. The hundreds of pregnancy tests glare at you from their place on the shelf and you have to sink your teeth into your battered lower lip again to stop anxious tears from forming. 

This must be some horrible nightmare, you tell yourself. You’re gonna wake up and realize you fell asleep at your desk because your job is just that boring. The sharp pinch you apply to your arm forces you to stop lying to yourself.

Groaning in frustration, you analyze both the brands and prices of the demonic little fortune tellers and choose two each from multiple different brands because you need to be real fucking sure. 

You’re two years shy of thirty and you still feel like you’re having a teen pregnancy scare. 

The woman behind the counter is smiling as she places the tests into a bag. It’s probably because she believes you’ll be ecstatic about a positive result and run straight home to tell your husband. Most women your age would be doing so, but you don’t have a husband, you have a childhood best friend who you decided to hook up with for funsies. 

The abundant traffic you hit on the way home only makes your swirling whirlpool of nerves worse, and by the time you’re unlocking your apartment door and rushing to the bathroom, your lip is bleeding from how much skin you’ve ripped. 

You bought six tests, like a crazy person, and so it takes a couple minutes for you to successfully pee on all of them and place them on the counter with their caps on. Setting your phone timer for three minutes, you sit on the toilet seat to wait the eternity of 180 seconds. 

The anticipation eats away at your insides like sulfuric acid, and your leg bounces forcefully as though you’re going through withdrawal. 

Your mind is somersaulting over itself and flopping on the ground like a fish out of water as you wonder how this is even possible. You’re on birth control, and you checked your pills before leaving work; you didn’t miss a single one. 

There’s always the horror stories about the unlucky .01% of women whose contraceptives fail due to stress or poor health, but you don’t think that applies to you. Sure, you don’t join Jungkook at the gym, and work makes you wanna pull your hair out, but you feel great most days. 

The timer derails your train of thought with an incessant buzz. Glancing at the counter, you reach for one of the tests with shaking hands as you pray for the right result. 

Once you find the courage to actually look, your heart stops, and when you stand to see your plethora of pregnancy tests side by side, your eyes bulge from your skull. 

Staring back at you like the fates themselves are three matching sets of a plus sign, two parallel lines, and the word “pregnant.”

Hands slapping against your mouth, you gasp into your palms as reality forces its way into the bathroom with you. Your eyes squeeze shut as tears break from the confines of your waterline. You shake your head a couple times, trying to get your mind files back into their rightful places. It doesn’t work, and all the papers which make up your consciousness go flying all over the place. 

The cacophony of emotions on top of your disembodied mind forces your senses to scramble and discombobulate. 

You’re scared, worried, sad, confused, and shocked, but somewhere inside you’re happy, too. Being a mom is a huge dream of yours and even if it’s unexpected, it’s still a dream come true. 

Unfortunately, happiness is the lowest emotion on the totem pole, and your negative emotions are much closer to the surface. 

Running your hands down your face, you gaze at the tests as a sob shakes through you. You brace your hands on the counter and allow yourself to cry through all of the emotions. The heavy tears drop into the sink below you one by one as you decide what to do next.

First things first, you have to tell the baby’s father.

“Fuck, he’s gonna fucking kill me.” Tipping your head back to send the loose tears back from whence they came, you blow air from your mouth and close your eyes. “He’s gonna hate me. He’s gonna lose his shit and never wanna see me again and I’m gonna —” A sob slices through your windpipe and causes your voice to break. “I’m gonna lose him.”

You hug your knees and let yourself freefall until your butt meets the tile. The floor is cold and your muscles ache from the force of your crash into the ground, but it serves as a momentary distraction from your mental anguish. The sound of your sorrow fills the space as you take heaving breaths and soak your jeans with tears. Usagi scratches at the door and the sound of her little paws calling for you breaks your heart.

Stretching towards the door, you reach and turn the doorknob just enough for it to open. 

You watch fondly as your cat’s little legs carry her to your side. When she reaches you, she jumps into your lap and curls into an adorable ball of love. Fresh tears fall over the sweet affection she’s giving you, and you bend down to kiss her and rub your face in her fur.

“You’re gonna be a big sister, Usagi,” you tell her. 

Eventually, you calm down enough to stand and find your phone. You don’t think you can handle Jungkook’s voice right now, so you text him to come over whenever he’s free. He replies within a few minutes saying he’s got one more meeting and then he’ll be there. You mindlessly stare at his text message as anxiety simmers in your gut. This might just be the one thing that finally comes between you two. 

When Jungkook arrives you’re pacing in a trance around the living room. He unlocks the door with his key and kicks it open since his hands are full with takeout containers. Your eyes threaten to water when you realize he’s bringing you dinner without you asking. 

Your best friend is thoughtful, deliberate, and so, so kind, and here you are about to shatter his world as he knows it.

At the very second his two feet step into your apartment, you scurry across the floor and throw your arms around his neck. He takes an involuntary step back and drops the bags when you barrel into him, a deep chuckle coming from his chest that you feel against your own. 

“Bams?” 

You manhandle the emotions trying to escape back into their cages. You want, no, need, at least one more moment with him as you are now, before everything changes forever.

His arms wrap around you on instinct, one of his hands resting on the back of your head to cradle you closer. 

“Sorry,” you say as you reluctantly let go. “Rough day.”

“Well, I brought kimchi fried rice, so it can’t be that rough,” he jokes. 

You fake a smile and nod in agreement before grabbing one of the containers to bring it to the kitchen. Once he places the second one down, you tap your nails against the countertop and contemplate whether or not to wait. Jungkook, clearly oblivious to your turmoil, is already moving towards the fridge to grab a drink before sitting on the couch. It’s now or never, you suppose.

Each step you take to stand across from him feels like trudging through concrete and the overwhelming anxiety is gnawing at you like a wild animal. The notion that this could be the last time you see him smiling at you or have the ability to hear him laugh is debilitating.

You click your heels once you’re opposite him on the other side of the coffee table. He raises an eyebrow at you in a silent question, but you ignore his confusion and fill your lungs with the charged air.

“I’m pregnant.”

You didn't know silence could be so deafening. 

Jungkook’s cola bottle falls from his hands onto the floor with a plastic boing sound. The noise feels inappropriate for the tension of the room. His pupils are shaking as his eyes grow in size exponentially and the skin between his eyebrows creases as his lips part. Even from here you can see his mouth’s run completely dry. 

You take another deep breath, but you aren’t able to stop your emotions from leaking out anymore. 

“And I’m really, really scared,” you say as your voice breaks. 

Jungkook immediately snaps out of his daze when he hears your tone of voice, all of his previously tense features softening as he stands to reach you. 

The next thing you know, his warm hands are caressing your cheeks as he brushes the tears away.

“Hey, hey, Bambi,” he whispers. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” You cry harder at the gentle nature of his voice, like he’s worried he’ll break you if he talks too loud. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me, alright? We’ve got each other. That's all that matters.”

“You aren’t mad?” 

“Mad?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. “You thought I would be mad at you, Bams?” You nod as best you can with your face caught between his hands. Jungkook frowns deeply. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because… because my birth control fucking failed and now we’re… we’re gonna be parents and —”

“That’s not your fault,” Jungkook interrupts. “I’m the one who creampied you, Bambi.”

“Yeah, but I told you to.”

“Oh, I assure you, I would’ve asked if you hadn’t.”

Despite your current emotional state, you laugh at his explanation. Your tears slowly, but surely, subside after a few more minutes. Gripping his wrists, you remove his hands from your face and hold them instead. 

“I’m still sorry,” you say quietly. 

“Don’t apologize,” he responds, then tilts your chin up. “You’re gonna make me a dad, Bams. That’s nothing to apologize for.”

The sigh of relief you exhale is exuberant. A smile creeps onto your face and Jungkook mirrors the expression before a mischievous grin appears instead. 

He encompasses your waist and lifts you into the air in one swoop, you screech at the sudden movement and koala him to keep yourself from falling. He giggles incessantly as he spins you both around in circles in the middle of your living room. 

“Koo! Put me down!”  

He obeys after a moment, but not before bending his knees to dip you down towards the floor. You squeal until a fit of laughter overtakes you as he slowly brings you both back up to his full height. 

“I’m so happy, Bams, you have no idea,” he tells you wholeheartedly. 

Once the laughter subsides, you inhale fondly and caress his jaw with one of your hands.

“Me, too,” you admit. 

A full blown bunny smile greets you and Jungkook nuzzles his nose against yours, making you giggle and blush a rosy pink hue. When your feet are on the earth again, you head for the kitchen, but Jungkook stops you with a hand to your forearm.

“Can I…” Jungkook begins to ask, his eyes glancing towards your stomach. 

“Can you what, Koo?” 

“Can I, ya know, touch?” 

Looking down at your stomach, which is still identical to its normal size, you raise an eyebrow at him, but find yourself nodding yes anyway.

He giggles delightfully and places his palm over your abdomen, where soon enough you’ll have a baby bump. 

“Man, this is fucking awesome.” You find yourself chuckling at his excitement over literally nothing at all yet. “Can I come to your doctor’s appointments?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to go to them without you,” you answer. “I still have to make the first one. I only took the tests a couple hours ago.” 

“Were you alone?” He’s frowning as he asks, regret evident in his tone. 

“Usagi was there.”

Jungkook scoffs, chuckling knowingly as he shakes his head and follows you into the kitchen. 

You eat together as though you didn’t just deliver life alternating news. Which honestly, is the only outcome that ever would’ve come to fruition. Perhaps the staggering emotions of finding out you’re pregnant made you forget just how much you two love and care for each other. Your friendship is backed by nearly three decades of time spent together, and even something as massive as a baby can’t shake that foundation. 

What might shake the foundation of a house is the screams of joy your mothers are going to let out when you tell them. They’ve been begging you for a shared grandchild since you graduated college. 

Jungkook is supportively holding your hand as you two stand on the front porch of your house, which is conveniently down the street from his house, because that’s just how close your parents are. You can’t blame them, you’re sure you and Jungkook will be the same one day, especially now. 

The memories of your childhood are flooding through your mind while you stand in the familiar location. It gets you thinking about all the new memories you’ll make with your own child one day. 

Releasing the tension from your neck, you nod at Jungkook to let him know you’re ready. He returns the gesture and lets go of your hand to knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, it’s his mother’s face who comes into view from the other side of the screen door.

“Oh, Kookie! What are you two doing here?” She asks cheerfully.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” Jungkook asks as he hugs her. 

“Oh, you know I practically live here.”

You laugh, knowing how right she is, and give her a big, bear hug. Her comforting presence always eases your anxieties, especially now when you’re worried about their reaction to your news. 

She guides you through the house as though it’s her own and leads you into the kitchen where your mom is cooking dinner. You greet her with a hug and kiss on the cheek as she stirs the pot on the stove. Jungkook follows suit, resting his head on her shoulder as he hugs her side. 

Your mom tells you she’s nearly done and to go sit. She joins you a few minutes later after turning the stove off and removing the food from the heat.

“Seriously, kids, what did you come all this way for?” Jungkook’s mom asks once you’re all sitting around the kitchen table. 

“It’s not that far,” you say. 

“No, but you two never show up unannounced like this,” your mom states. 

“We have something to tell you,” Jungkook says. 

His hand finds yours under the table and gives it a comforting squeeze, out of the eyesight of your mothers. Your petrified eyes flicker towards him, but he just nods and smiles reassuringly at you. You lick your lips and sit up as a way of giving yourself a moment of reprieve before you change the entire atmosphere of the home. 

“I’m pregnant,” you announce. “We’re having a baby.”

“WE?” They scream in unison. 

You instantly lose all their attention. They’re too busy screaming like school girls while clasping their hands together and shaking them in excitement. You and Jungkook share a sideways glance and have to suppress a laugh. 

“When did this happen? How long have you been dating?” Your mom asks.

Both your faces pale at her question, not thinking far enough ahead to prepare for these types of inquiries.

“Um, we’re not,” you tell her. 

“What do you mean, you’re not? How did you get pregnant then?”

Jungkook awkwardly clears his throat and messes with the collar of his shirt as tension fills the room. Never in a million years did you think you’d be talking about your and Jungkook’s sexscapades with your moms. 

“We just hooked up, a one time thing,” you answer. 

“So, you’re not together?” His mom wonders. You both shake your heads, hating the look of disappointment that crosses their features. “Are you gonna try?”

“Maybe… maybe one day, Mom,” Jungkook answers. “But right now we just wanna focus on being the best parents we can be.” 

They reluctantly accept his answer before moving onto all the nitty gritty details like asking when your next appointment is, if you’re going to find out the gender, etc. 

The four of you eat dinner together but unfortunately, your dads are away on a fishing trip together, so you don’t get to tell them the news tonight. Your moms promise to relay their reactions to you through the phone upon their return. 

With your parents out of the way, your friends are up next to bat, but you don’t expect that announcement to go as well as this one. 

Your first gynecologist appointment is the following week, and you and Jungkook both take the day off from work so you can go together. It’s pretty nerve wracking, but you’re mostly excited to see the first ultrasound pictures of your little peanut. 

Jungkook drives you to the appointment in his black Mercedes Benz and it lowkey makes you feel like his knocked up sugar baby. He didn’t grow up with money, so he’s still humble, but he definitely enjoys splurging on his choice of car, if anything. It’s certainly not a bad thing to be having a kid with someone who’s financially well off, but you hate taking advantage of Jungkook’s wealth even when he offers. 

He reverses the car into a parking spot, his arm moving to the headrest behind you as he looks over his shoulder to fit in the space. Upon exiting the car, you come around the hood where Jungkook is waiting for you with his hand out. You take it without a second thought and lace his fingers with yours as you walk into the dauntingly large medical building together. 

Your foot rapidly taps against the elevator as it inches up to the third floor. When the doors open after what feels like an eternity, the office can only be described as a haven for expecting mothers.

Everywhere in sight there are women with swollen bellies of varying degrees, most of them accompanied by their doting partners. As you scan the room, you notice one thing in common with almost all of them; they all have big, shiny rings on their fingers. 

You pout instinctually, green envy coating your insides. It’s not as though you’ve been hunting for a husband, it’s honestly been the last thing on your mind, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t jealous they have spouses and you have a baby daddy. You love Jungkook, more than anything in the world, and there isn’t anyone else you can imagine having a kid with, but it’s not the same as these men and women looking at their pregnant partners like they hung the stars in the sky. 

Jungkook notices your unintentional scowl and tugs on your hand to grab your attention. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you just shake your head and proceed towards the reception desk. 

“Hi, an appointment under Jeon,” you tell the woman behind the desk. You hear Jungkook make a noise of curiosity from beside you. “Figured we should do everything under the baby’s last name, it’s simpler that way.”

“The baby’s gonna have my last name?” 

His eyes sparkle with wonder and your heart soars.

“Yeah, you’re the dad, Koo.”

“I know, but I thought since we aren’t together —”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s baby Jeon, a hundred percent.” 

He smiles so big his eyes disappear and his bunny teeth make an appearance. You roll your eyes affectionately before turning your attention back to the receptionist as she hands you a clipboard with some paperwork to complete.  

Both of you have to call your respective mothers at one point while filling out the extensive medical history forms. Once the twenty or so pages are complete, Jungkook returns it to the receptionist before joining you again in the waiting room. You sit with identical bouncing knees as the minutes tick by in heavy anticipation.

When your name is finally called, the two of you leap up and hurry over to the nurse who’ll lead you to the observation room.

They take some vitals, draw your blood for the formal pregnancy test, and go over the paperwork, getting the more mundane, administrative details out the way before handing you a gown and instructing you to lay down for the ultrasound. 

Jungkook excitedly rubs his palms together and stomps his feet when the nurse leaves and you get ready to see your baby for the first time. 

Ever the gentleman, he looks everywhere but at you as you strip to put the gown on, which is so adorable you almost combust. He put a baby in you and yet he’s respectful enough to look away when you undress in front of him, what a fucking doll. 

Your feet tap an unknown melody against the stirrups as you wait and Jungkook scrolls on his phone absentmindedly. The doctor alerts you with a short knock before opening the door and popping her head in.

“Hi, you guys,” she greets you. She shakes Jungkook’s hand and then yours before rolling a stool over to sit between your legs. “How are you both doing?”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Good, good,” she smiles. “So, great news, you are indeed pregnant! Based on your hormone levels it looks like you’re about eight weeks along.”

Even though you know the exact date and time your baby was conceived, the sensual moment permanently etched into your memory, and it’s impossible to be anything else besides divine intervention, you still sigh in relief over everything lining up as it should. 

“Before we get to the ultrasound, I just want to go over a couple things that I always do with new parents, alright?” 

“Sure,” you agree with a smile. 

“Okay, we won’t be discussing labor and delivery until you’re a little farther along because there’s a lot to take in at first and it can be pretty overwhelming,” she explains. “I just want to make sure you both are in a good place, have everything you need from me, and availability to any resources you may need during this time.” She looks at you expectantly and you nod your head to convey you understand. “Alright, so tell me a little bit about yourselves.”

You gesture towards Jungkook and he points to his chest with his hand. When you nod, he clears his throat and sits up straighter.

“Hi, Jungkook, she calls me Koo,” he starts. “I’m a head video game designer and have a house just outside the city. I have a Doberman named Bam. I box in my free time… not sure what else you need to know.”

“No, that’s great,” she reassures him. She turns her attention to you.

“I’m Y/N, but he calls me Bambi, and don’t ask, we can’t remember why,” you laugh. “I’m an administrative assistant and rent an apartment in the city and have a munchkin cat named Usagi. In my free time I read, mostly.”

“So, you two don’t live together?” You both shake your heads. “Are you exes, just haven’t moved in together yet, something else?” 

“Best friends,” you tell her. Then, because it’s confusing for most people that you’re pregnant with your best friend’s baby, you continue. “We decided to have some fun one night and now we’re gonna be having fun together for the next 18 years.”

She laughs lightheartedly at your story.

“Alright, I like the sound of that. You’re supposed to be going through this with your best friend, anyway,” she says. “How long have you known one another?”

“I was strapped in a baby carrier to my mom’s chest in the hospital room while she was being born,” Jungkook states.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah,” you add.

“Well, that’s great, you two! You’ve got a long history together and that can only make for wonderful teamwork.”

There are some more details you discuss regarding the first trimester and the vitamins you’ll be taking. You go over the common symptoms for this time frame and how best to remedy them. Once that’s settled, she finally pulls out the ultrasound machine and you get jittery just from the sight. You’re so eager to see your baby and when Jungkook joins you by your side, he radiates the same energy. He’s sitting to your left now and you bend your arm up to hold his hand. Jungkook smiles at your actions and clasps his hand around yours with a tight squeeze. 

Jumping when you feel the cool gel on your skin, you ignore the novel sensation and wait impatiently for the image of your baby to appear on the monitor. 

Before you see anything, a steady, rhythmic thumping plays throughout the room. 

You and Jungkook gasp in unison.

“And that’s a heartbeat,” the doctor says with a big smile. 

Jungkook rests his head on yours and your free hand wraps around to tousle his hair affectionately. 

The visual on the screen doesn’t make much sense at first, but then the doctor pauses her movements along your abdomen and clicks the keyboard to take some still shots. 

“So, this is your baby,” she says while pointing to the small peanut shape amongst all the black and white fuzziness. “They’re about the size of a kidney bean right now.”

“A kidney bean!” Jungkook cheers. “How flippin’ cute.”

You giggle while glancing back at him. His starry eyes are shining and glossy while he admires the monitor showing him his future child.

“Are you two going to find out the gender? That will happen at your twelve-week follow up.”

“No, we’re gonna keep it a surprise,” you answer. 

“Great choice, it’s always so fun that way.”

She points out a couple more things on the ultrasound before turning the machine off and printing the pictures she took, making sure to print two copies so you and Jungkook can each have one. 

When you peek at him once the doctor leaves so you can get dressed, he’s staring at the photos while his thumb gently traces over the shiny paper right where your baby is. You feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but keep them under control with a sniffle and scrunch of your nose.

TWO

You have two main friend groups, one which is mutual with Jungkook, consisting of six other guys and three girls besides yourself, and another group of all girls, four of them in addition to you. Sometimes you mix the groups, and they all get along just fine, some better than others, wink wink, but usually you see them on separate occasions. 

Tonight is monthly wine night with your girls, which, of course, you won’t be partaking in, although you plan on faking it. 

You’re unsure about telling your friends just yet. It’s been nice having this sweet little secret just between you and Jungkook, thoroughly enjoying the whispers of excitement you share as you admire your miniature baby bump together. Of course, that enthusiasm is shared between you and your mothers who message you daily for updates. 

The bump forming over your womb isn’t noticeable in the slightest unless you’re wearing something abhorrently tight, and even then, you look bloated at best. So, you can easily get away with hiding your little bundle of joy for a few more weeks. 

It’s a fact the girls will be absolutely ecstatic for you and completely supportive, so it’s not fear holding you back. Maybe judgment? The circumstances of your pregnancy are far from ordinary and you don’t want a lecture from anyone regarding your questionable choices. Your friends adore Jungkook, since they’ve known him as long as they’ve known you, and they’re fully aware of how wonderful he is, but being a friend and being a father are two very different things and it wouldn’t be totally unreasonable for them to have doubts.

Grabbing some wine to pass from the corner store, you drive to Nayeon’s place just up the road. The five of you rotate hosts monthly and tonight is her night. You won’t have the pleasure of hosting again for another four months since your turn was last month. You’re bringing wine along to keep suspicions to a minimum, and you plan on filling your glass with some sparkling grape juice you also snagged. 

When you arrive, Jihyo and Mina are standing by their cars cackling at something on their phones. As you exit and lock your car with a click, you wave and approach the laughing banshees with a smile.

Their faces shine bright when they see you and enthusiastically return the wave.

“Bitch, it’s only been a month and I missed you so fucking much,” Mina cries as she pulls you in for a crippling hug. 

“Are you drunk already?” You question due to her out of character language and how she’s slumping against you.

“Nooo.”

“Don’t worry, I drove her here,” Jihyo, ever the mom friend, assures you. 

You enter Nayeon’s apartment as a trio, her door already unlocked for the occasion, as you update each other on surface level things like work and hobbies. 

Nayeon and Tzuyu are in the kitchen with a glass of wine already in hand while they gossip about something. You know they’re gossiping because their expressions are dramatically shuffling through different emotions like shock, confusion, and disgust. 

They wave excitedly when they notice your entrance and quickly finish their conversation before joining you. 

Jihyo places Mina delicately on the couch and instructs her to stay still so she can grab her a glass of water. You follow Jihyo into the kitchen, peering over your shoulder at your other friend who’s now lackadaisically swaying side to side.

“Ji, why is Mina drunk off her ass right now?” 

Jihyo sighs as she grabs a cup and glances towards the living room to visually check on the topic of your conversation. 

“Her and Mingyu broke up.”

“No!” You gasp, your hands covering your mouth in disbelief. “Did he dump her?”

“She won’t tell me! She just sits on my bed and cries for hours.”

Jihyo and Mina are roommates, but Mina has been hoping to move in with Mingyu for a while now and was merely waiting for him to ask.

“Oh no, my poor girl.”

“I’m hoping tonight will help and maybe she’ll finally open up about what happened,” Jihyo says. “You wanna try my wine?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got my own,” you tell her and show off the bottle of fake alcohol you peeled the label off of. 

She recognizes your answer with a nod before heading back to Mina. By the time you return with her water she’s relaying the information to Nayeon and Tzuyu through tears and slurred sentences. 

You hug Tzuyu from behind and she warmly wraps her arms around your own to reciprocate the affection. After repeating the embrace with Nayeon, you take a seat on her armchair and pour the grape juice into the wine glass she left out for you. 

The five of you update each other like always, since that’s the main purpose of these get-togethers. It’s your sacred time to dive into the messy and dirty details of your lives over the last month.

Mina is unanimously nominated to go first once she’s consumed a couple glasses of water to sober her up a bit. She explains how her and Mingyu, her boyfriend of nearly four years, broke up because he isn’t ready to settle down. Apparently it was mutual, but she’s still head over heels for him and is having a terrible time trying to move on.

The four of you hold her while she cries until eventually, she tires herself out, and you move on to Tzuyu.

The conversation circles through everyone until you’re finally the center of attention. There’s a piece of you that still wants to stow away your secret for a little while longer, but you’re also so excited for them to share in your joy that you can barely stand holding it in.

“Okay, so, technically this happened two wine nights ago, but I wasn’t ready to tell you guys just yet,” you begin. You suck in a breath through your teeth and take a sip of your drink even though there’s no liquid courage in the glass. “Jungkook and I hooked up.”

The gasps from your friends are so loud you think they sucked all the air from the room. 

“No fucking way.”

“I freaking knew it would happen one day!”

“Oh my God?”

“Please tell me he’s got a big dick, I just know he has a big dick.”

You laugh into your glass at the multitude of different reactions before continuing. Sighing in content remembrance, you lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees.

“He’s. Fucking. Huge.”

Somehow, their gasps this time are even louder. 

“No, no, you need to spill right fucking now. I want every dirty fucking detail, baby,” Nayeon says.

“There honestly isn’t that much to tell. We were watching a movie, he brought it up, it happened, bada-bing bada-boom,” you state.

“Are you two together now?” Jihyo asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “We just wanted to see what it was like, you know?”

“Bitch,” Tzuyu scoffs. “You just told us your ungodly handsome, sweet, filthy rich, jacked as fuck best friend has a huge dick and you’re gonna look at me and say it was a one time thing?”

“You guys know it’s not like that with us,” you respond. “I love him, like, with everything in me, and obviously, I know how attractive he is, but I don’t get butterflies around him or think about him first thing in the morning.” You sit back in the chair. “The love I have for him is so much greater than romantic love. I mean, never say never, but we’re both completely content with the way we are.” 

“Hear hear,” Jihyo says with a clink of her nails against her glass. 

Nibbling on your lip, you count the bubbles floating in your drink as you decide whether or not you’re ready for the actual reveal.

“There is… more, though,” you quietly admit. Everyone leans in and you shake your head back and forth to prepare for the biggest confession you’ll ever make to them. “I’m pregnant.”

The gasps this time are so volatile two of them start coughing and Jihyo walks her ass straight out of the room with a hand over her mouth. 

“Shut the fuck up right now,” Nayeon snaps. 

“He knocked you up?” Mina’s drunk ass shouts. 

“Mmhmm.”

“Are you… happy about that?” Tzuyu tentatively asks. 

The massive grin forming on your face reveals your answer before you can give it, and you start nodding overdramatically while you giggle. 

“Oh my God! You’re pregnant!” Tzuyu cheers now that she’s aware of your excitement.

“You’re gonna be a mom!” Nayeon claps.

“We’re gonna be aunts!” Mina adds. 

Jihyo returns to the room with fresh tears on her cheeks.

“Ji,” you coo at her. 

She hiccups out a weak chuckle as she pulls you into her for a bear hug. The other girls follow suit and surround you until the five of you are basically cuddling in the middle of Nayeon’s living room. Suddenly, someone starts jumping and the force shakes the floorboards as you all join in and chant “yay yay yay” on repeat. 

The whimsicality of girlhood never fails to paint a smile on your face.

The following weekend you have plans with your other friend group. You usually rotate through a few different activities you all enjoy and tonight is karaoke, which is one of your personal favorites. 

Jungkook gets ready at your place so you can eat dinner together beforehand since the food at the karaoke bar is stupidly overpriced. He never fails to remind you he can afford it and is more than willing to pay for your meal, but you don’t like using his money unless it’s absolutely necessary. You’re a big girl who can pay for herself and he understands your desire for independence.

You’re at the vanity finishing your makeup when he enters with another bowl of rice he grabbed after finishing your meal. He takes up purchase on your bed and eats absentmindedly while his eyes follow the movement of your wrist coating your lashes in mascara.

The feeling of his stare creates goosebumps on your skin and an involuntary smile appears in the mirror. No doubt your foundation hides the blush springing forth as well.

“You look pretty, Bams,” he compliments. 

“Thank you!”

The now empty bowl meets your nightstand with a clank as he moves to stand beside you. He leans down until you’re side by side in the mirror and gives you his cheesiest smile. You snort at his antics and continue to giggle while dropping your mascara into the pile of other makeup tools. 

“Cute,” you tell him. 

He smiles successfully and extends his hands towards you. You graciously accept his offer and stand to your full height. Just as you’re heading for your closet to grab shoes, Jungkook ensnares your wrist and eyes you hopefully. Raising an eyebrow at his actions, you wait for him to speak his mind.

“Can I see it?” 

The eye roll is automatic at this point.

“Koo, my baby bump is not any bigger than it was a few days ago. It’s barely a bump as is! I could eat pasta and grow bigger than I am now,” you tell him.

“It doesn’t matter, I just like knowing they’re in there,” he says with a huge smile. “My little kidney bean.”

“They’re a plum now, remember?” 

Jungkook just stares you down expectantly rather than responding. Begrudgingly, but still with a smile on your face, you push your jacket away so he can see the barely noticeable hump over your abdomen. He giggles, his feet taking turns leaving the floor, and places both hands on you, caressing your womb ever so gently. 

“My little plum,” he sighs happily. 

You're so utterly endeared by him and his nature that it makes you sick. 

Once Jungkook is done holding the little plum, you leave to meet your friends at the karaoke bar. 

Throughout the drive you discuss whether or not to announce the pregnancy to your friends. Jungkook knows you told the girls, and was unnecessarily smug about their interest in his size, but your mutual friends are another animal entirely. 

Everyone met at one point or another during college and by graduation you’d become one massive, conjoined group of lovable idiots. All eleven of you are extremely close, even if the bonds you share are unique to each individual pair. You know things about one another no one else does and they’re always the first people you tell about good news.

Jungkook is more anxious than you about telling them, especially since he’s yet to let the cat out of the bag to anyone besides your parents. He’s the youngest among the boys and his biggest fear is disappointing them. Not that they would be, because even though they're a group of seven men, they’re the kindest people in the world, but Jungkook’s always been sensitive about their opinion of him because he idolizes them so much.

By the time you reach the bar you’ve mutually agreed to hold off for now and proceed to exit the car together. Jungkook instinctively places his hand on your lower back as you walk in and a hostess tells you which room your friends occupy.

Upon opening the door to the private karaoke suite, you’re met by the booming sound of cheers from all nine people packed inside. Everyone rises from their seats to hug you one by one before letting you settle into the couch across from the karaoke machine and mini stage. 

“What are you drinking tonight?” Yunjin asks you as she takes the seat to your right.

Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi are already flipping through the songbook next to the stage for the perfect opening song. 

“Can’t, I’m Koo’s designated driver for tonight,” you tell her.

“We’re gonna be here for hours like always, you should have one, at least,” she says.

“Maybe,” you say with an appreciative smile. 

Lying to the people you love most isn’t exactly easy, especially when you already suck at it, but Yunjin seems to take you at your word and returns her focus to the opposite side of the room.

The opening beats of an R&B song fill the air and you turn your attention to the three jackals on stage as they belt their hearts out together. You admire them with a massive grin and are thoroughly impressed by how they manage to make complete fools of themselves while still hitting all the notes. 

The other girls join you sometime during the bridge, Chaewon taking the empty seat by you while Eunchae goes next to Yunjin. Eunchae tells everyone she got a promotion at work, so you clink your glasses together to cheer for her, yours being filled with cola instead of alcohol.

“Here, try my drink, it’s so good!” Chaewon says as she passes the glass to you. You shake your head and tell her the same lie you told Yunjin. Unfortunately, Chaewon is less forgiving than your other friend. “It’s just a sip, girliepop!”

You shoot her a warning glance, and luckily, the two other women are distracted by Namjoon and Jin’s soulful duet on stage. Due to your decade long friendship, you and Chaewon share the unique ability to speak without any words, and your silent conversation goes something like this.

You, glaring at her with your head tilted. Don’t.

Her, sitting back a little with her eyebrows raised. Bitch?

You, nodding minutely a couple times. Yup.

Her, eyes wide with a hand on her chest. You’re pregnant?

You, nodding while staring her down. Can you fucking believe it?

Her, brow creasing and slowly shaking her head. Who the fuck is the dad?

You, holding up a hand to block the view from the others while pointing at Jungkook who’s sitting across the room. Jungkook.

Her, hand over her mouth, eyes bulging out of her head. You’re fucking joking! 

So, that’s how Chaewon finds out, and your final signal to her is your pointer finger pressing against your lips so she knows this is still a massive secret.

Jungkook and Taehyung take the stage next, and they’re always an entertaining pair, so you both pay close attention. It’s debatable whether that was a good decision, because the rest of you end up with aching cramps from the intense fits of laughter. You're all desperately clutching your stomachs as the two of them jump around and sing in each other’s faces to a song that does not call for that type of choreography. You’re 99% sure it’s a breakup song from a K-Drama. 

You’re still wiping the tears from your eyes when Eunchae speaks up breathlessly.

“God, I don’t know why, but this reminds me of when the boys performed in the university talent show,” she states.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot about that,” Yunjin responds.

“Wait, what are you guys talking about?” Jimin says as he sits next to Yunjin.

“Don’t you remember? You guys wore those hockey jerseys and covered that 90s song,” you tell him. “It was so good!”

Jin nods from the other side of the couch and starts laughing as he remembers the performance.

“That was so long ago! I remember it being super fun, though,” he says.

“Please don’t bring that up, that was the most embarrassing day of my life,” Yoongi groans.

“Oh please, Min, you secretly loved it,” Chaewon teases him.

You gasp when you realize it’s definitely still stored somewhere in your phone. Pulling the device out of your pocket, you scoot over so Jungkook can sit next to you while you scroll through your camera roll from almost ten years ago. Taehyung joins you and leans over Jungkook’s shoulder to see as well. 

“Found it!” You squeal.

Unable to resist reliving the memory, everyone gathers behind you to watch. Your previous fits of laughter make a gnarly comeback as you marvel at the younger versions of them dancing and singing their little hearts out. They look like babies in comparison and it makes you swoon.

“That was literally another lifetime,” Namjoon says once the video is done playing.

“Man, we were so fucking cool,” Hoseok states proudly.

“Jungkook, you should wear your hair like that again,” Yunjin says. “You looked fucking hot.”

“Fuck yeah he did, rumor has it Kook lost his virginity that night,” Taehyung jokes as he squeezes Jungkook’s bicep.

“Yo! Shut the hell up, I lost my virginity in high school,” Jungkook retorts. He takes a swig of his drink and chuckles against the glass. “It was the first time I fucked raw, though.”

“Clearly not the last,” you say under your breath.

Jungkook turns to you with his eyes bugging out and you have to stifle your laugh with your hand. Resting your forehead on his shoulder, you gain control of your laughter and whisper a halfhearted apology to him. 

“Ok, girlies, let’s fuck this shit up,” Chaewon annonces. 

Yunjin and Eunchae both chug the last of their drinks before grabbing each of your hands so you can take the stage together. You diligently flip through the songbook to find the perfect one while the guys converse about a recent video game release. Gasping when you spot a familiar song title, you point to the page and eye the girls with a mischievous smirk.

“Wait, don’t we know the dance for this?” Yunjin asks.

You and Eunchae nod together. 

“Oh, we are gonna leave these men fucking gagged,” Chaewon states before plugging the selection into the karaoke machine. 

Chaewon hits the nail on the head, because as soon as the song begins and you start shaking your asses like a bonafide girl group, the men go insane. The seven of them act like they’re your biggest stans who paid for a ticket just to see this. 

Hoseok and Jimin stand to the right of the stage throwing invisible money over you all, while Taehyung and Jungkook are sitting on the end couch spanking the air back and forth. Yoongi is covering his eyes with his hand while he shakes his head, but he’s still peeking at your performance between his fingers. Namjoon is bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands under his chin like he’s trying to analyze the way your asses bounce. Jin stands with a glass in each hand as he dances along and screams your names in a repeating chant at the top of his lungs. 

When you finish the show stopping performance, all of them are almost as breathless as you from cheering so much. 

“Fuck, why am I hard right now?”

“That was spectacular.”

“You guys were so good!”

“I think I just came.”

“Amazing, bravo.”

“Encore!”

“Remind me why we’re all just friends?”

All four of you are panting as you hop off the stage and attempt to slow your racing heartbeats. Jimin notices you don’t have a drink and goes to hand his glass of vodka cranberry to you.

“Here, you look like you could use this.”

Just as you’re about to wave him off and reject his offer, Chaewon interrupts. 

“Y/N can’t have alcohol,” she states. 

Eyes blowing wide, you glare and wordlessly scold her with your facial expressions, throwing your hands up incredulously for good measure. Poor Jungkook looks like a deer in headlights since you didn’t get the chance to tell him she knows.

“Why not?” Yoongi asks from across the table.

“Are you okay? Nothing’s wrong, right?” Yunjin adds.

“No, no,” you answer with a nonchalant wave of your hand. “Just this new medication I’m on.”

“Which one? Prenatal vitamins?” Eunchae jokes as she takes a drink. Your lip catches between your teeth as you look at her with wide, worrisome eyes. Her expression shifts into shock when she notices your face over the rim of her glass. “Holy fuck, I was joking. Y/N, are you pregnant?”

“Um… yes?” 

The eight people in the room who weren’t previously aware inhale simultaneously to berate you with questions, but are all stopped short by Taehyung speaking first.

“Who the fuck put a baby in you?” 

Gnawing on your lip as your mind scrambles for an answer, your eyes flit to Jungkook for support, but his face is paler than a ghost. You reluctantly accept your fate and sigh in defeat. 

“J… Ju… Jungkook did.”

All hell breaks loose. 

You’re fighting off Eunchae, Yunjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok with your hands up in surrender as you vigorously shake your head back and forth. Jungkook is slowly sinking into his seat with his arms out in defense as Jimin, Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi descend on him like a pack of ravenous wolves. Everyone’s screaming voices are louder than any of the singing tonight and if someone took a picture of the room it could only be classified as a goddamn renaissance painting.

Once the initial shock wears off and Jungkook finally comes to his senses, he shakes his head to collect his thoughts and stands up.

“Everyone, shut the fuck up! My bun is in that oven and I don’t need you assholes stunting their growth with your screaming,” he shouts. 

“Oh, please don’t refer to me as an oven, Koo,” you grimace.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Bams.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Hey!” Eunchae interrupts you. “Lovebirds, you wanna fucking tell us how you got knocked up?” 

Jungkook clears his throat. 

“Well, Eunnie, you see, when a mommy and daddy love each other very mu — AH!”

Jungkook’s mock explanation is cut short by him ducking to avoid the couch pillow Eunchae chucks at his head. 

“Be fucking for real, Jeon. Why is your demon spawn in my best friend?” 

“Hey, don’t talk about our little plum like that,” Jungkook frowns. 

“Little plum?” Jimin and Taehyung speak in unison. 

Jungkook sighs dreamily before responding. 

“That’s how big they are right now.”

“It just happened!” You state. “We just fucked for shits and gigs and now we’re here.”

“You let Jungkook come in you for shits and gigs?” Hoseok asks with his signature face of judgement.

The implications of his tone make you pout and cross your arms over your chest.

“Yes, and it was very enjoyable, thank you very much.”

“Oh, ew.”

“For real?”

“Ah, fuck no.”

Chaewon fake gags with a finger in her mouth. 

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon steps into the center of the room. “How is this gonna work? Are you two gonna co-parent? Switch off houses every other week?”

“I… don’t know,” you answer honestly before looking at Jungkook. He shrugs with his arms out, clearly just as clueless about those details as you. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Are you gonna find out the gender?” Chaewon asks excitedly, but you quickly shake your head and she frowns. “How am I supposed to get my future niece or nephew the perfect gift if I don’t know their gender?”

“Gender neutral?” You suggest. 

You hear Jin exhale overdramatically and when you look towards him he’s downing a shot and slamming the glass down afterwards. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He shakes his head and his lips make a horse-like noise. “I mean, we’re talking about Jungkook and Y/N having a baby… a motherfucking child.”

