#also its funny because she completely disappears the minute the baby is born and hes called nicolas

[diari0deglierrori]

Valentina Romani, Bardot (2023)

[words-for-holland]

Always Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Sometimes dating a celebrity is hard...but Tom & Y/N have always said no matter what happens they could get through anything. Some angst but a lot of fluff.

A/N: So sorry for leaving yall hanging! Life is just crazy right now and this blog needs a lot of TLC tbh!! Also ehh I def dont think this was my best work but enjoy?

“Oof” Y/N lets out as she plops on to her boyfriend who was lying comfortable on the couch. Tom groaned at the impact with a cheeky smile on his face, his arms instantly wrapping around Y/N’s frame.

“Y’know..there are empty seats right there.” The soft brown-eyed boy gestured with the flick of his thick head as Y/N raises her eyes looking down at him, pretending to be slightly offended.

“Oh I see how it is then. It’s cool...Ill just cuddle with Tessa instead. I know she would welcome me with open arms instead of—” As she slowly starts getting off his chest, Tom is quick to pull her back in, securing her with his strong arms. “No baby, I was just kidding. I want you right here, and Im never letting you go.” he pleas.

The only thing Y/N could manage was letting out a fit of giggles into his chest, a sound that Tom adored and would do absolutely anything to hear every minute of every day. They stay like this for a while enjoying the feeling of each other as they both run their hands into each others hair, the feeling of their chests moving up and down, the subtle thumps of their heartbeats, and the little slips of adoration that came out of their mouths. It was peaceful. A moment that nobody could really take a way because it was theirs.

Y/N casually pulls up her phone, and scrolls through Twitter when she noticed a particular tweet on her timeline. Her eyebrows furrow, as she read the 160 character message.

Why Tom Holland Should Be With Aaliyah Cole and Dump Y/N: A Thread.

She knew it wasnt a good idea to open up the thread. She knew very well that everything within the shallow string of tweets would be a complete waste of her time because it was made up by fans who just wanted to satisfy their fantasy of shipping Tom with his co-star. Who can blame them? They always had great chemistry, but it was part of the job and thats all it would ever be.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tom murmurs, as he places soft kisses at the crown of her head. “Whats going on?” She was lucky her phone was facing away from Tom, quickly closing the app and pretending to be on one of her many tabs in Safari.

“Mmm..nothing.” Y/N lies softly, a tight-lipped smiled plastered on her face.

“Absolute bullocks. Youre not a very good liar.” He chuckles. “Tell me darling. Whats on your mind?”

Y/N rolls her eyes in response. She’s heard that comment one too many times in her life from everyone shes known. After not giving it much thought, she gives in, sighing heavily. “Dont judge me for what Im about to say.”

“Mmm...I think it might depend on wha— Ow” Tom reacts as he playfully rubs the side of his chest that Y/N hit. “Okay too soon for jokes. Go on.”

Again, Y/N sighs as she props herself up. “Its just ... well a lot of your fans keeps talking about wanting you to get with Aaliyah.” She looks down trying not to make eye contact with Tom, who she’d imagine was looking at her with annoyance.

Tom rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness. Not so much at Y/N but the fact that some of his fans just didnt want to accept the fact that he was happy with Y/N. If it had to come from his mouth to stop the stupid rumors and give his girlfriend peace, then hed gladly yell it from the rooftops for everyone to hear. “Thats it Im making a statement about it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen in fear, scrambling to prevent him from grabbing his phone on the table next him. “No no no no.” She repeatedly declines. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Darling, Im not going to stand here and watch you get all insecure because of their delusional ship.”

“Yeah well Im not gonna be the reason your fans hate me because Im getting in the way of your friendship with Aaliyah Cole.” She fires back.

Tom was ready to open his mouth only to be cut off once again. “And you know better. That is how your fans will always see it.”

“Okay, are you done?” He calmly asked, cautiously observing her. Rarely did Y/N ever get worked up about anything, but when she had her tangents, Tom always made sure she got off everything she needed to say before he becomes her voice of reason.

“Yeah, I guess.” she says feeling defeated. “Look its whatever and Im tired, can we just let this go and forget this whole conversation even happened?”

Tom was unconvinced, but didnt want to push her further. So reluctantly, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Y/N as they both tried to lull themselves to sleep.

***

Y/N wasnt sure how she ended up in the Tube. It was strange how the lights flickered off the rusted tile floor. The train was no where to be seen, but off to the side of the railroads was pitch black, she could hardly see beyond. To her right she noticed herself standing in the corner of the room, and to her surprise Aaliyah was there. Her milk chocolate kissed skin, and fashionably long frizzy hair dropped down past her shoulders. Her figure long and poised, as she wore a rain jacket and sweats. An outfit only she could pull off and make it look like she was a model for Vogue. Aasliyah smiles brightly at Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.” She says cheerfully as a genuine friend would.

To Y/N’s surprise she greeted her back in the same tone. “Hey Aaliyah...uhh whats going on?” Y/N wasnt sure if she wanted the answer of how they both ended up in the Tube or if she truly wanted to know how her day went.

“Well Im getting ready to present at the Oscars.” She replies, a smile plastered as if she was so excited about it, almost too excited like she was keeping a secret.

“Really? Oh my god, that’s amazing! Im so proud of you Aaliyah! Who are you taking?”

Aaliyah pauses for a few moment looking back and forth, making sure no one else was around. “Okay can you keep a secret?” She whispered.

Y/N nods her head slowly, not having the slightest clue of what was going on. “Im taking Tom. I think he really likes me, and well...I like him too! Do you think maybe I should ask him when we go?” Aaliyah asked genuinely. It was almost like she had no recollection of Y/N and Tom being a couple. “I think we would look good together. Everyone is already making rumors and ships about us.”

Y/N backs aways lowly only to bump into a broad figure. As she turns around she sees Tom, emotionless and almost sad. “Y/N.” He speaks out. “I dont think this is going to work out. Im leaving you.”

Y/N’s heart quickens, and her breaths become shorter as she tries to find a way to run. Running and running into the darkness, until all she could hear was Tom’s faint voice calling out her name.

***

“Y/N! Y/N! Baby wake up please.” Tom cries as he gently shakes his girlfriend from her disturbed sleep.

Quickly Y/N opens her eyes and clutches on to Toms hoodie firmly. Back home, and in Toms arms. It was a dream was all she thought. A sigh of relief escaping from her mouth.

“Darling...” he speaks softly, worried about his girlfriend. “Are you okay?”

Y/N looks up at him and nods frantically. “Mmm..bad dream.”

“Yeah it seemed like it. You were so frightened...I was scared. What happened?” He’s looking at her, trying to read her saddened eyes, wanting to desperately understand what scared her so he could make it all go away for her.

Y/N looks down at her fiddling hands, as she sits on the couch. “I uhh...” she lets out a chuckle, thinking of the ridiculousness of it all. “I uhh...dreamed about Aaliyah going to the oscars and saying how she loved you and how you two are perfect for each other. When I turned around I saw you but you werent happy and said you were leaving me.”

Tom doesnt say a word, all he could think about was how sorry he felt to put Y/N in this position. Though both of them knew, It wasnt Toms fault, or anyone’s for that matter. Feelings are feelings and that was okay. No human being was ever born perfect and without insecurities.

Y/N always tried to be a good sport with situations like this knowing every shippers theory and evidence were hardly ever true, but at some point there was only so much she could take before it all came out like an oil spill. Maybe it was a sign that she wasnt good enough to be with Tom if half of his fanbase thought this way as well.

Tom cradled her into his arms again, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “Darling, I know youre still doubting yourself about all of this, but please believe me when I tell you that I love you so so much and no matter what happens...Im always yours.” He whispers gently in her ear. “It was only a dream and these ridiculous rumors and theories are just that. No one woman in the world could ever make me feel the way I feel for you.”

Y/N blinks softly, as she stares into space. Afraid and in a weird way ashamed, its funny how something so small and so minimal could affect her self-esteem so greatly. Tom gently brings her head up, so her eyes can meet his. He rolls his thumb on the bottom of her soft lips. “Hey, I love you.” Tom smiles.

Time stopped for the both of them the moment Y/N looked into his eyes, she felt safe. All the bad words and thoughts slowly disappear. Tom was right, none of the things that anyone said about their relationship mattered. She knew Tom loved her, and how much she truly loved him. Isnt that enough? Of course not. It was more than enough. A smile slowly forming on Y/N’s face. “Theres that smile I love so much.” He comments.

“Im sorry, for being such a —”

“No. Its okay. You have a right to feel the way you did.” He picks up her hand and leaves a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much Tom.” She says pressing her lips to his. “I dont deserve you.”

“Darling, its me that doesnt deserve you. Im always yours.” Tom proclaims as he kisses her back.

[horrorslashergirl]

Slasher OC: Alexander Chirilă (Update)

Authors Note: He was supposed to be a supporting character, but my brain developed his character more and decided to make him a full on OC.

Full Name: Alexander Chirilă

Nickname(s): Ally, Alex, Sasha, Black Killer, Panther, Blackburn, Colton

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Nationality: Romanian

Place of Birth: Bucharest, Romania

Current Location: Travels all around the world to find his twin brother to kill him (formerly), Traveling alongside his brother and sister (Currently)

Occupation: Assassin

Languages: Romanian, English, Japanese, Greek, and Belarusian

Appearance:

Height: 6'8

Weight: 240lbs

Body Type: Atheltic

Skin Color: Warm Beige

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Hair Style: Short on the sides and longer on top, unlike his twin brother Decebal, his hair isn't wavy, has a spikier look

Eye Color: Pale Grey, almost white, giving the impression he is blind

Clothing: His clothes are all black, wearing combat gear that consists of black shirts and black jackets, black cargo pants, and black combat boots, black gauntlet gloves. He also wears knee and elbow protection along with a tactical bulletproof vest and utility belt where he carries his weapons. As an assassin, he wears a tactical black skull mask.

Other features: Unlike his twin brother Decebal; Colton has a much darker and scarier appearance, especially the two scars on his face that start from his hairline, down his forehead, and over his eyelids, continuing over his cheeks and neck and stopping at his collarbones.

Weapons: Twin Katana swords, throwing knives, grenades, gloves with metal claws and twin guns strapped on the holsters on his thighs.

Power/Skills:

Murderous expertise

Strength

Skilled usage of weaponry

Skill in hand-to-hand combat

Knifesmanship

Swordsmanship

Ruthlessness

Fearlessness

Marksmanship

Stealth

Superior agility

Impressive Flexibility

Overly High Inteligence

Knowledge about Bombs and Chemistry

Medical/Surgeon Skills

History/Bio:

Alexander Chirilă was the second born son to father Apostol Chirilă, and his mother, Maria Stratulat of Moldovic heritage. He was born after 20 minutes after Decebal was born, during the communist era in Romania, and because the parents couldn't support both children, they passed Alexander to an orphanage only to be sold over the country boundaries for human trafficking.

Before he could be bought for organ trafficking in America, an old lady took him in, raising Alexander, choosing a new identity for him so that he could protect him from his former life.

Until the age of 12, former Alexander, now Colton was raised in America by the old lady who quickly got sick by a severe form of cancer. Before she could die, she decided that Alexander had the right to know about his former life and she told him his story before she died in her bed.

After the reveal, Alexander researched all about the information, finding out what his biological parents did and about Decebal, only to blame his older twin brother for what happened.

As a teenager, Alexander was raised more by the streets, doing everything to survive, drug smuggling, stealing and he even killed a man for trying to steal the drug package he was carrying. That's when a hitman saw the 16-year-old boy and took him in, seeing all the hate and rage in Alexander's white eyes.

The hitman trained Alexander to be a ruthless killer, making him a master of sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat. Spending time along with assassins and hitmen, he meets Yumie Takahashi, a female assassin with prosthetic blade legs that quickly took a fancy for him, following him all around to the point where she fell in love with him, but Alexander doesn't return her feelings and used her blind love for him in his own greedy ways, her being his lap-dog.

Later on, Alexander and Yumie meet Nikita Sergei in Belarus while they tried to track down Decebal. They meet the Belarusian during an ambush between the Belarusian Police and the Belarusian Mafia, Nikita being one of the Mafias hitmen.

Nikita was almost killed during that bullet rain between Police and Mafia, only for Alexander to save him, but for that Nikita had to work for Colton, being his left hand next to the right hand, that being Yumie.

The three continued together, Yumie and Nikita assisting Alexander on his mission of annihilating his twin brother, Decebal.

After a brutal fight between the two brothers which resulted in both of them almost dead, they get on an agreement of peace between them, with the help of their third part, their little sister Nadia.

Personality:

Alexander is the complete opposite of Decebal in the matter of personality. Decebal is a happy-go-lucky, easy-going, charming, seductive, and modest guy, while Alexander is brutal, snarky, comes of as straight-up rude, blunt, and sharp-tongued if provoked, but overall keeps to himself since he has a problem with his 'intimacy'.

The smaller twin brother, unlike Decebal who is all laid-back, Alexander has a bad temper, but the type of temper that comes and goes, like the one of a child. He would be considered passive-aggressive.

Alexander doesn't know how to deal with his strong emotions and usually they manifest into a tsunami of uncontrollable feelings; especially when teased about sensitive topics, and may have outbursts of anger which would be considered 'funny' because he gets all red-faced, voice shuttering and doesn't know what to say or how to react. This part of his personality may also come off as very shy and sensitive, especially if people flirt with him because he is socially awkward and he never was one to be good at smooth-talking.

After making peace with his big brother, Alexander may open up little by little, showing good traits of his personality, but is still the opposite of Decebal.

Unlike Decebal, who is very charismatic, sensual, and opened up about his sexuality; Alexander is the very hard opposite, especially considering he had never been intimate with someone. Alexander is very shy when it comes to his intimacy and sexuality, almost to the point if someone presses him with sexual questions he will get all flustered and defensive.

This is a sign that Alexander is very self-conscious about his complete inexperience in the matter of getting intimate. It's a very big irony, seeing how on the battlefield he is very confident in his combat skills.

A good trait of Alexander is that he is a very big hard worker. He has the mentality that you cannot achieve something for free and have to work hard to earn it, since all his life he had to work to make it through life: As a little kid, he had to take care of the old lady that was his guardian until she died, then he had to do everything his Master said if he wanted to achieve the assassin training.

One thing that he shares with Decebal is the daredevil and competitive side, but Alexander's competitive side takes a very serious turn, finding himself willing to challenge his big brother at all kinds of provocations. It's the brotherly antagonistic demeanor.

His favorite drink: Green Tea

His favorite food: Ramen or Chicken and Rice Casserole

Other Characteristics:

Alexander loves fairytales and all types of mythic legends, mostly because the old lady that was his guardian in the first part of his life always used to tell him these types of stories before bedtime.

He is actually a very good cook. When he went to train with his Master Hitman, he has also signed the duty to do the cooking and clean the Masters' house as a form of payment for the training services. The Master would throw the food on the floor or at Alexander if it wasn't good enough and Alexander had to cook the dish again until it was 'perfect'.

He is an earlier riser in the morning, mostly because that's how he was raised; his assassin training started very early in the morning and before that, he had to prepare breakfast for his Master.

He loves to listen to the birds singing in the morning while he drinks his coffee or green tea.

His scent can be described as on a more feminine edge; giving off floral scents like lotus, orchid, and jasmine, with middle notes of vanilla tobacco, bergamot, and white musk.

Unlike his big brother Decebal who is a heavy drinker, Alexander cannot hold his liquor and is a sad drunk, getting depressed over the fact that he was separated from his siblings at birth, especially Decebal. When Alexander gets drunk he tends to mutter to himself 'I wish I never was born'.

Considering his personality, he would be described as a tsundere.

He is a master at chess due to playing with his Master in their free time. He can sit for hours and play chess, probably the only thing he is the most patient with.

He loves hot springs; immersion in warm water produces hydrostatic pressure on the body that results in reduced joint inflammation and increased mobility, plus it helps him relax his vulcanic mind.

He is a smoker just like his siblings, Decebal and Nadia.

Despite his scars and hard training, he has soft baby skin.

Symbolism for Alexander:

Black Panther- speaks to our soul with the shimmering energy of the Moon; this big cat is the ultimate shapeshifter and the master of disguise. Panther’s sleek black coat cloaks its true identity in the shadows. It isn’t until you are close to a Panther that their illusion falls away and who they really become visible. Alexander may seem like a very cold and harsh individual, hard to approach from the distance, but as you get closer and closer to him, pulling away all the layers that hide him, you learn that he is actually a pretty sensitive and misunderstood guy.

The Black Panther is a loner, hunting solitary. They hunt silently, seeming to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye; this means that Black Panther people can be very elusive. You may have to wait for them to find you. This means that you will have to wait and be patient in order for Alexander to open up to you, which cannot happen in one day. People who have the Black Panther as their spirit animal rarely reveal too much about themselves.

The Lotus flower- is a symbol of purity, enlightenment, self-regeneration, and rebirth. Its characteristics are a perfect analogy for the human condition: even when its roots are in the dirtiest waters, the Lotus produces the most beautiful flower. This shows Alexanders' persona, like a lotus bud, in his earlier life and so on, he was buried deep within lots of responsibilities, hardships, and struggles. We can say that once he made peace with his older brother, his blooming slowly started to take place, Decebal acting more so like the essence to Alexanders blooming. Its journey from a muddy seed to a glorious blossom offers the hope that something beautiful can grow from suffering, that we too will eventually bloom.

[besidemethewholedamntime]

now that i see you

I couldn’t help myself and ending up writing another fic. I hope you don’t mind, and i hope you enjoy! 

Summary:

'“I know you,” Jemma says, her voice a soft whisper. “Isn’t that strange? As soon as I saw you I knew you. It feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”'

A moment between Jemma and her baby.

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

The thing about space is that there is no time, so Jemma has no idea whether it is early or late as she lays in their bed, holding their newborn baby girl in her arms. She doesn’t know if it’s been hours or minutes since she was placed there, and honestly, she doesn’t care. Right now, she would be perfectly happy to take this moment and live in it forever.

“Hello, you,” Jemma says softly as her daughter snuffles a little and opens her eyes. “It’s so very good to meet you.”

She’s not accustomed to holding children, and during these seemingly never-ending months of pregnancy, it had become one of many irrational fears. What if I don’t know how to hold them, Fitz? she had cried into his shoulder once, voice full of terror. What if I drop them?

You have never failed at one thing in your life, he’d said quite firmly, though he’d been rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles. There is no way you will fail at holding a baby.

Looking back on that moment now feels so silly with her daughter now safely in her arms as though she’s always belonged there. Jemma knows all about intuition and instinct in parenting, but she just never imagined how it would feel. Their daughter hasn’t been in the world a full day yet, and already the time before her arrival is growing fuzzy, fading away into irrelevance. In this moment she cares very little of all that has come before.

She runs a gentle finger over their daughter’s forehead, her nose, her chin. Impossibly small and incredibly perfect. Their daughter’s blue eyes follow her movement, but she doesn’t cry or give any other indication of upset. She watches her mother, just as her mother watches her.

“I know you,” Jemma says, her voice a soft whisper. “Isn’t that strange? As soon as I saw you I knew you. It feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Ever since they have known they were going to become parents, Jemma has loved her daughter, and what has surprised her is how it is so different from the way she loves Fitz. He is her best-friend, her partner, her soulmate, he always will be, and she loves him endlessly. Or she thought she did. Looking down now into this tiny face, each detail already committed to memory, she knows that it’s not quite true. As much as she loves Fitz, she will forever love their daughter more, and there’s nothing within her that makes her sorry for that.

He feels the same way, she knows he does. In those precious few moments just after their daughter was born, Jemma had caught him looking at her with an indescribable look in his face. It’s a look that Jemma’s only caught in flashes over the years, a moment seen out of the corner of her eye before it disappeared. When they were standing in front of the sunrise. When he told her she was something magnificent. When she found him in space, and then again the second time. When she married him. That look that does such funny things to her heart but that she’s never caught more than a glimpse of in all the years she’s known him.

When he had held their daughter for the first time she had seen it clearly for what it was. A thousand other things, but the greatest of these was love. Pure and simple love that asked of nothing in return. That look that she’s felt on her skin all these years in flashes was now being given completely unreservedly to their child, and Fitz’s heart, which once had its home with Jemma, now fully belonged to their daughter.

“You are so perfect,” she says now. “So beautiful.” The baby looks up at her, slowly blinking. “Magnificent.”

How fitting it is that she was born in space, all of the majesty of the cosmos lying before them. All those years ago when she hoped of finding something magnificent, she never could have dreamed it would be their daughter. But it makes sense now, it all completely makes sense. There is nothing more magnificent than her.

Jemma looks to Fitz, who sits in the floor next to the bed, back against the wall. Giving them space, but also unable to be parted from them even just into the other room, he’d sat there and tried his hardest to stay awake. It had been in vain, however, and his eyes had shut not long after. His breathing is deep and even, but she knows even the slightest noise would wake him and he’d be by her side in an instant. He deserves a rest, and Jemma, who up until now has had the most intimate bond with her daughter, would just like a moment before she has to let that go.

“It might be a little strange around here at first. Well, not for you I suppose. This is all you’ll have known. But for us it might take some adjusting, so if you could just bear with us until we do, that would be great.”

It’s not how she wanted to do it. She wanted to be retired from SHIELD first and be free from the danger and uncertainty that had followed her and Fitz for so long. She wanted to have a house first, and a big garden that her child could run around and play in. It would have been nice to have her parents there. She hasn’t seen or even spoken to them in so long. It feels cruel to have kept this away from them, even though she knows there was no other way. Her mum and dad, who have always given her so much and encouraged her to chase every opportunity she had. What would they make of all this?

She understands them more now than she ever has before. To love your child is to want them to have the things you never did, and for them to find the world in a better place than before. This may not be how she would have chosen it, but it’s the way it’s happened and Fitz is right – they do deserve to take some time and just be. Of course they will save their friends and the world, but their daughter now comes before all that. She deserves some time to just grow, and they deserve that time with her. In case the worst does happen when they have to return to their mission, Jemma wants to ensure that their daughter knows them. She won’t let them become a ghost in a photograph or a voice in a half-faded memory. Unable to give their daughter everything she would like to at this moment, she will damn well give her that.

“I’m afraid I don’t have very much practice with babies,” she says. “Neither of us do. But we’ll figure it out, alright? You don’t ever have to worry about a thing because we’ll fix it together. Just like always.”

She glances over at Fitz. Dear, sweet Fitz who has always been by her side. They have been torn apart so many times, but just one more and then that’s it. They’re done.

“We’ll love you forever,” Jemma says, needing it to be said. “You never have to keep secrets from us, and we’ll never keep them from you. You can always tell us anything.” She laughs a little.  “I promise you there’s not a lot that can shock us anymore.”

Shock, no, but surprise? She is surprised every time she wakes up and finds Fitz still next to her, one arm curled around her so he can feel if she moves in the night. She was constantly surprised all the way through her pregnancy, from the little kicks and lazy somersaults she felt. She is surprised now every time her heart beats, because it beats with so much love for this tiny being whose very existence in this world is nothing short of a miracle.

“There’s so much I want to share with you and tell you about how we got here.” Jemma sniffs, but a tear falls on their daughter’s forehead anyway. Gently she wipes it away with her thumb, and their baby just keeps on looking upwards, completely enchanted.

“It took us such a long time, but we made it. I’ll tell you all about it someday, about how once upon a time there were two young scientists who embarked on the biggest adventure, and how it changed their whole lives forever.”

Sixteen and achingly shy, to having a daughter in the sky. Is the ride worth it? she once asked. Oh yes it is, she wants to tell her younger self. It’s worth everything you’ve ever done or had done to you. You will get there one day. Just hold on, and keep holding on tight.

“The important bit, though, the only part you need to know right now, is that they loved each other. They loved each other more than there are words or stars, and their love was so big it could overcome anything that was in their way. And a love like that, stronger than any curse, brought them you.”

Their baby shifts and Jemma feels her heart flip over on itself. She holds her closer, knowing that she is living in a moment that is already a memory.

“You are extraordinary. No matter what you do or who you become, know you always will be.”