“Yeah, and they’re gonna be the best parents ever,” Yoongi states wholeheartedly. 

Yoongi finds your eyes across the room, his adorable gummy smile on full display, and reaffirms his words with a nod. You return the smile gratefully, thanking him with a slow blink as you hold his eye contact. 

“Are you alright? I mean, like, you’re good?” Yunjin asks you. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, especially now that you guys know.”

“What about you, Kook?” Taehyung asks from where he sits beside him. 

Jungkook looks over his shoulder at his friend, the biggest, bunniest grin imaginable on his face.

“I’m fucking ecstatic,” he answers. 

Jimin takes two large strides and hugs Jungkook’s head to his chest, ruffling his hair affectionately. Hoseok joins in next, squishing Jungkook’s cheeks between his hands and giving him adorable fish lips.

“Our Jungkookie is gonna be a dad!” Hoseok coos in his best baby voice. 

Your attention is pulled away by Yunjin’s hand on your lower back. She smiles when you turn around and pulls you into a powerful embrace which you reciprocate. Eunchae and Chaewon join the hug and you rest your head on Chaewon’s shoulder. You know how hard she is on herself whenever she screws up, and this is your way of letting her know it’s alright.

When you part, you feel a tug on your hand, and before you know it Jungkook is bringing you into his lap. You giggle as he tucks you into his chest and nuzzles his face in your neck. 

There’s a brief moment where it feels as though it’s just you and him, and it’s more needed than you even realized. Jungkook’s recognizably warm presence calming you down after the hectic atmosphere of the room took you for a loop.

Everyone moseys around to take a seat as the adrenaline from the news simmers. The eleven of you actually do some catching up rather than just singing and drinking, and eventually smaller faction conversations happen all around the table.  

You stay on Jungkook’s lap the rest of the night with his hand resting on the outside of your thigh to keep you against him.

It’s abnormal behavior for you two, usually keeping a rather firm boundary of friendship, the time you conceived a child together aside, but you don’t question it. Maybe it’s the child in your womb wanting to be close to their father or perhaps the uptick in hormones skewing your regular emotional landscape. Either way, Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your weight on him and neither do you. 

By the time the clock strikes two in the morning, and you’ve all gone a couple more rounds on the karaoke machine, your head is resting on Jungkook’s shoulder as you flicker in and out of consciousness. He soothingly rubs your spine with his hand, making sure to add more pressure to your lower back where it’s been hurting ever since becoming pregnant. Curling into him more in response, you push your face into his neck and hum contently at the familiar scent and warmth. 

“You tired, Bams?” He whispers to you, moving some hair away from your face. You answer with a single nod, your eyes already closing again from the heaviness of sleep. “Okay, let’s go.”

Jungkook helps you stand, and you hug all your friends goodbye one by one. Everyone congratulates you both again while also threatening to show up to your homes univinted unless you update them on your progress between hangouts.

Jimin changes your group chat name that very night to: Baby Jeon Official Updates Channel 💦🤭👶🏻💕

You and Jungkook leave hand-in-hand, mostly because he has to keep you upright from how tired you are. He drives back to his place since it’s closer and he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you alone when you’re this sleepy. God forbid you accidentally fall asleep on Usagi and crush her all night long. The car ride is brief, but it’s smooth enough that you fall asleep in the passenger seat almost instantly. 

Jungkook carries you inside instead of waking you up, knowing you need more rest nowadays than usual. Although, if he’s being honest, pregnant with his child or not, he’d still carry you and tuck you into bed.

When you wake up in Jungkook’s spare bedroom/home office the next morning, you’re thoroughly confused, but as your sleepiness begins to wane you remember the end of the night and the events which led you here. The smell of pancakes encourages you to walk down the stairs to Jungkook’s kitchen. You’re still wrapped in his comforter when you enter and Jungkook laughs as you approach him like the Queen of bedtime. 

“Morning, Bambi,” he greets you as he flips the final pancake onto the plate and turns off the griddle. 

“Good morning,” you say with a tired smile. 

Just then, the sound of trampling paws comes barreling towards you. Smiling broadly as you turn towards the sound, you bend down to greet the adorable Doberman who’s wagging his tail in excitement at seeing you.

“Bammie!” You cheer as you pet behind his ears. “Oh, I’ve missed you, my good boy.” 

He runs around your legs a couple times before scurrying across the hardwood to bring you a bone to throw. You happily oblige him and watch in amusement as he runs away to fetch it before plopping on the couch to gnaw on the toy.

“Come eat, Bams,” Jungkook tells you as he sets two plates on his dining table. 

Following his orders, you leave the comforter over the back of the couch and sit across from him to eat the eggs, pancakes, and bacon he made for you both. You eat in comfortable silence for a while until you’re both nearly done.

“Koo, I’m sorry about last night. Chaewon guessed it and then her big mouth spilled the beans. I know it wasn’t the way we wanted it to happen, but at least it’s over with, right?” 

“It’s alright,” Jungkook responds before gulping down his orange juice. “I’m glad we finally did it and now everyone knows. Plus, it got me thinking about some stuff I hadn’t really thought about yet.”

“Like what?”

“Well, about what Namjoon hyung said,” he explains. “I mean, he makes a really good point. I want our kid to have a normal family life even if we’re just best friends and not romantic partners.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I think you should move in with me.”

You choke on your orange juice. 

Truthfully, there isn’t anything shocking about his statement, you just weren’t expecting it at that moment. Jungkook has a three bedroom, two and a half bath house which he owns, while you rent a one bedroom apartment. He’s been begging you ever since he bought the property to move into his spare bedroom. The two of you spend almost all your time together anyway and he doesn’t see the point in you wasting money on rent when his house is completely paid off. 

The reason you haven’t accepted his offer before is because you never want to take advantage of his wealth or be a burden on him. Being best friends is one thing, being roommates is another. 

Now, though, you have a biological right to be a burden on him because he stuck a baby in you. 

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

“Of course I am,” he replies in a heartbeat. “I thought about it all last night and it only makes sense. I have two extra bedrooms, one for you and one for the baby.” 

“But what about your home office and your gym?”

“I can move my gym equipment to the garage and my desk can easily fit in my bedroom.” You sigh and push your fork around your plate as you contemplate his proposal. “Bams, you’re gonna be the mother of my child, will you just let me take care of you for once?”

As soon as you look into his starry eyes, you know there’s no chance you’ll say no. Jungkook obviously wants to do this because he loves you and wants to make sure you and the baby have everything you need, so who are you to say no?

“Okay,” you agree. “When should I move in?”

THREE

The cardboard box in your hands is slowly slipping from your grasp as you ascend the stairs, but you’re determined to make it to the top before readjusting. You have to reach the landing before Jungkook catches you. If he sees you disobeying his instruction of sitting still, he’ll definitely blow a gasket. 

You don’t know what it is with men and thinking pregnant women can’t do anything themselves. It’s still only the first trimester, and sure, your bump has grown some more, but you aren’t completely useless. 

Honestly, if you weren’t so stubborn, you would’ve taken his offer of moving all the boxes into the house by himself, but your competitive nature has you lugging a box of cat toys up the stairs instead. 

“Bambi! What did I fucking say?”

Dropping the box by your feet only three steps from the top, you blow your hair away from your face and place your hands on your hips.

“Fuck you, Jungkook. I do what I want.”

“You wanna look me in the eyes when you say that?” 

“… No.”

“That’s what I thought.” The sound of his combat boots coming up the stairs is all you hear as he moves to steal the box from your feet. Once it’s secure in his arms, he looks at you like a teacher scolding their student and gestures to the couch with his head. “Go sit down.”

“I’m not incapable, you know?” You say with your arms crossed. 

“I know that, Bams,” Jungkook states. “It’s not about that. I lift more than this in a single workout at the gym. Why should you have to do it when I’m perfectly capable?”

He’s right. You know that, he knows that, so you leave him alone on the steps to sit down on the couch with a huff. 

Bam quickly joins you and lays his head in your lap as he watches his dad move back and forth through the house with curious eyes. Scratching behind his ear, you laugh at the way his tail repeatedly whacks the couch as it wags. 

Usagi is still in her carrier in your new bedroom since you want to make sure everything is moved in before introducing her and Bam. You and Jungkook both agree that if they get in a fight, it’s her little munchkin ass who will be the main aggressor, especially since Bam is scared of his own shadow. 

Once Jungkook’s done moving the last of the boxes, he flops aggressively into the armchair next to the couch. He pats his thigh and Bam instantly leaves your side to jump into his lap instead. Jungkook leans down to kiss his precious pup before letting his head fall back as he tries to catch his breath.

“Perfectly capable, huh?” 

“Shut up.”

“You’re getting old, Koo. Soon you’re gonna be a dad and you’ll have a beer gut —”

“Nuh uh, never gonna happen. I’ll have my abs until the day I die,” he corrects you.

“Please, no you will not. You think you’re gonna be hitting the gym at 80?” You ask as you lean forward in your seat.

“Yes. My love comes from my abs, I can’t lose them,” he states.

The couch cushion indents where your head falls against it as you laugh heartily. 

“What? Your love comes from your abs? What the hell does that even mean?” 

“Everyone I meet loves my abs, so now they’re just like, full of love, and that’s where it comes from,” he explains unironically.

“Everyone? I don’t think that’s true,” you say with a smirk.

“No?” Jungkook gently guides Bam away and struts over to you. “You’re gonna look at me and tell me you don’t love my abs? That if I took my shirt off right now you wouldn’t go all googly-eyed?”

“Fuck, no,” you scoff. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue and then lifts his shirt to engulf you under the fabric. You screech and shove at his waist, kicking your legs haphazardly like you’re being suffocated. 

“Let me out of here!” You scream, but it’s severely muffled by the fabric. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I can’t hear you,” Jungkook teases. “Ow!”

Jungkook immediately frees you and backs away after he feels your teeth sinking into his side. He rubs over the bite mark with a big pout on his face, as if he didn’t start this little charade. 

You mock his expression for a moment before standing to go up the stairs and check on your furry child. Jungkook follows begrudgingly, letting his feet drag along the floor like a petulant child. When you enter your new bedroom, conveniently right beside Jungkook’s, Usagi starts meowing incessantly and scratching at her carrier. You soothe her with some baby speak and check that the door is closed before letting her out. Her little legs immediately bring her to the floor so she can explore the unfamiliar room. 

She meows every couple of seconds whenever she encounters something new and you watch as she headbutts everything in sight as a way of marking the furniture with her scent. Ironically, this is all the same furniture from your old bedroom just in a different space and formation.

Hands wrap around your waist from behind and you sigh at the feeling of Jungkook’s firm chest meeting your back. Obviously, he’s forgiven you for your little retaliatory love bite. 

“I’m really glad you’re here, Bams,” he tells you from where his head rests on your shoulder. 

Your hand reaches behind you to sneak into his hair and scratch at his scalp affectionately. He hums and rests his cheek against your shoulder. You’d argue he picked up the mannerisms from his dog, but he’s always been touchy like this.  

“I’m happy to be here,” you reply. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Those words no longer apply the following day when you’re hunched over Jungkook’s toilet and spilling your guts into the bowl. 

It’s a great unknown why morning sickness is called that when it happens at all hours of the freaking day. You naively believed you snuck past its clutches since you’re already on the brink of your second trimester, but apparently the wonderful symptom was just waiting until you had Jungkook’s big fancy bathroom to throw up in. 

Groaning in agony, you plop back onto the tile and rest your head on the cabinet. Your throat is burning from all the regurgitation, there are popped blood vessels all over your cheeks and forehead, making you look like you have freckles, and salty tears from the effort of repeatedly emptying your stomach are drying on your skin. 

You caress your baby bump with a glare, making a mental note to scold them at least once when they’re older for putting you through this. 

The sound of the front door opening makes your ears twitch. Bam’s heavy footsteps can be heard barreling towards the door and then Jungkook’s voice joins in as he greets his beloved pet. 

“Bambi?”

“In here,” you say through your sore vocal chords. Jungkook’s face appears in the doorway and you whimper as tears fill your eyes again. “I fucking hate you for doing this to me.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your current state and he instantly sinks to his knees to pull you into his arms. He holds your head against his chest as you cry from the pain and fatigue of running back and forth to the bathroom all day. Jungkook’s been out running errands all day so you’ve been all alone until now.

“I’m sorry, Bams,” he whispers into your hair. “Wish it was me instead.”

There’s no opportunity for you to reply because the familiar feeling of bile climbing up your throat forces you out of his embrace and back over the toilet. Jungkook grabs your hair, making sure to collect the shorter pieces that cradle your face, and holds it in a makeshift ponytail as he rubs your back. 

Once you’re done, and after the sound of the toilet flushing disperses, you hear soft cries coming from behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see Jungkook wiping his eyes with his shirtsleeve. 

“Koo,” you call out to him. 

He hiccups and attempts a brave face, smiling at you even as tears slip from his waterline.

“Sorry, you know I hate seeing you in pain,” he explains. 

You frown and turn around to grab his cheeks, brushing the remaining tears away from them. It’s true you’re already well aware of his empathetic nature and have been for as long as you’ve known him. 

“I know,” you say with a smile as you push his hair away from his face. “Remember that time I got bullied in middle school and was crying on the playground, and then you started crying because I was?” Jungkook laughs, his eyes closing as he remembers the moment. “I’ll never forget what you said.” You clear your throat so you can give an accurate representation of his voice. “I never suffer myself, Bambi, I only suffer when I see you suffering.” 

Jungkook smiles big and laughs again at your adorable imitation of his deep timbre. 

“You know, if we have a boy, I’m gonna have to tussle with him over this,” he says. “No one hurts my Bams, not even my own kid.”

Your responding chuckle is strained due to how sore your body is. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring Jungkook closer for a tight hug, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. His palm slowly moves up and down your spine in a steady cadence to soothe you until the next wave of nausea comes. 

The remainder of the day is spent in the bathroom together, which is luckily spacious enough for not only you two, but Usagi and Bam who both come to join you at one point.

The nausea comes in waves, sometimes occurring multiple times back to back or alternatively with a large lapse of time between them. It holds you hostage in the bathroom for a few days, and you have to take PTO when the work week begins, but eventually the symptoms simmer to about once every couple days after your doctor prescribes medication. 

Another lovely symptom you’re experiencing as of late is intense cravings for extremely specific food groups, which is why you’re currently in a screaming match with Jungkook over pickles. 

“I’m not buying you pickles, Bambi,” Jungkook sternly states.

“Jungkook, you’re not the one growing a baby inside of you. If I say I want pickles, I should be getting pickles!” You shout, your feet stomping on the ground reactively. 

“You fucking hate pickles!” Jungkook matches your tone.

“Yes, but pregnancy cravings don’t care about what I like or don’t like, and they’re saying they want pickles!”

“You’re not going to eat them, Bams, I know you!”

“Yes, I will!”

“You really want me to leave the house at three in the morning for a vegetable that you despise?” Jungkook scoffs in outrage. “You won’t even eat a sandwich if a pickle was on the plate because you claim you can still taste it!” 

“That doesn’t matter, Koo!”

Jungkook groans and runs his hands down his face before pushing his hair back. 

“I swear to God, Bambi, if I get back here, and you don’t eat that entire fucking jar, I will kick you out of this goddamn house!” 

“No, you won’t, you love me too much,” you brag and stick your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, unfortunately, I do,” Jungkook admits angrily. He grumbles to himself the entire time he’s putting on his slides and slipping on his jacket to drive to the nearest 24 hour convenience store. His hand is on the doorknob when he turns back to say one final comment. “You know what the worst part about this is? Most guys in my position are at least getting some pussy for putting up with this shit, but not me! No reward! I’m doing this out of pure, unconditional love for you!” 

You gawk at his remark, not recognizing the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook has never in his life asked for anything in return, let alone imply you owe him a sexual favor.

The door slams shut before you can respond, and a cry breaks from your chest as your head falls forward. Bam hears the noise and comes to comfort you, nudging his head up against your leg like the good boy he is, but barely a minute later, his head jerks when he’s distracted by the sound of the door opening. You don’t even get the chance to look up completely before you’re forced into someone’s arms who smells a lot like Jungkook.

“Bams, I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Jungkook tells you. 

His apology only makes you cry more, shoving your face into his shirt and soaking it with tears. 

“That was so fucked up, Koo,” you sniffle. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he replies. “I didn’t mean it, okay? You don’t owe me anything, Bams, especially not that.” He pulls away from you and lifts your face by your chin. “Please don’t think that I, even for a second, ever expect you to repay me for taking care of you. I do it because I love you and that’s the only reward I need.” 

Wiping your tears with your shirtsleeve, you slap his chest a couple times for good measure. He chuckles because of how lightly you smack him.

“You’re forgiven,” you grumble. “Now, can you please go get me these fuckass pickles?”

Jungkook smiles and nods his head, his hand on your chin moving to caress your hair for a moment. 

“I’ll buy you pickles everyday for the rest of your life if that’s what you want, Bambi,” he states. 

“It isn’t. I fucking hate pickles,” you say with a smile. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your hair before waving goodbye and heading to the store. When he returns twenty minutes later, he’s carrying a couple bags of miscellaneous groceries as well as a jar of pickles. 

You wait patiently for him to place the bags in the kitchen before he hands the open jar to you. The smell alone eases the craving that’s been eating away at your stomach for hours now. Grabbing one of the skewers, you pull it out of the juice and take a small bite off the end. 

Instantly, your brain screams at you in disgust, and you open your mouth again to spit the piece into your hand. Realizing you now have to face Jungkook so he can say I told you so, your eyes screw shut and you turn towards him. Except, when you open your eyes, he isn’t beside you anymore, he’s walking back from the kitchen with your favorite flavor of chips in hand.

“Got these just in case,” he tells you as he swaps out the jar in your hand for the bag. 

You grimace, guilt pooling in your stomach when you realize his trip out into the night was for nought. 

“Koo…”

“It’s alright, Bambi. The fact that I was right makes this all worth it,” he says with a sly grin. 

The chips taste like salty pieces of heaven and you eat the entire bag that night. You keep the jar of pickles for occasional sniffing because, for whatever reason, your brain loves the smell even though it hates the taste. This pregnancy is already messing with your brain chemistry more than you care to admit and it’s only the beginning. 

As the weeks go on, your pregnancy continues to mess with you in the form of a different, but equally as strong, craving. 

It initially hits you while you’re putting together Usagi’s new cat tower in the living room. Thankfully, she and Bam get along just fine. In fact, she’s currently lying on him while they nap together on the other side of the room. 

The instructions for this contraption are annoyingly hard to understand and you’re holding the instructional pamphlet up in the air as you attempt to make out what size screw you need in the stupidly small font it’s written in. 

The sound of the door opening catches your attention. As you lower the paper to see the familiar figure entering the room, your mouth suddenly dries up. 

Jungkook’s coming back from his home gym which is now in the garage and the tips of his hair are drenched in sweat. His chest is rising and falling in deep pants from the intensity of his workout and the black shirt he’s wearing sticks to his chest, perfectly outlining his pecs. Then, much to your agony, he takes the bottom of his shirt and wipes it across his forehead, giving you a perfect view of his abs. 

The feeling that shoots straight into your core is absolutely foreign. Sure, you know Jungkook is hot, that’s a fact of the universe no one is trying to deny. But you’ve seen him shirtless before, hell, you’ve seen him entirely naked. The bump protruding from your womb tells you that much, and yet you’ve never felt turned on by him doing something so mundane.

It makes you question why your body, and more particularly your pussy, is suddenly insatiable and the sight of him is making drool drip from your mouth where it’s fallen open in awe of his physique. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice your change in demeanor as he waves hello before heading upstairs to shower. Once he’s gone, your body releases its tension and you sigh in relief. Although, the feeling doesn’t entirely go away, and you end up spending the rest of the evening uncomfortably horny. 

That very night you take matters into your own hands, literally. You haven’t masturbated since getting pregnant, not for any particular reason other than just not feeling the urge, but now the urge has you in a chokehold and you need to fix it. 

Closing your eyes and slinking comfortably into your sheets, you pull your shorts and panties off in one go before trailing your hand down to your core. You’re still wet from earlier, no doubt because you saw Jungkook in all his post workout glory. The image of him wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt is still on your mind when your fingers dip between your folds. 

A quiet moan escapes as you move your leaking essence around with your fingertips. It’s been more than three months since you’ve felt any sort of sexual pleasure, the night you spent with Jungkook being the last time. 

Your eyes roll as you play with yourself by switching between pushing your fingers into your cunt and circling your clit. The squelching sound helps to turn you on, but the entire time all you can think is that it isn’t enough. It barely scratches the surface of your sexual need and is a sorry excuse for pleasure after what you Jungkook made you feel. 

Huffing in frustration, you shut your eyes again and try to forget about the world around you, but it’s only when you think back to earlier today that your pleasure spikes and you moan again. 

Realizing what the trick is, you begrudgingly let your imagination, or more so your memory, run rampant. You think back to that night and the way Jungkook’s lips felt against yours, and the way his cock penetrated you so deep you were seeing stars. The memory of his deep voice in your ear makes you moan exuberantly. Your hand falls into a quick rhythm as all the memories come flooding back. Everything about that night sends you closer to the edge of ecstasy. His weight above you, the heat of his skin, his taste, his moans and grunts, the way he fills you up. All of it forces you to bite down on your fist and cry when your orgasm overwhelms you.

The aftershocks of your pleasure have you panting as you come down from the high. You feel immense relief now that your desire is satiated after a long day of feeling your thighs twitch. Pulling your hand away, you stand to wash your hands so you can finally get some rest. 

Hopefully, this symptom will eventually disappear like the others and you won’t be riddled with sexual cravings through the entirety of your pregnancy. 

The next morning you’re pouring yourself a cup of tea to drink before heading to work. Jungkook comes skipping down the stairs in his business casual attire, his sleeves partially rolled up to reveal his tattoos. You wave to him and push the cup of coffee you poured for him across the counter.

“Thanks, Bams,” he says with a squeeze to your arm. 

This is the normal, everyday occurrence for you now, and it’s nice having a routine that works for you both. You didn’t realize how easy living together would be and you’re glad it’s finally happening. Besides the times your pregnancy has turned into a sick, desperate, crazy person, it’s been business as usual for you two even with the adjustment of being roommates. 

“You gonna be home for dinner?” You ask him as he takes a sip of the drink. His brow creases and he looks adorably angry, letting you know you made it just right. 

“Yeah, the deadline for the newest patch was last week so I shouldn’t be staying late,” he answers. 

“I’m making your favorite, your mom sent me the recipe last week,” you tell him.

“No shit,” he says, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs. You nod in confirmation and he enthusiastically claps his hands. There’s a brief lull in the conversation, but then Jungkook seemingly remembers something and grabs your attention. “Actually, there's something I was gonna talk to you about.”

“What’s up?” Leaning over the counter, you take a sip and wait for him to speak.

“Well, I may or may not have heard you last night and —”

The sound of you choking and spitting out your tea interrupts him. 

“Excuse me?”

“I heard you, ya know, having a little fun all by your lonesome last night.” You stare at him incredulously across the island. “Surprise, surprise, the wall between our rooms isn’t that thick.” 

“Koo, why are you bringing this up?” You ask. “I mean, thanks for letting me know, I guess?”

“No, no,” he chuckles. “I’m not saying it to embarrass you or anything, Bambi.” He mirrors your stance so your faces are only a few inches apart. “I was just going to offer my services in case you need something more than your own hand.”

“Huh?”

“It’s just, I mean, I’m only a room away, and I know your hormones are probably going awol and making you needy and shit. So, if you ever want to, the option is there.”

“Koo, that’s very sweet of you, but I’m not gonna use you like that.”

“Oh, yeah, because having sex with you is such a chore. Worst night of my fucking life!” You laugh and slap his arm playfully. He stands to his full height with a wink. “Just think about it, alright?”

You do think about it. Unfortunately, it’s all you can think about. It already freaked you out enough when you couldn’t get yourself off without thinking of him, and now your body is mentally somersaulting in celebration because of his offer. 

It’s definitely not romantic feelings swirling inside you, because just as you told your friends, you don’t feel butterflies with Jungkook, but it’d be both impractical and impossible to deny you have sexual feelings for him. Whether it’s from pregnancy hormones or something else entirely, you clearly want him something awful. Greed they talked about in the bible type shit. 

The only thing you don’t want is for him to fuck you because he’s trying to help you out. If you’re going to hook up again, you want him to want you in the same way. 

Despite the mental turmoil it initially puts you through, time goes on without either of you bringing up his little offer. Your body still messes with you by making you horny at all hours of the day, but you usually just satisfy yourself before bed and all is good. 

Tonight is different. No matter how hard you try you can’t bring yourself to come. Your fingers are pruny from how long you’ve been playing with yourself, but nothing is working. It’s nearly two in the morning, and although it’s a weekend, you still want some sleep. 

Grunting and kicking your blankets away, you cross your arms over your chest and pout in the darkness of your room. The quiet atmosphere of the house is helpful for lulling you to sleep, but your thighs are twitching with need and you know you’ll be restless if you don’t fix it before going to bed. You sigh and sit on the edge of your bed, chewing your lip as you debate if you’re really about to do what you’re thinking of doing. Before you can overthink it any further, you stand up and throw your door open. 

Usagi makes a noise of confusion from her bed in the corner of your room, so you whisper to her you’ll be right back and shut the door. 

It takes you a minimum of five minutes to gather the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door. He was working late tonight on a new project and went to bed early to catch up on his sleep. Guilt pools in your stomach at the thought of waking him up for such a selfish reason, but you know he’ll scold you if he finds out you needed him without telling him as such.

The sound of your hand against the wood feels extra loud in the stark silence of the house, and it only takes a couple seconds for Jungkook to softly call for you from inside the room. 

You twist the door knob and peek your head inside. Jungkook only has one eye open, and he’s fluffing his messy hair in confusion when you enter his room. 

“Bambi? Is everything okay?” He asks sleepily. 

“Mmhmm,” you say as you chew on your lip. “I, um…”

The embarrassment stirring within you is almost enough to bring your morning sickness back with a vengeance. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I… need you,” you whisper. 

Jungkook sits up, his other eye finally opening, although they’re still half-lidded with sleep. 

“Need me how, Bams? Are you alright?”

“Like… sexually,” you finally answer.

His eyes open a little wider at your response, but soon enough his expression softens and he smiles warmly. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, his hand gesturing for you to join him. 

You tentatively place one foot in front of the other until you reach the edge of his mattress and climb in. He holds his hand out for you and once you’re close enough he grabs your waist to help you straddle his thighs. 

As soon as you feel him beneath you and his chest against your own, the tension in your body disintegrates and the relief sends your forehead to his shoulder. Jungkook reacts instinctively, one hand scratching your scalp while the other rubs your back, and you whimper from comforting sensations.

“Tell me what you need, babygirl.”

“I don’t know. Nothing’s working and I… I just need relief,” you explain. 

“Okay, do you want my hands or my mouth?” 

You shake your head.

“You, Koo. Want you.”

Jungkook hums and combs his fingers through your hair, the hand on your back rising to cradle your face instead.

“You’ve got me, Bambi. I’ll give you anything you want.” You feel him mouthing at your jaw and breathe a sigh of relief. “Every part of me,” he whispers ardently.

After a prolonged moment of gentle neck kisses, Jungkook takes your hips in his hands to lift you and pull your bottoms down before moving his own pants out of the way. You hear the sound of him pumping his cock to get himself hard, but you’re too busy returning his favor by caressing his neck with your lips to see the motion yourself. The firm touch of his hand on your lower back guides you into the right position atop his lap. You sink down slowly, with Jungkook holding you steady as he fills you inch by delicious inch. The wetness from your earlier attempts at self pleasure allows him to slide into you with ease. 

You moan unabashedly at the feeling of his thick cock inside you again, it’s warm and throbbing within your walls and you kiss the bare skin of his shoulder appreciatively. He feels like pure heaven and it’s worrisome how desperately you wish you could stay like this forever. 

“Koo, you feel so good,” you moan into his ear.

While you begin kissing his neck again, Jungkook starts bouncing you up and down on his cock via his hold on your hips. The euphoric feeling the action creates must be mutual, because a pair of vibrant moans and the clapping of your skin is the only sound in the room. His noises are deeper than normal since he’s still fresh from slumber and the low tone makes your head spin. 

When you eventually take over and pick up the pace, one of his hands leaves your hip to thread into your hair. 

“Missed this, Bams,” he tells you sincerely. “You feel fucking perfect around me.”

Jungkook brings your face close so he can kiss you. He’s gentle with his affection, lips moving at a snail’s pace to savor the feeling of kissing you once again. Tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, you moan gratefully when he pushes it past the border of your lips to meet yours. Your arms encircle his neck as you shamelessly make out, pulling him impossibly close so his bare chest is pressing on you. 

“So tight, Bams, feels fucking amazing.”

“Mm, it’s just for you. Pussy’s all yours, Koo.”

Jungkook groans aggressively and kisses you with a new wave of passion. His fingers dig into your scalp reactively and you whine, your thighs working overtime to fuck his cock into you again and again. The dual sensation of his kiss and his dick splitting you apart rattles your brain until all you can focus on are your movements. 

When he notices your pace stuttering from your impending climax, he steals control again, wrapping both arms around your waist to steady you while he thrusts into you from below. You gasp and bite into the skin of his shoulder as he fucks you with everything he has. 

It’s no surprise your orgasm approaches faster than usual, since you were already worked up from your previous ministrations. You welcome the familiar feeling of your abdomen and thighs tightening as Jungkook continues pistoning into you, kissing him again when you feel yourself tipping over the precipice. Running your fingers through his hair and tugging on the black strands, you pull a grunt from his lips that only serves to further your pursuit. 

“M’close,” you breathe into his mouth. 

“Come for me, Bams,” he replies without missing a beat.

The tip of his cock only meets your g-spot a couple more times before you come with a throaty moan, your head tipping back as Jungkook continues to fuck you through your high. His hips slow to a stop as your body relaxes and breathing levels out, so you question him with a glance. 

“What are you doing?”

“You came, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“I’m not the one with pregnancy hormones,” he chuckles.

Your hands move from his hair to caress his jaw.

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “This is a two way street, Koo. You’re not a sex toy, I didn’t come in here just for me.”

Jungkook smiles sweet as pie and kisses the tip of your nose. 

“I know, Bambi,” he says. “But honestly, I think we should both get some sleep. Why don’t you stay in here with me and we can pick this up again in the morning?”

You frown, but begrudgingly agree when you notice how tired Jungkook looks. 

After pulling out, Jungkook readjusts your bottoms back to your hips before tucking himself into his pants. He cuddles into his sheets with one arm resting against the pillow next to him. Gesturing with his head towards his outstretched limb, you happily take the hint and lay your head on his tatted bicep. 

Cuddling with Jungkook is foreign, but the man himself is so familiar that it’s not awkward despite it being the first time. Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist to bring you into his chest, and it’s shocking just how wonderful it feels to be entirely encapsulated by him. You hum appreciatively as comfort seeps into your very bones and makes a home in your nervous system. Without thinking, you start tracing over his collarbones with your fingertips and he kisses your cheek and temple. 

You both fall asleep with ease, your quiet breaths tangling together in the limited space between your faces. 

When you wake up, Jungkook is behind you, but his arm is still draped across your waist and your head remains comfortably on his bicep. You smile without realizing and cuddle deeper into his embrace, lacing your fingers with the ones resting on your stomach. 

Your view upon looking down is just your intertwined hands above your small baby bump and your smile grows exponentially, your heart squeezing in your chest at the sight of all three of you together this way. 

The sentimental moment is brief, because soon enough you recognize the feeling of Jungkook’s dick pressing against your ass and desire begins banging on your door and demanding you let it in. As any good human in your position should, you nonchalantly wiggle your ass and snicker to yourself when you feel his cock stiffening. The sound of Jungkook languidly groaning behind you lights a fire inside your stomach that blazes down to your thighs. 

His hand squeezes yours and you feel him nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Morning,” he murmurs in your ear.

“Morning wood, more like it,” you reply.

Jungkook chuckles warmly in your ear and it spreads goosebumps across your skin like wildfire. He releases your hand to grab your hip instead, pulling you into him so you can feel exactly how hard he is. Your exhale becomes a moan when he ruts against your ass and his hand leaves your hip to reach your folds. 

The second his fingers slip beneath your panties and touch your warm cunt, your mind goes to static.

“Shit, Bams, you’re fucking soaked,” he notes.

“I’ve been wet for the past two weeks straight,” you admit.

“You should’ve told me,” Jungkook says as he licks and nibbles on your earlobe. “Would’ve taken care of you.”

You whine when he starts sucking on your neck just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. 

“Yeah,” you moan. “I’m understanding how grave a mistake that was now.” 

He laughs again before returning to his previous endeavor of kissing and licking your throat. His fingers move in and out of you lackadaisically, slowly stretching your hole open as he curls the digits against your front wall to reach that perfect spongy spot. You find yourself gripping his forearm to keep yourself steady as the pleasure threatens to pull you under its waves. 

Once Jungkook deems you wet enough, he removes his fingers from your pussy and brings them to your mouth for you to lick clean. As you work your tongue around and between his two middle fingers you hear the rustling of pants behind you. Even though the last time was mere hours ago, your heart is already racing at the thought of him stuffing you full again. 

Jungkook runs his dick through your folds and presses the tip against your leaking hole, making your essence coat his head with a pretty sheen. You moan reactively, your head meeting his shoulder while his cock stretches your velvet walls. 

The fingers previously between your lips dig into the flesh of your waist as he starts rocking into you from behind. He’s doing all the work, simultaneously pulling your hips back while he thrusts into your cunt mercilessly. You’re thankful for his diligence, because your mind is going haywire from the feeling of him throbbing inside you and the veins of his cock rubbing along your walls. It’d be impossible for you to assist him with anything in this state. 

He’s still worshipping your neck with his mouth while fucking you like an animal and the contradicting feeling forces your eyes into your skull.

“You’re so fucking tight, Bams. So wet… you’re making me fucking crazy.” His warm breath on your neck makes you keen. 

“More, Koo, I need more of you,” you reply.

Jungkook hears you loud and clear. He holds your waist with both arms to keep you snug against him so he can thrust into you with more force, his pace speeding up in conjecture with the extra effort. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “Jungkook.”

“Yeah? This what you wanted?”

“Fuck, yes, you’re so fucking big, Koo,” you whine.

He relentlessly fucks into your cunt, rolling his hips against your ass and sending his cock straight to your g-spot. Your nails make crescent moons on his arm where you’re still holding on for dear life. The other hand stretches before you to clutch the sheets like a vice for fear you’ll lose your mind if you don’t have something in your grasp. 

The melody of your moans and his grunts are downright pornagraphic and serves as filthy music to your ears. There’s nothing you want more than for him to continue fucking you, and if you could keep him buried in your cunt for all eternity, you would gladly do so. 

“You close?” He asks as he bites your ear. 

“Yes.”

“Good, gonna make a mess of you, Bambi.”

The erotic combination of words, tickling breaths, his firm chest behind you, and the massive cock spreading your pussy apart have you going institutionally insane. Somehow, he manages to gain more speed as your orgasms near and the imminent release makes you scream. It’s barely a second later that you’re coming with a pathetic cry of his name. He follows immediately, his cum marking your walls as his own while he repeatedly fucks his seed into you. 

His hips never cease their movement even once your highs wane, he just continues rolling into your cunt while his cock softens inside of you. You whimper from the oversensitivity, but even the uncomfortable pressure doesn’t make you stop him. The feeling of having him within you is too addicting to let it end just yet. 

Eventually, he stops lazily fucking you, but even then he still doesn’t pull out. You hold the position until sleep brings you both back into its embrace, Jungkook’s arms securely around you while the dripping mixture of your essences pools on the bed below.

Taglist: @lovingkoalaface @starcandybby @junniesoleilkth @keylime4eva @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @spideyjimin @jjeonjjk7 @joonlover1207 @annpeachy @rexana19 @heartwith0uthe @kosmos1307 @minyoongi7016 @magicalnachocreator @misschelliejeon @bubblyi3 @bhonbhon @polnaraffsrack @amarawayne @majesticjung-97 @kmpj9 @upo1313 @songbyeonkim @kikikaaa @glowjuli @avawants2havefun @hyeinwluv85s @someonegoood @kyljjk

-> The Second Trimester

[clockwayswrites]

Birds can sulk too Part 37

masterpost no editing or concrit plese. I am sick. go ow. I know there are mistakes. birb is my who gives a fuck post it series

Bruce spun his chair around to watch Jason and Roy basically limp off Jason’s motorcycle. “Rough mission?”

“Wasn't supposed to be, but sure as fuck was!” Roy said with an amusing level of cheerfulness for how exhausted he obviously was.

“Well, I can offer to make you both roast beef sandwiches from dinner’s leftovers,” Bruce offered as he stood. “There’s even some potato chips in the house right now if you can believe it.”

“Sacrilege,” Jason muttered through a yawn. “Add some apple slices to the plate and you got a deal, old man.”

Bruce let himself smile. “Go clean up and patch up. I’ll have things ready in the kitchen by the time you’re done.”

“Shower! That sounds like a really, really nice idea,” Roy said and started right that way. “Hot water, my beloved, come to me!”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Jason asked as he followed.

Bruce shook his head with an amused little chuckle as he spun back around to let Oracle know that he would be off comms. Luckily it was a slow night, so there’d be no issue with him stepping away even with a more limited set of Bats out on the streets.

He rolled his wrists as he took the elevator up, working out the ache in them. He’d not been kind to his body over the years, and his body liked to let him know it. Simple range of motion exercise while in a car, or elevator, or line helped soothe more than they should. He was grateful for every bit of relief.

As he entered the kitchen, he flicked on Alfred’s radio down on low. The soft jazz filled the room, and Bruce hummed along as he pulled out the ingredients. British mustard for Jason, but yellow for Roy. A bit more mayo for Roy and pickles on Jason’s. Neither would want lettuce, not for this type of sandwich.

Bruce was munching on a slice of apple when the boys came into the kitchen, hair still dripping and dressed in sweats. He poured Jason a glass of milk and set it by his plate.

“Thanks,” Jason said and took a long drink.

“And thanks for looking after Lian,” Roy said around a mouthful of bread and roast beef.

“Always,” Bruce said. “You know that I love having her here.”

“Still, thanks. She is a toddler and I know she’s a lot,” Roy said. “No problems?”

“We had a very exciting afternoon in the garden looking insects. And yes, I made sure she wore a hat and sunscreen. She had a little fuss after we came in, but I think she was just a bit overly tired,” ,” Bruce said. He gave a moment of debate before adding, “I actually would say Danny had the worst day in the house.”

Roy set his sandwich down and sat up, safe apologetic. “Oh, shit, is he not a kid person? Did Lian pull out his feathers or something?”

Jason was frowning, brow all furrowed.

Bruce shoo his head. “By all signs he loves kids. No, he felt that he had to stay away from Lian, out of respect of Jason’s wishes.”

Roy turned slowly to look at Jason, his disapproval clear in the slant of his mouth. “Jason?”

“I didn’t—that wasn’t—” Jason made a noise of frustration. He ran is hand roughly through his hair. “I just didn’t want him alone with Lian.”

“Jason.” Roy said again.

“He’s a stranger! And a dangerous stranger at that! I don’t see what’s so wrong about wanting some supervision,” Jason said.

“You trust him around your siblings,” Roy pointed out.

“My siblings know kung-fu,” Jason argued back.

“Right. And why is Danny dangerous?”

“Because he turned into a giant otherworldly bird,” Jason practically hissed.

Roy crossed his arms. “So, you’re saying he’s dangerous because he’s a meta.”

It was like the words brought Jason to a halt so quickly that he had to rear back. “What?”

“Because of what he can shape shift into, he’s dangerous. That’s what you’re saying,” Roy said. “Wow. I didn’t think I was dating a bigot.”

“I’m not—come on, you know I’m not!” Jason almost shouted before he remembered himself and lowered his volume. “It’s about the fact that he could take on Ivy’s plants in that form! And he took on a whole group of the Mad Hatter’s goons with just his wings out. He’s obviously both skilled and strong—at least when he’s got bird bits. And he’s a genius! Smart, skilled, and strong is a dangerous combination.”

“I think Roy’s very good point,” Bruce said softly, “is that the way you were saying it, that’s not how it sounded. None of us think you have any issues with meta, of course not, but just like Danny is still an unknown to you, you are to him. He doesn’t know that. I think that what Danny heard is that because he’s a meta, you were afraid of him being near Lian.”

The fight left Jason in a rush. “…oh. I…”

“The wings—these changes he’s going through—it scares Danny,” Bruce explained. “And because he’s scared of himself right now, of course he’s going to think you’re scared of him for the same reasons, not because of the fact that he can fight.”

Jason rubbed at his face. “Shit. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Well, we’re good at that,” Roy said before he leaned over and kissed Jason’s cheek. “But I really do know you’re not a bigot. I wouldn’t actually think that for a second, but I knew it would get your head out of your ass if I called you one.”

“Thanks, I needed the help I guess,” Jason said with a sigh. He glanced over at Bruce. “Do you think Danny will give me the chance to apologize?”

“I think that Danny is the type of person to be far too forgiving,” Bruce said honestly. “And in this case, I think that if you explain things, he’ll even understand.”

[imyourjoysims2aspiration]

4t2 Conversion of Joliebean & Arethabee’s Pink Ribbons (-ish) Collection

My first successful clothing conversion set!! This was fun to convert but my lord there were some bumps along the ride

As the title says it’s joliebean and arethabee pink ribbons set from the sims 4 for the sims 2 !!

So not ALL of the pieces have been converted but they are in the works

I want to preface that I’m still a beginner so this is not a pro 4t2 converter collection

And very disappointing adding morphs was the biggest issue, the mesh tool kit auto morphs was really fucking me over and wouldn’t show. No morphs as a result of this :c So if anyone wants to help with this issue I would be eternally grateful (slide into my dms as they're always open) !

Edit: I figured out how to do morphs !! They are coming very soon 💕

!! Update: Morphs are done !! The tops and dress have both morph states but the bottoms have only the fat morph. Also the cherry coke jeans have some MAJOR clipping issues on both body types. I've tried re-doing the mesh but, in game there is still clipping. I'll try to figure out what's causing this but as of now i have no clue :/ !!

!! The download link has been updated !!

All that yapping aside under the cut is the download link and info about each item and also everything is af only !

! pls let me know if you run into any issues !

[credits: @joliebean @arethabee @jius-sims]

DOWNLOAD: SFS

Clara dress

6k poly total

30 swatches

paired with jius' suede ballet flats originally converted by @nonsensical-pixels ( not the exact same bc i had to tweak them for the dress )

✧. ┊    

Cherry Coke bottom

10k poly total

12 swatches

paired with jius' double-strap mary janes

✧. ┊    

Whimsical top

2k poly

30 swatches

✧. ┊    

Flirtatious bottom

10.6k poly

30 swatches

paired with jius';' double-strap mary janes

✧. ┊    

Lizzie skirt

4.8k poly

12 swatches

✧. ┊    

Clara top

1.5k poly

30 swatches

✧. ┊    

[vettelsvee]

ARGUMENTS AND UNWANTED SHARED SECRETS | Charles Leclerc

⋆ PAIRING: Dad!Charles Leclerc x Mum wife!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: Charles is back home for summer break, and a message he receives from Lando to hang out in a club makes the two of you argue in front of your daughter because all you want is her to enjoy her dad... or maybe, is just your nervousness and hormones making you overthink a lot ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1462 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: First ever fic i’m posting as a university graduate and officially a teacher, so I can say that apart from some exams my nightmare after 4 years is finally done! 🫡 I'd love to read your thoughts about this one, so feel free to comment and reblog, I'd appreciate it a lot! <3 ↳ TALK TO ME/MAKE YOUR REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

The long-awaited summer break had arrived, and finally, Charles Leclerc could return to his beloved Monaco to spend three weeks with you, his wife, and your four-year-old daughter, Julia.

There was no doubt that traveling so much, and especially being separated from his little family for long periods of time, was exhausting emotionally and mentally for the Monegasque. Still, he knew he had to continue with his career if he wanted to achieve the goals his younger self had set for him: becoming a world champion. That's why videocalls with the women of his life, and the support of some of his mates, especially the newly dad on the grid, Max Verstappen, made the season more bearable.

That's why, even while having dinner in pajamas, talking about any topic that came up while enjoying a simple homemade dinner they had cooked together, Charles felt grateful.

"How's the season going so far, daddy?" your daughter asked, looking at your husband curiously as she held her glass of water.

Charles sighed, feeling a little uncomfortable. He didn't want to tellyou anything related to his disastrous season at Ferrari, especially not in front of your daughter.

"It's been tough so far," he replied as calmly as he could, "but we still have the second half ahead to fight. It’s not like we’re winning the championship, but we could still fight for some points."

The 6-year-old girl, sitting to Charles' left, looked saddened to hear her father's words.

"Why can't we go see daddy at a race?" she asked, looking at you, who tried to smile the best you could.

At that moment, the Monegasque was overwhelmed with love even your face said otherwise. It seemed like your daughter had read his mind as he was going to suggest it to you in the following days.

"Would you like us to come see you race, honey?"

"I wouldn't like it, I would honestly love it," Leclerc nodded enthusiastically. "Having you in the paddock, just like when you were pregnant with Julia, would be a dream."

The little girl was over the moon about the idea, kicking her little legs with enthusiasm.

"Does that mean we can go see daddy, mommy? I want to go see him race! And maybe I can see Lewis too!"

You savored your daughter's excitement.

"Of course, honey. We'll try to go to a few races if possible, of course."

Charles took another bite of his meal before speaking again.

"Oh, come on," your husband replied, taking another bite of dinner. "You just have to make sure that Juls wears sunscreen and drinks enough water."

Suddenly, Charles heard the ringing tone of his cellphone in the distance. With a soft apologise, he immediately got up to answer the call, thinking it might be some work-related issue requiring his attention. As he returned, you and little Julia were discussing which races you could attend to see her father.

"It was Lando," the driver commented. "He told me he’s going out tonight."

"And are you going?" you frowned, not getting any response from your husband. All he did was staying silence, as if he was hiding something from you, as if he was scared. You knew him all too well, and that’s exactly what he was doing. "Charles, I'm talking to you," you insisted. "I don’t mind you’re going, but… I don’t know, I thought having you here, with us, for the summer break, meant you were spending time with us."

Leclerc sighed.

“I just wanted to hang out with Lando and with you as well. You know, having some private time and trying to relax as much as possible without laying on the couch the whole day when I’m not at the gym.”

Julia sat quietly in her seat, sensing the tension between her parents filling the room even at her young age.

You stood up, abruptly dropping the fork she was eating with.

"It's not just about you relaxing or us having a good time," you shouted, a bit desperate, and immediately regretted it. "You’re… I don’t know, Charles, I feel like you’re always kinda prioritizing your career over our family. Plus, what are you going to do with your daughter tonight? Are you going to leave her alone? Or should we call your mother at nine thirty at night on a whim?"

"It's not fair for you to make me feel this way, you know?" Charles retorted, getting defensive. "I work hard to provide everything you need. Besides, you can stay here with Juls if you can't, or don’t, want to come."

"I work too, and I handle other chores as well," you said simply, trying not to stick to his words, which were definitely hurting you. "Oh, and I also take care of your daughter and try to make her see that her father still loves her despite not being there for her when she needs him the most."

The tension building up between you in the dining room could be cut with a knife, and your daughter’s cries were what snapped you out of your anger.

"Daddy, I don't want you to fight! I want us to be together and happy!"

"Juls," Charles approached his daughter slowly, "it's okay, mommy and I are just exchanging opinions..."

"What's going on, mommy?" the girl interrupted her father, still with tears in her eyes. "Why are you and daddy fighting? Are you going to divorce like Lily’s parents?"

Charles and you realized what you were doing. You weren't used to fighting this hard, especially not in front of your daughter. Immediately, they both sat on the couch, putting Julia between you both.

"We're sorry for yelling, sweetheart," you apologized to the little girl. "Dad and I are just having a disagreement because, sometimes, adults have different points of view on a particular issue."

Charles nodded, agreeing with you and, at the same time, trying to calm the situation:

"That's right, Julia. Sometimes people don't agree, but that doesn't mean mom and I don't love each other anymore!"

Julia nodded slowly, still confused and saddened by the argument she had witnessed.

"Are you going to be okay then? Are you not going to separate? Can we go see daddy at a race, mommy?"

You and Charles exchanged a quick glance, increasingly realizing that the argument had really hurt their daughter.

"Of course, princess," the driver replied, planting a kiss on her forehead while getting up from his seat. "Hey, why don't you go to our room and pick a movie?"

Julia smiled shyly and left the living room without saying anything, a sign that she had calmed down a bit.

"Hey. Come here, please."

Charles took your hand, seeing in your eyes a feeling he promised never to cause again every time you had an argument. 

Pain. Disappointment. The feeling of not being good enough. 

Overthinking it all.

"You're right, love," he said, wiping away the tears starting to fall from your face. "I'm so sorry for acting like a jerk, I just wanted us to have a good time and for you to be able to socialize with the guys like before Juls came into our lives."

"Don't worry, Charles," you tried to give him a niec smile, but it wasn’t really worth the try. "I got a bit intense too. I guess it's the hormones, they're changing every now and then and..."

You realized you messed up at that moment. Quickly, like a reflex movement, you put you right hand on your mouth, but it was already too late. 

Once again, you fucked up even it was supposed to be a surprise...

"What do you mean, hormones?"

"I'm pregnant," you whispered. "I know we weren't planning it, but..."

The Monegasque was speechless, and a broad smile began to spread across his face.

"That's incredible!" he exclaimed, hugging you affectionately. "We're going to be parents again. I mean, it’s not like I was expecting this news but honestly, I can't believe it..."

"Mommy! Daddy! When are you coming?"

Julia appeared again. Now, she was wearing her father's Ferrari cap which, despite being too big for her little head, she loved. Her face immediately covered with a smile as soon as she saw her parents hugging, quickly forgetting you two were talking more loudly than you should moments before.

"Great! We're all together and happy now!" she shouted down the hallway until she reached the bedroom Charles and you shared.

Once the growing family lay down on the bed and started watching Cars for the umpteenth time —because to Julia, Lightning McQueen reminded her of her father—, Charles couldn't help but think how lucky he was to have his family by his side, even he was far from stupid sometimes.

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

[honeekyuu]

casual. [miya atsumu x f!reader] chapter one.

>> being best friends with a frat boy can be a real pain in the ass sometimes

or

there's no one who knows you quite like miya atsumu <<

series status: [ongoing]

masterlist. || next.

a/n: somebody lmk if atsuyn know they have feelings for each other bc i havent figured it out yet

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

---------------------------------------

Miya Atsumu has attachment issues.

Even at five years old, you can see it – the difference between him and the boy who shares his face. 

Osamu is quiet, with a gentle expression and disinterested eyes. Whenever he spots you on the other side of the fence, playing by yourself in your backyard, he waves and says your name in way that flies away with the wind. Sometimes he just peers over at you until you notice him, asks what you’re playing when you finally do. But he tends to leave you be, more interested in escaping the whirlwind that is his brother.

Atsumu is a different story – the same face, but a voice that makes your ears hurt and your heart pound. He makes you mad, makes you want to yell at him. But when you do raise your voice, you think he might like you more because of it. He only ever calls into his house, asking his mother if he can come play in your yard. Laughing when you yell that he can’t. Appearing at your side, taking your toys and forcing you into a game you didn’t come up with.

“Go away,” you say, every day without fail. “You’re annoying!” 

His response is always the same, loud and grating and marked by Osamu just behind him, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, but ya like me!” Smile so wide that his eyes disappear, gap in the space where he’s just lost a tooth.

You don’t tell him that he’s wrong.

– 

He follows you around in school. You’re smaller than him at that age, and he makes it known that he’s aware of it. 

“Gimme, I’ll do it,” he says, taking your books from your arms and carrying them to your cubbyhole.

“Watch where yer goin’!” he yells when older kids bump into you in the hall, caring less than you about manners and politeness and getting himself into trouble with them more often than not.

“Can ya see alright, shortie?” he asks when you crane your neck to see the board, pointing to his own seat as if offering it to you. Grinning playfully when you just roll your eyes and squint harder at the teacher’s handwriting. 

“Samu and I are thinkin’ of tryin’ out fer the volleyball team,” he tells you one day, shoveling food into his mouth and only smiling when you look him over in disgust. “You gonna be okay on your own?”

You huff at him, eating much more carefully. “I’m not a kid, Tsumu – I don’t need you to keep an eye on me all the time.” You gesture at the cafeteria around you. You’re the only one sitting with him at lunch – you’re the only one who ever sits with him at lunch. Osamu sits somewhere else, with Aran, and occasionally drifts over to talk to you. “You sure you don’t need someone to keep an eye on you? You’d be all alone without me.”

He just shrugs and shoves more food in his mouth. You’re not quite sure where he puts it all. “Ain’t you enough?”

“What about Samu?”

“Samu’s a given.”

“What about the volleyball team?”

“What about ‘em?”

“You have to at least try to get along with them, Tsumu.”

“Sure, I guess,” he starts, lifting the lip of his rice bowl to his mouth and scooping the last few grains in. His voice echoes against the metal while he talks. “But what’do I need them for? I got you.”

You warm, wondering if he knows how that sounds to anyone passing by. A quick glance tells you that no one’s even close enough to hear. 

You’re on an island alone with Miya Atsumu. Sometimes you wish you had a way off, a lifeboat or a rescue ship to come get you.

He meets your eyes when he’s done eating, his expression genuine – always a little too intense, but genuine all the same. “I heard the team needs a manager.” When you only lift your brows in response, he shrugs. “You wouldn’t have’ta walk home alone, at least.”

Most days, you don’t mind the island so much. 

–

Your first crush hits you like a truck in junior high. A boy with a sweet face but a wicked sense of humor – you’re drawn to the way his eyes twinkle, the way he’s a little too playful. He jokes a little too much, but his smile when he’s scolded is too pretty for you to care. And you have the wonderful privilege of being his seatmate, the closest you’ll ever get to him.

There’s a point in time when you think you might actually have a chance with him. He finds you funny, and he always asks how your weekend was. You fantasize that maybe there’s a world where he likes your company.

The issue, however, is that he’s popular. He’s popular and he knows it.

And you’ve grown into a girl who acts like a boy because you were raised with twin boys who act like animals. 

You’re not the kind of girl he’d look twice at, not when the other girls in your class smell like flowers and giggle to each other quietly. You think you smell fine, but there’s certainly no giggling happening in your life. 

No, you tend to be surrounded more by screaming and fighting and swearing, courtesy of Miya Atsumu.

It makes the twins popular, too – they have that mischievous energy, the kind that makes girls fall for them more whenever they fight in the hall. 

Girls want to be near that type of boy, but boys don’t want to be near that type of girl.

“Sorry,” your seatmate says when you corner him behind the school one day and nervously hold out a box of chocolates, hoping for a single chance with him. “You’re really cool, but I’m not that interested…” 

He doesn’t make fun of you, you’ll give him that. He’s sympathetic, and seems genuinely sorry to hurt your feelings. Even now, during a rejection, your crush on him grows.

“Besides,” he adds, uncertainly and with a nervous smile. “Aren’t you and Miya a thing?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever felt your brain stop working.

“N-No,” you mumble, shaking your head forcefully after a moment. “Not even a little bit – why? Did he say that?”

You can’t imagine that he ever would; Atsumu may be attached, but he’s never gone too far.

“No, no! Sorry, I must have misunderstood…” He scratches the back of his head. “It’s just that… you two seem really close. You’re always together.”

He leaves you there after a moment of silence, whispering another awkward ‘sorry’ that you never hear. You just crouch in place, box of chocolate on the ground and confusion numbing your limbs. You pull your phone from your jacket hollowly, dialing the most frequently called number and listening to it ring.

“Y/n? Where are you? I didn’t see yer stuff in the locker.” 

Atsumu’s voice is the same as always. Unassuming, unapologetic. Attached.

“Have you been telling people that we’re dating?” You whisper it, too afraid that you’ll speak something horrible into reality.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” He laughs, a bark of confused amusement. “Why the hell would I be doin’ that?”

“So… you haven’t, right?”

He makes a noise of derision. “‘Course not, don’t be insane.” There’s a silence between you that you find disquieting. He seems to feel it, too. “Why?”

You consider it a moment longer. He really must not be behind this. “Nothing. No reason.”

“Yer lyin’. ”

“Forget it.”

“Don’t wanna-”

“Well, I do,” you snap. 

He pauses for a moment – just a moment, pointed enough for your anger to become embarrassing. 

His response is quiet. “Yer shit at hiding things, you know.”

He’s crude when he talks to you, all honesty and no humility.

But Miya Atsumu has always been that way.

–

Atsumu’s attachment to you continues well into high school.

It’s a running joke now, one that comes in shared looks between Osamu and Suna Rintarou, who had asked only a week into first year if the two of you were dating. To this day, you’re convinced that he’d only asked at all because Atsumu had made a very loud point about needing to be your seatmate when the teacher had placed you across the room. Suna had cracked the joked under his breath – ‘it’s giving obsessed boyfriend’ – but everyone heard, and everyone laughed. Only Atsumu had looked confused, and that was because you were fixing him with a glare that could melt metal.

Suna had made an instant friend in the quieter twin and an instant enemy in you. It had been a struggle for the rest of junior high to be rid of that impression, and you couldn’t allow it to continue into high school, not when the boys in your class are finally starting to notice you.

Suna had made up for it with a semester’s worth of vending machine snacks – half of which were eaten by Atsumu, anyway.

“You know,” Osamu says one day in second year, approaching you during a break in Inarizaki’s practice time. You’re folding towels on the floor, having been roped into the Manager position again. You glance up at him warily, knowing better than to think Osamu’s innocent just because he’s quiet. “Suna thinks Aran has a crush on you.”

You blink in surprise, craning your neck to look around Osamu and observe the older boy. He’s on the floor at the edge of the court, wiping his forehead and stretching next to Kita. 

Aran’s sweet, and you’ve known him a long time. You’ve always been fond of him – a little shy because he’s older, but fond all the same. In junior high, he would help you with your homework and was always willing to help you study. He would buy you snacks and ruffle your hair when you would get too riled up by Atsumu’s antics. You’d always liked him, always felt lighter when he was around.

But could you see yourself dating him?

His eyes find yours across the court. You watch as his face warms, and he’s sending you a kind smile. You warm, too, imagining a different kind of relationship with Aran.

There’s a yellow-blond head in your line of sight before that thought can go anywhere meaningful.

“Whatcha lookin’ at!”

You could kill him.

“Nothing,” you say, returning to the towels. Atsumu crouches beside you, leaning into your face.

“Yer definitely starin’ at somethin’.” He tracks where you’d been looking before, tracks it all the way to Aran Ojiro. You glance up through your eyelashes – Aran’s looked away, lips pursed in disappointment.

A spike of annoyance flies down your spine, and the towel in your hand suffers the sudden grip of your tightened fist. When you meet Atsumu’s eyes, you see it. 

Surprise.

“You like Aran?” he whispers. Osamu uses the oh-so-convenient distraction to take his leave.

“No,” you mutter, glaring at the younger twin as he sidles away. “Wouldn’t matter if I did, anyway.”

Atsumu tilts his head like he has no clue what you’re saying. “Why not?”

“You know exactly why not.” You stand with the stack of towels, walking away from him quickly – angrily, hoping he doesn’t follow you.

He starts to, but a whistle rings across the gym, so he’s forced to walk away.

You fill water bottles in the sink, wondering why your hands are shaking so bad – why you feel just a little disappointed that the conversation’s over.

–

He follows you home that day. Ignores Osamu the entire walk home, poking and prodding at your anger while he looks for answers. You ignore him in turn, purposely only talking to Osamu, who looks like he wants to melt through the asphalt.

When you finally make it home, you speed past their house and through the gate of your own, looking forward to being alone.

Atsumu would never let that happen.

“Y/n,” he calls, chasing after you and stopping the front door just as you’re slamming it shut. He slips through, following you into your house and only pausing momentarily to greet your mother, who’s less than surprised that Miya Atsumu is in her kitchen.

He still manages to get to your bedroom door before you can close it, leaning into the wood and grunting when you throw your bodyweight against it on the other side.

“Let-me-in,” he huffs, pushing with his shoulder. You plant both hands on the door and lean with all your might.

“Go away, Miya!”

“No! I don’t jus’ go away, and you know that!”

“I’m tired of seeing you!”

“No yer not-” You want to be angrier at him than you are, more stubborn than you’re capable of. “I’m yer best friend!”

“No you’re not!” you yell back. Another lie, one meant to catch him just off guard enough that you can get the door shut. 

It doesn’t work. How obvious is it if even he can tell?

“Well, yer my best friend, so I’m not goin’!” 

You groan and drop your hands, letting the door fly open and watching as he lands flat on his face. “What do you want? Why are you being annoying?”

He mumbles, face buried in your rug. “Tell me why it wouldn’t matter if ya liked Aran.”

“You know why.”

“Nuh-uh. Got no clue.”

“Because-” You sigh, heated as you sit on your bed. “It never matters if boys like me or if I like boys. You always get in the way.”

“How?!” He lifts his head, clearly affronted and completely ignoring the red spot on his face from hitting the ground.

“You’re everywhere!” you yell, throwing your arms out. “Boys don’t wanna go out with a girl who always has a boy at her side!”

His jaw falls. “That don’t make sense! Just ‘cause I’m a boy, it doesn’t mean anything! We’re friends!”

“Tell that to every boy that’s ever rejected me because they ‘don’t wanna get on Miya’s bad side’.” You quote them directly, the same excuse given over and over again since middle school.

“What the hell have I got to do with anythin’?!” He looks utterly baffled and a little bit annoyed, like it’s your fault that he’s not understanding. “You sure it ain’t ‘cause you dress like a teenage boy and sit like a gangster?”

“Please just fuck off, Tsumu.” You flop onto your back and shut your eyes. “I’m tired of guys backing away and asking ‘What about Miya?’ when I confess to them. You got a whole fanclub of girls wanting your attention, and I can’t get a boy within ten feet of me? How’s that fair?”

You hear Atsumu sit up, so you tilt your head and peer down at him. He stares up at you with wide eyes. Quiet, for the first time in his life.

“I didn’t know that.”

You blink. He blinks back.

He really hadn’t known.

You look away, swallowing hard. “Well, now you do.”

There’s silence between you, one that doesn’t feel quite right.

“Is that what happened before? That day ya called me?”

He remembers. He remembers, but he hadn’t been able to put it together.

What an idiot.

“Yeah,” you mumble, shutting your eyes and throwing an arm over your face. “I thought maybe you were saying something around school.”

“I wouldn’t do that t’you,” he says right away. “Why would I do that? We’re not together.”

You laugh to yourself. “And yet, we’re always together.”

“So?”

You glance down at him from under your arm. “You don’t realize how possessive you are… do you?”

His brow furrows, and he stares down at nothing.

“I’m not-”

“If I started dating Aran, how would you feel?”

You watch him very carefully.

You watch as his jaw clenches, as he struggles to maintain a neutral expression, even though he doesn’t realize you’re looking at him.

“You can date who you want,” he whispers. You keep your eyes on him and drive the point home.

“If I spent more time with him? Walked home with him after practice? Ate lunch with him? Saw him on the weekend?”

Atsumu has no idea that he’s pouting right now. “‘s not like I like you er anything. Yer Y/n.”

You smile to yourself and look away, finally, eyes closing again. “You don’t need to like me to be possessive of me.”

You don’t bother asking if he understands. His silence says enough.

“Ya want me to back off?” he eventually asks, voice soft.

Cut the attachment.

A knife-slice separation of you and Miya Atsumu.

The voice in your head – the one that’s always angriest with Miya Atsumu’s intrusive nature – says no. Whispers it, acknowledges that saying yes means hurting him and hurting you. 

Wonders what saying no might mean.

“I mean it,” Atsumu says, his voice a little hollow, like it’s trapped in his throat. “If ya wanna date Aran – or anyone, I guess – and we’re too… If I’m too…”

The word no rings in your head, but the little voice changes its tune – this would be the only time you’re given the choice to change your friendship with him. If you say no, you’d have to be okay with him being like this forever, unapologetic and unmoving.

If you say yes, you’d have some breathing room. A little bit of space, a little bit of a chance to become your own person – a chance to be known as you, not as you and Miya Atsumu.

He’s giving you a chance.

You close your eyes again, fiddling with a loose string in your sleeve. Wondering why you’d started this conversation in the first place.

“It’s fine, Tsumu. You don’t need to back off.”

You’re not sure when you’d grown attached to him, too.

–

Nothing happens with Aran – he tells you later that it’s better this way, and there’s an inexplicable relief in the pit of your stomach when he does.

Your attachment to Miya Atsumu grows when you’re too careless to keep an eye on it.

–

“Me and the boys’re thinkin’ about joinin’ Lambda.”

You tug another part through Atsumu’s hair, making sure not to get any bleach on the undercut. “You and the boys, huh? Samu’s not much of a frat guy.”

“Said somethin’ about not trustin’ me and Suna to survive a hazing.”

You just hum, completely understanding Osamu’s point of view. “You do have bad impulse control.”

“Do not!” he complains, tilting his head back to look up at you. All he accomplishes is a smear of bleach on your bare thighs and a smack of your gloved hand against the side of his head.

“Watch it,” you snap, hurrying to wipe the bleach off your skin. You’ve got him sitting on the floor in front of your bed, in the cramped little dorm room that the twins and Suna had helped you move into at the end of the summer. Your thighs sit firmly on either side of him, both to balance the bleach mix on your leg and to keep him from squirming. “I’ll let you walk around with piss yellow hair like you did in high school.”

“No, don’t…” he whines, straightening and letting you work. “You always do it the best. And it’s free.”

You laugh wholeheartedly. “You think this is free? I have your credit card number memorized and a lot of online shopping to do.”

He scoffs, mumbling ‘what the fuck’ to himself before making a noise of confusion. “What’re you shoppin’ for? You got all your shit already.”

“Need new clothes.” He points at your open closet, stuffed full of clothes and shoes. “Do ya?”

“Those clothes aren’t flattering on me.”

“Yeah, because you dress like a fucking twelve-year-old-”

“I’ll leave you like this, I swear to god-”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. “But seriously, what’do you need new clothes for?”

You shrug even though he can’t see it. “I wanna change my style a bit… be more girly, maybe?”

He shakes his head slightly. “What for? You’re fine.”

“I mean, if I’m gonna be partying at Lambda a lot, I’m gonna want a roster of Lambda boys, don’t you think?”

Atsumu scoffs so hard that he chokes on his saliva. He turns to look up at you, disbelief scribbled all over his face. There’s bleach dripping down from his hairline. You can’t help but wipe at it carefully.

“The fuck are you talking about? A roster-”

“Am I not allowed to?” You level him with a challenging look, but he just rolls his eyes.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He turns in place to face you, and then his hands are hooked around the tops of your thighs. “Just surprised… that’s all.”

The intensity of his gaze when he searches your face makes you warm and turn away, clearing your throat.

“I’m trying to rebrand a little, I guess.”

He blinks, chews on his lip a moment. Looks away from you. 

You can see that he wants to ask – ‘need me to rebrand, too?’ – but he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask if you need him to change, because he already asked once and you already said no.

You wonder if he’s worried you’ll change your mind. 

You wonder if maybe he doesn’t want you to.

Instead, he just nods.

“Probably a good thing – us seeing people.” When you just blink in surprise, he shrugs, more to himself than to you. “If people see us dating around, they’ll stop making assumptions.”

Assumptions that you’re mine.

Your heart does a confusing little flip at the thought. You ignore it, chalk it up to the nerves that come with difficult conversations. 

“Turn around,” you mumble weakly. “Your hair’s gonna be different colors if you don’t let me finish.”

The next hour of your life is completely silent, but so unbearably loud.

–

The twins and Suna rush Lambda and instantly become boys that every girl wants.

Despite the shopping spree in your first year, you struggle to mature as quickly as they do – talk of hookups and weekly flings become a regular occurrence, both with them and with the girls in your year. You’re unable to contribute over the years, dating here and there but never managing to take the next step.

Despite everything, that age-old rumor you’d been so desperate to be rid of – the one that links you to Atsumu – sticks to you like the summer heat of that moment in your dorm room. 

But that’s not what gets under your skin. It’s not that people associate you two in a way that makes it difficult for you to date. It’s that Atsumu is not held to the same assumption. He’s not held to the same curse, unfair and unjust. 

No… Miya Atsumu seems to have no problem finding girls to warm his bed, even if those girls still fix you with looks of jealousy. You wonder what the difference is – why no guy is willing to toe the line of Atsumu’s temper, while the line of yours is crossed with every pointed giggle and weighted shut of his bedroom door.

The only girl who seems to understand your near-constant state of confusion is Tanaka Saeko.

“They just want to fuck him because he and his brother are hot,” she’d said to you one day in first year, after finding a group of girls in the dorm lounge whispering about Atsumu. She’d come out of nowhere, startling you while you were seething at the microwave. She’d leaned against the fridge, staring sympathetically at you with her arms crossed. “But to be so real with you, their friend is hotter. The one that looks like a fish.”

Your irritation had been broken by that, a snort bursting out of you unexpectedly. “Suna? He doesn’t look like a fish-”

“Then how’d you know I meant him?” She’d raised her eyebrows at you at that, a grin stretching across her face. “But anyway, it doesn’t matter. None of them are as hot as you – trust me.”

You’d found yourself instantly fond of her. “Yeah? Then why doesn’t it feel that way?” 

“Because guys are douchebags and really only care about other guys.” She’d hummed to herself, thinking for a moment. “Maybe they’re all secretly gay… That’s how I get about other girls…”

Your laugh had scared the group of girls in the corner, all of their phones open to Atsumu’s Instagram page. Their glares told you that they could recognize you from the number of posts you occupy on their screens, but the mysterious blonde next to you just pointed at your chest and nodded at them.

“Great tits, amirite?”

You hadn’t laughed like that in a long, long time.

Tanaka Saeko had brought you out of your shell, pulled you out of the orbit that is Miya Atsumu. She’d set you up with friends she thought were good enough, cancelled your Tinder dates when she wholeheartedly disapproved of them. She’d cleansed your closet of anything she couldn’t style into what she’d called ‘frat girl chic’, and had only done so after realizing just how often you find yourself at the Lambda house.

She’d started finding herself there, too – joining you in the group of exclusive few that were allowed upstairs, flirting harmlessly with Suna, dunking Atsumu’s head in a bowl of jungle juice when he was voted President.

Having her around almost made it possible to forget about everything else over the next three years.

Almost. 

–

The breakups always come in text messages. They’re never brave enough to do it in person, not when there’s a chance he’ll be with you.

It happens again now, in the late afternoon of a typical Monday, just as you’re lifting a coffee cup to your lips and peering out the window to people-watch. The buzz from the table draws your attention. You glance down, and the eye roll that comes when you see the preview is involuntary.

“Of course,” you mutter, letting the phone drop. It’s a shame, really. You’d actually liked this one. He’d been cute, and he’d always treated you so sweetly.

Suna looks up from his laptop, gaze curious as he tries to read the text upside down. “Boyfriend?”

“Ex, now.” You swipe the notification away and try to get back to your homework, but the stupid discussion board doesn’t hold your attention long enough to stop the annoyance from creeping in. 

“What’d he do?”

“Nothing.” It’s true. The sweet junior with the puppy-dog eyes hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d practically worshipped the ground you walk on. He’d been sweet and gentle, so much so that he hadn’t wanted to step on anyone’s toes.

Suna leans over and takes your phone, typing in your password and reading the message in full.

hey, i really like you… but i don’t think this is gonna work. i get the feeling there are some things we both need to figure out first.

The tattooed man scoffs, a hand going to his mouth to cover the laugh that’s slipping through. “Some things you need to figure out, huh?”

“That’s what they all say,” you grumble, typing away at the prompt your TA had posted last week. “Maybe they need to figure out how to assert themselves in a relationship.”

“You gotta admit,” he breathes, locking your phone and setting it down between you. The lockscreen lights up, a photo of you from high school. There’s someone else in the photo with you.

He gives you a pointed look, brows raised. “It doesn’t look great from an outside perspective.”

You turn the phone over so it’s face-down. “I’m not in the habit of feeding fragile male insecurity.”

“Maybe not,” he shrugs. “But no guy – even the right guy – is gonna love that your lockscreen and all of the photos in your apartment have Miya in them.”

“I’m not looking for the right guy,” you bite out, rolling your eyes. “I’m looking for a guy that’ll stick around long enough to hook up with.”

Your friend laughs, surprised. “Oh, wow. Very direct.” When you don’t answer, he blinks. “You’re serious?”

“Unfortunately,” you sigh.

“Are you a virgin or just ovulating?”

“You wanna say it for the whole cafe to hear?”

He purses his lips, looking around. “I dunno, the barista might be down. I’m increasing your chances here.” He barely flinches when your sneaker makes contact with his shin.

“I’m a twenty-two-year-old virgin, Rin.” You shut your laptop with more force than necessary. “I graduate in three months. I’m not looking for a husband – I’m looking to get laid.”

He follows suit, his laptop closing gently. He leans back in his chair, sighing and examining you with the eye of someone who’s known you a very long time. “You always seemed decently invested in the guys you date.”

“Maybe the first few,” you admit, shrugging. “But they all had some weird hangup whenever it was time to take the next step. They skirt around the issue, but I swear they all think Miya has the final say in my sex life.” The bell above the door rings, and your eyes fly to the couple that enters, the girl giggling and clinging to the man’s arm. Your eyes roll against your will, and you gesture vaguely at them. “Clearly, that’s not the case for him.”

Suna turns to the door, watching as Atsumu orders coffee with his girl of the week. “Oh. I see what you mean.” He breathes a laugh of disbelief and cuts a glance at you. “I didn’t realize things were still bad-”

“Oh!” The voice comes from the bar, and then there’s a blond standing over your table. “I didn’t know you two’d be here.”

Suna opens his laptop, but you just smile politely up at the girl on Atsumu’s arm. She’s in your major, you think. No harm in being nice.

She doesn’t smile back.

Bitch.

“Just getting some work done,” you mumble, starting to pack up. “But I’m done, so I’m gonna head home.”

“Want me to walk you?” 

You groan internally, already feeling the heat of the girl’s glare.

“No, thanks. Suna’s gonna walk me.”

The man in question blinks up at you, green eyes confused. “I am?”

“Oh, are they dating?” It comes from the girl who’s got her fresh manicure on Atsumu’s bicep, her whisper directed to his ear but her voice purposely audible. He snorts in response, pointing between you and Suna. 

“These two? No way in hell.”

There’s something about it that irks you, the way he dismisses the idea of you dating. You know rationally that it’s truly absurd to think about you and Rintarou together – especially because Atsumu thinks you’re still dating that junior – but that flash of annoyance, often appearing when he does, strikes you. 

“We could be, you never know,” you say, smiling pettily. And then you turn to Suna, tossing your bag over your shoulder. “Wanna hook up, Rinnie?”

“Leave me out of it, please,” he says right away, attention already back on his screen. Atsumu laughs good-naturedly, and you can’t help but be fond of it. Still, you play the game.

“How ‘bout a date? Me, you, some Netflix? Maybe some chill?” 

Suna’s sharp eyes are playful and scolding at the same time – telling you to let it go, because he knows what you’re doing. “You couldn’t handle my chill, princess.”

You roll your eyes and stand, getting in one more dig that makes his smile peek out. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind, player.”

The moment – joking, innocent – is broken when you glance up at Atsumu.

His expression is unplaceable, eyebrows furrowed and eyes tracking your smile like its source means something to him.

You lift your eyebrows in surprise – you’ve never seen that look before – but grin innocently at him and his companion. “If you’ll excuse me – I gotta get ready for my hot date tonight.”

“Got you on speed dial, baby,” Suna mumbles. Atsumu’s nostrils flare in response, and you say nothing to calm him down, only whispering ‘nice to meet you’ to the girl you’ll never see again.

–

“Damn!” Saeko yells, kicking at some gravel on the sidewalk. “It’s always the sweet ones with the chocolatey eyes.”

You laugh, wrapping your leather jacket tighter around yourself. “It’s fine.” Your breath comes out in little puffs. “He was a good guy – I guess he just couldn’t cut it.”

“They never can.” It comes from Osamu, who’s sitting at the top of the Lambda house stairs, snuggled tight in his coat. “You come with a lot of baggage.”

You scoff and turn away from him, waiting until he finishes taking the cover charge from a group of freshman guys that walk up. One of them looks you over, eyes lingering on your thighs and chest appreciatively. You shift uncomfortably – the freshmen this year are so bold.

“Oi-” Osamu says, snapping rudely at him and then holding his hand out expectantly. “Eyes off, money out.”

The guy blinks at him, confused, and then points at his friend at the front. “He just paid it.”

“You get to pay extra,” Osamu says, smiling sweetly. “For not respecting women.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a plastic jug labeled RESPECT WOMEN JAR.

You and Saeko both laugh, and you shake your head. “Cut it out, Samu, it’s fine.”

Osamu just shakes the jug at the poor freshman. “Ten in the jar, kid.”

The boys all groan, and the target of Osamu’s sharp edge – the embarrassed one that’s pink around the ears – scowls. “Who’s your President? Phi Delt doesn’t do shit like this.”

Osamu laughs in his face, shaking the jar. The coins inside rattle louder than before. “I look like fuckin’ Google to you?”

Only when the ten dollar bill flutters into the jug does Osamu answer him.

“You can take your grievances to my brother.”

The boys are quiet as they trudge inside, finally realizing who they’re dealing with.

You give Osamu a knowing look when they’re gone. “Respect Women Jar?”

He smiles innocently. “Bettering fraternity culture or something.” He points the jar at you before setting it down. “Anyway, what I said stands. You got too much baggage.” 

You roll your eyes. “Go ahead.”

“You’ve been walkin’ around with Tsumu glued to your back your whole life. No one’s gonna stick around for that shit, sorry.” 

“Tsumu’s off with little-miss-sorority-girl-of-the-night,” you argue, gesturing in irritation at the door behind him. “And it’s not like I’m looking for Prince fuckin’ Charming—“ 

“She kinda sounds like a little gangster when she gets like this, dont’cha think?” Osamu says, completely ignoring you. 

Saeko chortles. “She sounds like your brother-“

“Alright, fuck you guys,” you snap, talking over Osamu’s wholehearted laughter. Stomping up the stairs, you smack his hand away when he reaches for you in apology. “I’m going to find someone to fuck.”

“Well, ain’t you demure,” Osamu jokes. 

You let the door hit him in the back on your way in.

—

It’s not working.

It never works, anyway, but for some reason, it stings particularly hard tonight. 

Even when you shed your leather jacket, revealing a tiny little halter top and far too much skin, no one will stay more than five minutes in your vicinity. 

Why? you wonder, watching yet another guy make yet another excuse.

‘Gotta find the bathroom, I’ll be back-‘

‘I think my friend is calling-‘

‘Aren’t you Miya’s girl?’

There’s a part of you that’s starting to think Atsumu’s doing it on purpose. It’s irrational, you know — he wouldn’t. He hasn’t before, and he never would. 

He wouldn’t do that to you.

But every rejection comes with another shot thrown back carelessly, and you’re starting to feel paranoid. You’re going insane. 