She’s crying now, but from the sheer happiness she feels inside her heart. The complete and utter joy that this small being who is half her and half Fitz and just wholly herself exists. Softly she kisses her on the forehead, looking down into those eyes that already seem wise beyond their years, as if they hold the secrets to the entire universe.

“You’re our everything,” she says thickly, trying so very hard not to sob and wake up Fitz. She doesn’t want to worry him. “The biggest star in star in all of the skies. We’ll make it all better for you. Just you wait and see.”

Once upon a time she said that the answer was in the stars, and only now does she realise just how right she was. Their daughter is the answer to every question she could ever have, the reason for every decision ever made. She is the beat in their hearts and the breath in their lungs. She is the promise of a brighter, better future to be made, where they can all go on despite their losses.

The brightest star in all of their skies, she is what they are fighting for.

[thepaperpanda]

Uncle Venom || Eddie Brock x Reader

|| Part II ||

Summary: Reader turns out to be pregnant. A huge change is nearing for both her and Eddie. What Venom will say about it?

Warnings: none

Words: 2666

Authors: Cass & Rouge

You felt like you had the most terrible hangover all the time. You were nauseous and liable to vomit at the slightest provocation. You couldn't even fill up your car with petrol without the fumes making you wretch and heave. And it lasted all damn day. How could anything so natural feel so bad? It was worse than gastric flu, at least with the flu you knew it would be over in a few days. This could go on for another seven months.

"Goddamn," you cursed as soon as you crossed the threshold of Eddie's flat, holding shopping bags in both of your hands. You put them on the floor and closed the door behind you.

The most stressing thing was still ahead - you had to inform Eddie.

Eddie was doing something in the kitchen with Venom looking over his shoulder. "Pal, I swear. If you won't stop drolling on the cake butter, you’ll eat it raw," man muttered before looking over his shoulder to spot you. "Y/N, finally, I was getting worried!," Eddie said and walked to you despite Venom's whining.

"No, no, don't leave that tasty cake, Eddie, you fucker!," Venom whined sadly but his face lit up as soon as he spotted you. "Y/N, my saviour has come!"

You smiled gently and stroked Venom's head. "Hello, boys. Eddie," you looked at your boyfriend. "Listen, after dinner we have to talk, okay?"

Eddie wrapped his arm around you and hugged you gently before taking the bag from you, he watched Venom eagerly dived into it to look after something for him. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Eddie looked at you with a worried gaze. "Is everything allright, sweetheart?"

"Later. I'm hungry," you smiled his question away and poked Venom's head. "Pal, I bought you your favourite chocolate bars with nuts."

Venom made huge, puppy eyes and licked his face with his long tongue. "Y/N is a queen, see that, Eddie? Take an example from her, she treats me like a real family member."

Eddie looked at Venom even more annoyed. "Just because you are nice to her. You are a dick for me so I treat you equally and you eat the cake raw,”he said and his attention returned to you. "Y/N, you are sure it can wait? You made me really worried now."

"I am," you growled at him, waving your hands angrily. "Unpack this bags and I'll put the cake into the oven, Jesus. I asked you to do it and it's fucking too much for you? Oh, great! Have you seen how our kitchen looks like?! Has any tornado came through it?," You yelled helplessly as soon as you spotted the mess in the kitchen.

Venom and Eddie both looked at you in shock because of your sudden outburst. "This... can't be normal," Eddie muttered looking at Venom until he realized that symbiot is just looking at the cake form with his tongue stuck out. "You don't even listen to me, parasite!,” He growled at Venom.

Venom stiffened and straighten his form, towering over man, looking down at Eddie. "Don't call me parasite, you pussy. You ain't any better. You just pissed Y/N off. I told you to clean!"

You raised hand to silent them both. "I go lay down, my head is spinning around. I need a moment of silence, I need to gather my thoughts. You two, clean the kitchen, unpack the bags and prepare dinner. And no, Eddie, I won't be eating Chinese food again," you gave him a look before you left to the bedroom.

"You little!," Eddie was ready to grab Venom in the attempt of chocking him but he immediately reacted to your hand. He listened to you, nodding his head. When you disappeared in the bedroom, Eddie looked at Venom. "You lick off the leftovers and I wash the plates, deal?"

Venom frowned his forehead. "Do we really look like a vaccum cleaner?," He snorted but after this he started to licking food from the counter with his tongue. "Mmm, delicious."

"Now you look like a vacuum cleaner, V,” Eddie said, shaking his head.

Eddie started to work hard to clean the whole kitchen and to wash all the dishes. Later he took upon himself to prepare your favorite meal.

When the meal was ready, Eddie prepared the table at walked to you. He knocked on the door. "Y/N? Sweetheart? Dinner is ready and it's not the Chinese food."

You came to the kitchen after few minutes, yawning, with your hair pinned in a bun. "Wow, I wasn't expecting something like this," you clapped hands and took cutlery in your hands.

Meal tasted delicious and you couldn't get over the rice Eddie has prepared, it was perfect.

Eddie and Venom ate with you, Eddie shyly looked at you. "I hope you like it... I though it will be better than Chinese food," he said quietly, giving Venom big piece of chicken meat.

Venom tried his best to stop himself from eating like a monster. He formed a hand and grabbed piece of meat, taking little bites of it, looking shyly at you.

You thanked Eddie and went to brush your teeth.

When finally you got back, you asked Brock to the living room. You took a place on the couch, crossing legs and looking at him, you let out a deep sigh of concern. "Listen, Eddie. Soon our lives is going to change."

When you were gone Eddie went to quickly clean the dishes again before he went to living room as you asked. Eddie looked at you completely puzzled. "Our lives are going to change. Are you leaving me?," He asked shocked.

You rolled your eyes. "If you'll still be behaving like a pussy, I'll consider such a possibility," he grunted.

Venom couldn't help but giggled loudly, until he spotted angry glance of his host.

Eddie frowned. "You know! After today I wouldn't mind it! I have enough of Venom calling me names and treating me like a piece of trash. I don't need to listen such a things fromthe woman I love,”he growled getting up from his seat, pointing on you. "So stop acting like you would be on your fucking period."

"I'm fucking pregnant!," You yelled at him, also getting up.

Venom blinked and hid behind Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie blinked just as Venom did. "Wait... Wait, you are what?!"

“Fucking pregnant!," You growled. "What means you'll be a father."

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!," Eddie yelled and suddenly picked you up only to spin you around. "This is the best news ever, Y/N!"

"Eddie, stop spinning around, we'll vomit," Venom warned.

"Shut up, next time eat less," Eddie said setting you back on the floor only to hug you tightly. "Do you realize you made me the happiest man with parasite in the entire world?!"

You smiled at him softly and stroked his cheek briefly. "I happen to know."

He hugged you tightly, placing his hand on your belly. "My God, look at it, Venom. There is a new life growing,” Eddie said proudly but quickly he started to panic. "But we need so many stuff."

But Venom didn't look happy at all. He observed you for awhile with interest but soon he turned his head away.

"V? What's wrong?," Eddie asked looking confiused.

Venom didn't respond to man's question, he disconnected himself from Eddie and crawled aside, sitting in front of the window.

Eddie looked at Venom and back at you, then he walked to the window. "Hey, what's wrong, pal? Talk to us."

Venom formed head and looked at Eddie, then turned around to face you.

"What's wrong with you, V?," You asked as you sat in the floor next to the symbiote.

Eddie joined you soon and nodded his head. "Exactly, buddy. You can talk to us, you know that."

"Eddie?," Venom looked at his host. "Is Y/N going to die if the new life is in her?"

"No, of course not. The baby will grow inside her belly and then it will come out. They both will be happy and alive, and healthy," Eddie explained and looked at you. "I feel like we would be talking with our firstborn."

Venom looked at man sadly.

You also glared at your boyfriend angrily, frowning.You offered hand to symbiote. "He is our firstborn of some kind," you said quietly.

Venom looked at you, his white eyes widened, symbiote instinctively nuzzled to your hand.

"Sure he is, now come back here, buddy. You don't need to be worried about anything, both of us will be here... well, three of us, soon," Eddie corrected himself with a short laugh.

"Yeah, funny, Edward," symbiote snapped. "When this little alien will be born, you'll kick me out because you won't be needing me anymore. I'll end up in some dirty drain, all alone... Hungry...," Symbiote started shaking all over its form.

Eddie rolled his eyes and picked Venom up, he set him on his shoulder and started to scratch his head. "Such a stupid thing will never, ever happen, V. You are part of our little family and child will never change it. We will always keep you happy and well-fed."

"Yea! We won't be Y/N's favourite parasite anymore! You'll be focused on your child!," Symbiote was whimpering.

You got up and walked to Eddie, stroking Venom's head as well. "V, how do you think, will we be able to prepare everything on our own? Without such a great planner like you?," You asked.

"Y/N is right. No one makes plans as good as you and child requires a lot of planning, buddy,” Eddie said shrugging. "There is really no need to whimper."

"Okay, okay," Venom agreed. But suddenly he frowned again. "Eddie, may I ask you something?"

"Yes, always,”man nodded.

"Are children tasty?"

Eddie blinked. "No, they aren't! You can't eat them!"

"But if they're chubby and pink, they have to be tasty!"

Eddie just facepalmed and looked at you. "Will you help me with that?"

"V, children are little sentient beings that cannot be eaten," you explained with firm face.

Symbiote nodded at your words, accepting them fully. "Of course, Y/N, whatever you say."

"Sure, you listen to her,” Eddie rolled his eyes. "This isn't fair."

"We listen to the only person with balls here," Venom stack his huge tongue out and licked Eddie's face. "But we love you still."

"I love you too, V,” Eddie shook his head, petting Venom's head.

___few months later___ With each contraction came a pain that dominated yours entire being. In those moments, for those seconds that stretched into infinity, there was nothing else. You could hear screaming from other rooms, yet you made no sound at all. When the pain passed it was only for a minute or so and you breathed with closed eyes, unwilling to re-engage with life outside of your own body. The room might as well have been empty for all the awareness you had, and when they did talk, touch, gain your attention you found it so hard. To reply you had to find yourself from the deepest recess of your own mind and drag yourself forward, to use your voice, open your eyes. The midwife was telling you that is was time, time to push. With a guttural grunt you did so and was told to stop, one was enough. You felt the baby crowning, the hot stretching of flesh and held your breath. Without any further effort the baby slid into the hands of the midwife. There was elation, a girl at last, and in seconds she was there, little being rooting for a mother and it all was accompanied by loud cry.

Eddie was walking in a circle on the hallway, nervously biting on his finger. "V... I will go crazy. THIS IS CRAZY! What if she will die!? I WON'T BE ALBE TO RAISE A CHILD ALONE!,” Eddie whimpered stepping into a total panic state.

"Months ago you were assuring us that Y/N is not going to die and now you mention death?," Venom snarled.

"I am just panicking! It takes so long and I miss her!," Eddie said, flopping on the chair. "I want to already see her and the baby."

"We want it too!," Venom nodded his head.

Midwife came out of the labour room. "Mr Brock?," She said loudly holding papers in hands.

Eddie immediately jumped off his seat and walked to the woman. "Yes, yes! That's me! Is she allright?! Is baby allright?! Are they both healthy?! May I see them?!"

"Your girlfriend feels exhausted but she's stable. And I'm happy to tell you that you're the father of a beautiful, little girl," woman said with a smile. "Now we will take miss Y/N at the gynecology ward, there you'll be able to visit her, don't forget she went through a lot and she needs rest," she reminded Eddie before going back to her work.

Eddie looked at Venom with a smile. "Did you hear that!? Our ladies made it!"

"So we have Y/N and little Y/N as well?," Symbiote whispered into man's ear, hiding beneath his hoodie.

Eddie nodded. "You can say that. You see, human kids are a combination of both parents. So there is part of me and part of her in this bbab," he explained as he walked to get to the right ward. "The child will also get her own name. Will you help us with that?"

"Can't we name the kid Venomella? It would suit," symbiote suggested. Venom considered Eddie's words. "So you want to tell us the kid will be, in some way, such a pussy like you?"

"One more word and I will leave you here alone," Eddie warned. "And about this name, we will ask Y/N what she thinks about it."

After few minutes Eddie got to right ward. He slowly walked into your room and smiled, looking at you.

You were laying on the bed, eyes closed, steady breathing. And on your chest was laying little baby wrapped in a blanket, your arm was holding the bundle tightly.

"Is it her?," Venom asked forming his full head.

Eddie nodded. "Yes, it's her," he whispered before kissing your forehead. Grabbing a chair, Eddie sat down next to your bed. "Say hi to new member of the family, V."

Venom tilted his head and peeked into the blanket. There was a tiny, pink body, shivering at the slightest touch. "Hi, we're Venom and we'll protect you," Venom said.

You opened your eyes and looked at Eddie. "Hi, love."

"Hey there, sweetheart. How do you feel?," Eddie asked, keeping eye on Venom. "Venom came up with a name for our baby girl but I don't know if you will like it."

"Mmmm?," You asked sleepily.

"What would you say to Venomella?," Eddie asked with a smile.

“Sorry, Venom but this sucks," you let out a brief giggle. "We'll figure it out when we all will be back home."

Eddie laughed. "You see? I was right Venom, so? Do you like your little sister?," Brock asked before kissing your cheek. "I need to say, I am proud of you."

You smiled at him and closed eyes. "I'm tired," you whispered.

Venom sniffed onto little kid you were holding in your arms.

"I know but you can rest now, you really need it," Eddie said then looked at Venom. "Why do you sniff her?"

"Her scent is reassuring," symbiote said and disconnected with Eddie only to wrap his form around the sleeping girl. "We protect."

Eddie looked at you. "You okay with that? I can leave him with you and go grab you something to drink or eat."

But you didn't reply. You fell asleep pretty quickly due to exhaust.

Your baby girl was also slepping.

Venom closed his eyes as well yet he opened one for a second.

"Go get her flowers and chocolates, women like it," he adviced. "We'll protect our girls. We all are Venom.”

Pandies🐼: @imidarogerson​ @grossograsso​ @thewildgardensstuff​ @leven-and-ashley​ @la-verdura​ @bearded-steve-rogers​ @sebbystan-plantlover​ @atuckyismylife​ @krispyjellyfishzombie​ @personality-within​ @haseki-huricihan​  @choppedgardenwhispers​ @vroobelek​ @lattimelka​ @chris-beamz​ @hidden-secrets69​ @purepearls​ @volcanoxxx​ @kastrup-sofie​ @mikkal-akasaki​ @withoutashadowofhope​ @radbluebirdeagle​ @marvel-fan-site​ @smutloversblog​ @buquete​ @super-psycho-love69​ @tanglesss​ @peter-sommer​ @baysidewest​ @vegemania​ @philip-stan​ @chodiusmmm​ @subwaystunnel​ @tykorclint @dagger-dragger @kurant @nothing-can-least-forever @oxfordkipem​ @deliciousbouquet90 @tuptuptup @hellenna80 @karina-marina9 @latimeriaaa @bratko @wurld89 @scott-evans @kiss-me-rouge @ovonel-espaniol @dancing-tacco @ratugadhi @white-tiger-shangrila  @axn69 @eternal-life-awaits @mrs-laura-harmon @artsy-inside @gleeeeees  @darkllaama @jatut @agawux @fuzzy-tigrrr @jrjohnsson2 @maaargoshaaa @dontgetmewrongman @einexx @nwmtagsb @anini71 @secretlygrantaire @kyloren-supreme-ben @infinity-stones-seeker @thehappyspider @wings4life @huxyluxy @dontbeafraidchild @misafiryanki @electronicpatrolcollective @thisismysecrethappyplace @aulika @hidden-secrets69 @a-happy-wolf @creative-seahorse @biologyforliving

[vanessakirbyfans]

Vanessa Kirby remembers the exact moment she realized what acting might actually be. That it occurred during a performance of a “probably terrible” all-girls’ production of “Hamlet” is beside the point.

“I was playing Gertrude, probably in my mom’s clothes—complete crap,” she says with a laugh. “I remember being in a scene and then walking out into the school. I was walking up and down the corridor before going back on for another scene, and it was the first time it ever happened where I suddenly was thinking [Gertrude’s] thoughts. I was thinking, in the present moment, her actual thoughts about what was really happening. And then it made the scene coming next so much easier, because there was a blurred moment where this idea of [a] character being outside of you or someone that you have to become disappeared in a way.

“I just realized,” she continues, “Oh, it’s inside me.” Kirby has been chasing that lucid high ever since.

You may get it for just two seconds in the entire production of a film, she concedes, and longer only if you’re lucky. But she believes that its attainment should always be the actor’s primary objective: reaching that liminal space where you no longer have to think of yourself as the character and you can instead—speaking of “Hamlet”—just be. Kirby describes getting “into that zone” where you are inside the character as much as they are inside of you.

“I always think about it as this really strange process of finding the person, because the person kind of exists in the abstract space, I guess, between you and the words on the page,” she says, “which also have come through a writer and their own experience. And so there’s this third space in the middle that you have to sort of get inside, and it takes a lot of time.”

For her new film, Kornél Mundruczó’s “Pieces of a Woman,” which earned her the Venice Film Festival’s Volpi Cup for best actress earlier this year, Kirby, by her account, had to “get inside” three separate elements. The first two, being pregnant and giving birth, are experiences shared by women the world over. But the third required her to tap into something more hushed, a sort of sad sisterhood that she thinks isn’t spoken about enough: “what it actually feels like to lose a baby just after it’s born.”

“That involved finding and spending so much time with the women who had been through that, which was a massive privilege, actually,” she says, noting their bravery. “They pretty much all said it’s so difficult, because society doesn’t want to hear about it. These women haven’t had a voice, really, in their experience of that level of grief or loss, because society doesn’t want them to talk about it.”

She cites model-entrepreneur Chrissy Teigen, who recently shared her experience of pregnancy loss online and was immediately subjected to charged responses across the spectrum, from adulation and gratitude to utter vitriol. “It just goes to show that a loss like that is really hard for people to hear about,” Kirby says. “I felt really honored to be part of this film in that way, because I think it speaks to grief universally.”

As she chats via Zoom just before Thanksgiving (though that likely doesn’t matter much to Kirby, who’s British), it’s fitting—and appropriately disarming—that the conversation begins with subject matter as heavy as infant and pregnancy loss, since the film does, too. Written by Kata Wéber, the Netflix feature (which will stream starting Jan. 7, 2021) almost immediately showcases a 25-minute labor and delivery sequence unlike any you’ve seen on film before—an intimidating prospect that was also part of the appeal for Kirby. She confesses, however, that her initial response to reading it was a more visceral “Oh, God.”  

“We see death so many times onscreen, and we don’t really see birth in this way. I also can’t remember seeing a film that dealt with losing a baby so head-on,” she says. “Doing the film has really set a kind of benchmark for me of wanting to find things that haven’t been seen or expressed onscreen before that need to be [seen in order] to generate conversation around them, to represent a side of being female that we haven’t seen. Those two things really struck me—and scared me a lot.”

In discussing her work, fear comes up quite a bit for Kirby—or rather, how to cope with it. At the age of 32, she has already had more success than many actors ever do. Most notably, she earned an Emmy nomination in 2018 for her work on “The Crown,” playing Princess Margaret on the series’ first two seasons before handing the tiara off to Helena Bonham Carter. She also starred in “Mission: Impossible – Fallout,” has secured a role in the franchise’s coming seventh and eighth installments, and boasts numerous prestigious theater credits.  

But an unmistakable angst hums beneath everything Kirby does. Making peace with that feeling continues to be the lifeblood of her career. “One of my friends said something like, ‘It’s always best to tell your fear [that] you can join me in the passenger seat. You’re not going to be driving the car, but you’re welcome to be here,’ ” she says. “It’s inevitable that you feel anxious or nervous, I think. I can’t just switch off my stage fright or my anxiety before going onstage, and the more I try and fight it, the worse it gets. I have to welcome it and be like, ‘It’s OK; you can be here. You’re not going to ruin the show.’ ”

The most useful tool Kirby has found to combat anxiety, nerves, fear—whatever word you want to use for that prohibitive lurking—is old-fashioned preparation. Knowing her lines inside and out, front to back, sideways and in proverbial heels, gives her the freedom to show up and be present.

t’s an odd sort of reconciliation to have prepped so thoroughly that you can act from a place of impulse, but one she considers crucial. “I learned that the hard way,” she says with a chuckle. “Sometimes I would approach jobs like, I’m just going to see what happens if I don’t learn my lines—just wing it on the day. Maybe it will be more spontaneous and impulsive, and it’ll be more flippant. And it wasn’t. Oh, my God, no, it wasn’t.”

While that trial and error informs her now-scrupulous prep work, Kirby gives credit where it’s due and admits she borrowed the approach in part from someone who knows just a bit about getting inside a character. Of course, if you worked with Anthony Hopkins, you’d do the same.    

“I just had a few little scenes in this brilliant thing he was doing,” Kirby says of the 2015 television film “The Dresser.” “He has a method that he’s always used where he says his lines out loud to himself a thousand times before doing any film. He’ll mark it on his script [and] tally it up, because he said you can’t be truly free unless it’s really in your body. You won’t be able to take the risk and go, ‘OK, I’m feeling the feeling of the state of mind this person’s in’ so that the lines can come out however which way they want to [because they’re] coming from that feeling, as opposed to, ‘I made a decision, I’ve learned my lines, I kind of know how I’m going to say them, and I’m going to turn up and just say them in a prepared manner.’ ”

In other words, you reach a state in which you no longer have to be conscious of your “choices,” because they will be externalized actions made by the internalized character. To actually achieve that symbiosis, Kirby explains, you have to practice an almost relentless empathy in order to “absolve all your judgments” of the person you’re playing.

“Acting’s such a funny job, isn’t it? How you think informs how you feel. And then how you feel, as a consequence, informs how you think,” she posits. “There’s a conversation between your feelings and thoughts all the time. And so it’s almost like trying to get inside someone else’s thoughts—so then you don’t have to worry about how the person is coming across or the mannerisms or whatever else, because you’ve built it from the inside, and that’s what happens naturally. The best acting experience, really, is when you’re thinking as that person without being conscious of yourself.”

The Catch-22, particularly for Kirby, is that fear, or even self-consciousness, will block the receptacles of empathy. If you as the actor at any point aim to shield yourself from the experiences of your character, you could be tossing out a crucial piece of their puzzle.

“As an actor, you don’t want to protect yourself. I think it’s almost the opposite,” she says. “I find I’m less shy, for example, when I’m playing someone, when I’m trying to understand someone else or some other part of humanity. You take more risks, and you sort of push into parts of yourself that you might not every day know existed, because you have to feel the things that they feel.”

That is one reason why Kirby creates playlists for her characters. In addition to drowning out literal noise on set between setups, delving into what a character’s taste in music might be—or why they’d listen to a given song at a given moment—opens a window into their psychology. In a pinch, the music can build an impromptu bridge between herself and the person within. It can also help ease her gently into a particularly formidable role, fear be damned.

“This idea of being daunted by something—I look for it. I go, ‘Oh, my God. I have no idea about this. I don’t know what it feels like to give birth, and I would love to learn about that,’ ” she says. “Of course, my dad is a cancer surgeon, so I grew up with him saving people’s lives. I always felt like acting is such a public thing, but it’s really not nearly as important as what a lot of people are doing in the world. But when you’re in a group of people who want to explore or understand something that perhaps we don’t yet know from our lived experiences, it does feel, sometimes, like such an honor.”

[mrs-denton]

Sappy Paul Denton x OC Fanfic [Part 2]

The Start of the Collapse

After Paul’s departure, Bebe’s eyes struggled to shut. She laid in bed and kept glancing over at her phone occasionally, half-expecting something from Paul to come up. When she realized worrying was futile, she put the phone down and laid it down on its charging pad. She was worried, but she tried equilibrating those thoughts with reasonable positive ones because she was pregnant. She had to avoid as much stress as possible.

Staying up to write, as she did on sleepless nights like these, she scribbled her thoughts into her diary until she crashed. In the morning when she awoke, the unwelcome feeling of first trimester morning sickness sharply seized her from her slumber. She went to the bathroom to alleviate herself from the nausea.

Treating patients at the hospital she worked at, including those with the Grey Death, was dreary. Their spirits were broken and some of them got desperate. She wished she could divulge the truth behind the virus, or at least what she knew, but it would likely get her fired. She made sure to wear the most protective gear—respirator, face shield, gloves, a gown, and foot covers. Her health was going to have to become her top priority if she wanted a healthy baby.