If it’s not him — if you can’t blame him — then it’s you. 

You’re unwantable, then. 

Is that what it is? Maybe it’s you-

“You’re spiraling,” a voice says behind you, close to your ear. A comforting hand on your waist, the other reaching to take the shot glass from you. “Don’t be the drunkest girl at the party. It’s a bad look.”

Suna.

You turn, glaring up at him hazily. He’s not exactly sober himself, but he does look better off than you. “Is Tsumu goin’ around tellin’ people we’re together?”

When he levels you with a knowing stare, you retrieve the shot from his hand and knock it back.

“So,” you say, wincing after the swallow. “If it’s not him, then it’s me.”

“You know it’s not that,” your friend whispers, tattooed fingers plucking the empty glass from your grip and depositing it on the bar. “It’s not him or you.”

“Why won’t anyone go home with me?” you whine carelessly. “What’do I gotta do? I’m already throwing myself at any guy that’ll give me the time of day.”

You can hear it – how desperate you sound. How pathetic you feel.

Why does this matter so much? Why do you care so much about whether or not you’re wanted for your body? 

You have so much more than this to offer the world. 

You’re smart, you’re sensible. You do well in school and already have a job lined up for after graduation. You have good friends – really good friends. You don’t have terrible taste in men – your exes always respected you and supported you. You have a good life and don’t cause trouble. Don’t find trouble.

Why does this feel so important?

Why does it feel like you’re getting left behind?

“Stop it,” Suna says quietly, somehow audible over the deep bass that shakes the room and the screaming and yelling of all the partygoers in his house. “It’s not gonna happen tonight. You’re too drunk.”

“I can do whatever I want, with whoever I want,” you bite. It loses its edge when your words slur together.

He leans down, looking you in the eye. “You want your first time to be some drunken, messy, fucked up five minutes that you won’t remember in the morning?”

“I don’t care!” Your eyes are starting to burn. “I just want it to be over – I’m tired of having this over my head!”

“You’re the one putting it over your head,” he reasons. “Just let it happen when it happens.”

You sniff, scrubbing at your face sloppily. “I’m gonna die a virgin at this rate-”

“What’s going on?” Another voice in your ear, much louder and much more familiar.

You glare up at its source.

Atsumu’s face is pink with intoxication, but his eyes are clear and concerned as he stares down at you. “You cryin’?”

“No,” you say, the edge in your voice sharp. “But I am going home.”

“What happened?” Atsumu’s got a hand on your elbow, tugging you close to him.

You snatch your arm away. “Don’t you have some sorority girl to take to bed?”

He blinks, taken aback. Suna just sighs, squeezing your shoulder.

“You know he’s not doing this.”

You smack him away, too. “Doesn’t matter,” you slur, swaying slightly. “‘m goin’ home.”

“What’s happening-” Atsumu says, looking between you and Suna, but the other man just shakes his head and stops you from pushing past him.

“You can’t,” he says. “He’s just gonna follow me around and pout all night if you leave like this.”

Atsumu’s already pouting, looking more and more upset the more you try to walk away from him.

You can’t leave like this.

You can’t leave him feeling this way, no matter how you might be feeling yourself.

“Ugh,” you groan, pushing past them both in the direction of the stairs to the second floor. Suna’s close behind, and you can hear Atsumu stumbling through the crowd, trying to keep up.

The freshman brother guarding the staircase rises when he sees you, letting you pass without even a hint of resistance. You just stomp past him, thanking him grumpily, and shoulder your way into Atsumu’s bedroom.

You pace the floor while you wait, pressing your hands to your eyes and trying to clear your head of the alcohol. Suna flops down onto the bed with a groan, yawning loudly. 

“Go easy on him,” he says lazily. “He doesn’t know.”

“Whatever,” you mumble, wiping at your face. Your eyes are burning again, and you can feel the knot in your throat.

Atsumu crashes into the room a second later, shutting the door and locking it.

“What’s happening?” he asks, looking between you. “Why d’you look so damn mad? What’d I do?”

You point a finger at him, watching it shake. “I’m going to ask you this exactly once–”

“He’s not doin’ it, Y/n,” Suna interrupts. “You know he’s not.”

You ignore him. “Are you telling people I’m off limits?”

Atsumu blinks, processing. “No…?”

You grit your teeth. “Miya, I swear to god–”

“I’m not!” he argues, throwing his hands up defensively. “I haven’t said shit! Why?!”

You sigh, dropping your hand. You know – you know that it was never him – but hearing him say it is both a relief and a frustration.

“Nothing,” you say, your temper waning. You feel tired. Tired and sad and unsure what to do. “It’s nothing.”

Atsumu steps toward you. “It’s not nothin’.”

There’s a silence – that cursed, heavy silence that sits between you, time and time again.

Suna breaks it.

“She’s upset that she’s still a virgin,” he says easily, as though listing off the weather forecast. “And it’s definitely your fault, even though you haven’t done anything.”

You can only turn to stare down at him, mind emptying of everything all at once.

“What-” you whisper, just blinking lamely at him. “-the fuck, Rin.”

He just yawns again, lazy as ever. “Just clearin’ the air.”

Atsumu stares down at you, eyes wide. “You’re a virgin?”

You want to crawl into a hole and die. 

“‘Kay. Now I’m leaving,” you say, turning on your heel toward the door. Atsumu grabs you again, harder this time in case you try to escape.

“What’s the problem with that?” he asks, shaking his head. “So what? Who cares?”

“You cared a second ago,” you point out.

He flushes. “I was surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think…” When you raise your brows, he clears his throat. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“It matters to me,” you say, your voice coming out in a whine. You can already feel yourself pouting just a bit, that petulant side of you emerging – the way it always does with him. “It matters to me that no one else is. That no matter how hard I try, no one wants me enough to go through with it.”

He frowns, growing upset as he realizes how you’ve been seeing yourself this whole time. “But– it’ll happen eventually…” He turns to Suna, thinking. “And why is this my fault?”

Suna stares up at Atsumu, deadpan. “Isn’t it always your fault?”

You watch in real time as Atsumu puts the pieces together.

He really had nothing to do with this.

He looks too upset to have had anything to do with this.

Your arm slips from his hand while he processes. He looks down at you, swallowing. “Still? This whole time?”

You just shrug, feeling a strange sense of shame seep into your skin. “I tried dating around,” you mumble, hugging yourself. “Guess some assumptions don’t go away.”

Whatever pain you feel about it is reflected in Atsumu’s expression. “That’s not fair. We’ve never been more to each other than this.”

“I know,” you whisper. “But it doesn’t seem to matter what we are or aren’t.”

He looks torn – he recognizes that he hasn’t been held to the same standard. That this has only ever impacted you.

“Is there anything I can do?” he whispers, almost begging for you to let him fix this.

You just laugh, shaking your head. Wishing you’d never started this conversation, because you hate seeing him like this.

“What can you do to help, Tsumu?” You try to ease the way he’s feeling. “You gonna sleep with me yourself?” you joke, laughing. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

The silence that comes doesn’t feel like all the silences before this.

You stare up at him, wondering why he’s dissociating, looking right through you. Suna doesn’t look much different, as though he’s realized whatever it is that you’re still missing.

“I mean,” Atsumu starts, swallowing hard. Still not looking at you. “I could…?”

You don’t process what he’s saying. “What?”

He flicks his gaze to Suna, who looks like he’s starting to agree. “I could… sleep… with you…?”

You just blink. It finally clicks.

“Fuck you,” is all you say.

Atsumu scrambles to stop you from walking out. “I’m serious!”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, leaning up into his face. “I’m not some fucking charity case. Fuck you.”

“Y/n, please,” he says, holding your arms tight. “It makes sense-”

“It makes no fucking sense at all!” you yell, tearing out of his grip. “I’m trying to get away from this whole impression that we’re together! And I want someone to want to sleep with me – I don’t need a pity fuck!”

Atsumu approaches, hands out to try to calm you. “You want to get laid. I’m the thing keeping you from that, right? Friends sleep together all the time–”

“Yeah, and that never works,” you argue, seething.

He just points at Suna. “It works for him and Saeko!”

Suna’s mouth drops open. “Dude, what the fuck?” 

You feel like you don’t have it in you to process more news tonight. “You-” You point stupidly at Suna. “-and Saeko are fuck buddies?”

Suna smiles sheepishly up at you. “I prefer the term ‘friends-with-benefits’...” And then he glares at Atsumu. “Thanks for outing us, you stupid fuck.”

You throw your hands up. “You outed me, you stupid fuck!”

He just smiles. “And now we’re seeing progress!”

“What progress?” you laugh, pointing at Atsumu. “All he did was come up with a stupid idea!”

Suna nods, looking sympathetically at Atsumu. “It is a stupid idea.”

Atsumu scoffs, affronted, and points back at you. “I’m offering her a solution!”

Suna nods, looking sympathetically at you. “It is a solution.”

Both of you glare down at him. “Fuck off,” you say.

“Please fuck off,” Atsumu repeats.

Suna just shrugs, standing and stretching like a cat. “Well, now that I’ve been outed, I’m off to find Saeko.”

Things spoken and unspoken sit between you and Atsumu after Suna is gone.

You try to leave before Atsumu can speak anything else into existence.

His fingers wrap around your bicep with ease. “Y/n, please.”

You stare up at him, incredulous. “Tsumu, this is a terrible idea. You can’t be serious.”

“There’s nothing else I can do,” he pleads. “I can’t say anythin’ to anyone, because that makes it worse. And not doin’ anythin’ is how we ended up here – you’re still upset, you’re still left hanging, you’re still frustrated.” He looks nervous – nervous and drunk, his voice dropping to a whisper, like this is something he’d never say sober. “I can do something about that. You know I can.”

You swallow, shoving down all the feelings that conflict with one another, and get in his face. “I’m better than a pity fuck, Atsumu,” you whisper back. “I might be desperate and frustrated and angry, but I’m still me.”

He just looks at you hollowly. “I never offered you a pity fuck.”

Your lips part in a quiet gasp. Your ears fill with the painful thudding of your heart.

“What?” 

You can barely hear yourself over the rush of your heartbeat.

Atsumu looks to be in a similar situation. His chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyelashes fluttering.

“Just consider it,” he whispers. “Please.”

His grip on your arm loosens, and you’re gone from the room before you can even realize you’d pulled away from him.

[taglist]

@onlytendoguesses @nectardaddy @hhoneyhan @bookskeepers @choerry-picking @siheez @introvertsince2003 @eggyrocks @atrashsith 

@beckixwsm @kakeru-eem @bakingcuriosity @dondoncool @corvid007 @asthmaticcchoeee @softpia @dailyakira @sephglowspink @shortcakebaby @kuroosfavkitten @moucheslove @sarahspam12 @dreamgardener @yoshit-he-dinosaur @miliondollagirl

@wordskeeper @kattiscrying @winniethepooh-lover @lmornly @alexithemiyatic @rntrsuna @whenanafallsinlove @punkhazardlaw @minyoungieee @makki0s @hoe4sunarin @nobodybutnnoorr @dambxtch @kittycasie @kameyyy @1uvicide @general-dumbass @deadfish714 @rory-cakes @crypt-0rchid @hanniesdegree @reyyy000001 @snail-squasher

[foreverromanticising]

renegade | ln4

(1) a sultry summer night pulls lando towards you, leaving your plans turned on your head but at least he ended up with you in his bed (smut, fluff, the lot!)

lando norris x fem!reader | wc - 3.3k | many parts to follow to perfectly prepare us for a lando summer aka the best sort of summer

masterlist<3

As much as Lando loved racing, there was no denying his true love that was summer break. He was given weeks on end with no responsibilties other than trying to figure out how he could develop his sun tan any further than it already was. Weeks on end filled with nothing but the sun, the sea, and of course, sex. Summer was sticky and sultry for Lando.

And who could blame him, summer break was the perfect time for this. He needed an outlet to relax after months of racing, this was the perfect escape, and what better way to do it than when he was tanned? So, every year, Lando and his friends would traipse out to some beach town with a night life he wouldn’t dream of leaving - whether it be a Greek island or the likes of Ibiza, which he could never grow tired of - and they’d drink away their summers.

Their days were spent on yachts out at sea or lounging by pools, their evenings were spent with extravagant dinners in lavish restauarants, and their nights were all spent rather differently. Sure, they would all head to the same nightclub, drinks swirling with every hour that passed but everyone would end the night in a different way. Lando’s best friend, Max, was always sure to have a few drinks before starting the campaign to head home - his girlfriend was back in London so he had no reason to be staying out later than two in the morning, he had no desire to try and pick up any girls on a night out. Entirely unlike his best friend as Lando’s aim was usually trying to see who he could get in his bed that night.

“On the lookout are you?” Max grabbed Lando’s shoulder to make him aware of his appearance, another drink in both of his hands for the two of them - not that they needed it. 

“Don’t say it like that,” Lando scoffed but still accepted the drink nonetheless. “Don’t say it like I’ve got an agenda.”

“Well, you do, don’t you?” Max knew Lando could lie to their other friends, but he couldn’t lie to his face like that, like they didn’t know each other like the back of their hands. “Chat up a pretty girl for the night, take her back to your bed, hope she slips out by the morning - and do it all over again tomorrow with someone new.”

“I’m not that bad,” Truly, he had never paid that much attention to his habits. Lando just assumed the time to have fun and sleep around was now, there was no point in not partaking if he wasn’t anywhere near settling down. “Am I?”

“I mean, you still treat girls with respect so you’re not the bottom of the barrel,” A teasing lilt took over Max’s voice; he knew that when Lando was with a girl he was nothing but a gentleman, the issues would arise as soon as he was done with said girl. “Just keep it down once your back, I’d actually like a decent sleep this year.”

“Mate, it’s the first night-”

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly looking to be the most successful right now, are-” Max’s words were cut off as a body knocked into his own, subsequently then falling into Lando. Maybe standing in the direct path of traffic from the bar to the dancefloor wasn’t their smartest idea.

“Oh, my God, I am so so sorry!”

“Don’t be, totally my fault.” In that moment, Lando was eternally grateful for his racecar driver reflexes, his hands shooting out to catch your stumbling body as your drink sloshed out of your cup and down his linen shirt - instead of a fresh white, it was now sporting a purple blotch.

“That wasn’t your fault at all, no! I need to watch where I’m walking, I’m so sorry,” The words spilled out of your mouth quicker than Lando could pick up on them. “And your shirt! I’m so sorry, I’m gonna need a cap for these cups.”

“It’s okay, stop apologising,” Lando dropped his hands from your waist, tugging on the end of his shirt to inspect the damage, though he would argue to you there was hardly a stain. It wasn’t as though a white linen was hard to come by. “We probably shouldn’t be standing here anyway - I’m Lando, by the way, and this is Max.” He extended out his hand to you, shaking it to try and calm your thoughts, and your hand that shook with anxiety. You gave him your name in return, dropping his hand and trying to take a deep breath as you started to come down from the brief moments of adrenilane - you still felt horrendous about falling into him but he was quick to assure you that he was all right.

“I should probably go, it was-” You didn’t want to linger, wanting out of this awfully embarassing moment as soon as possible. However, just as you try to excuse yourself, Lando interrupts you.

“Can I buy you a drink? As an apology, of course.” He points towards the bar over his shoulder, as Max watches the entire situation unfold and knows exactly where it’ll end - in Lando’s bed. Thus, he excuses himself, muttering a quick goodbye to Lando as he slips past both of you.

“You have nothing to apologise for, I should be buying you a drink.”

“I can’t have pretty girls buying me drinks, doesn’t work like that.” His hand slips back around your waist as he leads you towards the bar.

The conversation flows as easily as the drinks do and you soon learn that there’s more to Lando than his name and his easily forgiving nature; he’s from England, though he’s curretnly staying in Monaco, he’s in Greece with his closest friends as he claims summer doesn’t begin until they head to the Greek islands, and his favourite colour is orange, although he does specifiy the shade you’ve had one too many drinks to remember what he had said.

Your legs were intertwined beneath the bar, knees pushed together, as you both tried to sit as close to each other - Lando claimed he could hardly hear you, but you would argue he just wanted to keep you close, as you did with him.

Soon enough, you begin to gather that the bartender was simply sick of the sight of both yourself and Lando, the constant glares and passive sighing don’t ease you of this ebbing feeling. Thankfully, Lando wastes no time in taking your hand in his, fingers laced between your own, and leads both of you out of the bar. 

“Beginning to think you’re leading me to my death.” You try to play your worries off as a joke, a fake laugh masking your words, but there was no hiding the sudden change in the speed of your breathing as Lando walks both of you down towards the seafront. It probably wasn’t your brightest idea to blindly follow a man you had just met but his hair curled perfectly above his eyes and all you could think about was running your fingertips through the mop atop of his head so you had to admit you were feeling a little distracted.

“‘Could never murder you, babe,” He flashed you that god awful smile that had your knees almost buckling beneath your weight, reminding you exactly why you so stupidly grabbed his hand and followed the path he led. “Just wanted to hear you, ’s too loud in there.”

His speech was slurred ever so slightly, one too many drinks and a pretty girl in front of him - how could he possibly be expected to maintain his composure around you?

“So, Greece? What are you doing here?” He had perked up in the few hours you had known him, not that he wasn’t in a great mood prior to when you had bumped into him however alcohol significantly loosened the weight that was bearing upon Lando’s shoulders. He felt like he could float away, simply at peace as he swung your hands back and forth between your bodies - like walking along a beach at three in the morning with you was an entirely normal thing to do for him, like he had been doing this his whole life.

“I don’t really know,” You let out a laugh and shrugged your shoulders, as though the question was totally absurd. “I wanted to travel, I guess, so here I am.”

“Massively boring answer, c’mon, I wanna know you.” Perhaps Lando was more forward than he would’ve been with five less drinks in him, on a normal day and at a normal time, but that wouldn’t have been true to Lando.

“I mean it, I really don’t know - I’m just here.” You weren’t sure how much of an answer Lando was expecting but you were certain you couldn’t give him what he was searching for.

“Mmm’kay well, who’re you here with?”

“No one, just me.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” It was almost comical the way Lando’s eyes almost bugged out of his head, jaw dropping - he felt as though you were simply giving him these blunt answers in a pure attempt to wind him up, but his drunken mind trusted you enough to believe you. “You’re in Greece, on your own, and you don’t know why? Makes sense.”

“I wanted to travel and experience the world, and the people and the cultures it could offer me,” You didn’t have a particularly expansive answer for Lando but you figured you could tell him the truth - despite all of the friends you had promised back home that you wouldn’t tell anyone that you were solo travelling. “No one wanted to come with me and I didn’t want to waste anymore time sitting around so I packed a bag and here I am, following a strange man on the beach.”

“Strange man? This strange man bought you drinks all night.” Lando scoffed, a look of faux offence mascarading his face.

“Most strange men buy girls they want to sleep with drinks on a night out, Lando.” Though you could maybe guess what Lando’s intentions were for that night, you wouldn’t have fit him into the ‘strange men’ category your friends were so worried about. You felt incredibly comfortable around him as you continued following him. 

“Who said I wanted to sleep with you?” He stumbled over his words as they fell out of his mouth, thankful for the dark sky and the lack of street lamps as he could feel the heat rise to his cheeks.

“I’m a good guesser?” You shrugged your shoulders, a teasing smirk pulling at your lips as you watched how flustered he became.

“Don’t change the subject,” Lando shook his head, trying to regroup his train of thought back to his original questions. “Travelling, you said? Where are you going? I don’t think you can count party islands as real travelling.”

“Well, this is one of my last stops,” You rattled off the lists of cities and islands you had trekked to over the last few weeks as Lando watched you with pure curiosity. “Then, in the morning, I’m meant to head to Albania but I don’t have anything booked yet.”

“That’s not very bright, why would you not book something so you know what you’re doing?” Lando couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t extremely organised in most aspects of his life, the thought of not knowing your next step stressed him out and he was only on day one of his own trip.

“I dunno, wanted to see where tonight would take me.” Before leaving the hostel you were staying in, you had packed all of your belongings into your backpack just in case you decided you were ready to leave the next morning. You liked to have the choice of where your travelling would take you, making sporadic last minute decisions was exactly why none of your friends had wanted to travel with you.

“And where did tonight take you?” 

“Back to your place, I’m hoping.” 

Those few words were enough to have Lando pulling your arm, immediately picking up the pace he was walking at until both of you were almost running back to his villa. You weren’t usually this bold when it came to boys but you knew you had no chances of seeing Lando after this so you let any worries roll straight off your back.

Any space between you and Lando had absolutely vanished back at the bar yet he kept trying to pull you impossibly closer once you made it back to his villa. He led you back to his bedroom, shushing you between kisses in fears of waking up any of his friends whilst you exclaimed over the grandure of his villa. “You gotta stay quiet, baby.” His lips travelled down your neck as he pushed you inside his bedroom, murmuring against your skin.

His hands dipped lower down your body, rough and calloused fingertips dragging the hem of your dress to your hips. Though, before he lets himself go any further with you whilst standing in his doorway, he soon redirects your bodies to his bed - not daring to break from your lips as he laid you down atop of his mattress. Soon, he hikes up your dress properly and lays the skirt across your stomach, leaving your white lace on show for him.

“Pretty girl.” He hummed against your hip bone, placing a gentle kiss on this lace that sits on your skin. Daringly, he darts his tongue just below your belly, teasing eyes looking back up at you. “Can I get rid of these, y’gonna be alright with that?” His breath is strikingly hot against your skin as he watches you nod your head above him. 

The arch of your back combined with your nodding is enough for Lando before he begins pulling your panties down your legs, discarding them to the floor of the room. “Y’gonna let me make you feel good, darling?” This elicited a whine from your lips and you weren’t above begging Lando to touch you, to do anything. Again, this was enough for Lando as he ducked his head down and began pressing kisses from your inner thighs all the way to your clit - slow and steady kisses, as though he was scared you were going to disappear if this was over too fast.

His lips continued their assault on you, Lando acting like he was a man starved as his hands gripped onto your thighs. He wouldn’t dare break away from you for a second, not even for a breath of air. He closed his mouth around you, the pressure was almost too much for you to handle as a high whine left your jaw ajar and you wanted so desperately to close your eyes, to bask in the feeling, but you couldn’t dare take your eyes off of Lando. His sun kissed skin, the tip of his ever so slightly burnt nose kept nudging your clit and left you nearly squealing. 

Though, before he could let you finish your hands were frantically grabbing at the collar of his linen shirt, pulling him up over your body as his arms caged you in below him. He was breathing just as heavily as you were but you didn’t waste a second in allowing him to grab a breath before you captured his lips with your own. Your fingertips tugged on the ends of his curls, involuntarily causing him to bite down on your bottom lip. 

“Didn’t think you’d be into that.” You laughed against his lips whilst your hands made their way down his body, trying to unbutton whatever buttons were still done on his shirt so you could pull it over his head.

“I’m into whatever you’re into.” Lando truly wasn’t kidding; he knew he had only met you a few hours ago but he was certain he would lay down the world for you. Or maybe he was just drunk, but he loved the feeling of being in love without any strings attached. It was a bad habit of his.

Lando hadn’t even taken your dress off properly before you were begging for more than just his mouth; his trousers shucked off and thrown into the corner of his room with your panties. Whilst your dress wasn’t totally gone, it didn’t stop Lando from slipping his hands beneath the fabric to feel every inch of your skin with every thrust. 

Something broke with every push Lando gave you; everything about this touch was just right, calculated like he had done this a million times before, but you couldn’t complain as you lay entirely blissed out below him. He fell apart moments after you, holding you close as he finally lay down on the white sheets beneath both you. His lips trailed from your temple to your collarbone, not one part of him caring that you were sweaty and sticky from the night you had both just had from the bar to his bedroom - he was sure he was in a much worse state.

You didn’t bask in his affection for long before you were sitting up, fixing your mussed hair and pulling your dress back down to an appropriate length. Your sudden movements left Lando confused, a perplexed look taking over his face as he watched you.

“Are you not staying?” Usually, he was quick to haul girls out of his bedroom so he could return back to his normalcy but he assumed you would stay. You two had actually clicked beyond the sex, Lando didn’t want to give this up straight away. 

“Albania, Lan, I leave in a few hours.” Your time with Lando had gone from the late night into the early hours of the morning, and whilst you had had great fun, you were determined to make your travels for the next day.

“What? C’mon babe, just stay,” Lando leaned towards the end of his bed, hand outstretched as he grabbed yours, pulling you back to his bed. He was quick to noticed that you didn’t put up much of a fight against his movements. “You said it yourself, nothing’s booked.”

“I dunno, this was fun and all but-”

“But, we could do it all over again tomorrow,” He hovered his lips over your own, forehead pressed against yours with his voice low and tempting. “You don’t have to go, you should stay.”

“Do you always get your way with girls?” You rolled your eyes as you were certain this man had never been told ‘no’ once before in his life but you could understand why - you weren’t sure you wanted to be the first person to tell him ‘no’ when he looked at you with those shining eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked a girl to stay before,” He confessed to you, lips finally connecting with yours. “Albania will always be there, even just stay for the night - we can sort everything out tomorrow. But, please, just come to bed with me.”

“I’ll have to be up early to grab my stuff from the hostel, I can’t leave it there all-” You couldn’t help the bubble of worries that were slowly taking over you at the change of your plans, but you couldn’t deny the subtle excitment you felt with how desperately Lando was clinging to you, begging you to stay.

“Shh, I’ll set an alarm and we’ll be up,” He pulled you to lay down with him, his hands grabbing your thigh to tug your leg in between his. He felt a sense of contentment when your head rested on his shoulder, the white sheets pulled up to your shoulder. “Jus’ wanna hold you tonight.”

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Finding Yourself - C.SC [Part 1]

🐢Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐢What: 18+. Dark themes. Mafia au. Angst. Fluff. Suggestive. Slow burn. Mafia Boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Strangers to friends to lovers. Chan is reader’s little brother. Hansol is Seungcheol’s son. 🐢Word count: 15.5k 🐢Warnings: Characters with autism/ADHD. Selective mutism. Mentions and depictions of being overwhelmed/sensory overload and meltdowns. Off screen gang violence including gun use. Implied intention of non-con in discussion. Mentions of skipping meals/poor diet/nutrition. Mentions of past child abuse/abusive parents. Homelessness due to running away and associated issues; lack of money/food/water etc. Mentions of past forced sex work. 🐢Summary:“In an attempt to protect your little brother, you run away from home and the gang your father forced you into as a teenager.

You truly thought you were done with that life. But months later, when members of the Centaurs gang find you and your brother squatting in their property mid gang-fight, they take you back to their headquarters and force you right back into it.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in the home of the leader of the oldest, most famous gang in the entire country, and you very quickly realise that he isn’t the ruthless monster everyone thinks he is.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Finding Yourself Part 2 – Finding Yourself Part 3

Disclaimer: Okay, so I feel like I need to point out that I do have both autism and ADHD, and I have done a lot of research around both during my own discovery/diagnosis periods; even now I’m constantly learning that more aspects of myself are very common in people with autism/ADHD so there is truth behind how the characters are portrayed in this fic. Yet, with that being said, both autism and ADHD are very vast in that you can have a room full of people with both disabilities and yet every single one of those people are incredibly different, which means that the characters in this story who have autism or ADHD are not accurate portrayals of every single person with either. There are 4 clearly stated autistic people in this fic throughout and they are each different personalities and how their disability affects them. So please don’t leave comments or send rude asks accusing me of misrepresentation or anything like that just because a character you’ve watched in a movie isn’t written the same as these characters, thanks.

Tears. It’s always tears when you need silence. When you’re trying to sleep. When you’re trying to keep you both safe. It’s always tears.

“Shhh, Channie, shhh, it’s okay,” you try to soothe your little brother through a sensory meltdown that was triggered minutes ago by the overwhelming noises of yelling and gunfire echoing deafeningly around the warehouse.

You thought it would be safe here. The place seemed abandoned, yet secure, with no broken windows to let in the breeze, nor any sign of recent human activity, only some stray animals and their leavings. But it was the best shot you had, and for almost a week, it had been a little slice of dirty haven for you and Chan.

Then, less than twenty minutes ago, you heard multiple cars pull up outside of the dusty warehouse and then footsteps entered the building. You had curled up protectively around your brother in the corner of a room, hidden by the shadows as the newcomers swept through the warehouse for any signs of life. Somehow they entirely missed the two of you, and you were so grateful for it, even if you remained in place, holding your brother in the shadows for a little longer, just in case.

But now, whatever meeting is happening has gone awry and the ear-splitting sounds have set off your five-year-old brother. Although you want to curl up into a tiny ball and cry too as the sounds assault your own senses, you can’t; your meltdown will have to wait until you’re both safe again.

Which won’t happen if Chan doesn’t stop screaming and thrashing, kicking out while also trying to burrow himself right into your chest to try and block the noises and gain comfort from the only person who has shown him any in a long time.

Though, there’s only so much you can do, only so much your hands pressed over his own on his ears do to block the sensory overload when you can feel the noise in your own chest, and you know that Chan has always been much more sensitive about such things.

You wish you have a pair of ear defenders for him, but your father never believed in them and Chan’s mother was perhaps even worse where caring about the poor boy was concerned, so he was never given the tools needed to support him. And your limited finances upon running away with your little brother have gone to keeping him fed and as warm as possible. There have been no spare pennies for such things, even with you skipping meals and sacrificing supplies for yourself in order to protect your brother.

All you can do is hope that it will be over soon and the gangsters, who have intruded upon your safe space, will rapidly leave without hearing Chan’s shrieking.

Of course, with your luck today, it doesn’t go how you hope.

Even before the yelling and gunfire has ceased, the door swings open and a couple of men enter with guns raised. It’s easy for them to locate you with Chan still screaming and kicking out at everything he can reach.

“What do we have here?” The slighter shorter of the two men smirks while eyeing you and your brother as the pair stop too close for comfort, yet still far enough away that your brother’s thrashing doesn’t reach them.

“Something pretty, and something pretty fucking annoying,” the other man retorts, making the first guffaw while you continue to try to soothe Chan and keep him still without removing your eyes from the dangerous men. “Think we got time to take turns?”

“Nah, even if we did, I won’t be able to enjoy it with the little shit screaming like that.”

“Knock him out.”

“Don’t even joke about hurting a kid ‘round here,” the shorter man warns, giving his partner a firm look. “Boss would kill you slowly if word got back to him. You know he’s protective of kids.”

“Then what the fuck do we do? We can’t kill the bitch either because he don’t like kids left behind, and I’m pretty sure we’re fucked if they find out we left them here.”

The two men stare at you and Chan in careful consideration for almost a full minute.

The answer only comes when the gunfire finally ceases, even if Chan doesn’t stop screaming yet. “We’ll have to take them with us.”

As much as you’d rather not go along with the two men, or the dozen or so other men with them, you know you don’t have a choice. If it’s only you who you have to worry about, you’d have already risked sneaking out while the showdown was in progress, but with Chan to consider, you can’t risk the gunfire being turned on you.

So, when the pair stalk you out of the safety of the room with Chan still wailing against your chest as you carry him, though luckily he’s now clinging to you and not wildly thrashing, and a gun pressed to your back, you go while mourning the items you’ve lost due to not being able to pack up anything. The men had only hovered long enough to let you pick up Chan and grab your backpacks.

Up until you’re in the car with another man sliding into the seat to your left while looking bewildered, you have no idea who these gangsters are, but this new man has his arms on show despite the cold weather and the centaur tattoo on his right bicep stares at you mockingly.

Today really isn’t your lucky day.

“What’s this?” He demands, almost glaring at the two men in the front of the car while motioning vaguely to you and your little brother.

“Found them in a room, kid was screaming the place down, this is quiet for him,” the driver, the shorter of the pair, replies, tone almost polite now and you can safely guess that this tall, muscled man is a much higher rank than them. “Didn’t know what to do with them considering the rules about kids and everything.”

“So, you decided to completely bypass me and make a decision on your own?” The tall man asks, now closing the car door behind him and reaching for his seatbelt, yet he stops and motions to the space between you two. “Put him there so he can be strapped in,” he says to you, already grabbing the seatbelt for the middle seat ready to pull over.

“What?” You mutter dumbly.

“This car isn’t going anywhere until we’re all strapped in securely and it’s unsafe for a child to be strapped in on your lap. Put him here so he can be safe between us, I’ll keep my arm in front of him so he can’t fall.”

“He can sit next to the door,” you reply and start to move over into the centre yourself, but the man makes a dismissive noise and shakes his head.

“No, if that door gets rammed, he’ll get seriously injured; he should go in the middle, so our bodies protect him.”

“How likely is it that we’ll get rammed?”

“More likely than you realise, especially if the ones we just met have back up waiting down the way.”

“Then just let us go.”

He sighs. “I wish I could, seriously, I don’t want to endanger your son, but those idiots are right in that leaving you is a bad idea, we can’t trust you. So, either you willingly put him down or I move him myself and I think that would just make him more upset.”

For a few seconds, you do nothing but stare at the man, hoping that he’ll suddenly decide to trust a complete stranger and let you go, but he doesn’t, and you reluctantly adjust Chan to sit him at your left side between the two of you.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” you whisper as you press down on his legs to stop him from trying to climb onto your lap again. “I’m not leaving, we just need to strap in, okay? We’re going to strap in and go for a drive, okay, Squirt?”

Silently, the man manoeuvres the safety belt across Chan’s body and clicks it into place as you continue to soothe your little brother. Then, the man reaches over even further to plug your seat belt in before finishing with his own and kicking the back of the driver’s seat lightly to prompt him to start the car.

Thankfully, Chan calms down once the car is in motion and you’ve pulled out his comfort turtle plushie for him to squeeze to his chest repeatedly.

You know the man on Chan’s left is watching your brother as he almost hurts himself with the toy, but you don’t care, all you care about is that Chan’s self-soothing is working and isn’t hurting him. The man can think whatever he wants.

The location you’re taken to isn’t one you’ve ever been to before, yet nobody needs to speak the name for you to know that this large, sprawling estate fortified with three sets of tall gates and walls, plus guards, is the base of the Centaurs, the oldest still running gang in the country.

The whereabouts of the estate isn’t a secret, it’s easy information to get, but due to the sheer size of the gang and their legendary skills, especially of the leaders and head family, not even the authorities are brave enough to launch an attack. Though some over-cocky gangs have been dumb enough to try over the years and inevitably failed without making it past even the first wall.

The place truly is one of the most secure places in the entire country. It almost puts military compounds to shame with the levels of security covering the sprawling grounds.

It feels more like a village based on how long you remain in the car once past the first two sets of gates, and all the buildings and people you pass on the gravel roads.

Then, when the final wall is in view, you’re moved into another car, with only the tall man joining you after he’s talked to another man a little shorter than himself. The tall man doesn’t say a word once he’s in the driver’s seat after making sure you and Chan are strapped in, before driving further forward along the gravel roads and through the final gates.

Finally, you see the impressive, impeccably well-kept, grand building that is Choi Manor where it sits pride of place in the very centre of the estate, behind all three walls.

There are nowhere near as many people wandering around now. It seems more like you only see groundsmen maintaining all the greenery and plant life, turning the area within the final wall into something almost out of a fairy tale. It’s truly beautiful.

Chan peers out of the window as best as he can when he can barely see over the edge of the door, with his wide, red rimmed eyes staring at all the colours of the flowers and fruits in awe. He’s never seen so many different plants in one place, in fact, you would even go as far as to say he’s never seen so many plants full stop.

Your own family home was never this natural; your father preferred to do away with nature to save the hassle of having to have people tend to it. The closest was the greenhouse your father let you keep for yourself for a few years before Chan was even born, until your father’s new wife destroyed it in a jealous fit when he didn’t buy her the car she wanted. Never mind the fact that she never learned to drive.

“Okay, so, a few things,” the tall man states when he parks the car beside a handful of other similar cars in front of the extravagant home. He turns off the engine and unplugs his seatbelt so that he can turn around in his seat to face you directly. “The boss isn’t home right now and won’t be until late, and I obviously can’t let you wander around unattended, so you’re going to be locked in one of the guest rooms with someone outside your door until the boss is back and decides what to do next. Understood?” You just nod.

Honestly, it’s a lot better than expected; you assumed you’d be locked up in a storage room or something equally as unwelcoming, not a guest bedroom of the most lavish home you’ve ever seen outside of movies and TV shows.

“Make sure you both shower and dress in clean clothes before the boss is back, you don’t want to meet him dirty. And eat, I guess you haven’t eaten in a while, right? You look skinny. I’ll get some food sent up. Does he like nuggets?” He motions vaguely to Chan.

“Nuggets?”

“Yeah, chicken nuggets. I think there’s some animal shapes, but they may be all gone; we don’t get groceries in until tomorrow.”

“Uh… he’s never had them.”

“What?” The man sputters in disbelief. “What kid has never had animal nuggets?! I’ll send out for some if we don’t have any. It’s a crime you’ve never fed your son animal nuggets, seriously.”

Despite this being the second time that he’s assumed Chan to be your son, you don’t correct him; you’re too caught up on other things to care to put the relationship between you straight. “Why would you assume I have access to things like that when we were sleeping in what I thought was an abandoned warehouse?”

“Oh…right, sorry, wasn’t thinking.” He gives you an awkward, apologetic smile before climbing out of the car.

He leaves you to unplug yourself and Chan at your own pace and climb out of the car to join him on the white gravel. Chan is immediately taken by the sound and shuffles on his feet to hear the clacking and grinding under his boots.

When you look up, you expect to see the man about to urge you on, however, he’s simply watching Chan with his head tilted a little, curious, and with the slight hint of a smile on his lips.

Surprising you further, the man patiently waits until Chan is satisfied and takes your offered hand to quietly and closely toddle alongside you behind the stranger into the huge house.

“Sorry, there’s no kid size guest slippers,” the man apologises as he puts down a pair of adult guest slippers from a section of the unit beside the shoe rack, which you don’t really pay any attention to as you’re too busy trying to remove both yours and Chan’s boots to not dirty the perfectly polished marble flooring.

Though you can’t say either of your socks are in much better condition than the soles of your shoes and embarrassedly shove your feet into the slippers before your filthy, hole-riddled socks can be seen. At least Chan’s socks are new, if dirty. Still, you pick him up quickly and hope the man hasn’t noticed the condition of your brother’s socks.

“This way.”

Quietly, you follow the man down the hall and stand outside of a room when he motions you to, allowing him to step inside alone. You hear him talking to another man in low voices for a moment, then he reappears with a slim man who is barely shorter than him, though you think if the first didn’t slouch so much he’d be even taller.

“Hello, I’m Junhui,” the new man greets you with a friendly smile, entirely throwing you off with his open, welcoming aura. “I’m the house chef so I need to know if you or your son have any allergies or dietary requirements so that I can prepare you something delicious!”

“Uhm, no allergies,” you reply and adjust Chan in your hold; he’s too big for you to easily hold him for prolonged periods now so you need to alter his place against your chest fairly frequently in order to keep supporting his weight.

Some months back, you could’ve carried him for extended lengths of time, and you often used to indulge him whenever he asked, regularly carrying him around on your back as you went about your daily life, so long as it was appropriate. But that was then; so much has changed since. Some days you can barely even hold your own body up, let alone his.

“And requirements? For any reason: belief or preference, I need to know,” the cook continues with genuine interest.

“He’s very particular about his food,” you admit and tilt your head towards Chan a little as if they won’t realise that you’re talking about him. “The plainer the better really.”

“Oh, we have one like that already,” Junhui chuckles and flaps a hand almost dismissively as if it’s nothing. “I can handle that no problem! How old is he? I need to know what portion sizes.”

“Five, almost six, but he’s never had a big appetite.”

“Oh!” Junhui and the tall man both look astonished at the information, with matching raised eyebrows and slightly widened eyes. “Perhaps that’s why he’s so small! I thought he’s more like three going on four! I’ll try to make accordingly, but if he’s still hungry, you get a message to me, and I’ll bring more; we can’t let the kids go hungry! Or mama, what about your diet?”