Hours ebbed and flowed with moments of hectic excitement during rushes of patients and emergencies, but inched like slugs when things were slow and she caught herself worrying about Paul. She wondered what time it was in Hong Kong—surely, at least half a day ahead—and if he was alive. She thought about JC as well and didn’t want any harm to come to the Dentons, namely because JC was a cool person, but especially because she knew Paul would be devastated if his younger brother should fall. She scrubbed the pressing thoughts away from the walls of her mind—months of meditation had helped—and she continued to show up at work.

She checked her work emails to see if by some crazy chance, Paul had been daring enough to send her a message there. But of course not—he would never do something to endanger them, especially with the Aquinas net. After what felt like a 12-hour shift, Bebe returned home with takeout and quickly checked her computer. There, an email from Paul—or rather, his alias—was sent hours ago while she was still at work.

“Hey babe. I made it safely to Hong Kong, thank god. Good news—everything’s taken care of. My brother and I are gonna be fine. The bad news is that I’ll have to be living here for a few months as I recuperate, as I predicted. I was in pretty bad shape when I arrived, which is why it’s going to take longer for me to recover. Tong wants to keep me under supervision for a while. But I’m already feeling better.

Things are pretty tight in HK. I’m a wanted man here as well. I don’t think making a move right now is wise, but I can’t wait to see you again. I’ll keep you updated whenever I can. Try to take it easy and don’t worry about a thing—I’ll take care of it. I love you, and I’m always thinking about you. - P”

Bebe typed a reply.

“My darling, I’m glad you’re alright. I was worried about you, but I also knew you’d make it through this. Give the doctor my sincerest gratitude—he saved the man I love. I’m also happy J is fine. I completely understand if you need to stay there—in situations like this, a doctor’s supervision is necessary even after the treatment.

Let me know how things go. I want to be with you but things have to be just right. I love you, P. I hope you get better soon. I already miss you. Hugs and kisses. Yours,

- B”

Within the following day, Bebe received another email.

“Bebe—so much is happening right now. I don’t have much time, and neither does the world. Just bear with me. I’m going to be fine, I think, but my brother keeps unearthing more of this conspiracy. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know something will, and if it does, it’s going to be big. I can’t explain everything over the net, but I promise I will when I see you. I don’t know how much time there is and I know this sounds crazy but you’ll just have to trust me. Withdraw your savings now. There’s a high chance the net might crash and everything will be lost. Savings, records, and all sorts of info. Make sure you have plenty of food and supplies as well.

No matter what happens, I will find you! And that’s a promise. Just stay where you are. I love you so much more than you could ever imagine. - P”

Something inside Bebe told her Paul wasn’t lying. Everything Paul told her before and everything they had researched and pieced together made sense. She knew there could only be so much more to this story than most people knew and few had theorized about. After typing her obedient reply, Bebe set off for the bank and asked to withdraw the entirety of her account. Her salary provided her with decent savings she had accumulated over a few years.

But she wondered if the funny look the bank teller gave her was indicative of ignited suspicion. She knew it was. She smiled as the bank teller discussed the request with the manager, who gave her a poorly-disguised look of surprise. Who else but a shady person would just want to remove all their chits from the bank? Only somebody that knew something that most people didn’t know would act this way . . . She would just have to lie and say it was for a potential family emergency. Or that she’s just paranoid and that there are rumors the banks will fail soon. Hearsay type of stuff. But no, the latter would be too suspicious. Just go with the family emergency, she thought. 

Signing some papers that would let the federal revenue office know the reason for her massive withdrawal, she questioned just what the hell she was doing. She stopped for a while and glanced up at the bank teller, who was too busy counting chits to notice her. Bebe questioned herself for a bit--she was blindly obeying Paul’s orders, which wasn’t really a problem in and of itself, but how could she really know what was going on? Paul wouldn’t lie to her though. She knew that man for three years and he never lied. She just had to trust him. Worst case scenario, she’d be tracked down. But if nothing were to happen, she could just say she got worried sick for an ailing family member and took the money out to help with treatments.

“Forty-six-thousand, two-hundred and fifty-nine chits, ma’am,” the bank teller said, fat stacks of the electric green notes neatly sitting on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” she said, handing them the signed papers. “Here you go.”

She opened up her purse and filled it with the money, trying to act naturally. The teller and his manager looked at her strangely, as well as the clients behind her. She felt herself tense up.

“Thank you so much,” she said again. “Have a nice day.” She had a habit of being overly-polite sometimes.

And with that, she carried her loaded purse all the way to her car and drove home, the tunes blaring and the pedal to the metal. Suddenly, the music stopped. Could this be it?

She checked her phone and noticed there was no signal anywhere. The music stream was buffering continuously until it lost connectivity for good. Moving to the network settings, she confirmed there really was no net anymore. She couldn’t believe it at first, and then, she did.

Parking her car, she rushed inside the lobby of her apartment building. There were people standing outside with their cellphones in the air, trying to obtain signal, their faces scrunched in bewilderment. Glancing at the far end of two blocks over where one of the P-Mobile buildings was, people swarmed into the store to complain about their phone services.

“Miss, have you heard? The net’s gone black—disappeared,” the alarmed security guard at the reception said. “Everyone’s internet just shut off. Even the phones, TV, everything. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh my god,” she said. “I’ll have to check mine out. Thank you.”

She went upstairs and rapidly scanned her nanokey to her door, eager to get inside. What would she do now?

She checked her computer. The internet was gone. No new emails from Paul, just the cached one from before. As she sat in her apartment, she heard her neighbors arguing loudly in desperation. Turning on the TV, she checked every channel, finding nothing but static—ultimately confirming everything Paul told her. Glancing outside her window and down at the congested streets, violence intensified.

After a few days to a week of the world descending into darkness, reports of the global net crashing and burning appeared on every newspaper. A national emergency was declared, and speculating specialists wondered who was responsible, pointing fingers at foreign governments and even “traitors” within the United States. The zealously religious stood outside every corner, wailing that it was the beginning of the Apocalypse, and the conspiracy theorists held meetings in their garages, claiming it was aliens. But soon enough, the Dentons were named. Bebe paid close attention.

“It is suspected that terrorist JC Denton and his brother, Paul Denton, are behind this massive communications collapse worldwide. We are slowly but surely receiving letters that confirm the internet shutdowns in every nation. Agencies are investigating the matter as best as they can.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. She just hoped the bank tellers didn’t put two and two together and decided to send somebody after her. After all, there was nothing suspicious about a woman withdrawing all her savings a few minutes before the world collapsed. But she sighed in relief when she knew that they wouldn’t have been able to pull up her personal information without the internet.

She thought about her family. Her dad had left them before she was even born, and her mother died of the Grey Death before Ambrosia was released. Her cousins were all living their lives as married people with children, and her only living aunt was old now. What would they think, though? What would they think if she were to run off with a “criminal”, a “terrorist”, a wanted man? Crises were meant to be times where family stuck together more, but with Bebe leaving . . . would they label her as selfish? Crazy? Bad? She only hoped that one day they would understand that Paul was not the person the media and the government was portraying him to be.

They didn’t even know she was pregnant. Engaged? Yes. They knew Paul and they liked him. But the media was a powerful weapon, especially now that the people’s only source of outside knowledge was funneled via the last remaining newspapers. They could twist and besmirch the Dentons as they wished, and people would buy it. Not everybody, though, as there were people who had been following the Juggernaut Collective—until it disbanded—and a few other rebel news disguised as tabloids and conspiracies. But alas, the perceptions of Bebe’s friends and family could definitely be warped against Paul. She had to be careful.

But most importantly, she had to figure out what the next steps in her life would be. If only she could talk to Paul. She wondered if she should keep going to work—part of her would think it better to disappear from society at once and wait until Paul came back, but the other part of her couldn’t just leave all those poor patients behind. She knew there were other doctors and nurses who would do a fine job—but could she really just disappear now? Did she still have to keep up her façade of normalcy? As if she weren’t the woman of the second-most-wanted man in the world right now?

She got up and started packing, hoping that at least sorting this out would bring her more clarity. What were her favorite clothes? What could she stand to leave behind? What would be useful? She took her favorite shoes as well as personal keepsakes and important documents, neatly enclosed in file folders and manilla envelopes, and put them in a suitcase. Most of the money was also stored there. Then, glancing at her desk, she took note of her journal.

How could she leave this behind? She had to take it. Unless, of course, she wanted to be that mysterious woman who left her revealing memoirs in a secret diary. She considered the thought briefly and then took the journal, the pages automatically splitting upon a section with a dried red rose that had been stamped between the weight of the pages. It was the first flower Paul ever gave her. She instantly smiled as she felt the crispy, dark garnet petals on her fingertips, her mind going back to when the petals were bright as fresh blood and smooth like velvet.

[sugaxjpg]

04 | blank check; m

⤷ “Let me get this right, okay? You threw my name in as your fake girlfriend because you needed to prove yourself to your empty-headed friends, and now you need to fix it. Still,” you paused, raising your eyebrows, “your way of fixing is not to disclose it as a lie, but to cover it up with an even bigger and riskier one. Is that correct?”

⤷ PART 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | Co-written with @pantaemonium

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Fuckboy!AU & FakeDating!AU

✓ Filed under: smut, tragic comebacks

✓ Words: 6,892

Author’s Note: And here it is... whatever this is. Laura and I are sorry. Also, Part 5 will be a bit longer than the ones we have put out so far, so pls be patient!! It’ll come :,) 

Your debate class had its intense, hair-pulling moments in the past — from the dichotomy of the current political climate to philosophical dialogues about Descartes’ universal doubt — but, every once in a while, even your professor would get stressed at the constant bickering of his top 10 students and, instead, would chose a dumb theme that the class could find some sort of humor in. After some time, even that showed itself to be an obstacle, since most of your classmates had their head so far up their own ass that they forgot what the sun looked like, even less what it was to have a chill, borderline comical, conversation with another human being.  

And that was where you and Namjoon came in.

If you were to be completely honest, you could say without a shadow of a doubt that the two had a constant veil of bitterness floating between you. What could you do? Both of you were a bit more competitive than you should be, and the prospect of academic validation was far too tempting for you two to just let it slide. But, damn. If Dante Alighieri had the misfortune of meeting Kim Namjoon throughout his life, you were absolutely sure he would have added the man somewhere amongst his circles of inferno — because, Jesus Christ, was he a pain in the ass when he took things to his personal side.

“In synthesis, professor, I must conclude,” Namjoon started, leaning against the tall surface of his table. The copy of the discussed book was placed before him, and you could see that he had highlighted — and color-coded — at least half of it. “Bella Swan should have picked Jacob instead of Edward. The amount of danger she faced was ridiculous, and perfectly avoidable if she had chosen the one that was always there for her and, quite frankly, much more attractive.”

Subtle. Always so subtle.

With his feet over a nearby desk, your professor hummed, and used his cup of coffee to hide the smirk that creeped up on his lips. From your peripheral vision, you could see the other students exchanging animated glances, waiting for your turn to defend Team Edward. “Alright. Very good, Kim,” he praised, then turned to you. His mop-like moustache was stained by the brown coffee, and it looked more disgusting than it should. “What do you have for us, defense?”

You pushed your shoulders back and, without a missed beat, spoke your truth. “I disagree with Namjoon’s conclusion, professor. Edward Cullen cared about Bella Swan much more than Jacob ever did. He was only angry because he was thrown into the friendzone, and did not get his desires fulfilled by his best friend.” Your eyes darted towards Namjoon as you verbalized those words, wishing you were just as subtle as he had been — that is, not at all. “Edward protected Bella since the start, was patient, and didn’t force anything on her. With all due respect, professor.” You turned back to the class. “Jacob had no free-pass to Bella’s black lacy underwear just because he had been there for longer.”

“That’s irrelevant to this debate, come on!” Namjoon defended himself, blushing from the tip of his ears to — not that you had been looking before — the place where his tan skin disappeared under his shirt. The buttons opened, that would’ve gotten him a warning in high school—but in college it was the average cool dude uniform.  “Jacob was not as simple-minded as he’s thought to be. He may be a werewolf but he’s not stupid—”

“Well, I have to disagree. As you may have read — and I’m sure my opponent highlighted this part too—, in the fourth book of the saga Jacob imprinted Edward and Bella’s new-born baby, under the justification that, and I quote, everything he was—snip, snip, snip—floated up into space when he met the baby’s eyes, which are coincidentally very similar to Bella’s who happened to be at the moment, dead.”