“Oh, uhm, don’t worry,” you try to dismiss the concern, and both men instantly look at you sternly.

“What do you eat, ma’am?” Junhui repeats firmly. “Do you have allergies?” You shake your head silently in response. “What do you usually eat?”

“Whatever he doesn’t finish,” you answer meekly, embarrassed to admit to your inability to afford to feed yourself.

But it seems as if the kind chef doesn’t quite understand. “Okay, and what else?”

“Jun,” the tall man murmurs, gently tapping the other with the back of his fingers. Junhui looks at him and the pair exchange some barely-there expressions, which you don’t have the mental energy to even try to discern the meanings of, before they both look at you and there’s now something you think must be sympathy in the cook’s eyes.

“Oh, right. Uhm, well, what do you like? I can make almost anything!” He offers, brightening back up out of his slightly awkward understanding.

“It’s okay.”

“Please just tell him what you enjoy eating so I can show you to your room,” the tall man pleads. “He’ll make us stand here all afternoon and night if you don’t.”

“I’m just grateful you’re feeding him,” you assure.

“If you don’t tell me what you enjoy eating, ma’am, I will send dish after dish to your room until one comes back empty,” Junhui warns, and something about this man tells you that he’s being entirely serious.

“J-Just you know…uhm…I uh…” your mind is suddenly blank; you can feel the stress and anxiety of the past few hours building up and threatening to break you right here in front of the strangers. The kind chef and the high-ranking member of the most famous gang in the country. You really don’t want to fall apart in front of them.

“How about you think about it, and we’ll get a message down when you’ve decided?” The tall man offers. You nod quickly in agreement. “Okay, let’s go straight to your room and Jun will send some snacks up while you think, yeah?”

“I can do snacks!” Junhui promises before turning and scuttling further down the hall.

“He really loves feeding people,” the tall man says with a little chuckle before motioning back the way you came, so you back up to let him lead the way to the entrance hall and then up the grand staircase.

The bedroom he takes you is at the back of the house and overlooks the patio with a view out over the gardens and lawn beyond, though you don’t do more than simply glance over at the large windows before focusing on the room itself.

There’s a king-sized bed against the back wall and on the opposite wall, with a fair distance in between, is a flat screen TV sitting before a plush looking loveseat and low table. You can see two doors on the wall opposite to the entrance door and assume they lead to an ensuite and walk in wardrobe, but other than that, it’s all rather empty.

“This room isn’t used that much and it’s further away from the frequently used rooms, plus below is the ballroom and well, that definitely doesn’t get used often so I thought this room would be best, because it’ll be quieter here. I guess your son is noise sensitive?”

“You care about that?” You ask shocked as you look at him and finally put Chan down on the floor to rest your arms, though he stays glued to your side despite being obviously curious as he peers around from the edges of his vision.

“Yeah, kids are important and everyone in this house and inner estate believes in that too. We’ll all do whatever we need to make your time here comfortable.”

“We’re hostages, not guests,” you remind simply.

The man winces a little. “Yeah, I guess so.” He shrugs helplessly. “It is what it is, I guess. I really don’t know what the boss is going to do later; we haven’t had this situation occur before so we’re all kind of clueless, but we don’t want to hurt you or your son.”

“He’s not my son,” you finally correct, not sure what else to say and look down at Chan. “He’s my brother.”

“Oh! Okay. What’s his name?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It’d be nice to have something to call him. What about a nickname then?”

“He won’t talk to you, it doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” There’s a moment of tense silence before the man talks up again. “What about you? Can I at least know a name to call you?”

For a few seconds, you debate not answering him, but then you figure the least you could do is give the man something to refer to you as, even if you refuse to give your real name. “Pearl,” you answer, giving the only name your brother calls you, after a character in his favourite movie.

You don’t know if the man realises it’s just an alias or not, but he smiles at you as if he doesn’t care and is just glad to have a name to call you. “I’m Mingyu, I’ll oversee your care until the boss is back, so if you need anything you can ask whoever is outside the door for me and I’ll come right away. For now, I’ll let you poke about the room while I get fresh bedding and towels and everything. Do you have spare clothes? I’ll get extra anyway for you both. I’ll be right back!” He darts out of the room and closes the door behind him gently, yet securely, before you can even try to answer.

“Where we?” Chan asks seconds later when he looks up at you.

“Where are we,” you correct naturally, trying to prevent his delayed speech getting worse with only you for company. It’s hard when you’re not personally used to talking to people very much, even back when you had people around to talk to. But you’re trying to do the best you can for your little brother and not impede his development further. It’s just hard.

“Where are we?” Chan repeats without hesitation, already long ago used to being corrected, though he has only ever tried to absorb and learn your own words, no-one else’s.

It’s much easier for him to progress now that his sole educator genuinely cares about him and understands his struggles. He’s come in leaps and bounds in some ways the past few months, but you know the life you’ve dragged him into won’t be good for his growth in the long run.

Every day you wish you can do better for him, but there are too many obstacles for you to traverse on your own and half the days you’re stuck in an endless loop of regret from taking him away, and relief from taking him away, with no room left in your mind and soul to do anything but stare off until Chan needs you.

“Just somewhere until we find our next move,” you answer, not sure what to say to the innocent boy because you can’t exactly tell him the truth, though you don’t want to lie to him if you can help it. You hate being lied to so you’ve always made a point of being as honest with Chan as you can. He deserves that much, at the very least.

“Mm, okay,” he replies and lets go of you to start wandering around curiously.

You remain in the middle of the room and watch him for a few minutes until there’s a knock on the door and Chan scrambles back to your side.

“It’s me!” Mingyu calls. “Mingyu!” He adds, and you call for him to come in, so the door opens and the tall man steps inside with his arms full of a bundle of different materials, and another shorter man following him. “This is Seungkwan; he’s really good with kids and bugged me to let him meet your brother. That’s cool, right?”

“I don’t have a choice who you bring here,” you point out while putting your hand on Chan’s head protectively when both men move into the room to step past you in different directions. Mingyu places the bundle of clothing in his arms on the couch while Seungkwan scuttles over to the bed and starts to strip it of the stale sheets.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you two,” Mingyu explains. “I know it’s not your choice to be here and chances are, you’re two very innocent people caught in the wrong place, so you’ve done nothing wrong and there is no issue between us.”

You can’t help but wonder what kind of tune this man would be singing if he saw the brand on your thigh. You know it wouldn’t be a good one.

“Bring the sheets, Gyu,” Seungkwan encourages now that he has the bed entirely bare of any sheets.

Obligingly, Mingyu grabs the clean bedding from the bundle to approach and help Seungkwan set up the bed neatly while you and Chan watch silently, though whenever the pair look over at you, Chan looks away and presses further into your leg.

“So,” Mingyu starts once the bed is ready and he and Seungkwan move closer. Though they keep more than just a polite distance from you both, even if Seungkwan keeps glancing at Chan as if he wants to talk to the little boy yet can see that it’s not a good idea. “Have you thought about what you want to eat?”

“Oh…no,” you reply honestly. “I forgot.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” He tilts his head, curious and a little confused as if he doesn’t understand how you can’t be hungry considering the state of you.

“No,” it’s another completely truthful answer and makes the tall man look even more puzzled, but at least he doesn’t question it.

“Okay, well, maybe some snacks will bring back your appetite. We don’t have any women’s clothes, you’re the only woman in the manor in years so I brought you some of mine, I hope that’s okay.”

“You idiot,” Seungkwan scolds and backhands Mingyu’s closest arm, making the tall man break into a pout, to your complete astonishment. “Those will drown her!” The smaller man looks at you with a kind smile. “I’ll get you some of my own, those will be better suited, and I’ll get something for your brother. We might have some clothes small enough, but they might be too big. But at least they’ll do until his own clothes are cleaned up, right?”

Honestly, you’re still too thrown off by how kind the men in this house have been to you so far to be able to answer in any certain way. It’s very kind, yes, and you truly appreciate it, at least for Chan’s sake so he doesn’t have to suffer more, but you can’t believe they’re doing this out of the goodness of their own hearts. It’s unfathomable to you.

All you do is make a vague sound in response that Seungkwan takes as agreement and smiles, only telling you that he’ll be right back before leaving.

“Did you look at the bathroom?” Mingyu prompts, pointing to the still closed doors. You shake your head. “I’ll show you how the shower and stuff work, they’re stupidly complicated with all the options,” he says as he walks over to the left-hand door and opens it to an all-white bathroom, which is lit brightly despite the overhead light not being turned on, thanks to the large window above the tub against the back wall.

You pick Chan up to carry him into the bathroom and peer around curiously while Mingyu rambles on about how long it took him to get used to the fancy showers here when he first joined, and then they changed them to even fancier ones with more options, so he had to learn it all again.

It’s strange how different the large man seems at the manor compared to when you first met him. Although there had clearly been care in him then, as evident by his insistence on all of you wearing seatbelts and the arm that he had kept in front of Chan the entire drive with enough space to not be close to touching the boy, he had seemed every bit the gangster he must be to be a Centaur. Yet, now at the house, he’s almost a different person; no tense edges and only open expressions.

It must be that thing about people being themselves when they’re at home; feeling safe and able to be honest about who they truly are. You’ve never had that and wonder what it must feel like to experience that genuine ease and comfort, to be free. You doubt you’ll ever know.

“Ah, shit,” Mingyu curses when the water sprays out over him once he turns one of the dials. “I forgot about the multiple heads,” he grumbles and turns the water back off to face you while pulling his sleeveless t-shirt away from his torso where the water is making it start to stick and enhance his muscled chest. “Oh, sorry! I swore in front of him!” He apologises with wide eyes and one hand coming up to cover his mouth guiltily.

“He’s heard worse,” you reply, not at all bothered by the curse as you often drop minor curses in front of Chan, and he hasn’t copied them yet. Nor the more vulgar ones your father prefers.

“Still, I shouldn’t do it.” He glances over your shoulder a second before you hear footsteps approaching, making you move aside and turn so that you have a clear view of everyone.

“Hopefully, these will all be okay,” Seungkwan says as he enters the bathroom with a pile of clothing to place on the counter. “You can keep it all too if you want, none of it gets used anyway so it’d be better if someone who’d make use of it all gets it.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you reply, once again shocked by the kindness of these men but starting to get a little more accustomed to it, enough to show some gratitude at least.

“No problem!” He chirps then moves back to the bedroom to grab the towels from the couch to also put on the bathroom counter. “As far as I’m aware, everything you might want should be in the cupboards; the bathrooms are usually always fully stocked.” To check the validity of his own words, Seungkwan goes over to the unit and opens the doors to reveal more towels, toilet rolls, cleaning products and toiletries. “Ah, I’ll take these ones, they probably smell musty now; they must’ve been in here a while.” He plucks out the stack of towels and sniffs them, immediately pulling a face. “Yeah, I’ll go get you more.” He wanders off before anyone can say anything.

“I’ll let you shower and everything. I imagine snacks will be in the bedroom by the time you’re done,” Mingyu declares. “You can lock the doors too, by the way, this one and the bedroom door if that makes you feel safe. But if you don’t answer when we knock, at least half of us can either pick the lock or break it off, but we will only do that if you don’t answer in a reasonable time. For safety reasons; both yours, and ours.”

“I understand,” you reply simply and nod a little in agreement to his warning.

“Okay, great! Enjoy your showers and I’ll see you in a bit!”

Mingyu leaves and you wait until you watch him also leave the bedroom and shut the door behind him before you put Chan down and close the bathroom door, immediately clicking the lock into place.

“Use the toilet, Squirt,” you encourage, motioning to the toilet and glad that Chan waddles straight over obediently to do his business while you rummage through the cupboard to take out the necessary supplies.

“Hurts,” Chan’s words make you look over to where he’s still sitting on the toilet and frowning at you.

“Your belly?” He shakes his head. “Oh, to pee?” He nods. “Ah, I was worried you haven’t had enough to drink. Okay, well hopefully they’ll have left drinks, and you can drink lots and that will help.”

“Juice?”

“Mm, maybe, I don’t know, bud.”

“I want apple juice.”

“We’ll see what they give us. It might just be water.” Chan pulls a face. “I know you don’t like water but it’s good, remember? We need to make sure we drink enough of it to be healthy. You didn’t drink your water this morning and now it hurts to pee.”

“Lots but not too much,” he repeats the words you’ve said to him many times when convincing him to drink his daily water intake.

It was so much easier when you had access to whatever drinks you wanted, but now you can rarely afford to buy anything other than cheap bottled water or refill empty bottles at public water fountains, which are few and far between these days. So sometimes, it’s truly a struggle to keep you both hydrated.

“Exactly, too much or too little is bad for us.”

“Need to be healthy.”

“We do. And clean, so finish up and let’s get you showered.”

“Water?” Chan gasps excitedly and rushes to get off the toilet and close the lid before flushing it, then speeds over with his trousers still around his knees, but you don’t scold him for it; there’s no point when he’s about to take them off. Also, it makes him waddle like a penguin and it’s rather amusing.

“Yeah, get naked and I’ll get it nice and warm.”

“Water time!” Chan exclaims happily and rapidly starts to throw off his clothes, making you once again glad that you have been able to buy him clothes that are easy for him to handle on his own, without buttons or zips for him to get frustrated with. One less reason for a meltdown.

Although he doesn’t have any water safe toys to play with in the shower, Chan has endless fun jumping under the warm water and splashing around while singing every water themed song he can think of, even making up plenty too, while you sit on the tiles outside of the splash zone and watch fondly.

There will never be anyone who you love and adore more than your little brother. You’d do anything for him, risk everything if it would make him smile like this all the time.

Though after a while, you do have to stop his joyful playing so that you can give him a soapy sponge for him to clean his body while you scrub his shaggy hair clean as he sits on the wet tiles in front of where you kneel, getting your jeans wet but you don’t care.

Once Chan is all clean, you wrap him up in a few towels and sit him on the dry tiles facing the wall so he can play with the few toys from his backpack and remain occupied while you shower. It’s not that often that you can shower properly, usually you just have to wash you both over with baby wipes, or with a damp cloth when you can find a private space big enough for it. Showers have become a luxury over the past months, but even with the little amount you’ve had, Chan knows that he must remain looking away while you shower to give you privacy, and he only complains about it if he doesn’t stay entertained with toys for the duration.

As much as you’d love to stand under the water and let it soothe your aching muscles until your skin is all wrinkly, you know you can’t, so you scrub yourself as quickly as possible while remaining thorough, before getting out and rubbing your body dry so you can pull on the clothes Seungkwan left for you. Of course, there isn’t a bra or underwear, but the sweatpants, t-shirt, socks, and hoodie all fit comfortably enough and smell fresh and clean.

With a towel around your hair, you get Chan up and dressed before towel drying both of your hair quickly and unlocking the bathroom door to let you out into the bedroom.

As Mingyu said, someone has left snacks on the low table, a lot of snacks and various bottles and cans of drinks.

Chan gasps excitedly and rushes over to pick up a little bottle of apple juice. “Juice, Per!”

“Mm, sit down then,” you hum and take the bottle to open it as Chan sits down and plops his turtle plushie at his side in wait. As soon as you’ve handed over the open bottle, your brother starts to gulp the contents down eagerly. “Ah, Channie, slow, you’ll make yourself sick. We must be careful when we eat and drink, remember?”

“But I so thirsty, Per!”

“I know, but it’s not going anywhere. Take it steady, Squirt.”

“Slow and steady wins the race,” he quotes, and you smile softly as you watch him purposely take much smaller sips now, all because of a tortoise in an old fable.

Once he’s consumed half of the bottle, Chan puts it on the table and accepts the packet of mini cookies you’ve opened to offer and happily starts munching away with his feet contently flopping from side to side where they’re stretched out in front of him under the table.

While Chan eats the snacks you’ve set up ready for him, you go back to the bathroom to clean your clothes in the sink with the soaps, even if they’re not designed for this, but you can’t be picky about how you get your clothes clean, you just care that they are.

When Chan scrambles into the bathroom while you’re setting everything up to dry, you become concerned until you hear the knocking on the bedroom door and understand what has spooked your little brother. “It’s okay, you can wait in here,” you assure and pat his head before going to the bedroom to open the door while he does as offered and remains hiding in the bathroom.

On the other side of the bedroom door upon opening it stand Mingyu and Junhui, each with a tray of covered plates in their hands and smiles on their faces.

“Hi, Pearl!” Junhui greets. “Food’s ready!”

“Oh,” you step back to let the men in and rush over to the low table to clean up the crumbs and packets Chan has left behind.

“Here, here, I’ll take them,” Mingyu offers, plucking the rubbish from your hands after he’s put down the tray in his hands. “I need to go out for a bit, but Jun is still around, and Seungkwan is too, so you can ask for either of them until I’m back. It should only be an hour; I’ve just got to deal with some stuff in the middle wall.” You nod in understanding. Mingyu shoots you a smile before he leaves, pulling up the door, yet leaving it open slightly as Junhui is still in the room.

The chef is kneeling beside the table as he sets up all of the plates, uncovering them as he goes and causing various delicious scents to fill the room. You’re not surprised that Chan shuffles over and half hides behind your legs as he eyes the food, drawn in by the smell.

“So!” Junhui starts when he’s done arranging everything and looks up. He jerks back in surprise spotting Chan suddenly at your side, but he just smiles at him brightly, then looks up at you. “I thought I’d play it mostly safe and made some plain, yet still tasty and nutritious, foods; enough for the both of you butttt” he starts pulling out condiment bottles and jars of herbs and spices from the various pockets on his cargo pants and apron. “I brought flavours so you can adjust them as you like! I thought that’d be easier than stressing you out by asking you what you like again; that clearly wasn’t getting anywhere. So here, enjoy, eat as much or as little as you want, and you can ask Soonyoung for me if you need more.”

“Soonyoung?” You repeat confusedly.

“Yeah, the guy outside the room.” He motions to the door over his shoulder. “But be warned if you do open the door to ask for something, you will have to deal with talking to him. He hurt his ankle last week and is only off bed rest now, still not allowed to do patrols or go out so he’s sitting on a chair sulking and constantly complaining that he’s bored. But he’s got great hearing and is dumb enough to still jump around on his bad ankle so he will stop you from leaving and get hurt in the process. And then we’ll have to deal with him sulking even longer, so for our sake, please don’t try to run away or anything.”

“That would be illogical given where we are,” you point out simply.

The cook makes a noise of understanding while nodding his head slowly. “Ah, so you do know where you are and whose roof you’re under.”

“Mingyu’s tattoo gives it away, yes.”

“He’s insane, I tell you,” Junhui states, picking up a child-sized cutlery set to hand over, so you take it and sit down, pulling Chan down next to you and handing him the fork to let him pick what he wants to try. No surprise, he goes straight for the plain noodles. Junhui hands you the adult’s cutlery set, though you just hold it at the edge of the table as he talks. “It’s January and the idiot keeps going out in stupid, thin jackets that inevitably get ripped and destroyed, and I think he does it on purpose just to have an excuse to take them off and get his arms out. He’s very vain that Mingyu; he’s hot and he knows it.” He tuts.

You’re not sure what to say in response. Sure, Mingyu is very attractive, and it had struck you as very odd that he was only in a sleeveless t-shirt in winter, but he hadn’t come across as vain to you, though you’re aware that you really don’t know him at all to have a solid opinion on his vanity level. So, you just make a vague sound in response and hope it’s enough to appease Junhui.

“Well, anyway, I’ll let you eat. If you don’t like any of it, tell Soonyoung to call me and I’ll make something else; all I do around here is cook and dinner isn’t for hours, so I don’t have anything else to do. You’d actually be doing me a favour by giving me something to do other than sit playing games on my phone in the den or trying to convince one of the others to entertain me.”

“Why don’t you sit with Soonyoung, if you’re both bored?” You logically suggest.

“Because…actually, that’s a good point. I’ll get a game, do you like games? We can play monopoly…oh, no, that’s a bad idea. Cluedo? No, Soonyoung never understands those kinds of games.” He frowns in thought.

“I’d rather just focus on my brother.”

“Ah, right, right. You’re a good sister.” Junhui gets to his feet after slapping his own thighs. “I’ll be outside and if we get too loud, just come out and tell us to shut up, we both lack volume control when we get excited. Okay, bye, Pearl. Bye, little man!” Junhui skips out of your room, calling to Soonyoung about playing a game as he goes. You can’t see the other man, but you hear his excited whoop before the door shuts and blessedly closes out their conversation.

“Is it good, Channie?” You ask, brushing Chan’s floppy, almost dry hair back out of his eyes. He hums and nods in agreement as he eats. “Good.”

Only now that you’re alone with your little brother and content that he’s eating well do you pick up your cutlery and start to eat.

Although Mingyu has reappeared and left again multiple times, you and Chan are mostly alone for hours, with the man only popping in to check on you both and ask if you need anything, plus take away all the dishes with Junhui.

It’s almost midnight when there’s a knock on the door and you look over from being curled protectively around your sleeping brother. Something about the knock is different to how Mingyu knocks, it’s firmer, yet still gentle in a strange contradiction that makes your stomach flitter with anxiety.

Silently, as to not disturb Chan, you get off the bed and walk to the door to open it just as the knocking starts up again.

On the other side is a man, who although you’ve never met before, you’ve seen his picture many times in files in your father’s office to be able to recognise his dark gaze and full lips.

Choi Seungcheol, the current leader of Choi’s Centaurs as of ten years ago when his father passed through means that have never been publicly verified. Many even think that Seungcheol himself had a hand in his father’s death just so that he could take over the gang sooner.

You don’t know enough of the man to have an opinion on that matter, but what you do know is that he makes an intimidating figure as he looms over you in riding leathers with his motorbike helmet still in one gloved hand at his side, whereas the other is bare and raised in a fist from knocking on the door.

“Pearl, I assume?” He greets, raising an eyebrow slightly in question while lowering his arm to hang at his side.

You don’t know if the dark look is intentional or not, but you do know the shadows under his eyes aren’t. He looks exhausted and you can’t imagine he’s very happy about having to come to you upon returning home instead of going to bed like he no doubt yearns to.

You nod in confirmation. “Your brother is asleep?” Another nod. “Alright, step out here so we can talk without waking him.”

Silently, you step into the hall when he moves aside, before you pull the door up almost entirely shut, yet cracked open enough that you can hear if Chan needs you.

“So, what I hear is that a couple of my guys found you in the warehouse where it seems as if you’ve been sleeping with your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good, you speak,” he places his helmet on the floor so that he can remove his glove and tuck it into his jacket pocket with the other before unzipping the protective jacket, showing a plain black t-shirt tucked into the waistband of his trousers. “You’re homeless?”

“Yes.”

“Any family to go to? I can’t send you back onto the streets with a kid.”

“Just like that?” You ask, looking at him puzzled. “You’re just sending us out again?”

“What do you expect me to do with you? I know you’re aware I don’t condone violence towards children, nor do I agree with leaving any kid in a position where they don’t have an adult to look after them. I’m not going to hurt your brother, and hurting you would hurt him too, so my only option is to send you off and hope you won’t try to cause me any trouble by saying shit about whatever you saw and heard at the warehouse.”

“And here.”

“What?”

“Your men brought me into your home; as far as I’m aware that’s pretty fucking unheard of.”

He nods slightly in confirmation. “This situation is unheard of, you’re right, Mingyu fucked up by bringing you into the manor when he could’ve left you in one of the empty houses in the outer wall, but I can’t blame him when he did it to make sure he knows you two will be safe and looked after. So tomorrow I’ll personally drive you to the closest family you have, so that I know you arrive safely.”

“No.”

“No?” He frowns at you in astonishment. “The fuck do you mean no? I don’t think you understand what’s going on here, sweetheart. I’m in charge and you’re under my roof, you’re alive because of my rules and you have no fucking place to say no to me.”

“I’ll say no to whoever I need to if it means protecting my brother.”

“I just said I’m not going to let anyone hurt him.”

“Sending us to family will mean him getting hurt.”

“Did you run away?” You nod in confirmation. “Because your parents hurt you?”

“I took him and ran because I knew it would only get worse for him now that… Look, I don’t give a fuck who you are or what you can do to me; I’m not letting you send my brother back there. I won’t do a thing that puts us back on their radar. So just take us back to the warehouse so I can grab the shit I had to leave behind and we can see the last of each other.”

Seungcheol stares at you consideringly for a long moment as his arms cross over his chest before he nods once in understanding and acceptance. “Alright, no family, but I’m not sending you back to the streets. There must be some kind of women’s and children’s refuge that would take you in.”

“Separately. I’m not his parent and as I’m not a kid myself, we’d get separated.”

“Then lie and say he’s your son.”

“I don’t like to lie.”

He scoffs a laugh. “You wouldn’t last a day in my world with that mindset, sweetheart.” You don’t answer and just stare at him silently, well aware of how wrong his assumption is. “Right, so not that. Well, and this is a once in a lifetime offer, but I’ll buy you a house, put it in your name, give you money to cover costs for a few months while you get on your feet, and we never cross paths again. You won’t owe me shit either; I have more money than I know what to do with anyway, I can afford to help someone in need.”

“If I use my name they will find us, Seungcheol,” you plainly state.

He blinks at you a few times dumbly before responding. “Oh, that’s my name.”

You can’t help but look at him in concern for his odd reaction. “Yes.”

“You seriously do know who I am. I didn’t even introduce myself.”

“You’re the head of the most famous gang in the country, of course I know who you are.”

“Mm, many might know me by name, not by face.”

“Mingyu told me the boss will be by to see me once he’s home; you are the only person who has knocked on the door other than him. And you said you’re in charge; I’m under your roof. It’s not hard to put two and two together,” comes your logical rationalisation, easily explaining how you didn’t fail to recognise him despite his lack of introduction.

He’s right in that most people may know his alias, yet have no idea what his first name is, even if they know his family name, or who the name belongs to if they passed him in the street without introduction.

“Huh, guess so. Just threw me hearing my name suddenly, especially as nobody actually calls me that.”

“I don’t like your alias,” you admit bluntly, and to your surprise, the man lets out a laugh. “What?”

“Nobody has ever said that to my face before. Wow, either you have the biggest balls I’ve ever seen, or you’re so sleep deprived that you’ve forgotten how to act.”

Once again, you don’t answer, just silently stare at him. You truly have no idea what category you fit under right now, if either.

“You’re an interesting one, Pearl,” he declares with amusement tilting the edge of his lips up ever so slightly. “Well, I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with this tonight so we’re both going to go the fuck to bed and get some much-needed sleep, then we’ll talk again. And I’ll meet your brother; the guys say he’s adorable and shy, so I’m real curious about him.”

“Right,” you mutter in response, not sure what you’re expected to say right now.

“Alright, well, seeing as you’re not an idiot and know who I am and what you risk if you try to fuck me over, I won’t have anyone outside your room anymore and no-one will bother you until the morning when someone comes and gets you for breakfast.”

“Get us? Like, to join?”

“Yeah, we can talk over breakfast; I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and the sooner we sort this shit out, the better.”

“Right.”

“Go back to your brother and make sure you sleep too. You look like you’re about to pass out any second,” he says as he bends over momentarily to swoop up his helmet into his hold.

“Says you.”

Seungcheol snorts a laugh as he turns and walks off. “Definitely an interesting one.”

You watch him until he turns at the end of the hall and is out of sight before you go back into the bedroom and lock the door so that when you curl up under the covers with your brother, you feel safe enough to close your eyes and sleep in a soft bed for the first time in months.

Maybe today hasn’t been quite as unlucky as you initially thought.

When the knock comes in the morning, you’ve already been up for a few hours.

You’ve already cleaned up the bathroom and bedroom, showered for what may be the last time in a while to take advantage while Chan slept, and dressed back in your own clean clothes; though you’ve neatly folded the ones Seungkwan gave you into your backpack, hoping that he was being honest about allowing you to keep them, you could really do with the spare clothes.

Once Chan woke, you had him drink some juice, then let him splash around in the bath until the water was cold and his skin wrinkly, before drying him and dressing him in clean clothes and folding his new spares into your own backpack as his own is too full of his own spare clothes, toys, and other necessary supplies.

Chan’s playing with his toys on the bed at your side when the knock comes, so you leave him there to get up and answer the door.

“Good morning!” Mingyu greets you brightly once the door is open and you have sight of one another. “I’m glad you’re already up, breakfast is just about ready. Is your brother up too?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, great, let’s go join the others.” You nod slightly in agreement, then turn to get Chan and carry him with you as he clutches his turtle to his chest and hides in your neck.

“Does he have trouble walking?” Mingyu wonders as you follow him down the hall.

“Sometimes.”

“Ah, you just carry him all of the time, so I wondered.”

“It’s just easier, lets me know he’s safe if I’m holding him.”

“That makes sense. But he is safe here, you know. Nobody will hurt him. We all love kids in this house, in the appropriate way.”

“I don’t know you to trust those words.”

“I understand,” he assures and gives you a little smile.

Nothing more is said all the way to the kitchen where you can already hear noise before you enter. It’s not too loud, thankfully, just the general sounds of people being happy and chatting. And to your surprise, you can hear a child’s voice amongst it all.

“They’re here!” Junhui cheers as you enter the kitchen and see him cooking with another man while the large breakfast table is surrounded by a bunch of men, Seungcheol and Seungkwan included, plus a little boy who is in the middle of climbing over a brightly smiling man.

The little boy immediately looks over and grins brightly. “My new friend!” He exclaims.

“No, no, I told you, no,” Seungcheol says with a sigh. “Every child you meet isn’t your friend, Solie.”

“But he will be!” The boy insists and almost climbs up onto the table, though the man who he’s using as a willing climbing frame grabs him and moves him to put on the floor. Undeterred as if it’s a regular occurrence, the boy runs around the table to approach you and stare up at your hiding little brother in awe. “Hi! I’m Hansol, I’m almost seven! What’s your name?”

All the men look over curiously, stopping their conversations to see what happens next.

“I’m sorry, Hansol, but he doesn’t talk to anyone but me,” you say to the young boy gently.

“Oh,” Hansol frowns. “Why?”

“He only feels safe with me.”

“Oh. I don’t have a sister, but I feel safest with my daddy, so I talk his ear off, he says.” To your surprise, he points over at Seungcheol, who is watching his son with fond amusement.

In all you’ve seen and read about Choi Seungcheol over the years, you’ve never even heard a rumour that he has a child, not even a woman claiming to be carrying his child to try and get money from the filthy-rich family. There have even been rumours that the man is gay due to the lack of women seen on his arm over the years. Maybe that’s still true and Hansol isn’t biologically Seungcheol’s, maybe he’s adopted or a surrogate baby; not that it matters when you can see nothing but pure love in the man’s eyes for his son.

At least now you understand why the men had all been so insistent that Seungcheol has strict rules to protect children; as a father he likely has a better appreciation and love for the little humans. Well, a good father should, at least. Something about this man makes you think that he is a good and doting father, despite being a ruthless gang leader.

“Ah, it’s good you feel safe with him,” you decide to say and look at Hansol, who nods enthusiastically in agreement before looking at Chan again.

“Can we still be friends if he doesn’t talk and I talk a lot?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I don’t know if he can handle it, he’s sensitive to noise.”

“Oh, me too, like bangs and stuff; it makes me feel all horrible and gross and sometimes I wear my special headphones, and it makes it all quiet. Does he have special headphones too? They’re really good!”

“Ear defenders?”

“Oh, is that what they’re called?”

You nod. “Defend means to protect and they’re designed to protect your hearing and block out noises.”

“Ooooh, that’s cool! Daddy!” Hansol turns to look at his father. “My special headphones are superheroes for my ears!”

“So I heard,” Seungcheol replies with a chuckle. “Why don’t you come sit down so Pearl can get comfortable with her brother for breakfast, hm?”

“Can I sit with him?”

“I think he’d rather sit with his sister.”

The little boy deflates, whole posture slumping and his lips protruding sadly, “oh.”

“You can sit with me, Solie!” The same man Hansol had earlier been climbing on offers, making Hansol light right back up and run over to clamber up.

“No, no way,” Junhui argues sternly. “You spill enough food as it is without a child on your lap, Kwon Soonyoung.”

The man you now know to be Soonyoung, the man with the injured ankle who had been keeping guard outside of your room yesterday, pouts and crosses his arms over his chest, which Hansol copies when he’s in his own seat on his dad’s right at the head of the table. “You never let us have breakfast cuddles anymore,” Soonyoung complains in a mumble.

“Learn to eat like a grown up and then you’ll be allowed breakfast cuddles,” another man says as Mingyu leads you over to the empty two seats on Seungcheol’s left and motions for you to sit in the one closest to the boss. You sit in the offered chair while continuing to hold Chan chest to chest on your lap, and Mingyu takes the seat on your left.

“You’re younger than me!” Soonyoung exclaims.

“Alright children, at least pretend to know how to behave when we have guests,” Seungcheol chides, though he looks to be so used to the playful bickering that it doesn’t truly bother him.

“Yes, daddy,” Soonyoung agrees, then yelps when the metal chopstick Seungcheol abruptly throws through the air whacks him in the arm. “Ow!”

“I’ve told you not to call me that!”

“You do call them children,” the man at the other end of the table points out with a little, lazily amused smirk. “It’s your own fault, daddy.”

“Yeah, daddy,” multiple of the men chime in sync, then start to cackle when Seungcheol sighs heavily.

Though the man decides to ignore them all and turns his attention to you instead. “So, how’d you two sleep?”

“Good,” you reply, eyes darting around as everyone starts to serve themselves now that Junhui and the man who was cooking with him are seated, a sign that it’s time to eat. You’re shocked that they don’t wait for Seungcheol and Hansol to have their servings first, as the lead family. Though you can see Soonyoung making sure that the child has food on his plate before he gets his own share.

“What do you want to eat? I’ll grab it for you,” Mingyu offers. “Does he eat toast?” You nod in confirmation, so Mingyu grabs a couple of slices of toast. “With butter?” You nod again and he gets to work buttering the toast.

“Will you turn around?” You request Chan softly once you’ve leaned down to talk to him. He shakes his head. “Just halfway, please, Squirt. You can face the wall, but you need to be able to reach your food.”

Chan tenses for a second as he squeezes his turtle tight to his chest, before he relaxes and you know it means he’s ready, so you adjust him until his back is to Mingyu. Although Chan is technically facing Seungcheol now, the wall is more directly in front of him, and he stares at it.

“Anything else on it? We don’t have peanut butter, Hansol’s allergic, but we have probably almost anything else,” Mingyu says once the toast is buttered and on the plate that is sitting in front of you on the table.

“Do you want anything on your toast, Squirt?” You ask. Chan glances over to the plate and instead of verbally answering, he picks up a piece of the warm toast to start eating contently, feet starting to bounce a little as he chews.

“Is his name Squirt?” Hansol speaks up from directly opposite you, causing you to look over and see that he’s already got crumbs around his mouth from his own toast, though his is slathered in jam and he also has a single sausage on his plate.

“It’s a nickname,” you answer.

“Oh, why?”

“Have you seen Finding Nemo?”

“Yeah!” Hansol lights up. “I wanna bounce on the jellyfish, boing, boing!” He bounces in his seat.

“Ah, you shouldn’t bounce when you eat,” you say automatically, worried about the boy choking. “It’s a hazard to move in such a way while you eat.”

Hansol falls still to look at you with intrigue. “What’s hazard mean?”

“Dangerous. A hazard is something that’s dangerous.”

“Oh. So, no bouncing when eating?” You hum and nod in approval. “Okay.”

“What?” Seungcheol baulks in disbelief. “I’ve been telling you to sit still while you eat since you could sit up and you listen to someone you just met?”

“You never told me it’s dangerous, daddy. I don’t want to get hurt, you know.”

“I must’ve told you it’s dangerous,” Seungcheol mutters.

“Nope! You tell me I make a mess.”

“Oh…well, okay, that’s my fault then, I should’ve put the danger warnings first.”

“You should,” Hansol agrees simply, and for the first time in over 24 hours, you almost laugh yet manage to hold it back and instead just smile amusedly. “Will Squirt play with me after breakfast?”

“I thought we’re playing after breakfast,” Seungkwan pouts from Mingyu’s left.

“I always play with you Uncle Kwannie, I need new friends who aren’t old.”

“Wow, Hansol, wow,” Seungkwan deadpans. “You say such lovely things.”

“I am a lovely boy,” Hansol agrees, entirely missing the sarcasm in the man’s voice, making Mingyu giggle as Seungkwan pouts to stop himself from also laughing. “Does Squirt like climbing? I want to play outside after breakfast, and I can show my climbing frame, and we can play fishies too! I bet he’ll like that if he likes Nemo. Does he like playing fishies?”

“I don’t think he’s ever played it,” you answer honestly.

“We just pretend we’re fishies living in the sea, it’s pretty easy to play.” Hansol shrugs.

“Just eat your breakfast, Sol,” Seungcheol says, tapping the edge of Hansol’s plate.

“I am eating, daddy, you’re not and she’s not. We’re all eating but you two.”

“Okay, well focus on your food while we talk about adult stuff, okay?”

“Ugh, boring,” Hansol huffs and turns to start talking to Soonyoung, who happily listens to the little boy as they both eat with crumbs around their mouths and wide eyes on one another.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Seungcheol starts as he finally moves to put food on his own plate, though pauses when he realises that only Chan’s second piece of toast is on the plate in front of you. “You can help yourself; it’s all free game.”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you reply.

“Eat, you need energy to look after your brother,” he declares firmly and as much as you want to argue, he’s got you by bringing Chan into it; you’re pretty sure he said that on purpose. “I’m going to put food on your plate, and you don’t have to eat it all, but eat something, okay?” He doesn’t wait for your agreement before he gets up onto his feet to lean over the table further and serve a little of most of the dishes onto your plate before he serves himself a much heartier portion of everything.

For a few minutes, you eat quietly, feeding Chan from your own cutlery too so that he’s not just eating toast, even if he seems perfectly happy slowly chewing on it while staring off, though he opens his mouth to accept whatever you choose to feed him without complaint.

“Can I ask something?” Seungcheol’s voice makes you look away from Chan and to the man on your right. There’s something in his eyes you can’t place as he watches Chan curiously. “Is he autistic?” Your movements immediately halt and Seungcheol notices, snapping his full attention to your carefully blank expression. “He is, isn’t he?”

“My brother’s business is not yours,” you state firmly.

“I’m not trying to step on your toes or anything, I just see a lot of Hansol in him,” he explains with a shrug. “He’s got autism and ADHD, so I get it, we all get it, if he is autistic. It’s not a dirty word in this house and we all make accommodations where necessary to make sure my son doesn’t ever feel other, you know? He’s just another kid with some differences as far as he’s concerned.”

For a long moment, you just stare at Seungcheol in utter shock at his words. Not necessarily that Hansol has autism and ADHD because that doesn’t exactly surprise you despite having just met the kid, sometimes you just know these things, but what is a surprise is the ease in which Seungcheol says it all and the fact that you truly believe him; that they all accept and love Hansol and do what they can to support him.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted for Chan.

“Oh,” you breathe out, and with that breath, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. “It’s why I took him away. He got diagnosed in summer, and suddenly…can we stay?” You suddenly request, shocking the man visibly; his eyes go wide, and he straightens up from his casual slouch as he leans on his elbows on the table. “I will work for you; I’ll do whatever you need me to, just please allow my brother to grow up somewhere stable and with love. I’m not asking you to love him in any way, or for any of you to look after him; but for him to see another child like him receiving such love, I hope he’ll know there’s more than just one person on the side of kids like him.”

Seungcheol remains quiet for a second before he lets out a little breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I was actually going to suggest it myself, that you stay, because I really don’t know what else to do. You have nowhere to go, and I had a feeling he’s autistic, so I know it’s even harder for you and I truly don’t want to risk your family finding you, especially now I know why they think it’s acceptable to be cruel to an innocent child. I was just surprised you asked.”