“It is explained within the Twilight universe that werewolves often link themselves to their partners for life.” Namjoon barked back, although there was no confidence left within him when he opened the book, and started looking through his notes, wondering how he could’ve left the imprinting-the-baby topic out. What a mess.

Poor Namjoon had surely been very busy dreaming of your black underwear to finish preparing the debate and that, good for you, meant you had won — for once.

“My shaking jerked to a stop; heat flooded through me, stronger than before, but it was a new kind of heat — not a burning,” you read, trying to occult behind the pages the wicked smile invading your features. At the back of the classroom, your classmates started laughing enough for Mr. Moustache to turn around and shush them. Namjoon was paralysed. His projection into the Jacob’s character was not as funny anymore. “Around five minutes before he falls in love with the half-vampire parasite, he’s hugging Bella’s flailing body, forbidding her from dying. He’s not what I call… consistent with his feelings.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to talk, but all of the present souls knew that his chances of coming back from that annihilation were practically zero. With a smile and a resonating laugh, Professor Pornstache turned around to the class. “Alright, children of the corn, you all know how it goes,” he started. You had no idea how he hadn’t noticed the soaked mess that his upper lip had turned into, but that’s what botox injections can do to your overall sensibility, after all. “Write on a piece of paper who you think won, and then let’s do this as democratically as we can — even if we all know that the final word is mine.”

You rolled your eyes at your professor’s attempt at being Cool With the Kids. Mussolini over there — Mustachelini? Nah — constantly tried to sneak in references of popular movies into his every sentence, which explained his constant obsession with reviewing young adult novels. Next one up, according to him, would be something from Cassandra Clare, and you really didn’t think you’d be able to endure another painfully awkward love triangle discussion, even less the hidden incest.

With a few chuckles and guilty gazes crossing, the classroom was quick to pass the papers off to the front row, where the teacher’s personal pet — Jisoo? Achoo? Bless you — could organize and count the votes. You were lucky she was great at her job, for it took her less than five dragged-out, silence-filled minutes to have an answer.

With a grin that seemed to come out straight from a Monopoly live-action movie, your professor looked down at the winner’s name. “Oh, look at that,” he said. “Seems like we have a new name to pay attention to. Namjoon…” he dragged out his speech in a way that you swore the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Next to you, the boy leaned forwards, chest filled up with pride. “Better luck next time, kid. Y/N got the trophy. That’s ten points to gryffindor, and a nine for Team Edwards.”

With the weight of defeat dragging his shoulders down, Namjoon retreated to the back of the classroom, where the bad boys — you almost cringed thinking of him as one of those — sat and gnawed gum loudly trying to make the world believe their attitude would get there somewhere in life except, perhaps, jail. He plopped onto his chair, and let out a defeated sigh. If he couldn’t win a Twilight debate that meant his career was over, his reputation on the floor. It was a tragic defeat, one he had never expected.

Part of him, you thought, should be happy that it had been you the one to conquer the first place. It could have been someone else, like the guy from second row who carried an anime figurine around and ate his boogers when he thought no one was watching; or maybe, the resident weed-lover, who would probably rant for five minutes about the necessity to legalize marijuana, and avoid altogether the mundane problems of two-hundred year old bloodsucker hottie number 1; and very white, very anodyne Bella Swan.

“So, tell me, what kept you so busy that you couldn’t finish the assigned reading?” You questioned, rubbing — as they would say — salt over his overabundance of pride wounds. It was petty, but it was the funniest part of defeating the smarty-pants in the room. “Anything on your mind? Do you need a pep-talk? My therapist’s number, perhaps?”

Namjoon crossed his arms over his desk and laid his head over them, hoping the earth could just open up and swallow him alive. It crossed his mind that Jungkook probably didn’t even know which elements that are inside the Earth’s core — nickel and iron, for the ones wondering — even less which layer was liquid: internal or external. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe you wanted someone that was more than brains, or maybe you could be searching for someone so dumb that would make you feel more confident at your own IQ — yeah, that was probably it. You wouldn’t pick anyone but Namjoon if that wasn’t the case.

But he needed to control the flux of his thoughts before it got the best of him, and he made the mistake of being a little bit more honest than he should. What could he do? His pride was completely shattered — over a Twilight debate, for fuck’s sake — and he was struggling to seat down after the catastrophe that had been that pizza. Never underestimate the enemy. Never underestimate cheese left out to rot for too long.

And, most importantly, never underestimate Jeon Jungkook.

“So, Y/N,” he started, raising his head from the desk. Two other students had already moved to the front of the class to start their debate on the powers of some of the secondary vampire characters, but he didn’t care about it — that one, he could win it in his sleep —, for his eyes were completely glued to your own. “You ran away from us that night at the party. Care to say what happened between you and your misunderstood knight?”

And god bless your winner high for not making your face crack under the sudden question. Even if the image of Jungkook rubbing his cherry splitter came back in a hormonal rush throughout your body and mind, the smirk in your lips lingered, and your inner despair did not drip through your words. “Nothing happened, we are perfectly fine,” you lied. “In fact, he invited me to go to Jimin’s pool party next weekend. Hope you don’t mind my company.”

It was ephemeral, but you saw the way Namjoon’s eyes widened for an instant — he was a mortal man, with simple mortal needs. Seeing glimpses of your black underwear? That was nice. Seeing you in full bikini? That was a miracle, and Kim Namjoon wasn’t someone to disregard a message from the Lord.

He cleared his throat, and looked towards the front of the class, where the debate was starting to heat up. One of the students claimed that vampires having weather-controlling abilities made no sense, for it was Twilight, and not X-men. He had to agree with that one. “That’s… something to consider,” he spoke. It was getting hot there? It was either you or the intestinal cramps from that forsaken pizza — how many days would it take for it to leave his system? God. “Never thought of you as someone who enjoyed… the outdoors.”

“I’m not the sun’s biggest fan, that’s true,” you acknowledged, “but that’s what relationships are about, you know? Making sacrifices, spending time with your boyfriend’s friends. All that.”

Namjoon, once again, lost his space to speak. As his eyebrows twitched together in a sign of his disbelief — and a bit of jealousy, let’s be honest — and his plump lips parted in a silent exclamation, the screen of your phone lit up, a loud ding! ruptured the attention of the class. From the front row, Pornstache asked for you to turn the device off.

“Won’t you look at that,” Namjoon complained, watching your fingers as you quickly placed your phone on silent mode. “Edward Cullen is here to save the day.”

There was a tinge of agony in his voice, that you interpreted as a silent hope that he could someday become the one to disrupt the class to send you, perhaps, a corny I miss you, let’s meet at the library after class, or a more saucy — and god knows you hate that expression — I’d love to be in bed right now, doing you-know-what. Namjoon didn’t strike you to be one to send a I’ll fuck you raw against the wall only because he would understand the physical limitations that would come with such statement.

“Edward Cullen is just trying to know if I’ll be going to your match next week, I think,” you lied. The phone vibrated against the table, insistent. It was like having Jungkook behind your back, saying whatever nonsense he had come up with that same morning. “Don’t you have something useful to do? I don��t know, start reading Cassandra Clare’s failed incest fanfic attempts or something?”

“Nah, you know what? I’m going to the bathroom. That pizza is still kicking my intestines, and not in a good way.” He smiled, and it was dashing. “See you later.”

“When you finish pooping.”

“Yeah.”

With raised eyebrows and the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips, you watched as Namjoon made his walk of shame towards the front of a class, then quickened up his pace suddenly. If you could go back to the night of the party and tell him about the consequences of his ridiculously high cheese consumption, you wouldn’t. It was too funny to just let it pass.

Your entertainment, however, was short-lived. As soon as you turned your gaze back to the device on your hands and actually read through the previews of Jungkook’s messages, you could tell that something was wrong.

Jungkook’s only neuron: [incoming video]

Jungkook’s only neuron: SHRIIRSHIT

Jungkook’s only neuron: NO DONT OPEN THAT PLEASE DONT

Jungkook’s only neuron: THAT ISN’T FOR YOU BABY NO

Jungkook’s only neuron: IM SO SORRY OMHFGF NPONONOONO

Jungkook’s only neuron: i want to die please dont download the video please i will do anything i will buy you milkshakes for the entire week plea...

But it was too late: you knew Jungkook was terrible at finding compelling arguments, but that was just too much. He knew you were curious, and his overwhelmed texts only increased your sadism to prolong his suffering. Of course you were going to see whatever the hell he had sent you, and of course you would make sure to tease him for it until the end of time. It was what he deserved after dragging you for yet another acting gig.

So, you unlocked your phone, and went straight to his conversation. Nothing could have prepared you for what you were met with — but one thing was for certain: you were so happy that you had brought your earphones that day.

Curiosity started to carve a hole within your chest. It started as a mere tingle, just below your breastbone, when you plugged in your earphones and starting downloading the video. Had Jungkook been a bit smarter that day — or just more technology-conscious — he would have remembered there was an option to delete his video. It would erase it from the face of earth, and with it the shame it would bring along. It was useless now, because by the time he understood the power he had allowed to slip away you would have already saved the thing in your phone. For blackmail purposes only, of course.

With absolutely no expectations, you pressed play. The condemnatory piece of evidence Jungkook had sent by mistake started playing on your screen, a vastness of black pixels and an eventual flash of light. It must be something huge, for him to panic — while sober — on the chat-room. And huge it was, although at first the image was without form and void. Darkness invaded the screen, like there was a towel or a shirt placed in front of the camera, and the only remnants of light that managed to filter in were through holes in the cotton.

Maybe Jungkook had finally lost his mind, and he had recorded one of those confession videos with huge cards. You are perfect to me, could have been read in one of those, scribbled with a Sharpie in his terrible handwriting. But Jungkook was not the romantic type so that would not be the case, he had a reputation to hold — surprisingly, he had not destroyed it yet.

And so the dumbass said “let there be light”, and there was light — and the most horrendous pink tiles covering the bathroom floor. He appeared into focus, clad in grey sweatpants and a tee shirt that you recognized immediately as part of the training gear for the volleyball team.

“Oh, god,” you muttered to yourself, watching him seat cross-legged before the camera. You had watched enough porn in your life to, at least, sense where this was going, but you were not prepared. Not at all.

When the boy — Jungkook, it was fucking Jungkook and you knew it — moved backwards on the shot, the entire scene came into focus, presenting you with the image of what you presumed was his bathroom. You would recognize that pink abomination anywhere, even if, the last time you witnessed it, you had not payed attention to the disgusting fact that the tiles were also a pallid tinge of roseate; the same color of the heat that painted the boy’s cheeks, all the way to the tip of his ears.

The image was slightly blurred still, but you could tell that he was sitting on the floor, back pressed against a bathtub. Jungkook had moved down on the shot enough so you could see up to his nose, but his eyes were still out of frame. It didn’t matter: you knew it was him, and you could not stop looking at the way his swollen lips were parted, glistening with the thin layer of his saliva. From in between them, came the weak, shy sound of a moan, and his body shivered in expectation.

Before you could even take hold of your actions, your gaze was already shooting downwards, past the droplets of sweat on his tan neck, and the obnoxious colors of his team shirt — for fuck’s sake, he was clearly not the brightest of minds, but, if he wanted it to be a bit harder to figure it out who it was, he shouldn’t have worn that. Dumbass. The hottest fucking dumbass you’ve ever laid eyes upon. Not the point.

Then, you saw it, and your mind went blank. Jungkook had one of his veiny hands placed over his hard member, its outline vaguely visible through the thick fabric of his pants. And, shit, that wasn’t the only thick thing in sight. But anyways. He was caressing it slowly, up and down, then rolling his palm against it slowly, dragging out the whines that broke upon his lips. Through your earphones, you could hear the fragile inflections of his voice against your ear, and you swore you could feel his raggedy breath hitting your skin at every new exhale.

On the upper part of your screen, another message popped up: I can tell you’re online!!!! it practically yelled, reeking of desperation and pheromones. You ignored it. There were more interesting things happening. Bigger things.