“For his sake I’ll do anything.”

“Can you clean?”

“What?”

“If you stay, you need to work and there’s always stuff to clean in a house this size.”

“Is this because I’m a woman?” You deadpan and suddenly, the men closest to you turn quiet, creating a domino effect of silence along the table as they all turn to look at their flustered leader. “Is that the only job you could think of for a woman to be of use in your gang, Seungcheol?”

“Oooh,” Soonyoung jeers under his breath amusedly.

“What? No!” Seungcheol sputters. “I’m not sexist! I know women have plenty of uses besides cleaning!”

“Then why are there no women other than me in this house? I saw perhaps five on the entire drive through the estate. Those don’t seem like numbers of an equal opportunist.”

“I like her,” one of the men whispers to another, however as no-one else is talking, it’s loud and clear to you all and he doesn’t seem to care at all.

“What’s sexist?” Hansol curiously asks.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not sexist,” Seungcheol reiterates, dismissing Hansol’s question with a wave of his hand, making his son pout sadly at not being answered and catching your attention, which in turn, makes Seungcheol look at his son seeing your gaze focused on the boy, and the man notices Hansol’s frown. “Oh, Solie, I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just not something a six-year-old needs to worry about.”

“I think if he asks, he’s curious enough to deserve an answer,” you point out. “Wouldn’t it be better to give him the knowledge earlier, so he grows up with it, than risk it not settling properly in his mind and being easy to pull apart when he’s older?”

“Oh, I really like her,” the same whispered voice as last time declares.

Seungcheol sighs then shuffles to face Hansol better. “Okay, Pearl’s right, I should give you an actual answer when you ask about things like this. Sexism is when someone thinks their sex or gender is above another. Like, for example, some idiot men think women belong in the kitchen and have no use other than staying at home to raise kids and look after the house. That’s men being sexist towards women.”

“Oh, like you only giving Pearl a cleaning job,” Hansol says, making Seungcheol wince, while some of the men start to snicker. “That’s really bad, daddy, give her a better job.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a cleaner, all jobs have worth. If nobody cleans, things will be dirty so it’s a perfectly valid job, Hansol.”

“But you’re being sexist so that makes it bad, right?”

“Okay, it would be if that was what I was doing, but I only said cleaner because I have no idea what Pearl’s skills are, and you don’t need qualifications or past job experience to clean.”

“Then ask her. If you don’t know what she’s good at, ask her,” Hansol reasons logically.

“How does it feel when a six-year-old has more logic and common sense than you, Coupsie?” The man at the other end of the table asks with an amused grin, earning an unimpressed expression from Seungcheol as he straightens up and turns towards you.

Seungcheol looks at you with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry for not asking you, that wasn’t right. We’ll have an interview when I’m back later and discuss what your place here will be, does that sound okay to you, Pearl?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you agree simply. He relaxes a little before motioning for everyone to get back to their food, and the conversation is dropped there.

Just as he had said, after breakfast, Hansol enthusiastically leads you and Chan outside once you’re all three of you are in your shoes and coats, to go to the play area that would put a public child’s play park to shame.

There’s a large climbing frame, multiple types of swings, slides of varying heights and styles, trampolines imbedded in the rubber tarmac, spinning seats and roundabouts, seesaws and a huge racetrack painted onto the ground and weaving through all the various apparatus. Plus, there’s even a shelter with go carts, bikes, wagons, and even more toys.

And that’s just this section of the garden. A little further away you can see a large, covered section of ground, which you’d assume is an in-ground pool if there were any sign of ladders or tiles around it instead of more rubber tarmac. You have no idea what it is, but you know it’s another activity for Hansol.

It really is clear that Seungcheol will go above and beyond for the sake of his son.

“What shall we play first, Squirt?” Hansol asks, turning to look at Chan, who is entirely focused on the strange sensation of slightly springy ground under him as he bounces on his toes curiously. “It’s cool, right?! It’s just like in real play parks! Uncle Jihoon says it’s safety playground flooring; it’s got rubber in it so when we fall it isn’t as hard as normal ground and won’t hurt so much or break us as easily.”

Of course, Chan doesn’t respond in any way and honestly, you’re not even sure he’s heard a word that Hansol has said to him, you don’t know if Chan even realises that he’s being spoken to despite the older boy using the nickname so smoothly it’s like he’s always used it.

“Do you like bouncing?” Hansol asks, having no issue with the lack of response and instead rushes over to the trampolines to jump onto. “Look! Look, Squirt! We can touch the clouds!”

“Hey,” you say as you crouch down so you can get Chan’s attention. He glances at you, then looks up when he sees you looking directly at him, signalling that you want his attention. “Hansol wants to play with you, don’t you think that’d be fun? You can make a friend.” You motion over to where Hansol is still happily bouncing away, causing Chan to look over. He pulls an uncertain face. “Want to try?” You offer your hand and to your joy, Chan takes it, silently agreeing to give the trampoline a go. It’s a huge step in Chan making his first friend.

Together, you walk over to the trampolines and Hansol lights up noticing you nearing. He bounces closer and offers his hand to Chan. “I’ll bounce with you, it’s really fun, Squirt!”

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” you assure your brother and gently remove your hand from his. He looks at you with rounded eyes of hesitation, yet when you smile and nod reassuringly, he turns and tentatively takes Hansol’s hand.

Your heart swells with joy seeing Chan accept the older boy enough to timidly follow him onto the trampoline, even if he makes slightly distressed sounds as the material bends under his weight.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Squirt,” Hansol soothes in a gentle tone and holds both of Chan’s hands securely so they’re facing one another, though Chan is staring alarmed down at the ground bending beneath their feet. “It’s a trampoline, it’s made to bounce. We can do it gently.”

So, so, so carefully, Hansol starts to bounce. His feet don’t even leave the trampoline and he’s more just bending his legs a little and using the movement to bob them slightly. Chan’s distressed sounds grow, but Hansol makes more soothing noises and holds his hands tighter. He keeps talking to Chan, telling him that it’s okay and “Solie is here, Squirt” and slowly, Chan calms until he’s just making little squeaky types of sounds every handful of seconds.

Once his noises stop being fearful and turn curious, Hansol encourages Chan to try bouncing too. With Hansol’s gentle support, Chan does start to bounce and the utter joy that lights up his face when he lifts his head to look at you with sparkling eyes makes you feel like you could break at any second. You didn’t know he could look so happy with someone else.

Right here, you decide that no matter what Seungcheol asks you to do, you’ll do it. So long as Chan gets to remain here looking so genuinely happy like this, you’ll do anything.

For the first time in months, Chan isn’t right by your side. He’s not far and you can hear Hansol’s voice from the playroom opposite, along with Seungkwan’s, who you have learned is Hansol’s nanny, even if Hansol is often not with the man as the child is both very self-sufficient but also very sneaky at escaping Seungkwan to go play with other people when he gets bored.

It’s probably half of the reason Seungcheol’s home office is right opposite Hansol’s playroom, so Seungcheol can be near if his son wants him when he gets fed up with his nanny.

“Hansol’s always wanted a little brother,” Seungcheol randomly states when you’re both sitting on the leather seating to one side of his office. He’s slouched on the loveseat and you’re sitting in the armchair with a view of the open door, even if you can’t see through to the open door of the playroom. This at least makes you feel better as you’re not turning your back on Chan.

You look at Seungcheol with a slightly raised, questioning eyebrow at his words.

“Just, he’s good with your brother, right?” You nod in confirmation because for all the energy Hansol has in his slight body, he’s so gentle with Chan, so caring, and you can entirely understand what Seungcheol is saying. Hansol is treating Chan like the little brother he’s always wanted. “He’s asked for a little brother for the past two Christmases.” He chuckles and forces himself to sit upright and lean over to pour himself a glass of water from the carafe on the low table in the centre of the seating.

You remain quiet and look back at the door to listen to Hansol’s and Seungkwan’s voices as they play. You can’t hear Chan, and you’re not surprised about it, but it does make you worry that you can’t tell if he’s enjoying the games when he’s so used to either playing alone or with you, even if you’re never as imaginative as either Hansol or Seungkwan.

“You don’t have to worry, Seungkwan knows first aid if they do get hurt,” Seungcheol promises.

“I’m not worried about injury, I’m worried that my brother will suffer in silence, unable to speak up for himself and without me there to talk for him.”

“I don’t mean to overstep or sound like a dick, but have you considered that that doesn’t help?” You look at him with furrowed brows. Seungcheol immediately holds up his hands in defence. “I’m just saying that if you always talk for him, he’s not going to learn to talk for himself.”

“While I agree that can be the case in many circumstances, this is not it. My brother is capable of talking when he feels safe and comfortable with a person, and I’m the only person he has. Even before his diagnosis he didn’t speak to most people because he had delayed speech, and the assholes never gave him the time and understanding to get out what he needed. He’s improved a lot more with just me to talk to these past months than beforehand. So no, I am not making a problem here.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol accepts obligingly. “I believe you, and I apologise for implying that you’re holding him back. Some people just don’t realise they are. They think they’re helping but they’re not. We’ve gotta let our kids figure shit out for themselves sometimes.”

“I know, but some kids and people just aren’t capable of figuring certain things out for themselves, so we have to help them lest they suffer in silence their entire lives.”

“Yeah, I think we know that very well. Raising a kid with disabilities is hard, but I’d never change him.”

“No, I wouldn’t either.”

The two of you share a moment of pure understanding that only breaks when you smile slightly and Seungcheol suddenly looks away while clearing his throat before swallowing down the rest of his water with flushed cheeks.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s ill to suddenly get visibly hot like that. You hope that if he is ill, it’s not contagious; you don’t think you can handle even a common cold right now with the poor condition of your body.

“So,” he says as he puts his glass down on the table perhaps a little too quickly, judging by the loud thunk it makes, which makes him wince. He takes a second to steady the glass then leans back and lays one arm on the back of the couch while he looks at you with even pinker cheeks.

“Are you ill?” You blurt.

“What?” He frowns at you bewilderedly. “No, why? Do I look like shit?” He puts his free hand to his cheek worriedly.

“You’re pink.”

“Oh,” he laughs awkwardly and abruptly gets up to cross the room and open the window. “J-just hot!”

“It’s winter.”

“I’ve just got back from a physically strenuous job,” he explains, and turns so his back is to the open window and his ass is leaning against the windowsill. “Talking of jobs, let’s decide what you can do for me. To work for me, I mean.”

“I don’t know what else that could mean other than work,” you point out and he lets out another strange, awkward laugh. “Are you high?”

“No,” he frowns suddenly, expression abruptly changing. “I don’t do drugs.”

“It would explain your odd behaviour. Either you’re ill, or high.”

“Neither! I’m fine, I’m fine,” he waves his hands dismissively before crossing his arms to tuck his hands under his biceps against his ribs. “So, have you had a job before? I assume so based on the fact you’ve only been homeless for the past months since running away, right? You had a house before then?”

“Family home.”

“Ah, so you didn’t pay rent and stuff.”

“No, I paid rent, it just wasn’t my house.”

“Wait, your parents made you pay rent to live in the family home?” He baulks in disgust.

“Father, my mother died years ago. And my stepmother; my brother’s mother if you want to get specific.”

“Oh, you’re half siblings? I assumed full, you seem very close.”

“As I said, I’m the only person who’s bothered to give him understanding.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“Like Hansol is lucky to have you.”

“In some ways, but others, not so much.” He motions around vaguely. “You obviously know what I do, what he’s surrounded by even if he doesn’t realise it yet. At least, I hope he doesn’t; I’m trying to shield him from all that fucked up shit, but I know it’s impossible considering his babysitters are often armed.”

“Is Seungkwan?”

“No, no, he can barely fire a gun. He was just a down-on-his-luck college kid, Hansol befriended him one day and then asked me to make Kwan his babysitter so he could buy new shoes.” He huffs a little laugh. “I have no idea how I raised a kid like that, but I’m glad.”

“It’s probably a lot that’s just him, his soul, if you believe in that.”

“Mm, yeah, probably. Anyway, back to you, you worked?” You nod. “What did you do?”

“Uhm, it’s kind of hard to pinpoint, I did a lot of stuff.” You bite your lip nervously and glance over at the open door before getting up to approach Seungcheol, who shuffles to straighten up. You stop out of arm's reach and lace your fingers together in front of you while staring at his shoulder to not make eye contact. “There is something you should know, and you won’t like it, but you know why I left, and I will always put my brother over anything.”

“What is it?” He asks, voice a little firm, no-nonsense, having sensed that this is serious.

“Who our father is. Who I worked for.”

“You’re a fucking gangster too, aren’t you?” He groans and puts his face in his hands. “I swear if you’re from one of those fucking pissy little gangs always causing me grief, I’m going to be pissed and you’re out on your ass; I’ll keep your brother, and I promise he’ll always be safe with me, but you’re out.”

“I wouldn’t say a pissy little gang,” you reply and glance up at him to see him peering at you in wait over the top of his fingers. “Vultures.”

In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol is directly in front of you and holding your jaw to make you look in his burning gaze. “Say that again, sweetheart. Who did you just say you’re associated with?”

“I left.”

“You’re his fucking child.”

“Did you know he has a child?”

Seungcheol’s anger ebbs a little as he considers your words. “No,” he admits in murmured realisation and slowly loosens his grasp before his fingers slip away from your skin and he takes a half step back. “Why didn’t I know about you? You’re not a kid, you’re what, late twenties?”

“Thirty.”

“Oh, we’re the same age,” he comments and eyes you carefully before stepping back again and crossing his arms over his chest. “I would’ve heard if The Vulture has a fucking thirty-year-old daughter.”

“Not if he never wanted anyone to know.”

“Hiding his golden child to keep her safe, that what you’re going for?”

“No, the opposite. He hid me for my protection when I was little, like I assume you’re doing with Hansol, but then it turned to shame and only the immediate circle knows I’m his daughter, everyone else thinks I’m just another member.”

“Why shame?”

“Is it relevant?”

“Maybe. What did you do?”

“Just exist.”

“Is he sexist?”

You huff a laugh at the reminder of the conversation from breakfast. Seungcheol’s lips twitch up into the start of a smile. “Yes, actually, but that’s not it.”

“Then what?”

You consider your options now; you could lie, but that never sits right with you, you could tell him it’s none of his business and hope he simply accepts that, but you’re not positive he will, not when the safety of his family and integrity of his centuries old gang is on the line.

Which leaves you with telling the truth and hoping that his heart doesn’t bend only for children. “I took my brother away because I know how cruel our father can get; I know what the next steps would be to try and ‘fix’ him because he did the same to me when I was a child.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol murmurs. “You’re autistic too?”

“He blamed my mother, turns out that asshole is the common denominator.”

“I see.” He moves to close the window then leans against the windowsill again as he looks at you thoughtfully. “I won’t lie, this has thrown me a little. I don’t know how to deal with autistic adults, just Hansol.”

“You don’t have to deal with me,” you scoff.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean like, what accommodations and stuff to make. How to support you and everything. We’ll have to have a real sit down and talk it out when I have time, and I’ll do research too because obviously I only looked up how autism affects little boys, not women.”

“Research?” He nods. “You don’t have to do that, I’ve had my whole life to figure out how to handle this myself, I don’t need accommodations.”

“Pearl,” he says firmly. “You were raised in a home I can’t believe you ever felt wanted or loved in, based on what you’ve said and what I know of how The Vulture and his gang works. I’m amazed you turned out so understanding and gentle, honestly. But the point is, that environment is not the place someone with autism or other things like that can learn to be true to themself. But that’s going to change, okay? You can be yourself here, you’re safe and no-one will be cruel to you for stimming or needing a break or whatever else you may need, okay?”

It sounds far too good to be true; you’ve never heard those words before, never had anyone tell you that you can just be you without risking getting hit with whatever is to hand. Honestly, at this point, you don’t even know if you know how to be yourself, you’ve been masking for so long.

Instead of trying to put all your thoughts into words you know won’t come out correctly with how jumbled your mind is, you just stare at Seungcheol.

“Alright, let’s circle back to that another day and for now, tell me what you did as a Vulture.”

“Various things.”

“Like what? Finances, tech, streets, driving, meetings, what?” You nod. “What?”

“All of it. I did something in all of it depending on what was needed of me.”

“You didn’t have a speciality?”

“Well…I was often bait, if that’s what you mean.”

“Bait?” He mutters, expression tightening. “What does that mean, Pearl?”

“There weren’t many women other than the whores and dad didn’t trust them to not betray him, so he’d send me to get attention of the men they wanted and take them to a secondary location.”

“Your father used you as sex bait?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

“I knew he was fucked up but that’s something else,” he hisses and glares at nothing in particular. “How much do you know about how he works, how the gang is run?”

“Everything.” Seungcheol’s head snaps up to look at you with wide eyes. “I guess when you abuse someone and they still stay, you assume they’re loyal, or at least too scared to be a threat.”

“Are you loyal?”

“No.”

“Are you too scared to be a threat?”

“Never.”

Seungcheol’s mouth turns up into a smirk. “Then I know exactly what your job is, sweetheart; you’re going to help me tear apart the Vultures and dance on their graves.”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

Seungcheol chokes on a laugh. “It’s not literal, it’s a saying.”

“Oh. Why is that a saying? Why would you dance on someone’s grave?”

“Because you’re happy that they’re dead, a celebration.”

“Oh…I guess I should learn to dance.”

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

[agreeewrites]

HI ALLIE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS I THINK ABSOLUTELY DESERVED BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS INCREDIBLE YOU ATE THAT UP SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I............ I have never submitted a request, unless I was explicitly asked by the writer because ksjdjdjjjsjsj ME ASKING FOR SOMETHING?????? SNSJSJSJ ANYWAY I was like it should be fine because it's for your celebration SOOO hear me out. Remus Lupin ? IM GOING THRU A REMUS THING ? 1000 scars/1000 glances???? WHICHEVER IS FINE YOURE GONNA EAT WITH THAT

WEE OK BYE I LOVE YOU BYE

xxx

ilysm and I hope this only deepens your Remus fixation 🫶🏻 thank you so much for all of your love and support, I genuinely get excited when I see you pop up in my feed or notifs. my favorite hanni 🤍

1000 inked scars | R.L.

feat. Remus Lupin x tattooartist!reader

cw: mdni 18+, possessive!Remus, marking kink, oral (fem receiving), tattoo needles and tattooing, mentions of injury and scars, probably inaccurate representation of tattooing in the 70's, no war

masterlist

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

“Maybe if you didn’t handle that gun like a cudgel—”

You slapped his fresh tattoo and he yelped. “Pull yourself together, Black. You’re almost done.”

He groaned, slumping back onto the table with his arms slung over his head. “Sadist,” he hissed.

You resumed your tattooing, packing black ink to the map of stars. “Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

You glared up at him.

Just then, the bell on the front door of you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

“Sirius,” you bit, but he was already out of the chair.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, Pads?” the stranger, Moony?, said, glancing down at Sirius’ rolled up pant leg and the nearly finished tattoo on his calf. Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

“I wanted you to meet my friend!” Sirius grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him towards your station.

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

You slid off one of your gloves and extended a hand to Remus. “Pleasure. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, shaking your hand with a light touch, his skin warm and a bit rough. “Terrible things, I wager?”

“The worst,” you chuckled, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

“I asked Moony to come hang out for the last bit of the tattoo so he could pick your brain,” Sirius said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Sirius—”

“Pick my brain about what?” You asked, pulling up a chair for Remus and sitting back onto your stool, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I, uh—”

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

“Absolutely!” you chirped, hoping to dispel Remus’ clear discomfort. “Just takes a few extra passes, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Remus gave you a small, grateful smile. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

“See, Moons? I told you!” Sirius propped his leg back up, and you fired up the machine. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”

You lowered the machine back to his leg, taking a few quick warm up strokes.

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed. You and Remus both jumped at his shouting, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. “Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

You glanced at Remus, and he looked back at you. A flicker of connection flared between you, and heat rose in your cheeks. Quickly, you looked away, turning your attention back to Sirius’ tattoo.

“So, what are you thinking you want to get, Rem?” Sirius asked after a few moments of quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the air.

Remus shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Just wanted to do…something.”

“Well, if you want, we can try and cover any up. But I find that people really get more out of going the decorative route,” you supplied, looking at Remus while you picked up more ink. “I can hand draw a few designs that flow with the scar, turn it into an art piece itself.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Sirius gave you a knowing smile. “I think I might like that, yeah,” Remus said, his voice soft, almost awestruck. Like he’d never ever considered the possibility before.

As a tattoo artist, you were intimately aware of how much a person’s skin could impact their wellbeing, scars in particular weighed heavily on many people’s spirit. Remus, it seemed, was no exception.

Sirius guided the conversation in another direction, giving Remus a chance to process the implications of what you offered, and you finished the tattoo half-an-hour later. While you were wiping it down, Remus hovered over you, looking down at the piece.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you said, smiling up at him, and he smiled back, a flush creeping up his neck before he hurriedly stepped away.

You patched up Sirius and sent the boys on their way, an appointment for Remus on the books for the following week. All he’d given you to work with was placement, his forearm, and that he wanted something natural, like a plant.

Having no more appointments for the evening, you folded yourself into your studio couch with your sketchbook. You sketched a few things, lavender and roses and chamomile, but your fingers itched to draw something else. Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

You clapped your sketchbook shut, sitting back with a sigh.

Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

You paced around your shop, pouring over your sketch for Remus. You wanted it to be perfect for him, lest you scare him off a tattooing forever.

The door chimes, startling you out of your concentration, and Remus strode in, carrying a tray of drinks and a paper bag

“Morning!” You called, hugging your sketchbook to your chest.

“Morning,” he said, passing you one of the cups. “I asked Sirius what you liked, so if it's awful, blame him.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach. It wasn't unusual for clients to bring you coffee and food, but with Remus it felt…different.

“Oh! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Remus,” you said, taking a sip. It was your favorite drink, and it's familiar warmth settled some of your nerves.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was nervous. He set the bag on your desk. “I also brought some pastries. Sirius mentioned you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.” You beamed. “Come on in, we can sit over here and go over the design.”

Remus nodded, shirking his coat and following you over to the couch. He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, patting the spot beside you.

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space. “Ah, fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. Earl gray, from the smell of it.

You arched a brow. “It's okay to be nervous, Rem,” you said. “But it's just us, and nothing is set in ink. If you change your mind, it's totally fine.”

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

He watched your face, gauging your reaction. You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

“Are they too bad?” He asked, his voice rough with tension.

You met his brown eyes. “Not at all.” You pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page you had ear marked. “And it's perfect for what I sketched up.”

He managed a half-smile, some of the clouds disappearing from his aura, and accepted the sketchbook when you handed it to him. His eyes widened.

“Goldenrod,” you said, shifting closer to look at the sketch over his shoulder. “Used to treat pain.”

Remus traced his finger over the tangle of stems, the delicate florals. “I take it almost every day,” he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn't quite place.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, your gazes lingering on one another.

“I think it's perfect,” he said, and you smiled, genuinely thrilled that he liked it.

“Okay, ready for me to start sketching?” You asked, and he nodded. You led him over to your station, already set up and waiting for him, and he hopped up onto the chair, his long limbs dangling near to the floor. To break the quiet, you put on a muggle record, and Remus seemed to relax a bit, sipping on his tea and watching you putter around through dark lashes.

When you settled onto your stool, ink pen in hand, anxiety bloomed in your stomach. Remus was about to watch you draw on him. You’d drawn on hundreds of clients, but like everything else, with Remus it felt…different.

“It might tickle,” you warned, resting his arm where you wanted it, your fingertips tingling from the contact. “And try to stay very still.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

You placed your sketchbook just beside his arm and made the first line, a quick stem arching alongside a scar stretching from wrist to elbow. Slowly, line after line, the sketch started to come together, flowing with the natural shape of his forearm and it’s scars. You got lost in the act, sinking into the labor of creating.

It wasn’t until Remus made a soft, approving hum in his throat that you peaked up him, breaking your focus. His eyes were almost sleepy, heavy-lidded and soft and the corners, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Heat roared to your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t—he seems more interested in teasing me than letting me work.”

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Merlin, what was happening to you? You felt like you could melt into your chair like a pile of pudding. Was he flirting with you? Or does he always talk like a romance book hero?

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, changing the subject and ducking back down to your work to hide your expression.

“Decade at least,” Remus said. “We met our first year at Hogwarts. Never thought I’d befriend the Sirius Black, but y’know, stranger things have happened.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Remus shrugged, the muttered a soft apology for moving. “Sirius is…Sirius, and I’m…”

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

A flush creeped up his neck. “He’s dramatic.”

“And brutally honest,” you said, holding his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Now it was his turn to change the subject.

“Of course,” you said, capping your pen and setting it aside.

“Why haven’t you, ah, asked?” He glanced down at his scars, and you knew what he was implying.

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

His eyes flitted over your face, swallowing hard, and it seemed he was at a loss for words.

“Ready for ink?” You asked, giving him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster.

He exhaled, turning his wrist to inspect the design. “Ready.”

The rest of the appointment flew by, with Remus sitting like a stone while you tattooed him for close to four hours. You didn’t speak much, letting the music fill the empty air, but it was a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question or annecdote. Remus seemed to appreciate being able to relax, and you were happy to give him a safe place for little while. Holding space for what this moment meant to him.

When you were finished, Remus stared at the tattoo in the mirror for a long time, and when he turned back for you to wrap it up, you could see tears collecting on his lower lashes.

"Thank you for this," he said, clearing his throat. "You were--this was amazing."

You knew he meant the art, but still, the praise made your heart glow all the same. "Of course, Remus. I'm glad I got to be the one to do this for you."

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

After Remus’ second and third appointment, you noticed a change in him. He seemed more confident, a little more outspoken. He was coming to life before your eyes, and you were starting to see the fuller picture of the boy Sirius loved so much.

Already, you felt so close to him. Connected. And you were starting to miss him those days in between, his appointment becoming the highlight of your week. Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With Remus, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

But then he cancelled your fourth appointment, citing illness, and you didn’t see him for two weeks. It wasn’t until he sent an owl requesting an appointment for this coming Friday that you finally felt like you could breathe.

Sorry again for cancelling. Are you free this Friday? Thinking a moon and stars on my chest, with those gorgeous clouds I saw in your sketchbook. Can’t wait, RL.

When Remus walked into your studio, you had to stop yourself from hugging him, you were so excited to see him. He looked tired, a little dimmer than the last time you saw each other, but he greeted you with a warm smile and a bag of pastries, and that was all you needed.

You had him sit up on the table, busying yourself with the station in avoidance of the inevitable. He was going to have to take his shirt off. Your heart was palpitating just thinking about it.

“Alright, Rem. Strip for me,” you said, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off.

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

You gasped. “Rem, what happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was in a fight club?” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me anything. Just that you’re alright,” you said, unable to mask the warble of concern in your voice. You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

His eyes softened. “I’m alright, dove. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m the only one that gets to gauge you with weapons,” you huffed, grabbing up your sketching marker.

He barked a laugh, head tipping back on his shoulders. “Fair enough. Only you get to wound me permanently from now on.”

“Glad we reached an understanding.” You propped the sketchbook on the table and leaned in to start sketching. Remus sat up as straight as he could, resulting in your head hovering around his clavicle. But, with his long legs, you couldn’t get close enough.

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

As you drew, you started to shift closer, drawn in by the work and his proximity, the clean smell of his skin, until you were practically leaning against him.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

You nearly dropped the marker, but managed to keep your grip steady. “So do you,” you said, unable to come up with something clever.

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted in shock, so close you could brush your nose against his if you moved a hair closer. “You did?” You asked, certain that if pupils could turn into lovehearts, yours would be beaming out of your head like a cartoon.

His hand came up to caress you jaw, tentative and gentle. “Being with you is the best I’ve felt in ages,” he said, tilting your face a little closer to his. “I don’t—”

The bell to your studio rang loudly, and you jumped back from Remus’ hold, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey Moony! There’s my favorite artist!” James came plowing through, wrapping you up in a bearhug that squeezed the air from your lungs. “How are you, sweetness?”

“I’m good, Jamie,” you wheezed, and he set you back on your feet.

The boys clasped hands, a quick, almost automatic handshake.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Remus asked, trying and failing at not looking irritated.

“Sirius said you were getting some ink today so I figured I’d swing by and have you take a peak at how mine’s healing.”

“James, it’s been like six months. Your antlers healed fine,” you reminded him.

“You did his antlers?” Remus asked, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

He shook his head, glancing sidelong at his friend.

“I suppose it might be time for a touch up. Let me see,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

“Looks perfect, Jamie. All good,” you said, sitting back on your stool, mildly impressed with yourself.

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

James hung out for another hour, chatting with Remus while you finished the sketch of the tattoo. Your bodies were just as close as before, but with James, you were forced to keep it strictly professional. But the proximity without being allowed to touch was melting your mind, making heat pool in your lower belly. You could feel every breath Remus took, feel the rumble of his voice in your chest, the warmth of his body mingling with yours.

It was maddening, and you could tell Remus was growing more impatient by the second, the muscles around his neck taught with tension, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

At one point, you laughed at one of James’ jokes and swatted at his chest, earning a smile from him. When you glanced back at Remus, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes glaring a hole into the drink in his hands.

Was he…jealous?

He had no right to be, but still, the thought of him being possessive made your heart rate quicken.

Finally, James left, leaving you and Remus alone in the simmering tension you'd built. He watched you closely as you returned to your station, prepping the tattoo machine.

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He leaned back on the seat, bracing his hands behind him. Showing off the lean expanse of his torso, the rugged look of him that stood in sharp juxtaposition to his style and personality. “Not sure I could pull it off.”

You scoffed, allowing him to see you peruse his body. “I strongly disagree.”

He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit. A flush started to spread across his chest, reaching towards his cheeks. “What would you suggest?” he asked, a sultry edge of his voice.

Unhurried, you stepped back between his legs, letting your fingertips graze along the valleys of his lower abdomen. “Perhaps a snake.” You traced the shape along his skin, his muscles tensing to stop himself from shivering. “Or ferns. Maybe a wolfs jaw—”

“A wolfs jaw?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback that you knew his secret. “You knew.”

“I do now. I've only seen scars like yours once before, on another werewolf. And with the nickname, your tattoo choices, being MIA on the full moon…it adds up.”

His eyes searched your face. “And you don't care?”

“Of course not. I care about you, not your affliction.” Your hands still lingered on his hips, like your skin was magnetized together, you couldn't seem to pull them apart.

Remus straightened, his hand coming up to cup your face again. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten under my skin, dove.”

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

“Then don't,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers digging into his feathery hair and tugging at the roots, drawing a low groan from his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in warning before soothing it with his tongue.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

“Do you always keep yourself on such a tight leash?” You asked, breathless as he lapped at your skin, your thighs trembling with desire.

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

Remus slid off the table without breaking the kiss, leaning down to scoop you up by the thighs in a fluid motion.

“Rem!” You gasped in surprise when he turned and dropped you onto the table he just vacated.

He leaned over you, one hand reaching down to recline the seat so you were laying back, legs on either side of his hips. His lips found your neck again, kissing and licking his way down while his hands pushed up the hem of your shirt, fingertips cool against your fevered skin.

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

“I won't, love. I'm not going anywhere.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, easing them down over your hips until they fell to the ground in a pile.

Your knees tried to pull together on instinct, the vulnerability making you flush, but his hands gripped your inner thighs, spreading you apart for him. You could tell he was in his element, something having loosened from his usually reserved demeanor. It felt like you were seeing him completely for the first time. No holds barred.

“Don't hide from me, pretty girl,” he cooed, lowering to his knees. “You're gorgeous.” He trailed kisses up your thigh, charting a tingling path until his nose grazed sodden panties, making your pussy flutter and clench. “Fuck, you smell divine,” he muttered before dragging his tongue over the thin fabric.

“Oh, god—Remus,” you moaned when he sucked on the fabric over your clit, pleasure blooming from your center. Your eyes rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked your swelling bud with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he praised, pulling your panties aside with his middle finger. “You this sweet for all of your clients?”

You shook your head. ”I've never--with a client—fuck, baby.” Your words splintered into a cry as he eased his middle finger inside of you, your dripping entrance accepting him eagerly. He nudged your clit with his nose, making you cry out again.

“Just me?” His voice almost sounded like a purr, deeply pleased by your admission.

You nodded, urging him closer by the roots of his hair, and he practically growled.

He nipped at your thigh, overpowering your meager attempt easily. “Patience, remember?”

You whined. “Remus, please. Just wanna feel you.”

He withdrew his finger, then added a second, pumping you slowly. “I know, baby. I'm right here, I've got you.” His mouth found your clit again, his tongue circling around and around, and you arched off the table, moans spilling from your lips like a song.

Steadily, the fire built, with Remus' devoted attention pouring over you like gasoline. He moaned against you, eyes screwed shut when your pussy clenched around his fingers, teetering on the edge.

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

His deliberate motions got sloppier, greedier, as he rutted against the table. Losing control of himself, like his entire being was desperate to be inside of you.

With a final curl of his fingers, you toppled over the edge, coming with a cry loud enough to rattle the windows as relief crashed over you, cool water dousing the flames beneath your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Remus,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “That was—”

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

“What about…” you trailed off, fingers toying with his belt, unsure of what you were asking for him to fuck you, or mark you. Or both. All you knew was that you wanted him, badly, even more so with that post-orgasm clarity.

“Patience,” he replied, chuckling at the annoyed look you shot him. “Ready to finish up this tattoo?”

“But you didn't get to—”

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

Holy shit. You'd made him cum in his pants.

You surged up, throwing your arms around his neck and tugging him down in to a ravenous kiss. “Merlin, you're so fucking hot,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He grinned, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into your neck, hiding the flush you could see staining his ears. “Says the girl that made me cum without touching me,” he muttered, almost indignant.

“I’m not sorry,” you chuckled, sighing when he pressed his plush, kiss-swollen lips to your racing pulse.

“It's alright, I'll get even,” he teased, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Is that a promise?”

“Most normal people would interpret it as a threat.” He picked his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, I'm not normal people,” you replied.

“And thank Godric for that.” He kissed you again, all smiles and airy pecks.

Normal was never your style anyway.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[le-poofe]

Finally~

I wanted to make a little something to say "Thank you for reading" to cap off WYS! Excuse me while I get mushy for a second-

Y’all are the reason this was able to get done. Your enthusiasm for updates and how the story unfolded really means so much to me. It was the little things that kept me motivated, even during the long hiatus. Seeing you guys pick up and point out little details sprinkled throughout the comic always made my day and gave me a sense of validation. Reactions to things like the surprise of Sans’ nightmare or Grillby’s comfort all made me super happy. And you guys gave the finale pages the sweetest reception I could ask for. l'm so grateful that you stuck around for the whole thing!

Overall, I’m very pleased with how this turned out! Interestingly, the main thing I’d want to change if given the chance is how I wrote Sans and Grillby themselves. Especially Sans’ dialogue. My characterization of them has changed quite a bit over the years (hard to tell bc I don’t draw them a lot atm). But that can’t really be helped. Just like the way that my art style changed over time. Hindsight does that stuff all the time. Nitpicking aside, I stand by the creative decisions made by 2019 Me

The funny part is that the original comic was 17 pages and I got them all done before hand so I wouldn't run into the issue of falling into a hiatus between pages!!! If y'all are interested in a bts post, I’ll try to dig up those og pages from my old computer. And maybe I'll show the even rougher epilogue draft I threw together for shits and giggles to see if I could get the page count to 69

Sansby has already been super special to me for a long time, finally getting this done and seeing the response strengthened that. I’ve had so many people find me through WYS over the years, it blows my mind. The messages from people who hold it dear really means the world! Without you guys this comic wouldn’t be what it is now. Thanks for Staying~

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

sebek and his big ol' heart

Y’all thought I would be writing an extensive analysis on [REDACTED] or Skully but JOKE’S ON YOU, I love my lame idiot child Sebek 😭

When I tell you I actually CRIED MULTIPLE TIMES reading his Nightmare Suit vignettes… because all the pieces fit together SO well…

Before reading this (long) post, I’d like to ask that you also take your time to read this analysis and this analysis. They will help you understand some of the points I made later regarding Sebek and his internalized racism + how he expresses himself.

Have your recommended reading done? Great, then let’s hop to it!

***Spoilers for Sebek's Nightmare Suit vignettes, book 7, and various other Sebek and Silver card vignettes.***

Sebek is one of those characters that lives in infamy for how much time he takes to get warmed up to. He presents himself as loud and brazen, with these traits often earning him the ire of both in-universe peers and irl fans alike. Worst case scenario, Sebek can be seen as someone who is outright hateful. He’s rude to most people (including Silver, his childhood friend, sometimes), denounces humans, acts like Malleus can do nothing wrong, and doesn’t seem to respect his own father.

Well, I’m here today to tell you those claims are false and that Sebek is actually capable of so, so much love. All you need to really do is look at his Nightmare Suit vignettes—and how well they connect with the rest of his lore—to understand what I mean.

The vignettes start with Jack Skellington finishing a bento that Sally made for him. Sebek tells Jack that he should now return the basket that the bento was delivered in to her and to let her know what he thinks of her meals, but Jack says he can’t because he’s busy with Halloween preparations. Jack asks Sebek and Azul to return the basket in his stead, which they do. (These vignettes appear to be following Trey’s Nightmare Suit vignettes, as those open with Sebek and Trey seeing Sally jump out of a window with food with Jack. Sebek points out to Trey that Sally wants to hand deliver that food and says he believes there is some other reason than just being nice to Jack.)

They aren't allowed to see Sally because Dr. Finkelstein has locked her up for misbehaving, so they leave the basket. Azul advises that they also pass along Jack's comments (he had called Sally smart, thoughtful, and kind; he often forgets to have meals when he's absorbed with his work, so it's generous for her to prepare a delicious meal like this for him). Sebek loudly refuses, as he believes that hearing these grateful words from Jack himself would be much more meaningful to Sally.

He later confronts Sally at Town Hall and asks to speak with her privately (in an ALLEYWAY lol). There, Sebek flat-out tells Sally that such roundabout tactics will never help her feelings reach Jack because he's way too dense. Of course, she reacts with denial which sends Sebek into a passionate speech about the lengths Sally will go to for love (short of actually speaking about it). She literally threw herself out of a window and put herself in bodily harm to get to Jack when Dr. Finkelstein locked her in her room. She deliberately disobeyed her guardian and brainstormed a way to get out when theoretically she should not have been able to move around freely. If that's not motivated by love, then what is? Sebek declares that it's really annoying to watch Sally dance around the issue and to see her devotion go to waste. IT'S LIKE HE'S WATCHING/READING A ROMCOM AND THE TWO MAIN CHARACTERS KEEP PLAYING THE "WILL THEY, WON'T THEY" CARD... She admits that she can't share her feelings because Sally thinks she's not worthy of someone as impressive as Jack... They're not compatible. And you know how Sebek responds??? BY TELLING SALLY ABOUT WHAT IS BASICALLY TWISTED ROMEO AND JULIET... Sebek reading tragic romance confirmed 😭 He describes the story as one of two lovers whose families do not approve of their union. In desperation, the lovers try to elope--but their plan fails and they return to their warring families. Instead of committing dying like in the original tale, the lovers live the rest of their lives lamenting the outcome and how they can no longer see the person they love most. Sebek shares his own interpretation of the story and its moral: because the lovers gave up hope that they could get their families to accept one another... because they never tried to get their families to get along... because they could not properly articulate their feelings to their families... the lovers could not be together. He is convinced that if they had communicated better, the story would have a happier ending. Sebek is of the firm belief that a story itself cannot come to be without the author wanting to share their own thoughts or feelings; he even suggests that maybe the author of Romeo and Juliet experienced something similar--a regret that resulted from neglecting to express deep-seated feelings. It's not just this book either, Sebek claims to have many stories with a similar theme or miscommunication leading to conflict.