Jungkook pressed his palm down on his cock one, twice, but soon grew impatient at the lack of sensibility it provided. You tapped on the video and saw that it was three minutes long, which told you just how much he was eager to get straight to the point; and, much to your inner satisfaction, your hypothesis was quickly proved.

Almost timidly — who would’ve thought Jeon Jungkook could be any shade of timid, for fuck’s sake — the tip of his cock was released from the constriction of the elastic. He had been dripping enough to wet the fabric, and it elicited a thousand questions amongst which the idea of Jungkook cumming in his pants, unable to stop himself was primordial and very much overwhelming.

With more tenderness you had ever imagined he would be capable of, he pressed his thumb against his crown, smearing his slick all around. It ripped a long-drawled groan out of his throat, as he threw his head back and against the bathtub. Sweat started to pool in hollow of his clavicle when he dared move again, hand encircling his length.

That was the moment you understood the situation was serious in more than one way because a) Mr Pornstache was still doing whatever he believed was teaching, b) Namjoon had just crossed the classroom threshold and was about to return to his place by your side; and c) your panties were wetter that the goddamn Nile and it was Jungkook’s doing.

Way to start the week.

Then again, miracles can present themselves every once in a while and, for you, it was the fast-thinking that suddenly overtook your senses. Even if every fiber of your being begged for you to do otherwise, your fingers were quick to pause the video, block your phone, and shove your earplugs inside your jacket’s pocket before Namjoon’s gaze even casted itself in your general direction. Usain Bolt who?

You cleared your throat — was it hot in there?  “There you are,” you whispered as he sat down next to you. Namjoon looked one shade whiter and many years older. “Had fun?”

He rolled his eyes. “What kind of question is that?” You did not know. You weren’t thinking straight. You could barely recall your name amongst the echoes of Jungkook’s moans inside your mind, and it was driving you insane. “Anyways,” he started, “did I miss something important? Any big arguments to take into consideration?”

“The biggest argument I’ve ever see— I mean no, nothing,” you were quick to correct yourself. Your heart was beating so fast inside your chest that you recalled every medical drama you’ve ever watched, the movement of the defibrillators and the anxious screams of the doctors — charge it to 200; to 500… There’s nothing else we can do, we lost her. Jungkook strikes again. “You know what? This reminds me, I should go to the bathroom as well— To do… to… take care of lady stuff.”

Taken aback by surprise, Namjoon leaned back against his chair and raised his eyebrows in expectation, trying to predict where that was heading towards. He was clearly doubtful of your actions, and Mr Mustachelini was far too enrolled in the superpower debate to care about the way you roughly moved to your feet, almost knocking the desk over as you did so. Thank the heavens above that you didn’t wear a skirt that day, because the situation in between your legs was reaching critical levels.

“Lady… stuff?” he repeated slowly. There it was: the man you learned to fear in debates and in the court, with those piercing pupils and the expression that told you that there was no use in lying, for he already knew the secrets that you hid underneath your tongue. “Did something happen?”

You laughed nervously. “Absolutely nothing happened,” you lied. He could tell. Somehow, he just could. “I just have to leave, it’s gonna be really quick just… okay, bye.”

Namjoon moves around very slowly. The commotion of your sudden leave had probably pressed a slow-mo button he could not turn off. It was like all his energy was being redirected towards his brain, aimed at the gears you could almost hear rumble. It was just a bathroom escapade, it wasn’t that deep. But Namjizz was keen on discovering the secrets you were not skilful enough to conceal — at least not with the image of Jungkook’s swollen dick in his pretty hands still engraved in your brain.

“Bye,” you repeated, waving him farewell. Still perplexed he muttered something along the lines of: are you sure everything is alright? That you never responded to. All you could picture was the girls’ bathroom at the end of the corridor, the cubicle at the far left — the one less transited.

You had some dignity left inside, so you didn’t run. Instead, you walked as fast as your legs allowed. In hindsight, it was a ridiculous image, but you could only feel the weight of your phone growing heavier in your pocket, the wires tangling like serpents as some sort of cosmic punishment for your unspeakable crimes. As if it wasn’t enough that you had fallen for the local cliché; that you had been tempted by the one character in the comic you had promised you would only treat with disdain and, perhaps, some well-founded superiory.

Jungkook was an overused trope, that was clear enough —  thanks brain for the painful reminder! — but fuck, did he make you wet with only a few seconds of his blurry, leaked sextape.

Despite the late hour, the bathroom was deserted. You had been hoping to find someone there, someone disagreeable and nasty who would kill your libido with just a look. Coco would’ve fit the role. But there was no one around, and the cleaning lady had just polished the tiles till they shone like diamonds.

Weren’t you the luckiest girl in the entire university, huh?

Giving it no more thought, you locked yourself inside the cubicle. Your phone vibrated again, this time in your hand.

Jungkook’s only neuron: please Y/N  i didn’t mean to send that to you. it was a mistake. come back and call me a pig BUT DO SOMETHING. THIS IS LIKE POKING A STONE WITH A STICK

Jungkook’s only neuron: if you didn’t see it as I BEGGED YOU TO PLEASE FORGET I EVEN SAID THAT

He continued to rant into the group chat, monologuing about the many reasons behind your silence. It was — truth be told — abnormal of you to skip a chance to roast him, but there were more important matters to attend to. With a quick swish of your finger you silenced him, and with it the guilt that could come.

In movements far too quick to be your own, you plugged in the earphones in your ear, checked that they were well connected to your device — the last thing you needed was to interrupt the chastic beauty of that recently-cleaned bathroom with Jungkook’s devilish moans — and moved back to the video. The recording started over, but you were quick to move back to the time stamp you had stopped in — 1:38, precisely and, yes, you had memorized.

Now, that was when your morning started to go downhill, because it was when you decided to, as you had mentioned before, defenestrate the rest of your pride, and do the dirty work. Kind of: you were a bit out of your senses, but not enough to finger the baby maker in the middle of a public bathroom, no matter how clean it was.

So, you settled for the second best.

As the video resumed, you noticed the wetness that had spread between your thighs, only increasing as those lust-filled images flashed before your gaze. There was something alluring about the idea of the Great Jeon Jungkook playing with himself, allowing for his hips to roll against his hand as temptation overtook his senses; his legs so weak that he could barely move in that gruesomely pink bathroom floor. He was edging himself, that you could tell from the continuous biting of his lower lip, and the quivering pants that left his mouth, and he was adoring every second of his self-inflicted torture.

Moans and curses poured from his chest like ambrosia, and your other hand was quick to undo the buttons of your pants. You could see him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed, as his parted lips groaned for release, his muscles clenching again and again; cock throbbing in his hands. Perhaps, in an instant of patience, he would rub himself through his underwear until he was hard enough, or maybe he would grind against his bed until he could no long take the pleasure that monopolized his carnal desires.

Not that you were far away from that fate.

Hastily, you placed your hand in the space between your jeans and your underwear, finding your clit instantly. Your fingers traced circles over your sensitive spot, but the numbed feeling was awfully frustrating to endure. Just like the fucking video before your eyes was; the rise and fall of Jungkook’s abdomen as he reached for his own orgasm; the teasing of his thumb against the top of his member; the weak, whimper-like moans that infested your mind like a damn egyptian plague. Everything about that situation was frustrating, and it was tearing you from the inside out.

As he so tenderly caressed his length, you wondered at the rubor that had conquered his neck, the toned expanse of his chest. Jeon Jungkook had lost the intimidating arrogance that seemed to envelope his entire being. There was no arrogance in the curve of his mouth when opened his mouth in a whimper that broke before it could be captured by the microphone of his phone. There was no pride in the way he tilted his head back, fingers tight around his cock as he fucked himself relentlessly.

Despite the lack of friction, the sole image of his muscles tensing as he approached his release was enough to have you trembling. The memento of his hands roaming your waist was clear in your mind when you pressed your clit just a bit harder, wishing it was him the one to tease you with the same cruelly he was teasing himself. The wonders his fingers could do, his tongue. As his moans became louder, your movements turned erratic, almost desperate. It threatened to break you, but you could not find reason within yourself to stop.

Still, Jungkook wouldn’t be Jungkook if he didn't find a way to ruin your fucking day.

The vibration of your phone in your hands made your heart jump inside your chest and, for an instant, you swore you had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and the angels calling you to join them above. But no — it was the human-shaped devil named Jungkook and he was, quite literally, calling you.

With a stressed-out groan, you barely thought about your actions before sliding to answer his call, his previous moans being immediately replaced by static. “What the fuck do you want, Jungkook?”

From the other sound of the line, you heard a shuffle. “Oh great, you picked up,” he spoke. You couldn’t tell if his voice was permeated by annoyance or by relief and, quite honestly, you didn’t give a flying fuck — you had your hands pressed against the soaked mess that had become your panties in a public bathroom, and the last thing you needed was to psychologically characterize his timbre based upon the inflections of his tone. “We have to talk.”

Honestly? Fuck it. The guy had already ruined one rub-out session for you, and he wouldn’t do the same thing again; not when the only detail you could think about had been the ridiculously hot video he had sent you. “No we don’t,” you threw back, breathing growing sharp as you continued your motions — slower this time. “This is not the time, and you have nothing—” You paused, biting back a moan, then masking it as a cough. Okay, you certainly didn’t think that through. “You have nothing to justify.”

“You know I do.” He hesitated. “It’s about the video.”

“Of course it’s about the fucking video,” you interrupted, throwing your head back against the wall. You were starting to get close, and you knew it. “Are you narcissistic enough to jerk off to a video of you... jerking off? This is the weirdest case of inception I’ve ever seen.”

Jungkook paused on the other end. “Inception? But that has nothing to do with my family.”

Good god, have mercy on your soul. “Inception, Jungkook.” You groaned. “Not incest.”

“Not the point, smart ass,” he was quick to reply and — fuck Jungkook and his honey voice — you could have sworn he had almost stuttered. There was no way you could have known for sure, for your own mind was wandering elsewhere and you were barely containing the tremors of your own voice. “I really need to see you and explain, so tell me where to go and I’ll be there.”

“Jungkook,” you called, and your brain thought it was a great moment to bring the images you had been trying to avoid, of Jungkook in-between your legs licking your wetness away as you whimpered his name. At the end of the line there was only static to match your error, so you rapidly added. “There’s no need to explain. I really have no interest in seeing you beat your meat to whatever Arctic Monkeys song you chose as your sex jam, so I don’t really care about your reasons—”

“It’s very normal to do something like this, okay? Some guys do it all the time. I do it all the time to, you know, see how I perform and everything.” You had long lost track of his explanation. The murmur of his voice was just an echo at the back of your head, for you had never stopped pressing your fingers against your clit, trying to subdue the sweet pain threatening to take over. Your brain was overworked — and overwhelmed — and Jungkook blabbing his way out of shame was not annoying enough to stop you. “It’s like monitoring yourself, and It makes me a better lover. A better partner, if you want. Y-you should be glad I’m doing this—”

As Jungkook ranted on, you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt him, for you knew the moment you tried to speak only a moan would emerge from your throat.

Jungkook, however, took your silence as a punishment. “So you really watched it, huh?” He chuckled, humorless. “Guess I fucked up again—”

For fuck’s sake not now. The way he hesitated — just for a second — before he spoke and his voice refused to come out untainted but in a rough whisper, was the last thing you needed to complete your descent into Dante’s nine circles of hell.

Before you could notice, the faintest whimper dripped from your lips, a broken chord that sounded like his name.

Well, if you wanted to stop Jungkook from blabbering, that was the way to go.

Maybe if you had been a little more in your senses, the realization that you had just moaned out the fragmented syllables of his name would have seemed like an apocalyptic forewarning for the chaos that would ensue. But no: you were far too gone to care, and it had fulfilled your initial purpose of silencing the annoying insect buzzing in your earphones.

But of course, Jungkook wouldn’t let it go so easily.

On the other end of the line, he cleared his throat. “What… are you doing?” He paused, seeming to take in all the details he had ever so naively overlooked aforetime — the vague panting that departed from in-between your lips, the eagerness in which you rushed to finish your sentences. Something odd was taking place, and even his one living neuron could perceive it. “You sound like you just ran a marathon. ”

“It’s a debate class, genius, things got… heated,” and that had been the perfect word to use. “I’m not doing anything.”