Above all, Sebek stresses to Sally that she must believe in herself and take swift, decisive action. And why does Sebek whole-heartedly throw himself into this belief? Because his own family is living proof that a happy ending is possible if you try hard for it.

If you've paid attention to Sebek lore prior to this, you'll know that he has a human father and a fae mother. Their marriage faced opposition and scrutiny in Briar Valley, a country which is isolated from the rest of the world and suffered greatly from human invaders pilfering the fae lands for resources. One of these sources of opposition and scrutiny is Sebek's own grandfather and his mother's father, Baur. Apparently, Mrs. Zigvolt married Mr. Zigvolt against the wishes of her dad.

Sebek shares even more details with Sally in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. To this day, Baur does NOT approve of his daughter's marriage--but Mrs. Zigvolt doesn't let that get her down! No, she does everything in her power to prove to her father that she made the right choice and she's perfectly content with her life. She'll send letters enclosed with photographs of her family, take her children to visit Baur's home, and invite him to join family dinners. Sebek adds that he's sure his mom made other efforts too--all to try and get Baur to acknowledge her marriage. More recently, Baur seems to have lightened up a little... as in, he always used to turn Mr. Zigvolt away at the door, but now lets him in about once a year (though Baur still avoids eye contact with him and continues to frown). Mrs. Zigvolt stubbornly believes that if she keeps this up, her dad will one day change and bless her marriage with the man she truly loves. Sally commends Sebek and his mother's ability to speak their minds loudly and proudly, but then disparages herself again by saying she can't do the same. Sebek then confesses that he can relate to Sally's frustrations. He related her feelings to his own inadequacy in serving Malleus, the powerful and noble king-to-be of his country. That feeling... Sebek describes it as akin to heartache. But instead of wallowing in that heartache, he pushes himself to close that distance between himself and his idol. If he keeps hesitating, then there is absolutely no way he can catch up to where Malleus is! Sebek must dedicate himself to becoming someone worthy of serving him. He encourages Sally to do the same through both her words and her actions! At that moment, Jack walks in and Sally makes good on Sebek's advice. (This part isn't important to the analysis on Sebek's character, so I'm glossing over it.) The vignettes end with Epel complaining about Sebek being loud as per usual. Sally doesn't take issue with his volume though. She simply giggles and informs Epel that Sebek speaks so loudly and clearly so that his words can resonate with others--like how his words gave her courage.

We have learned new lore about Sebek's grandfather and mother. What does this tell us about Sebek? A lot, actually--if you slate it with all the other lore we have on hand.

We see just how strong of a woman his mother is. I suspect this is where Sebek picked up a lot of his hard-headedness, as well as the tendency to express himself very overtly, from. However, it also speaks to the loving environment he grew up in.

His mother seemingly never questioned her own life choices and never gave up fighting to prove her happiness to a father--and likely an entire community--that rejected her marriage, her husband, and maybe even her children. She fiercely loves and defends her family and the life they have made for themselves. Sebek states that he looks up to her for her magical strength, but that he also admires her principles and strong convictions. Indeed, it was her who ardently pursued Mr. Zigvolt and did not allow naysaying to deter her.

Then there is Mr. Zigvolt. In Sebek's Birthday Boy vignettes, he describes his father as "a strange man" who is "magically deficient" and "never lets his smile fade, no matter what I say to him [...] he defies comprehension." Though Sebek doesn't seem to hold the same amount of respect he has for his mother for his father, we don't hear Sebek openly insulting his dad, just expressing confusion about him. When asked about it, Sebek denies depending on his father--but it's clear there is a fondness there that he's not addressing. Mr. Zigvolt is impressed whenever his children use magic, buys them snacks they never asked for, and talks with them for long periods of time in a calm, patient manner. His father, too, has given Sebek so much compassion and understanding.

We don't know a lot about Sebek's siblings, but they seem to get along fine! He has mentioned going to parks with them. They've also gone fishing together and witnessed magic competitions, which they were all amazed by. The Zigvolts in general (or at least the parents) seem to be accepting too, as they volunteer to take Silver in whenever Lilia is unable to take care of him.

And you'd think that's where it ends, but NO. Baur ALSO has a lot of love to give. Despite not approving of his daughter's marriage, he doesn't actively despise his grandchildren. Quite the opposite, in fact! Though he's rough around the edges and looks scary, Baur doesn't fault any of his grandchildren for being born half fae and half human. He actually makes it a point to bond with them, and especially with Sebek. It was Baur who taught Sebek the language of nocturnal fae and instilled in Sebek his love for reading (as he bought many books for him and tells many stories himself). He also personally reached out to Lilia to train Sebek, as the young boy (at around age 7) expressed an interest in martial arts. Sebek has a love for salmon carpaccio because he and his siblings would fish at Baur's house and then prepare the dish for him--Baur was so happy about it. Additionally, Baur values getting a good education and was proud when Sebek shared with him that he was invited to attend Night Raven College.

Sebek grew up in a country that dislikes humans, but he was raised in an household where he was loved unconditionally and provided with all the resources he could need to get a good education and become someone who is physically strong. So of course he becomes frustrated when he sees Sally, who is so nervous to act on her feelings. What would have happened if Sebek’s mother had been like Sally, thinking she and her now-husband are incompatible? If she didn’t try pursuing her feelings at all? Sebek, as the youngest of three, might not event exist. His parents may not still be together… or maybe they wouldn’t have gotten together in the first place. It’s exactly because Sebek knows what love is supposed to be like--courtesy of his own family—that he can see it so well in others, and wants them to act on it. His very existence is proof that love is possible, and it transcends arbitrary labels like race that serve to divide people into categories.

One quirk of Sebek's is how he's always dishing out back-handed compliments or making comments that come off as rude but aren't at their core. He can't seem to help but say a good thing that sounds like something bad. His Diasomnia classmates, usually Silver, have to translate these Sebek-isms for others, who misunderstand him or interpret his words in the worst possible way. For example, from one of Silver’s Fairy Gala lines; “Sebek said to me that no self-respecting disciple of Lilia’s would dare get a single stain on this clothing. That's his way of encouraging me.” In Silver's Dorm Uniform vignettes, Sebek tries to reassure his friend and tell him to not let other people's opinions hurt him--but he phrases it as, "Hmph, ridiculous! I see no reason for you to heed a few random comments from some humans." The duo is also shown to be competitive with one another in training; it's never malicious, they both want to prove themselves as the superior knight, and the other serves as motivation to improve and/or a means of measuring one's own growth against a fellow disciple. When the mostly elderly population of Harveston is in need of physical labor, Sebek comments "[...] the humans in Harveston are woefully out of shape," yet he insists he "still [has] energy to burn" (as if to volunteer himself to do more work) and calls such tasks "simple" (as if to point out how easy it is for him to do, so don't worry about troubling him). He hauls apples and helps the villagers with whatever they need, declaring that they should "be grateful"--but if he truly did not care, he could have stopped at any time or settled for just making fun of them. But Sebek doesn't, because he DOES care deep down. This aspect of Sebek is made even more obvious in Fairy Gala: What If. He appears at Ramshackle and opens by declaring, "NO! I am by no means worried about anyone! [...] Don't mistake my intentions. I am NOT here to help! If your mission doesn't succeed, the repercussions will definitely affect Malleus and Lilia. Hence... I shall lend you uneducated humans my aid! [...] You're welcome to weep with joy at my magnanimity..." Time and time again, we see Sebek demonstrating a lot of kindness, but deflecting or not being totally transparent with his intentions due to pride or embarrassment. This behavior is very reminiscent of Baur, the grandfather that Sebek loves dearly and spent so much time with. Baur, too, can be very passionate and loving, but struggles to speak of those feelings openly. Just look at how the man deals with Mr. Zigvolt. The behaviors of the family, then, imprint on Sebek and influence his behaviors--and being that Sebek is from such a loving group, it follows that Sebek puts out a lot of love into the world too.

A lot of times when the fandom discusses Sebek's attitude, I feel it's from the context of him being hateful towards humans. I'm not going to deny that Sebek has said some pretty nasty things about half of his own identity. The point I would like to make here is that Sebek can love just as strongly.

The most obvious thing that supports the claim that Sebek is capable of strong love is how he views Malleus. It's no great secret that Sebek practically worships the ground his dorm leader walks on. That's essentially Sebek's key defining character trait. What I'll ask you to consider instead is the nature of Sebek's love--not the obsessiveness of it, but rather the unconditional nature of it.

In Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Skully laments that Sebek has not been disappointed by his idol, Malleus. Sebek actually corrects him by saying that love isn't imposing your own views on your idol, it means preparing to accept them, flaws and all. He says the same of Malleus; should the time ever come where Sebek's expectations of Malleus falter or their paths have to diverge, then he will still embrace his young master, never once turning his back on him. And where does Sebek gets this from? His parents. The father who loves his children no matter how critical Sebek may be of him. The mother who remained so strong in the face of her friends and family being against her life choices.

A common fandom sentiment regarding Sebek is that he blindly follows Malleus--and to be fair, he does for a large part of the main story. But when speaking about his idol to Skully, Sebek says that agreeing with someone and continuing to love them are different things. You can disagree with someone's actions and still continue to love them and accept them. This follows what Sebek does in book 7 and likely alludes to the character development he goes through during + following book 7; though he is betrayed and hurt by Malleus turning his powers against the world, Sebek does not let up on the hope that he can bring his young master back. He even sillily calls the yet-to-be-hatched Malleus tamago/egg-sama, showing even an infant form of Malleus great respect after witnessing his OB. Skully took the opposite path that Sebek did; when he realized that his own idol, Jack Skellington, was not as he imagined him to be, Skully became enraged and lashed out over it. Sebek points out Skully's inadequacies as well, which ties back to how he spoke of his own drive to improve in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. Skully confesses to trying desperately to emulate Jack--so much so that he breaks down when Sebek's UM destroys his iconic shades. He wallows in his current state and doesn't make efforts to change or to be better; the past and his own vision is where he's comfortable. It's a strong contrast to Sebek, who has made it clear he will continue to train and work hard to prove his merits and to be someone worthy of protecting the great Malleus Draconia.

It is Sebek's passion and boundless love that makes him a hero both in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas AND in the main story's book 7. He serves as a foil to Skully in the former and actively saves Silver when he's on the brink of despair in the latter. After learning that his biological father is the man responsible for killing Malleus's mother and leading the Silver Owls' onslaught on Briar Valley, Silver despairs and comes to the conclusion that his father must loathe him. "He could never love the son of the man he despised! He has to hate me! He has to!" Sebek rushes to Silver's side using Living Bolt, a UM he has yet to master (thus causing residual damage to him when he casts it), to correct him:

"You have this much strength... and you dare to say you weren't loved?! That you were hated?! [...] If [Lilia] hated you, he didn't have to give or teach you anything. He could've just raised you into a dimwitted coward and made you a servant. But he didn't--and look at you now. Even alone and helpless, you stood firm. You spoke up, unfaltering in the face of our liege's madness. Even trapped in the darkest despair, you kept on fighting! Who raised you to be so strong? LILIA DID! Why don't you see? Why do you doubt? You should have understood years ago! What can you call your strength, if not the direct result of Lilia's love?!"

WHETHER SEBEK REALIZES IT OR NOT, A LOT OF WHAT HE TELLS SILVER HITS HOME FOR HIM TOO... Like, thinking about it... Sebek must have faced a lot of prejudice from his community because of who his father is. He might have grown up thinking he, too, was hated, had he not been protected by his loving mother, father, and, yes, even grandfather, who is still struggling to accept the human in their family. Baur must have been feeling very complicated emotions upon meeting his half human grandchildren for the first time... but even though he dislikes humans, he could never find it in himself to dislike his grandkids. If he had hated Sebek, he wouldn't have wanted him to get a good education. Baur wouldn't be happy that he got into NRC. He wouldn't personally ask Lilia to train the grandson who expressed an interest in combat. He wouldn't buy so many books for Sebek or read with him or tell him stories or teach him his language. He wouldn’t spoil Sebek by giving him sweets (which, by the way, Baur himself dislikes). But Baur DOES do all of these things, because deep down he loves Sebek no matter what he is. You can hear it in the hurt of Sebek’s voice when dream!Baur reacts to him coldly. That isn’t the grandfather he is used to. Though it’s said that Baur doesn’t exactly welcome his grandchildren with open arms, he definitely loves them and cares for them in his own way. If it was anything less than love Baur felt for his grandson, if he decided to neglect his grandkids, then Sebek would have grown up as some "dimwitted coward". IT'S ALL CONNECTED.

This even extends to Sebek’s evaluation of Malleus in book 7. When OB Malleus appears in Lilia’s dream, Sebek pleads with him. “You were born from the love of so many, my liege! It’s not right for you to become an enemy bated by all the world!” Like with Silver, these words also apply to Sebek, even if he is not aware of it. Sebek was born from the love of many people in his life. Not just his family, but also by those in Diasomnia. Lilia gives him wisdom and guidance, Silver is his sparring partner and smooths over arguments with classmates for him, and Malleus is his shining light and idol. Sebek is the youngest both of his siblings and of the Diasomnia group: he is spoiled by the others and given so much love. Yet he is also commonly hated by his peers for his attitude.

And now here Sebek stands, able to tell others that they are loved and should be cognizant of that love. He reminds Silver that Lilia loves him. He tries to talk reason into Malleus. He advises Skully to reevaluate how he sees his idol. He tells Sally to speak honestly about her feelings, because it was his own mother speaking honestly about hers that led to Sebek and his entire family being as happy as they are now. He shouts at people to act and to speak their minds because he doesn't want them to live with regrets, because he doesn't want to see them be weak and timid--a version of himself that could have resulted if he hadn't been loved so strongly.

You can say many things about Sebek: that he's loud, that he's rude, that he's a fanboy, that he has big muscles. But of all those muscles, Sebek has a very big heart too. And what made him so strong? All the love he received from his family, despite growing up an environment that surely invited hatred for humans.

[yourlipstogodsears]

That Time of the Month (Pope Cody Fluff!)

Summary: his girlfriend is on her period and it’s the first time she’s gotten it around pope and pope thinks she’s dying.

I mean he had a sister once so he knew they existed, but he’s never dealt with it.

So when his girlfriend is doubled over sobbing on the floor of his bedroom between the bed and the doorway to the bathroom he’s freaked out. He doesn’t know anything about her having Endometriosis or the fact it makes her period cramps hurt 100 times worse.

Andrew kneels down beside her, panic clear in his voice "Baby, what the fuck? Are you... dying? Jesus Christ..." he's genuinely terrified, his hands shaking as he tries to touch her shoulder, "You're fuckin' shaking... Does it hurt? Is that... blood?"

she nods and blinks tears, “m’fine”

"You ain't fuckin' fine..." his brows furrow as he watches her curl up tighter. He doesn't get periods. He doesn't know shit about this. He thinks she's having some sort of internal bleeding issue. His mind goes crazy.

she struggles to stand and grits her teeth and shuts the bathroom door and locks it behind her so she can take care of it herself. Periods are a private thing.

Pope raps his knuckles against the bathroom door, voice rising with panic and frustration.* "Open this door-" He's genuinely scared something serious is wrong, "Baby please..."

“I’m fine Andrew!”

"I ain't stupid!" He snaps. He knows something's wrong. He doesn't understand periods. He thinks she's hurt herself somehow. He bangs his forehead against the door again softly, "Jesus Christ, can you at least tell me if you're bleedin'?"

“It’s just my period Andrew.” she calls softly and his face screws into confusion, he’s never known period cramps to make someone cry or curl into the floor and too shaky to walk.

His confusion turns into concern and then frustration. He doesn't understand periods or women's pain in general. To him, it sounds like she's seriously injured or something worse. "Your period? You're fuckin' cryin' and shakin' because of your period?"

“Yes. It’s normal”

He cuts her off, still not comprehending the severity of period pain. "Normal? You're fuckin' shakin' like a leaf and cryin' like someone died! That ain't normal!" He runs a hand through his hair, pacing in front of the door.

“you helped Julia when you guys were teens- it’s the same thing. Just hurts worse for me-”

His mind flashes back to a memory of him comforting Julia during her period. He remembers she was in pain, but not like this. He leans against the door, voice softer. "Julia never fuckin' fell to the floor shakin'..." He feels completely useless. "Are you sure..."

“I promise you Andrew. I would know what my period is like.”

He stays leaned against the door, his hand resting on the knob. He feels a strange sense of helplessness and frustration. He never knows how to deal with situations like this, especially when it comes to women and their periods. "...Fuck." He mutters under his breath. "...Alright."

“I’ll come out when I’m done. Please don’t come in here”

He nods, even though she can't see him. He understands that she needs space, but it doesn't make him feel any less helpless. "Alright, alright. I won't come in." He pushes off from the door and takes a few steps back. "But if you need anything..."

“Do you guys keep heating pads in the house? Advil.. ibuprofen.. something for pain management- that isn’t cocaine.”

He nods, understanding her request. He knows she's not asking for anything crazy or dangerous. "Yeah, we got some Advil in the bathroom cabinet. And there's a heating pad in the linen closet." He pauses, trying to think of anything else that might help. "Anything else?"

“Okay. Can you grab the heating pad for me honey?”

He nods, grateful to have something to do. He quickly retrieves the heating pad from the linen closet and brings it back to her door. "I can uh.. ." He holds it in his hands. He feels a strange sense of protectiveness and care for her in this moment.

“If you plug it in and lay it on my side of your bed that would be lovely.” She calls out softly.

He nods silently and does as she asks, plugging in the heating pad and carefully placing it on her side of the bed. He hesitates for a moment before knocking softly on the door again. "It's plugged in and warm now." His voice is unusually gentle. "You need anything else?"

“Not right now baby. You did so good. You wanna just lay on the bed and find somethin for us to watch?”

He smirks slightly at her praise. He's not used to being praised for small things like this. He grabs the remote and climbs onto his side of the bed carefully. He clicks on the TV and scrolls through the streaming services. "Any preferences?"

“Whatever is fine.” she walks out in a hoodie and sweatpants, she looks a little pale but fine overall. “took some ibuprofen..” she lays down with her back on the heating pad.

He glances over at her as she lays down, his expression softening. He settles on a random action movie and sets the remote aside. He turns to face her, propping his head up on his hand. "You okay?" He asks quietly, his thumb absently tracing patterns on the blanket.

she nods softly and looks at him.

He watches her closely. Her pale skin and dark hair contrasting with his dark sheets. He swallows hard. He knows she's beautiful, hell half the male population knows she's beautiful. But right now, she looks almost fragile. He pulls the blanket up higher on her shoulders softly.

she smiles softly.

He returns the smile, but it's a soft one, not his usual cocky grin. He reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You sure you don't need anything else? Water or something?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m okay right now. Just kinda sleepy”

He nods slowly and settles back down, keeping his eyes on her. The movie plays in the background but he's barely paying attention to it. His hand moves subconsciously to rest gently on her hip over the blanket. “Alright then.. Just sleep if you’re tired.”

he’s normally more touchy feely, but he’s unsure what she wants on her period. “Is touch okay?”

He watches her carefully for any signs that she doesn't like the contact. His hand stays still on her hip, just a gentle pressure. He's not trying to be intimate, just... comforting. He's never dealt with a girl on her period before, so he's unsure of the boundaries.

Pope moves to lay behind her, shifting the heating pad to lay on his chest and belly so she can have the heating pad still on her back.

He moves slowly and carefully, adjusting the heating pad to make sure it's still perfectly placed against her lower back. Then he settles behind her, propping himself up with one arm. His other hand stays gently resting on her hip. "Okay?" He whispers softly, his lips close to her ear.

He takes that as a good sign when she nods and wraps his arm around her waist gently, pulling her back against his chest. He's careful not to press too hard on the heating pad but wants her to feel safe and comfortable against him. “Go ahead and sleep if you want.” He murmurs softly.

He smiles to himself as she falls asleep, her body relaxing completely against his. He stays still, not wanting to wake her. His heart rate slows, mirroring hers as he listens to her gentle breathing. He stays like that for hours, just holding her, the movie long forgotten in the background.

[harrywavycurly]

For protective harry in WTF I'd like it to be all of the above. I mean everything that you mentioned. I need to see that man worried sick about his baby momma's well being and I need to see him keeping her glued to his side when they're in crowded public place or something and I also need to see him giving death glares to whoever is trying to get too close to her. Thank you very much.

Hiii lovey!! Okay okayyy I think I kinda hit all of these with this blurb, it’s Harry being protective in ways that fit his personality in the story! So I hope you enjoy and don’t worry I’ll also add some more protective Harry in the next few chapters as well!!💖

You can find all things Worth the Fight: Here✨

CW: None just the usual pregnancy stuff!

A/N: This has a tiny time jump in it so if you’re confused don’t worry in the series you’re not this close to your due date! I just thought this fit the request better!✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cumuluscranium @donutsandpalmtrees @silastylesswift @prettygurl-2009 @blueleonor @daphnesutton @angeldavis777 @harryssunflower17 @blckburd @tinawritesstuff @inlikea-coolway

Summary: You and Harry enjoy an afternoon stroll✨

It’s a perfect afternoon for a walk, the sidewalk is nice and shady thanks to the trees that line the streets of Harry’s neighborhood blocking the sun but the warmth of if is still present and the slight breeze is making it feel cooler than it actually is. Something Harry knows you’re grateful for because as you near the last few months of your pregnancy your hot flashes have begun to cause you a bit of an issue, but you refuse to let them get in the way of enjoying the beautiful springtime weather, so you just now carry around a small handheld fan in your bag at all times.

Harry fights off a smile as he holds his arm out for you to grab onto while you slowly make your way down his front steps. Your very prominent baby belly has officially gotten to the point where you can no longer see your feet making you rely on Harry to keep you from taking a misstep, something he gets an odd sense of pleasure from, knowing you trust him enough to guide you so you won’t fall. His eyes land on your feet as you take the last step, your grip on his arm tightening as you let out a sigh of relief the moment your feet land on the smooth ground of the driveway making him chuckle.

“Well done love that only took you,” Harry looks over at his wrist that has his watch on it while you give him a glare. “Four minutes and twenty three seconds this time.” Before you can take the hand that’s gripping his forearm and smack him upside the head with it Harry is placing his much larger hand over it and giving it a loving pat. “That’s a new record.”

“I just don’t get why you have so many steps just to get to the front door? You already have a gate to keep people out.” You huff as the two of you make your way down his driveway. “You didn’t need to add those torture devices.” You mumble making Harry just shake his head at your new found hatred for his front steps.

“I’m so sorry that when I built this house I didn’t exactly take into consideration that one day the mother of my children would have to walk up and down the front steps while very pregnant.” He says as he reaches with his hand that was over yours on his arm and opens the side gate that goes right to the sidewalk. “I do hope you can forgive me.” He adds with a smile that has you rolling your eyes as you walk through the gate.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s not a no.” He points out as he takes his place on the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the street, your hand on his arm falling to your side after you bring the pair of sunglasses that were pulled up into your hair back down so they are now covering your eyes as the two of you make your way down his street.

“It’s not exactly a yes either.” You inform him as he places a hand on your lower back giving it a rub, something he’s done anytime the two of you are out of the house recently that helps him feel the tiniest bit more at ease knowing he has a hand on you in some way.

The two of you let a comfortable silence take over as you go further down the street, choosing to enjoy the sounds of birds chirping and every now and then a random dog bark that’s coming from behind someone’s gate. Somewhere during the short amount of time the two of you have been walking Harry’s hand has slid from your lower back over to your waist allowing him to ever so gently pull you closer into his side. He smiles to himself when he turns his head to look over at you, the white sunglasses that you stole from his closet match your white and blue maternity dress that ends right at your knees perfectly and the slight breeze causes the strands of your hair that have fallen out of your messy bun to blow around your face and in this moment Harry swears you look absolutely beautiful, slightly rosy cheeks and all.

“Stop staring at me.” You say shyly as you bring a hand up and adjust your sunglasses in a poor attempt to hide the way your cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink under his adoring gaze.

“But it’s one of my favorite things to do.” He argues with a teasing smile that has the corners of his mouth pulling upwards, making his dimple appear.

When he thinks you’re about to hit him back with some witty remark he notices the subtle change in your step that he would’ve missed if he wasn’t hyper fixated on keeping up with your movements, something that he’s been doing ever since he met you at your first Dr appointment that confirmed you were in fact pregnant. It’s his way of trying to make sure he is prepared for any sudden changes in your demeanor due to something causing you pain or lately any slight missteps you might take because you simply can’t see what’s directly under your feet so he can prevent you from getting hurt in any sort of way. So when you bring your right foot down and let out the faintest of noises as a small jolt goes through your body that he can easily feel since his arm is wrapped around you and his hand is firmly on your waist.

“You need new hobbies or-”

“What happened?” Harry asks interrupting your playful insult as he stops walking making you do the same, before you can say anything he is moving so he’s standing in front of you with his hands on the tops of your shoulders.

His eyes roam over your face for any obvious signs of discomfort before traveling down to your belly that your hands are resting on top of but when he takes a small step back, his hands sliding down to your wrists so he can look at your feet that’s when he sees the way you’re avoiding putting any weight down on the ball of your right foot. Once he realizes you don’t have any serious injuries he feels his heartbeat begin to go back to normal and his anxiety goes back down to its usual low simmer, because if he’s being honest he’s always a little on edge when out with you because he can’t control what happens nearly as much as he can from the comfort and safety of his house or your apartment.

“I uh think.” Harry ignores the surprised squeak that escapes your lips when he kneels down making you put your hands on the top of his shoulders to help you keep balance as he messes with the strap of your shoe. “There’s something in my shoe.” You mumble as Harry just gently taps your foot silently telling you to lift it so he can slide the shoe off.

“How’d you even manage to get a rock in your shoe? We haven’t even walked by any rocks.” He asks as he hears you let out a huff while he watches a small pebble fall from your shoe when he tips it over.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens as he is extra careful putting your shoe back on. The whole time Harry is messing with getting the pebble out of your shoe he makes sure he is looking around to check the surroundings, wanting to ensure no one is getting too close or that the two of you aren’t in the way of someone riding on their bike or out for a run.

“I don’t know.” You whine making Harry let out a small chuckle as he stands up after checking to make sure you don’t have anything wrong with your left shoe. Before he can stop himself he’s leaning in and placing a kiss to your forehead making him smile when he hears you let out a soft sigh as your hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest.

“Don’t freak out okay?” His voice is hushed as his eyes briefly glance over the top of your head as his hands find their way to yours that are gently resting on his chest. “But there’s a few people behind us.” He explains as he looks down at you and he doesn’t miss the slight downward twitch the corners of your mouth make as his words hit your ears.

“Oh god I look massive from behind please tell me they aren’t-”

“You do not look massive you’re pregnant with twins for crying out loud you look amazing.”

“You’re just saying that so they can’t snap photos of me crying.”

“Love there’s photos of you bawling your eyes out on the street after our first date so I’m not all that worried about you crying in public anymore.”

“Riiiight.” Harry quirks a brow at how sarcastic your voice is as he brings your hands up to his lips so he can place kisses to your knuckles to try to help you calm down a bit since he knows how uneasy you still are when there’s cameras around. “The day you stop worrying about me crying anywhere is the day Ethan tells you he wants to be friends.”

“Wait so you’re saying he doesn’t want to be best mates?” Harry jokes making you laugh as he glances behind you to make sure the small group hasn’t gotten any closer. He smiles down at you as you look up at him as if you already know what he’s about to do as he leans in to place a quick kiss to your lips as his hands give yours a reassuring squeeze.

“Can we go to that frozen yogurt place up the street?” You ask when Harry pulls away giving you a nod while he lets go of one of your hands, keeping a firm grip on the other as he takes his spot back by your side blocking you from the street.

“What flavor are you going to get today?” He asks while turning to look over his shoulder, giving the men with their cameras pointing directly at you a harsh warning glare making both men slowly lower their cameras as they slow their pace so they aren’t too close behind the two of you.

“I have to see what the kids want when we get there but right now they’re telling me chocolate with rainbow sprinkles.” You answer with a smile as Harry puts his attention back on the sidewalk in front of him smiling at how excited you sound at the idea of your sweet treat.

“Rainbow sprinkles? No more chocolate chips and gummy bears?”

“Niall said that’s too much sugar.” You answer with a shrug making Harry let out a scoff as he drops your hand so he can drape his arm over you shoulders, pulling you into his side making you giggle at his obvious reaction to mentioning Niall.

“Since when does Niall care about your sugar intake?”

“Since he thinks you named our son after him.”

“Named our son-oh god.” Harry lets out a sigh as he brings his free hand up and runs it over his face. “James is a very common middle name so he’s lost his bloody mind if he thinks I named our son after him.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that next time I see him.” Harry rolls his eyes as you slide an arm around his middle, giving you a little squeeze as he does a quick look behind you so he can check that the small group of people with cameras took his warning and stayed a respectable distance away from the two of you.

“Oh I think they changed their mind.” Harry looks over at you as your hand rubs your belly. “Yeah they want chocolate with-gummy bears now.” Harry lets out a laugh as you lick your lips and he can practically see your mouth watering, normally he would make a joke about how you seem the happiest when talking about whatever food it is you’re craving at the moment but right now he can’t be bothered. He is too content with his arm securely wrapped around your shoulders making you snug against his side, the people with cameras a safe distance away and a smile on your face as your hand rests on top of your pregnancy bump. Harry finds himself smiling as the two of you continue down the sidewalk towards the frozen yogurt shop, enjoying the weather and what both of you know is one of your last moments of being able to go out for walks before you eventually get too uncomfortable doing much moving around the closer you get to your due date.

[eyelessfaces]

just in case

poe dameron x reader

summary: while fiddling with bb–8's memory, you stumble onto an audio message– poe's prerecorded goodbyes.

based on @ivystoryweaver's headcanon on this post! thank you for allowing me to write something about it!

warnings: angst, mentions of death and war

tags: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, poe being an absolute sap

word count: 2.6k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

He can’t help the fond smile growing over his face at the sight of you, deeply focused on the repair project in front of you before his knuckles hit against the doorframe a couple times, catching your attention. 

Your gaze meets Poe’s as he steps into your workshop, your expression of concentration quickly giving way to an easy smile when you see him, closely followed by BB–8. 

Poe greets you with a kiss, his hand lingering at your side when he pulls away. 

“What’s bringing you here, handsome?” you ask, shifting to put away the tool you still have in hand. “Hey Beebs,” you smile as you glance down at the droid that greets you back. 

Poe gazes down at his droid, his look shifting back at you. “Could you take a look at him whenever you got the time?” he asks, a small, defeated sigh escaping his mouth. 

“What’s up?” you question, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow at him. It hadn’t been that long since you last checked up on the droid.

“I think there’s something up with his memory, he’s been acting a little forgetful lately” Poe explains; you can see the concern in his eyes, can hear the worry in his voice.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” Poe nods, pinching his lips into a quiet smile as he looks down at the droid. “Hey, you don’t have to worry'' you reassure him, resting a hand over his arm. “It’s nothing too serious usually. Nothing I can’t fix.” He nods again, knowing he can trust you with this, knowing you're as good at this as he is at flying. 

“I’ll take care of him as soon as I’m done with that” you point back to the mess of scavenged parts resting over your workbench.

“Thank you sweetheart,” he says, cupping the back of your head and leaning in to leave a quick kiss on your forehead. “I’d stay with you and tell you about my day, but I have my last meeting of the day in about less than five minutes.” he shrugs, starting to walk backwards to exit the room.

“Sure, don’t worry.” you smile. “Come over when you’re done” 

As promised, the minute you’re done repairing the project you were working on, you lower your workbench to BB-8’s level, letting him roll onto the surface before you adjust it to your level so you can examine him. 

“Hey buddy. memory issues huh?” you coo, grabbing your tools, gathering everything you need to check up on him. He responds with upset beeps, his upper part sagging in defeat. 

“That's okay. Happens to the best of us,” you reassure him, setting to work on diagnosing the problem. “So since it seems to be a memory issue, I’m gonna have to look through your data” you explain, opening his access panels. 

It doesn’t take long for you to identify the issue: a few corrupted memory files. It’s a relief to see it's nothing severe, just a bit of corrupted data that needs to be cleaned and restructured. “Hah, found the problem,” you say, beginning the delicate process of correcting the corrupted files. “Looks like some of your memory files got a bit jumbled. Should be fine once we get that sorted out, there shouldn’t be any problem.” you explain. “You know, Poe always gets so worried about you.” you say, trying to keep the droid calm as your fingers work through the wires and circuits. BB–8 emits a series of grateful beeps, and you smile, focusing back on the task at hand. 

As you work on fixing him, BB–8 chirps curiously, his dome turning to watch you. You explain each step in simple terms, trying to distract him and make it the least stressful possible for him. “I’m working through your memory module. Some of these files are corrupted, so I’m cleaning them up and re-organizing everything. Just like tidying up a messy room.”

BB-8 responds with a relieved series of beeps, and you chuckle. “Yeah, I know it’s not fun for you to have me mess with your memory stuff, but I’ll have you be back to your old self in no time.” 

As you carefully rework BB–8’s memory files, you fumble slightly with a delicate wire, causing a brief short circuit – the droid jerks and beeps erratically before suddenly playing a vocal message. You reach to stop it, assuming it’s a manufactured error message you’ve triggered, but you freeze when you recognize Poe’s voice. “Hey baby,” Poe’s voice crackles through BB–8’s speakers, startling you. You frown, confused, ready to stop the audio message. “If you’re hearing this, it’s probably because something happened and I’m not around anymore.” Your heart properly skips a beat. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you like this,” he sighs softly. “Damn it’s weird talking like this when I’m still here,” he chuckles. You step back, driven by morbid curiosity, firmly intending to listen to the rest of it. 

“But you know, with everything that’s been happening lately and that’s gonna happen, you never know what’s next.” 

He sounds tired. You bite down onto your lip, a soft frown forming over your face and your gaze lost as the recording continues. “I could die in two weeks or in twenty years from the moment I’m recording this, so it’s pretty strange. I just… I love you so much. I wanted you to hear it from me one last time.” 

Your lips curl into a weak smile, tears welling up in your eyes. It’s stupid. He’s still here. It’s just a recording in case he dies.

But somehow, you can’t help it. Not with the prospect that you could listen to it again one day, in the context it was intended to be listened to.

“You’ve always been supportive of my bullshit, no matter what, and you were always there for me no matter how stupid I got, so it’s only fair I thank you one last time. I really hope we got to enjoy our time together” 

You pause the audio message, running your hand over your face, sighing deeply. You want to stop there and not listen to the entirety of it, on one hand because you aren't even supposed to hear it or know of its existence in the first place, and most of all because you’re not sure you can handle it – but your curiosity gets the best of you, and you let it go on.

“It’s stupid that I want to cry, because I’m still here” he chuckles. “You know, I’m recording this because I couldn’t sleep.” he declares. You can hear the soft strain in his voice, you can imagine him and his tired eyes, his hair slightly mussed from tossing and turning like he always does when he’s restless.

He sighs deeply before he speaks again. “I uh… Today’s mission went awful. I could have died and I didn’t even tell you” his voice drops with the weight of his words, he pauses for a second, and the knot inside your throat tightens.  

“You’re sleeping in the next room. You know, you looked so peaceful when I got out of bed that I didn't want to bother you by kissing your forehead, but I did it anyway because I remembered I might not be able to do it forever”

You can’t help it, it’s over for you. Tears roll down your cheeks on their own, the back of your hand suppressing your sniffles and the soft laugh you huff out at his way of always saying things that will get you.

BB-8’s upper part shifts, and he emits a soft, sympathetic whirr, trying to console you.

“I’ve left this message with BB-8 because I know he’s always with you if he’s not with me. Take care of him for me, will you? And take care of yourself. You’re stronger than you know, and you’ll get through this. I love you. So much. More than you know. Which is why I’m gonna cut the recording and get back to bed to hold you tight while I can” 

Your heart tightens inside your chest. You slowly shake your head, tears forced out of you when your eyes fall shut.

“Alright, okay, bye sweetheart. I love you.” 

The recording cuts, ending with a click, leaving you in a stunned silence. BB turns to you, beeping sadly, and you give him a weak smile before wiping the tears over your cheeks with the tips of your fingers. 

You huff out a heavy breath, one that you didn’t even realize was smothering your chest, and force yourself to finish taking care of BB–8 despite everything. 

You’re still sobbing when Poe comes in again. 

He finds you, full on tearing up, not even hiding it – which he finds strange, because you usually turn around and pretend to look for something to quickly dry your tears, and proceed to poorly try to deny you’ve been crying just to avoid worrying him. 

And the context he’s facing quickly leads him to assume something is wrong with BB-8, something you couldn’t manage to fix and now blame yourself for – BB–8 is quick to deny with appalled beeps, so Poe really doesn’t have any idea what he’s dealing with. 

When you pull him near and hug him tight, gripping his hair, longing to be as close to him as possible, he’s still as confused, but he’s swift to take action and hold you even tighter.

His embrace is warm, comforting, his touch delicate as his hand appeasingly rubs over your shoulder, and you progressively manage to calm down and quiet your sobs. “What’s going on babe” he quietly asks, trying to not pounce on you. His fingers carefully lift your chin up, taking care of clearing the tears from your face, his eyes searching yours intensely as he waits for your answer.

You sigh softly, your breath still ragged from sobbing. “I was working on Beebs and I found your…” you pause, realizing you’re not even sure what to call it. You're not even sure you want to say it out loud, to say it's a goodbye message. “I found your recording– I didn't mean to, it just–”

“Oh,” his face drops in saddened surprise, immediately understanding what you’re talking about. “Oh baby” he sighs, shaking his head as he pulls you back into his arms. You weren't supposed to know about this, even less hear it fully, not until he died, that is. “I didn’t want to scare or worry you. I’m sorry you had to hear that– it was just… a precaution.” he murmurs as you cling to him, the remnants of your tears dampening his shirt.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice weak and muffled against his chest. “I just– It was hard to hear. I don’t want to think about losing you”

“I don’t want to think about leaving you either,” he says softly, pulling back just enough to look at your face again. His thumb brushes away the last of your tears when you look at him, his gaze over you filled with a mix of sorrow and unwavering love that you manage to feel just by looking into his dark, warm eyes. “But I need you to know how much you mean to me, no matter what happens”

“Poe,” you scoff-whine. “I know. You’re pretty transparent about it already” you grin. 

When he’s not saying it explicitly, he always has a hand on you, always at least leaves a kiss over your cheek or forehead when he’s not full-on kissing you, and always makes sure to bring you back those jogan fruit cakes you like from Coruscant when he has to go there, and just the way he looks at you has you aware that he loves you, so he really doesn’t need to do that much, but he’s Poe Dameron, so it’s a prerogative.

“I happen to be a very romantic man” he jokes, smiling when he sees you chuckle and shake your head the way you do when he pulls stupid lines. “I just wanted you to hear it from me one last time sweetheart.”

“You and your dramatic flair” you tease lightly, gripping onto his jacket as you let out a soft groan. “You couldn’t just leave a normal message, could you?”

“You know, subtlety isn’t my strong suit” he grins, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But seriously, I’m sorry you had to hear it like this. It was meant for dramatic times, not when I was about to ask you if you wanted to get dinner off base like now.”

You snort up a laugh, your arms wrapping around his neck. “You do owe me dinner after that.” 

“I know, right?” he scoffs, an amused smile over his face. “And it means I get to spend more of my alive time with you, so–” he teases, his fingers gently rubbing your back. “Stop that, it’s not funny” you frown, playfully hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “–Plenty of time to remind you that I love you” his hand squeezes yours gently.

You pull him closer, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is both tender and intense, slow at first but deepening when the fear, the relief, the overwhelming love you feel for him step at the front of your mind. His hand moves from your hip to cup your face, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheeks rough from the tears.

When you break apart, your foreheads are still linked, his fingers gently tracing your face, your breaths mingling. “I’m joking about this, but I promise I’ll do my best for you to not have to listen to this recording again anytime soon.” 

“Mh, hope ‘anytime soon’ means a few decades at least”

“I promise. I love you too much to leave you like this. And I know I’ll look sexy when my hair turns gray” he adds with a playful smile.

You laugh, the sound breaking the lingering tension and bringing a sense of normalcy back. “Oh, definitely” you grin, raking your fingers through his curls. “Most handsome silver fox in the galaxy.” 

Poe smiles, kissing you again, softly. You can very clearly feel BB–8’s presence when you pull away, his needy beeps attesting of his need for attention.

“Yeah, alright buddy” you sigh, turning back to the droid to finish up his repair.

“So he’s okay?” Poe asks, approaching the workbench. 

“He’s all fine, good as new” you smile. “Hey, try running a diagnostic”

The droid runs his internal check, beeping happily once he’s done and everything seems to be alright.

“See?” you turn to Poe. “All good.” you grin at him, glad to have something concrete to smile about after that emotional rollercoaster you went through.  

“Thank you, really. I knew you’d fix him up” Poe declares, smiling as he watches BB roll off the workbench and onto the floor, navigating around your feet. “And I was serious about that dinner, by the way,” he says, watching you putting away your tools and tidying up your workbench. “We could both use a break.”

“Yeah,” you agree, scoffing. 

Poe’s hand finds yours as you turn the light off and leave the workshop, your fingers tangling as you walk through the corridors of the base, finding your way out. 

“Hey,” Poe calls, pulling you closer as you walk. You hum, looking at him, noticing the slight hint of worry in his eyes. “You really think I’d look hot with gray hair?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Absolutely baby”

A content smile grows over his face, and he nods. “Cool.”

—

any and every comment/reblog is greatly appreciated!!

star wars taglist:

@lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift

@whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry

@jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious

@stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @pigeonmama

[youcancallmeelle]

Are we on the same side?

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI!!!)

Word count: 8K

Pairing: Separated husband!Joel Miller x wife!reader

Summary: Joel and you are trialling temporary separation due to repeated arguments with one another after nearly twenty years of marriage.

He returns to the marital home to do you a favour, flirting ensues and the sexual tension gets out of hand because of course it does.

You may need some clarification on what you are…

AO3

You put up the hearts, and I'll put up both my aces Not very far apart Still on different pages

Before having kids, you used to take every moment of your life for granted. 

You were just a kid yourself back then, when you had two babies with a boy who shared your class and you were so in love you couldn’t fathom a life without him. For years you were Mama, the person who fed them and changed them, bathed them and rocked them to sleep. You worked night shifts while the love of your life worked in the day, all so food could be put on the table and an apartment could be kept to keep you all warm and safe. It wasn’t until a few years ago when your kids gained their own independence that you slowly started to regain your own life back, now you were nearly forty and working a job that gave you more freedom even if the stress levels have gotten to you more than once and your marriage… well that’s a separate issue on its own. 

You’d spent the morning doing things you wanted to, thanking whoever that your kids were teenagers who could do their own breakfast and helped with chores without coaxing. You’ve been to pilates and the salon and had your infills done, your nails a glossy shade of pillar box red in an almond shape and your toes the same colour. You’d even managed to grab a Starbucks and sipped it languidly as you people watched from the safety of your car, enjoying your chosen playlist on Spotify without the bluetooth getting hijacked. The icing on the cake though? The fact you got to shower at home without someone barging in to ask for foundation or to borrow your strapless bra or your new Adidas Superstars. 

It’s mid way through Saturday afternoon that your relaxation comes skidding to a halt in the form of your jaded lover knocking heavily against the pane of glass on your front door, the irritating noise makes you scowl and you drag your feet to answer it. 

You crack it open, familiar brown eyes stare at you and yours narrow back. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask flatly, the male on the other side picks up on your terse mood and his shoulders rise defensively. If it wasn’t for the little disagreement you’d had a few days prior on the phone over something as mundane as renewing car insurance, you’d have probably been more excited to see him but the way he can sometimes undermine you really grates on your nerves, you hate that he gets so swept up in work that he comes home and talks to you like he’s your foreman. 

The minute he’d started questioning your choice like a fucking know it all, you’d merely hung up in irritation, refusing to answer when he’d called you back twice to apparently try and patch it over. You’d read the I’m sorry and I love you more than you’ll ever know text he sent after over and over, trying to figure out how things had come to this. 

Nearly two decades together, married, with children and a house. You and Joel Miller have been torn apart by too many petty arguments that end with you sobbing and him walking away, you’d had to call it and come up with a possible solution with the marriage counsellor before it was too late. 

He huffs and lifts his hand, showing you the toolbox you’ve seen many times with its contents strewn about somewhere in your house. 

“A little birdie told me that you’re in need of a repair.” Joel’s lip twists at the side when your mood seems to perk just a fraction, there’s multiple things that need a little TLC right now but he can certainly worm his way back into your good books with a good old fashioned repair. You can only assume the little birdie was Sarah or Ellie. 

You open the door fully and step backwards so all six foot something of him can meander through your front door, he wipes his feet on the welcome mat and toes his sneakers off, nudging them into the neat space where a tattered pair of Vans have been kicked off hard enough to scuff the wall and a pair of spotless ankle boots have been nicely placed beside your shoes. 

“Where’s the babies?” He frowns, looking around and noticing the lack of noise. 

You smile as you shut the door behind him as he refers to the girls as his babies, despite Sarah being eighteen and Ellie just turned fourteen. 

With them both being girls, he’s soft anyway but Sarah is his first born who made him a father and Ellie’s still his tiny baby who he’s soaked up every second of when she was a newborn because you both knew you weren’t having any more children.

“At the movies together watching Twisters, Garret backed out on Sarah so Ellie went instead.” You inform him, sneaking an appreciative glance from the corner of your eye. 

Joel makes a noise at the mention of Sarah’s boyfriend, never having liked him for whatever reason, you think it’s because they’re eerily alike so therefore clash. 

“Little prick will be back hangin’ around here next week.” He grumbles, placing his toolbox on the bottom step.  

“She’s just going through the universal thing of falling for a country boy.” You tease. 

“Well as long as he don’t get her pregnant before graduation then we won’t have a problem.”

“She’s smarter than us.” You say. 

“I know.” Joel agrees, you sneak one more glance at the country boy who got you pregnant before graduation. 

He’s wearing slim fitting black sweatpants with a worn grey t-shirt with a faded motif on, the chain of his St Christopher barely noticeable beneath it and his thick rimmed glasses are perched on his nose. 

You miss the hungry look he shoots you when you turn away, chestnut coloured eyes drifting low to the denim shorts you wear that he’s sure you’ve had since you were in your twenties. They fit snug and are contoured perfectly to the shape of your ass, your cheeks barely peeking out. What really makes his dick hard is the fact you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Dallas Cowboys one that you’ve always been particularly fond of. 

“Nice flowers. Who got ya those?” He nods with a smirk towards the vase on the side table that’s filled with blooming peonies and baby’s breath. 

The beautiful arrangement of flowers had arrived the morning after your petty argument with Joel, a gift from the universe if you will when you needed something bright and blooming to drag you out of the despair you were frantically becoming encased in. 

“Oh.” You hum and feign ignorance, reaching out to gently touch the edge of a baby pink peony. “Just a friend.” You smile vaguely, Joel rolls his eyes. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“A guy sent them?” He presses, shifting his weight, your grin turns devious. 

“Mmm.” You coo, feeling thrilled when that lick of annoyance flickers across your husband’s face at your flippant tone. 

“Who?” He grins back.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on, I just wanna talk to him, I wanna know why he thinks it’s okay to send my wife flowers.” 

“Ex wife.” You snort, Joel glares at you. 

“We’re separated, not divorced. Y’know what, we’re barely even separated.” He disagrees, you bite the inside of your cheek in amusement. 

“Apparently you’re here to fix my shelves and you’re doing a whole lot of yapping, very unprofessional of you.” You goad, stepping backwards when he begins to saunter towards you with a certain look in his eyes. 

“I’ll fix your shelves, I’ll fix anythin’ you want.” Joel mumbles, stalking you. 

“Big promises.” You taunt, lifting your chin defiantly. His hands grasp your waist, pulling you to him and you let him, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

You love this, the playful behaviour and flirting since you decided to live apart for a while. It feels new and exciting, a rush that you felt when you first got together as youngsters just before your world flipped and you were pregnant before your frontal lobe had developed. 

He smells delectable, you can’t stop yourself from nosing at his bearded jaw where his cologne is the strongest. Joel’s throat bobs, his fingers drift upwards under your borrowed sweatshirt to feel the bare skin between your shorts and bra. 

As his structured jaw slides across yours and his nose just barely brushes your own, you feel his breath hit your lips and you know he really wants to kiss you but is waiting for you to make the first move. 

You want to, you really do but you’re scared of falling into a false sense of security when you haven’t even scratched the surface of your underlying problems that the marriage counsellor suggested needed to be covered before you could get back on track. 

Joel enjoys the way your head fits against his collarbone, loves the sweet smell of your hair and skin. 

“Fix my shelf.” You huff into his skin as you retreat, he sighs deeply but picks up his toolbox and begins to follow you up the stairs with his eyes glued to your backside. 

It almost feels strange for Joel to be back in your shared bedroom after three weeks away, he hasn’t been back for any extra clothes or personal items. If he’s come over to see the kids, then he’s stayed downstairs or in the garden with them. 

Everything looks the same which is a strange observation given that really you’ve barely been apart for any time at all but it’s comforting to be back. 

The bed is made in its usual dress up of plain white sheets with useless throw pillows stacked neatly, there’s a pile of clean laundry resting on your vanity chair but also clothes tossed on the floor where you’ve been indecisive. 

Joel whistles when he sees the closet door open and the fallen shelf leaning against the door, there’s a scrape on the inside wall where it’s collided and taken the paint off. It looks like a fairly simple job, the wall plugs have probably come loose over time and needed replacing, it’s not as if IKEA is known for making indestructible furniture. 

“You want the step ladder?” You question as he surveys the situation, rubbing the wall with his fingertips to see if the scrape will alleviate some. 

“I think so.” He replies. “They in the garage?” 

“No, Ellie’s room, she was trying to hang some fairy lights earlier but only got halfway before she threw a fit about the command hooks.” You chuckle, wandering off to go retrieve them for him, already certain he’s made a note to finish the job for her before he leaves. 

When you get back, he’s got some tools ready, his drill in hand already. He steps onto the bottom rung of the step ladder, groaning as he stretches. 

You observe for a moment, knowing it irks him, he hates being watched on a job.

��Jesus, it’s fuckin’ dusty up here. You’re a terrible housewife, neglectin’ your duties.” Joel pokes, knowing you won’t take a blind bit of notice. 

“You wanna know why we really separated? Because you neglected your duties as a husband to satisfy your wife.” You reply easily, Joel chuckles and looks down at you. 

“Oh spare me the dramatics, you’ve never been unsatisfied by me in your whole entire life.” He sings, infuriatingly he isn’t wrong. 

“I’m telling the kids you were being sexist to me.” You threaten, chewing on a sinister smile. “Ellie will beat you up.” 

“She won’t.” Joel grins, you mumble out a complaint. “She’s a daddy’s girl, maybe try your luck with Sarah, I’m sure she’d give me a lecture.” Not that you think he needs one, he’s the biggest supporter of you and his girls. 

“They’re both Daddy’s girls, the little traitors. Nine whole months carrying them and giving birth after what felt like days and days with no fucking pain relief and this is the thanks I get? Not to mention my nipples being sucked raw.” You grumble to yourself, kicking some laundry into a pile at the side of the wall, Joel makes you jump when he groans suddenly.

“Just sayin’ but your tits were amazin’ when you were breastfeedin’ - shit, they’re still fucking phenomenal.” He sighs dreamily, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you were so hot carryin’ my babies, I’d have kept you pregnant if I had my way.” 

You bite your cheeks to hide the satisfaction that your husband still wants you. 

“You can’t say stuff like that to me anymore.” 

“Why? We separated or somethin’?” Your husband frowns comically. “Show me your tits.” 

“No.” 

“Come on, just one.” He grins boyishly. “The right one is my favourite.” You stick your middle finger up at him.

“Asshole.” You sniff, walking back to lay on the end of your bed. 

You pick up your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook posts made by the PTA at the girls school while Joel complains about wall fixings or something equally as dull. 

In the end, you get bored and toss it away, instead opting to enjoy the eye candy in the form of a senior (essentially) gentleman on a stepladder cussing about how IKEA can suck his balls. 

“Piece of fuckin’ shit!” He complains when the shelf slips again in your closet, he takes a calming breath and contains his frustration, you snicker at him. “How did this even break, sweetheart?” Joel huffs, changing out for a larger wall plug. 

“Dunno, it just did.” You answer vaguely, looking at your ceiling.

“Bullshit.” He quips. “Did you put too much shit on it?” 

“No.” You hum, shaking your head. 

“You’re a liar.” He states plainly, equally unamused. “What did you put on here that was so heavy it collapsed?” 

“Nothing, maybe it was just your shoddy workmanship to begin with.” You quip, not looking at him though you desperately want to because you can imagine the outrage on his face but you won’t be able to not laugh. 

“It wasn’t me that put it up.” He glares. 

“Sure, whatever you say.” You smile sweetly at him. It’s quiet for a minute, then Joel speaks again. 

“You put filled shoeboxes up here, didn’t you? After I told you nothin’ heavier than a few sweaters? ” He asks knowingly. 

Silence and then… 

“Yeah.” You nod, he sighs loudly and turns back to drill in a screw now that he seems happy with the stability. 

You watch him as he works, angling himself to see better and be able to use his drill at the correct angle. 

The muscles in his back move and his shoulders look unbelievably broad beneath his t-shirt, it hugs his biceps and rides up when he shifts to show a slither of his boxers and bare back. 

Your mouth almost waters and you press your thighs together but it obscures your view so you part them again to peek at him through the gap in your knees. 

It’s well known that your husband is an attractive man, he always has been. You’ve watched him grow from the gangly teenager with a backwards baseball cap practically glued to his head you were first besotted with to the almost middle aged and greying man that now works before you. 

Most nights when it’s dark, quiet and the house is still, you pleasure yourself beneath the duvet thinking of him, hips moving frantically against the whir of your vibrator. It can be any scenario of the long time you’ve been together, two decades holds enough memories to fill books upon books with pictures and anecdotes, some that you keep stored away just for you. 

Sometimes you dream about the three day honeymoon in Nashville you had when your parents forced you to get married before Sarah was born, back when you first lived in Arlington in a shitty apartment you could barely afford with you both working instead of attending college. Then there was that night just under four years later with sex so explosive that you’d had the fleeting thought you’d immediately gotten pregnant again, only to actually find out you’d been right two weeks later when you’d presented Joel with yet another positive pregnancy test before twenty five. 

You chew your lip, lashes fluttering and you’re sure he notices you ogling him in the mirror that puts your reflection in his eye line by the smirk you see. 

God, he pisses you off so much sometimes. He makes your cunt wet and your teeth grind all at once, you never knew that was possible. 

Rolling off the bed and onto your feet, you casually turn so that your back is to him on the ladder but you’re in the perfect position in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He doesn’t notice at first over the sound of the drilling but when it stops and he goes to test the stability of the shelf, he freezes and the arm holding his drill drops limply to his side. 

He sees you begin to strip down in the mirror, shimmying your shorts down and then yanking off your oversized sweater. Joel freezes, gulping when you turn away to unclip your bra, the expanse of your back is smooth and if he thought your backside looked good in those shorts, the high cut panties you’re wearing hit on a whole other level. 

“What are you doin’?” He asks when your fingers hook into the sides of your panties, they flex within the material and you peer over your shoulder at him, big doe eyes the opposite of fucking innocence. 

“Just taking a shower, I’m filthy.” You titter, holding his piercing gaze through the mirror. 

“Funny, you’ve done nothin’ but sit on your pretty little ass and watch me inhale dust that’s been here for the last fifteen years.” 

“Well, you could always join me.” You shrug, finally slipping your underwear down your thighs, Joel’s mouth goes dry. “Only if you want to, of course.” You beam at him and then sashay away into the en suite, Joel’s resolve breaks very quickly (immediately actually) and he’s yanking off his glasses and tossing them onto the dresser and plucking his t-shirt over his head in an instant. 

Maybe the solution is to fuck it out and he’ll gladly go as many times as needed, you always did need to be fucked hard when your attitude started to test him. 

The shower has been switched on and you’re naked under the stream as he finishes yanking both his socks, sweatpants and boxers off. He admires you through the glass, kicking his clothes into a messy pile before climbing in there with you, the air tight and hot. 

His big hands enrobe you from behind, long dexterous fingers gripping at your waist and pawing at all the exposed skin it’s been weeks since he’s seen. 

You tilt your head back from the water, resting it against his shoulder and pushing back into him, holding onto his forearms and digging your nails into his flesh. 

“Look who couldn’t resist, you bad boy. Whatever will the therapist say?” You mock, pouting those pretty lips. 

“You’re a goddamn tease, you know that?” He growls, nipping at your jaw and earlobe, holding the weight of your breasts in his hands. 

“If you say so.” You breathe sexily, dragging him by the back of his neck to meet your lips in a hungry kiss. 

His cock is trapped between his soft stomach and your lower back, smearing a pearlescent gleam as he anchors himself to you.

You moan into his mouth when he teases your nipples into tight peaks, plucking them and roughly cupping your tits. 

“I want to lick your pretty little pussy until you cum on my face.” He admits into your mouth, barely letting you breathe past the fierce kisses. Your clit throbs at his confession and you grab hold of his hand, guiding it down your body to between your legs where he teases your lips.

Your back arches prettily into him, the free hand holding your breast now grips your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back. 

“Ah.” You whine when the roughened pads of his fingers stroke your clit. “Mmm, there.” You hum, pushing into his fingers. He entertains you, dipping his fingertips to your honey slick hole and back up again, dragging the gooey wetness to smother on your clit until it’s hardened and desperate to be sucked on like candy. 

“Bet you could cum like this.” He says gruffly, beard scratching at your shoulders and neck, wherever he greedily kisses your dewy wet skin. 

“Wanna cum on you, Joel.” You whine, reaching behind you to grasp his thickness. He ruts into your hand, smearing more stickiness that you want to lick away from his tip. 

You absorb him similarly to a plant and the sun, the bulk of his form plastered against your back so big and strong, skin sun kissed and warm. He’s safety to you, every single thing about him, everything familiar that you know. 

“Needy little slut.” He whispers, your core becomes aflame at the debauchery, you nod in confirmation. “Oh, you agree? You just need a cock to sit on and your shitty attitude will be right as rain?” 

“Only your cock.” You whine, flicking your thumb against the underside of him, tracing out a vein you’re very familiar with. 

“Yeah, baby. Only mine, I know, I know.” His sweet breath is hot against your cheek as he pants, fingers strumming your clit faster. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Show me how good you can be?” You hum and nod, knees almost buckling, this is the fastest you’ve approached orgasm since being separated. 

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You say huskily, hips bucking into his hand until it’s only been two seconds since your revelation and you’re cumming - wet and sticky - into the palm of his hand. His mouth is on yours, you’re moaning and moving erratically, Joel’s cock is dribbling a steady stream of pre cum into your hand where you’re gripping his shaft. 

“Sexy little thing.” Joel husks into your ear, biting the lob as you heave for air, slowly undulating your hips as you ride the last wave of your peak against his hand. “Good girl.” He praises, taking his hand away when you weakly push at his wrist. He lifts it in front of you, fingers webbed with your cum, runny and clear. You catch his hand, slipping his index and middle finger into your mouth, sucking them clean as he groans and ruts into the hand still around him, the cool palladium of his wedding ring bumps against your cupids bow as you suckle. 

You slip his fingers out of your mouth, letting them drag down your chin and back to your tits. “Fuck me.” You demand haughtily, eyeing him. 

“I’ll fuck you, baby.” He confirms, softer than you were expecting, he meets you for a kiss and you suck on the plumpness of his bottom lip before turning away. Joel slicks his hair back under the spray and then begins to trace out the curve of your waist and the fullness of your ass, you feel his hand bump you knuckle first where he fists himself to complete mast and then he runs the length of himself through your pussy, hissing at the wet heat that awaits him but he pauses, retracting back unsure. 

“You want me to wear a condom?” And you freeze, looking over your shoulder in distress. 

“Have you been with other people?” You frown, your heart suddenly sinking into your stomach, making your guts twist with nausea. Joel frowns down at you, blinking away the water clinging to his lashes. 

“Course not.” He answers, you relax. “…Have you?” Joel presses.

“Absolutely not.” You state firmly. “So get inside me.” You demand, turning away to place your hands on the tiles. You feel him press kisses to your shoulders as the tip of his cock brushes your ass again, you sigh and push back into him. “Please, baby.” You beg, feeling him smile into your skin. 

“I think you’re tryin’ to baby trap me.” Joel says playfully, pulling your hips against him so that your back arches just so. 

“You had a vasectomy after Ellie, idiot.” Your hips press insistently against him and you reach back to tug at his length, your fingers barely wrapping around the girth. “Now get your dick inside me, Joel.” You demand. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He leans down a fraction and slicks himself up, the entire length of him slipping against your pussy lips once more and nudging your clit. “Fuuuuck.” Joel groans when he does it again and the head of him catches on your hole, slipping inside just a fraction. 

“Oh my god.” You pant, your forehead dropping to rest against the cool tiled as he fills you completely. It’s a tight fit, after over three weeks of no sex with him your body is near to combustion.

You wonder if the lack of sex has attributed to the arguments, both working long hours at your respective jobs and not having the time for the normal intimacy you usually share. 

This is exactly what you’ve been wanting in the weeks you’ve been apart; a carnal desire to have your husband close. 

His grunt in your ear sets something off in you, the relief he feels directly felt by you. 

You whimper at the first thrust after he’s settled within your velvet lined canal, body pressed between him and the wall. 

It won’t ever be like this with anyone else, you think to yourself - the way Joel fits within you, around you and alongside you. 

“Like that.” You pant, pressing back. He grunts into your ear in such a manly way that you reach back to yank on his hair, he growls into your neck and fucks into you harder. 

He’s so strong it makes your head spin, this gorgeous man with a heart of gold that loved you when you were young, married you and gave you two babies, helped you create a comfortable life for your family. 

It’s overwhelming; that sensation of being full and enveloped within the heat of his radius. 

You’ve missed everything about him; his smell, his voice, the way he tastes. You’ve ached for the things you’ve harmlessly bickered about before, such as underwear outside of the hamper, smudges of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror after a deep clean, crumbs on the island. 

You don’t mean to let your emotions get the best of you but your eyes well and your throat tightens, your chest constricts something fierce. 

The sob that erupts out of your chest can’t be disguised by the noise of the water hitting the floor at your feet or the soft groans of Joel, not the breathless whines from yourself either. 

It’s a raw noise, jagged at the edges so much that it hurts leaving your throat. 

“Honey?” Immediately Joel has stopped moving and withdrawn, spinning you around to cup your cheeks. “Why are you cryin’?” He presses insistently, thumbs trying to swipe away your tears. Your cheeks are aflame, embarrassed to have spoilt such an intimate moment after so long. 

“I just - I just missed you.” You whimper, tucking your nose into his bicep. He cradles you to him softly beneath the spray, hushing you gently. This makes you cry more, thinking about how he’s held your babies like this; tenderly like they’re the most fragile  beings made entirely of glass. “Everything feels wrong! And… and…” You sniffle wetly. “And I can’t sleep properly without you and your dumb old man snoring!” 

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles into your hair. 

“I don’t like the whole limited contact stuff either.” You mumble. 

“Neither do I but it’s what was suggested and I think we need to try it, if we don’t like it then that’s a good sign.” He tries to pick your mood up, you pout and nod, leaning into his touch. 

“I’m scared we won’t fix this and I’ll have to watch you start dating someone else.” 

“I’m not gonna date anyone else, lady. I only want you, I’ve only ever wanted you.” He tells you. 

“That’s not true.” You hiccup. “Brandi Neil wanted you and you were going to go to Homecoming with her.” 

“Fuckin’ - that was literally over twenty somethin’ years ago and I went with you in the end!” He huffs indignantly. “Come on, let’s get dry and we can talk some more.” Joel guides you out of the shower with a gentle hand, turning off the water and handing you a towel. He leans over on more than one occasion to peck your lips, he smooths his thumbs beneath your eyes to wipe away the mascara that’s ran in the shower from the steam. 

Once you’re both relatively dry, there’s an awkward shift in the air as you’re both naked still and Joel looks very much aroused, half hard cock swaying as he moves. 

You saunter back to the bed, peering over your shoulder to see that you’ve captured his attention intently and he gulps as you climb onto the mattress, briefly resting on all fours for a split second, wet pussy drooling and exposed before turning onto your back. 

You stretch out against the sheets not dissimilar to a renaissance painting, skin dewy with a look on your face that Joel wants to savour. 

He climbs atop the mattress with you, pushing your thighs apart to settle between them. His warm mouth finds your nipples, sucking them and biting gently, you stretch and arch into him like a puppet on strings, the weight of your breasts fitting in each of his roughened palms. You feel the brush of his cock sway against your inner thigh and you buck against it, trying to encourage him closer, you huff when he ignores you in favour of worshiping your breasts. 

“Calm down.” He murmurs. “We’ll get there.” He promises in that deep baritone which makes your purr. Joel shimmies down your body, palm dragging along your sternum and settling on your stomach where your fingers find his in a desperate squeeze. 

The broadness of him fits between your thighs, one tossed over his shoulder to open you up. It’s erotic how he looks with his mouth on you, silver streaked hair visible and it’s not long before you’re clutching at it, writhing and moaning something pretty. 

He parts your labia and licks slowly, using only the tip of his tongue, flicking over your clit and coaxing it from beneath the hood, sucking it between his lips and running his tongue repeatedly over it as you gasp and pull his hair, he suckles and there’s a lewd slurp thrown in there. 

You purr like a kitten when his fingers enter you, moving steadily and brushing your G spot with such expertise that your eyes water. He knows what you like, having learnt your body and its responses for the better part of twenty years. A gush of slick aids the smooth movement of his ring and middle finger, stroking you from the inside until it proves too much to feel so far from him. 

“Up, Joel.” You whine, tugging his tresses with more force than necessary which causes him to bite your inner thigh in retaliation but he allows himself to be malleable at the hands of you, kneeling between your legs and wiping the slick of you from his moustache and beard. 

Rocking back onto his haunches, he fists his cock at the sight of you looking wrecked, that deep possessive part of him that’s smug because it’s him that makes you look like that; flushed and desperate. 

“I won’t last long, honey.” He warns as he gets into position, wrapping both legs around his waist. 

“Don’t care.” You state, reaching down to grab hold of him and guiding the blunt head of him through your lips, teasing yourself before you notch him just right. He eases himself in gentler than before in the shower, savouring that slow stretch as he feeds you himself until the wiry coarse hairs at the base are dampened by your wetness. 

He drops onto his forearms beside your head, caging you in as he begins to move, the pendant from his St Christopher bumps your chin. You make pretty noises, clawing at his back in a way that leaves diagonal lines in various shades of pink and red. Chests pressed together, heart to heart, a rhythmic beat perfectly in sync. 

“Tell me you love me.” You gasp.

Sitting up, Joel guides your leg over his shoulder, kissing your ankle bone, toying with the dainty gold anklet there that was an anniversary present some years ago. Your back arches against the sheets and you whimper sweetly at the new sensation of his hips fitting snuggly between your thighs and the weeping head of him nudging against the sponged wall of your cervix. 

“I love you.” He groans, hands grappling your hip bones, forcing you closer like he can’t get enough, he looms over you. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

“I love you.” You pant back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” His nose nudges yours, lips hungrily searching to slot against yours, puffy and wet. “You remember night one of our honeymoon?” You press, exhaling hot and tone wanting. 

“Fuck yeah I do, fuck - “ His hips snap harder and you keen. “Pretty as a fuckin picture, still in your weddin’ dress on the floor.” 

“Fuck.” You sigh, fisting at his biceps with slippery fingers. “Barely made it through the motel door.” 

“You looked so fuckin good, honey. Havin’ my baby and ridin’ me on the floor.” His mouth slackens and his eyes slip closed, clearly deep in thought. 

“I wanna do it again, Joel.” You gasp, fingers shakily circling your clit, hard and slippery. 

“Yeah, baby. We’ll have another honeymoon, renew our vows first and everythin’.” He grunts. 

“Baby.” You whimper in his ear. “I’m cumming, fuck me harder.” You say it breathlessly and all his carnal instincts take over, he fucks you that hard the headboard slams into the wall and takes a layer of sage green paint off. You’re loud through your climax, hips jumping and blood rushing through every vein like accelerant and fire. 

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” He groans, fingers moulding into the mattress, orgasm hitting so hard it makes the edges of his vision blacken. “Fuckin’ Christ.” You kiss his throat from your place beneath him, licking his jugular like the fucking minx you are, biting a tendon. 

The white of his teeth is blinding as his lip curls into a near snarl, the pulse of warmth as he orgasms spreads within you and you pant, flushed from head to toe. 

You kiss him as he grunts to completion, teeth clashing. 

“You’re so good - so good.” You murmur into his mouth, frantically pushing his hair from his damp forehead. “You’re perfect.” You hum, enraptured. 

“That’s you.” He smiles, lip curving against yours. “My pretty little wife.” 

He strokes your hair and traces your features, eyes searching yours for something; hope maybe and you smile gently at him, pulling him down beside you once he’s withdrawn from the warmth of your body. 

You rest against him, cheek to his chest to listen to the thrum below. You count his freckles and you trace his knuckles, you kiss his exposed skin over and over, you absorb as much of him as you can, feeling fulfilled for the first time in weeks. 

Joel quietly observes you, you lean up on your elbow, dragging your manicured nails down the centre of his chest, he watches you with his arm behind his head. You pause and lean down to rest your chin on his sternum, blinking with those fluttery lashes that cast a shadow high on your cheekbones. 

“Thank you for my flowers.” You say, he smiles softly and reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers. “Wanted to do somethin’ nice for you, Ellie messaged me and said you’d had a tough week at work before that dumb fucking argument we had.” His long fingers comb through your hair, you rest easily on his stomach now, letting your eyes slip shut. “Wanna talk about it, baby?” 

“Not really.” You huff. “I don’t want to unload my problems on you.” Joel sighs in exasperation at your vague answer. 

“You can tell me anythin’, you know that.” 

“We’re supposed to be taking time apart to stop the fighting, me unloading everything onto you isn’t going to help that.” You tell him. 

“I think communication is exactly what we need.” He disagrees. 

“You’re starting an argument now.” You chuckle with an eye roll, resting your cheek against his warm skin. He rolls his eyes back but doesn’t reply, continuing to stroke your hair, twirling some around his finger. “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“What if we can’t fix this?” 

“We can.” He replies determinedly. “Nearly twenty years together and two kids later, I’m still so in love with you, whether we’re fighting or not.” 

“I love you.” You murmur. 

“I love you more.” He replies. “And I love our girls.” Joel adds. 

“Me too.” You shift and snuggle into him, resting your head beneath his chin. 

He holds you quietly, his touch a major comfort. You think back over the almost month it’s been since the marriage counsellor had suggested Joel move out of the martial house for awhile and stay with his brother, just so you could see if distance would be beneficial after the amalgamation of late working nights, the stress of parenting two teenage girls and life itself along with naturally getting older, you already dancing that line of perimenopause. 

The space had made you realise you didn’t want to be without him and you’d both seemed to realise that you didn’t want to split up, you just needed to figure out a way to make things work. 

“I think we should trial the time apart for another week and keep seeing the counsellor for a few more months.” You begin. “I’m gonna figure something out at work and reduce my hours, no more bringing it home with me.” 

“That sounds good.” Joel murmurs, twisting a piece of your hair. “I’m goin’ to cut my days down to four, I think the finances will be fine and I want to be around here more for you and the girls.” He tells you, you nod slowly and blink away the tears that have suddenly come at the softness of his voice. 

“I don’t care if we have to give up any extra luxuries, I just need you and our kids here happy.” You emphasise. 

“That’s what I want too, baby. No more arguments over stupid shit, I’m sorry for bein’ so fuckin’ horrible lately.” 

“I was horrible too, Joel.” You say. “We just need to keep working on things and if we feel an argument brewing then we should take a step back and reassess what’s caused it and find a solution just like the therapist says.” You advise. “Also we should make time for a date night every week.” 

“Sounds good to me, baby.” Joel agrees, tugging you forward. “Kiss me, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He murmurs sweetly and you go easily, moulding yourself over him to meet him for a deep kiss that speaks a thousand words and apologies. 

“Hey.” You say suddenly, eyes flitting over to the vanity where multiple photo frames sit. “You remember that trip we took to Seattle when the kids were little?” Joel follows your line of sight where they’re focused on one of the smaller frames holding two polaroids, one of Sarah and Ellie when they were eight and four, then another you’d taken of Joel on the pier with the wheel behind him you’d taken. 

“Yeah.” He says fondly. “That was a great trip, the kids loved it.” 

“What was that girl called that Ellie made friends with at the aquarium?” You smile as you think of a rambunctious Ellie, stomping around holding her Daddy’s hand in her tiny overalls, pointing at every fish she saw swimming ahead in the glass tunnels. 

“Oh er… fuck. What was it? Little blonde girl with a braid.” He recites, thinking back almost a decade. “Abby!” He suddenly exclaims and you hum, nodding. 

“That was it, they were so cute together watching the sea lion show, remember how jealous Sarah was that she thought all Ellie’s love was being stolen away.” You giggle, nuzzling his shoulder. “We should go again now they’re grown up.” 

There’s a comfortable silence as you bask in the evening sun coming through the window behind the bed, coating you in warmth while you lazily make out with your husband like you used to as teenagers in his beat up truck. 

You moan into his mouth when a hand sneakily skims your back and moulds to the fleshiest part of your backside. Sitting back to take a breath, you begin to kiss at his stubbled jaw, focusing intently on the grey patches and working yourself down his throat, to his clavicle and down his chest where he has yours, Sarah’s and Ellie’s name tattooed over his heart. 

He props himself up in interest on his elbows when you make it to his sternum, nipping near his navel and dragging your nails through the smattering of hair below it until you reach his groin. 

“You think you can go again?” You smirk at him, nipping his hip, sucking a small bruise into the skin above his pubic area.

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll be rarin’ to go.” He huffs, cradling the back of your head when you lick above his pubic area.

You move lower and his cock begins to swell against his thigh, his thighs tense when your hot breath drifts over his length. 

Just as you’re about to drag your tongue over the flushed head of him, you hear a car skim across the gravel driveway and you both freeze. 

“Shit, that’s the kids.” You panic, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed to gather up something to wear. “Quick!” You urge Joel who looks equally as panicked as he yanks up his boxers. You find a long floral dress to throw on from the corner and manage to yank up the panties you were wearing earlier, the crotch becomes sodden with the semen but you ignore the uncomfortable wet feeling and try to fan away the flush on your cheeks as you watch your husband get dressed. 

You’re both barrelling down the stairs just as the front door opens and you bump into Joel as you skid on foyer tiles, he steadies you as your kids stare back. 

You and Joel try to act casual despite the feral things you’ve just done.

“You’re back early.” You squeak, very aware of your damp hair and smudged makeup. 

It’s a mere second before your daughter’s come barrelling full force towards the apple of their eyes, pregnancy and labour be damned. 

“Dad!” The girls squeal in unison, rushing to hug him. He wraps an arm around each of them, eyes slipping shut with contentment. 

“Hi, my girls.” He sighs happily, nosing Ellie’s hairline and then Sarah’s. 

“Missed you.” You hear Ellie tell him. 

“Hi, mom.” You mock unseriously, crossing your arms. 

“Hey, mom.” Ellie mocks devilishly, tilting her head back with the same teasing look her father possesses more often than not. She’s her father’s daughter, a carbon copy of him whereas Sarah is more like you. 

“You have a good afternoon?” You ask when Sarah meanders her way into your orbit, wrapping her arms around your waist. She nods against you and you tuck some hair out of her face, she nuzzles into you. 

“The movie was packed so we got frozen yoghurt and walked around Target instead, we got you some candy.” She says sweetly, rubbing her cheek into your collar whilst Ellie is resting her chin against Joel’s chest with her arms wound around his waist, whispering something that makes him chuckle and sway her from side to side tenderly. 

She stares up at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon just for you, you’re certain she’d crawl into his rib cage and stay there if she could and you don’t blame her.

“Thank you, sweet girls.” You beam. “Hey, are you both in for dinner tonight?” You suddenly wonder. 

“Yes, sir.” Ellie replies. 

“I’ve got no plans.” Sarah shrugs. 

“How about we Doordash something? Could eat it on the patio?” You suggest and Ellie cheers, Joel chuckles into her hair. 

“Even Dad?” Sarah hesitates as she asks, looking at you hopefully. Your heart breaks, Joel staying away had some serious effects in the first week even though they knew you weren’t going through a divorce and trying to fix things. Ellie acted out at school and Sarah shut herself away, both missing their father’s presence at home even though they saw him most days after school and on weekends if they weren’t out with friends. 

You’d never stopped them seeing him and wouldn’t dare to even if things were irreparable between you. 

“Of course.” You answer Sarah, Ellie looks between you and Joel curiously, her eyes narrow when she sees him smiling softly at you and clocks you blushing. 

“Whatcha both been doing?” Ellie asks slyly. 

“Hanging out, your Dad fixed the shelf for me.” You tell her nonchalantly over Sarah’s head. “So uh.. which one of you ratted on me for breaking it?” 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, man.” Ellie sniffs, you tug the end of her ponytail.

“Mmm.” You murmur, unconvinced. “Go get changed into something comfy and have a think about what you fancy for dinner.” You order, nodding towards the stairs. 

“Race ya!” Ellie bellows suddenly, pushing Sarah into you to get a head start. 

“Hey!” Her older sister shouts, barrelling after her while you sigh and head towards the kitchen, the peace and quiet officially gone. 

Joel gives you a flirtatious look and your heart jumps, your chest warms as do your cheeks. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You demand, pushing his face away in the opposite direction. He chuckles and grabs your wrist, using it as leverage to pull you to him.  

“What? Like I want to eat you?” He murmurs lowly, you hum affirmatively. “Maybe I do.” 

“That could be arranged.” You whisper, he takes you back into his arms, walking with you until you hit the edge of the kitchen island. You pull him into a kiss, dragging your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

He growls lowly and hoists you up onto the surface, stepping between your legs, running his hands up and down your parted thighs. 

“The kids are listenin’ to us.” Joel whispers into your ear when he pulls away, nodding outside of the kitchen entryway where you realise you didn’t hear them run all the way to the top of the stairs. 

“No, we’re not!” Sarah has the audacity to yell with offence, you giggle into Joel’s t-shirt.

“Get changed before I make your Dad cook his famous spaghetti surprise dinner tonight instead of getting take out!” You holler back. 

“That was one time.” Joel complains under his breath. 

“Make us a sister.” Ellie shouts from halfway upstairs. 

“No chance! Dad got snipped after you anyway, he said you were more than enough trouble and you were barely out the womb!” You shout back, cackling when you hear both her and Sarah gag fiercely. 

“It’s true!” Joel adds. “I had frozen peas on my crotch for days!”

“Gross!” They both exclaim. 

That night, you sit on the patio furniture, with your husband and children, your feet cradled in his lap with glasses of wine and takeout with quiet music playing from Alexa, giggling and telling them stories of your teenage years and some of a time they’re too young to remember, planning a trip to Seattle they’re ecstatic over. 

You’re certain that everything will be okay.