There was a second of hesitation before he spoke up again. “Isn’t Namjoon in that class with you?”

“Yes. Congrats on the goldfish memory.” You breathed out — okay, you could maybe hold yourself back. You were getting close, for your legs were already shaking, and you could barely keep your eyes open for longer than a couple seconds and, if you had holden tight for that long, you could do it again. Just no more moaning. Not in front of him. Later, maybe.

“That’s weird,” Jungkook spoke. Fuck his voice, fuck the way his whimpers and cries for release still echoed inside your head; fuck the delicious sight of his head thrown back, and his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Fuck him. Fuck you. Hopefully. “I just texted him and he said that you left to go to the bathroom. For lady pro—”

“—It’s a different Namjoon.” What kind of answer was that? You were barely thinking. “Listen, Jungkook, I’m not in the mood to talk, so maybe you could just… call later?”

“There’s only one Namjoon, and we both know his lame lactose-intolerant ass.” Jungkook could be sharp if he thought very hard. Maybe the ruptured thoughts crossing your mind, the weakness spreading all over your body, was what he had needed to fight on equal ground — and somehow you knew he would be very proud of this victory. “You received the video, and then went to the bathroom?” He was trying to organize the timeline of your befall, and for once his solitary neuron was cooperating, while yours were just running around, screaming like hippies high on acid. “Did you go to the bathroom… to watch it?”

“Jungkook, just drop it.” You whined, the sound needier than you had ever intended. “Let’s talk later, okay? I need to go back to class now. Call me later if you want and we’ll talk about the stupid party or your rampant narcissism, whatever you want.”

“I’ll wait for you after class—” He didn’t sound convinced. The raggedness of your voice was a good reason to be puzzled, but the guy was apparently too idle to hang up and do something useful. “We can go somewhere to discuss the party details if you’re up. You know, like a business meeting but in like a café or something.”

“I have a test tomorrow.” Holding to the last threads of rationality, you understood it was time to end the conversation. “Nice talking to you, Jungkook. Bye.”

Jungkook would have questions, of course, but you could only think of him, his hands, his soft lips against your own. Your hand returned to torture your clit, this time unrestricted by his presence on the phone. It was ridiculously easy to find the right pace, to bring back the memory of his weights pressing against your own, his tongue discovering your mouth. Jungkook could mess your existence even in your imagination and that was something you had to confess you had never expected.

Call ended, you allowed yourself to suspire in relief, dwelling in the absence of his frequent interrogations, and the pleasure that was overtaking your senses. The silence, however, was short-lived: you forgot you still had the video playing in the background.  

Now, some things in life are beautifully synchronized: the fly of birds as the sun sets; your favorite sad song playing while you’re driving in the rain… Jungkook’s dragged-out moans echoing inside your head the same instant you found your high. You know, the simple stuff. The kind of stuff that makes you lay awake at night in horror.

Your legs trembled when you reached your orgasm, waves of heat running up and down your thighs as you fought to suppress a prolonged whimper. On your hands, the device called for your attention, and your parted eyes barely got the glimpse of a smaller, digitally edited Jungkook covering his abs with the white strands of his own relief; hips rolling against his palm as his mouth, open, cried out in sheer alleviation. You loved that sight, and it pushed you even further down your decay into inferno.

But, of course, the video didn’t stop there. It didn’t fade into black, as you had expected, because you deserved a plot twist to end the day. You had depleted your luck reserves long ago — probably during a math exam — so it was highly unlikely that the guy would just finish the deed and turn off the camera.

No, instead Jungkook continued teasing his cock until his thighs trembled with the excess of his own caresses; limbs flinching under the tides of his exaggerated stimulation. He could not bite back he suspires of despair as he rode a second orgasm and muttered an unintelligible prayer.

Wait, scratch that. You rewinded the video, to listen for a second time. In this occasion you closed your eyes, because his fucked-out face was far too distracting for your brain to keep up with so many stimuli.

It was, actually, very intelligible.

Jeon Jungkook was not praying, but moaning your name.

That, nevertheless, was a secret that would die with you. Or so you hoped.

[made-in-the-hallway]

Problematic feelings

Word count: 2.083

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Angst and tiny cries.

What’s up fam? I know it has been soooooo long since the last time I published a piece of writing but I felt the need to write wash over me so here I am! This was requested so I got down to fullfill that request! I haven’t proofread that so I am sorry for any typos! Also, I am not very sure of this one but I hope you like it! Feedback is very much appreciated and requests are open too! Without further a due, enjoy! (Picture’s not mine / Masterlist)...

Life had always been somewhat easy for me. That doesn’t mean that it never had its downs as well, but in total, the happy times and the happy memories, outnumbered the bad ones. Someone would assume that I am silly or even insane for thinking like that. But it is the ultimate truth. And I couldn’t be more appreciative of the little but of the big things that came my way as well.

Since I was little, my family was my safe place and they would always be there for me no matter what. It was something that always fascinated me and it was the main reason why I looked up to my parents as well. They were the happiest and the funniest people anyone would ask for to be in their lives. They made it their priority to look after me and make me a rational and most importantly a joyful human being.

As the years were passing by, my parents’ demeanor didn’t change in the slightest bit. Not even my dad’s, even when I brought Harry over to meet him. Harry and I had met at a Uni lesson, Algebra I reckon. We instantly hit it off and we would hang out almost on a daily basis. His presence always placed a smile on my face and warmth in my heart without him even trying. I was amazed at the simplicity of his actions and the importance they carried with them, for they made my day every day.

Harry was too thankful for having me around. At first, he had noticed how closed off I was and he made everything in his power to change that. He would randomly insert a funny comment in our conversation, without it really being relevant. But it did make me more comfortable around him. Then, he would nudge my shoulder when the teacher we both despised would walk into the classroom and I would stifle a laugh because we didn’t want to be expelled.

Anyone watching us would suppose that we were a proper couple. Oh how I wish. I’m not gonna lie. Harry was charming and all but what really made me fall for him so quickly was his personality. I know this sounds cliché as hell, but I can’t state otherwise. Just the way he saw things and his optimism worked like a strong magnet for me, pushing me towards him without stopping. At the time, I knew I was screwed, because I deeply understood that those feelings I had developed for him were one-sided. He never really rubbed it in my face that he hadn’t taken a liking in me, but he never confessed he liked me either.

So things between us were stable; at least for a month or so. There were times when I wouldn’t hear from Harry for almost two weeks. The time we spent apart was tearing me apart and no matter how many texts and voicemails I would leave to his cell phone, they were all sent in vain. The situation changed when he appeared on my doorstep – after 36 days of absence- clarifying that we needed talk. At first, I was scared he wanted to call it quits with me and just leave me be. 

But the complete opposite happened. He confessed that I was on his mind from the very first day his eyes landed on me and that he wanted to risk our friendship in order to become something more. This had to be the best day of life. Just thinking about it, makes me feel all the butterflies I felt at that time. So, we continued being together even after our graduation. My parents were ultimately glad for Harry. I mean, how couldn’t they? He was sweet with their daughter, he would always lend a hand when needed and most importantly, he never took advantage of my parents’ hospitality.

Things changed for the better when he proposed though. It wasn’t anything over the top, but it was over the top for me. The boy I had been fantasizing about since day one was on one knee asking me to be his wife. Maybe that was the best day of my life along with the day we were informed by our doctor that we were expecting twins. We were happily petrified. We wanted kids of course, but we had never done that before. How could we make it? Would we make good parents? How would we be able to afford such a lifestyle? Those were questions voiced to Harry by me, making my uneasiness and fears visible to him.

“As long as we’re together, nothing should make us feel afraid”, Harry had commented and that was all I needed; Harry to be there for me; for us. Ever since, he never left my side. He was there even when he needn’t be. Sometimes, he would exaggerate and be worried for the both of us. Deep down, I knew this was all I needed. A family with the man I always loved and a home to protect this affection from the vicious eyes.

But who knew that this affection would be threatened by the only people I would never suspect? Me and Harry. After the twins were born, difficulties and problems started to arise and they made us isolate ourselves from each other. I hated that. I thought we would never be hit by misery and sadness and that our family would be lovingly bonded till the end of time. Maybe, my life had been way too good to me and now it was time I dealt with its nasty face like everybody else did.

Fights with Harry have become a routine by now. Maybe his busy schedule is taking an ugly toll on him that he can’t control. Maybe I am tired of him throwing tantrums at any given moment. Maybe I don’t want our children to be raised in an unfriendly environment like this. Whatever the reason, Harry and I never bottled up our thoughts and emotions and we always took it out on the other. Just like right now.

Lips pursed, hands fisted, eyes burning and words sharper than knives were a usual sight for him. So it shouldn’t be much of a surprise for me as well.

“Harry please stop shouting! I just put the kids to bed for God’s sake!”

“Oh now I can’t even talk, right? Do I need yehr permission to do tha’ as well?” Harry’s tendency to exaggerate was enough to send me over the edge and forget all about my infidelity and my kids’ napping. 

“That is nonsense and you bloody know it! You never needed my permission to do anything! If you think that asking for my opinion on things, which is absolutely normal for couples and families, is wrong, then this is highly childish of you!”

“So yeh think tha’ I am a child then! How brilliant! I just can’t believe yeh said yes to marry a child!”

“You know I value our marriage and our family more than my own life Harry! What is wrong with you anyways? You always have my word for my loyalty and devotion to this family of ours but you just pay no attention to it!”

“Don’t even think about accusing me of not loving yeh or my children!” Harry’s blood was boiling by now and if there was a minor possibility to control his temper before, now there was none.

“If you loved and cherished me Harry then we wouldn’t be shouting at this time of night. We wouldn’t even be questioning each other’s feelings. But maybe y-“

“Maybe wha’? Maybe I don’t want yeh? Is tha’ wha’ yeh were goin’ to say?” Harry had taken a few steps towards me and my eyes were started to be blurry when a tiny cry from up the stairs had me frozen in place. 

Our older daughter, Emmy, was holding her teddy bear close to her small figure and she wore a disheartened  face that I swear it ripped my heart in two. Without wasting another minute, I rushed to her side and she desperately tried to get a hold of me like I were going to abandon her or disappear into thin air. Harry stood in front of the sofa, with his face buried in his hands and his heart fallen to his guts if not the floor of our home. I couldn’t believe we made our daughter believe her parents didn’t love her anymore or they didn’t love each other.

“Baby it is ok. Shhhh… I promise” I tried my best to soothe her and I felt her cries die down a bit. Instantly, I let out a big breath I didn’t even know I was holding and I absentmindedly started rubbing her back and planting small kisses on her small hands.

“Dadda doesn’t lov- love us anymore momma?” she tried to say but her hiccup got in the way. Just when those words fell from her lips, my face was quick to turn to Harry’s side. I was somewhat relieved to see that our daughter’s words had shaken him up a bit and made him come to his senses. That must mean he still feels something; if not for me, then for our kids at least.

He was quick to come to our side and place us inside of his embrace. Truth be told, I never felt safer in my entire life. Just when his arms tied around us, I felt protected. I felt like this black bubble of shouting and menace couldn’t absorb us. Emmy by the way, had stopped crying and she cherished her dad’s hug by wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and him lifting her up to meet his eyes.

“Don’t ever, ever assume tha’ Dadda doesn’t love yeh… Okay princess?” Harry reassured her and she moved her head. If only things were so easy. I had to remind myself that my conflict with Harry was far from over and we had yet to put an end to this. The only thing stopping me from it is my lack of energy. I was beyond tired and fed up with fighting with him. I just want everything to fall into place once again and stay this way for as long as we both remain married.

“Let’s put yeh to sleep now. Princesses need their precious sleep, don’t they?” Harry joked and Emma chuckled. He had a way to make things right; with his kids. I had made my way to our bedroom by then and I was preparing myself with what was coming. 

Half an hour later, I heard the door of the room cracking, signaling that Harry was in the room as well. No one said a word, letting the awkward silence consume us and leave us longing for a single reassurance; that nothing was lost yet. I found it completely ironic to be met with desperation and a heavy breathing around Harry when in the past he was the one who fought with those demons.

“What happened to us Harry?” I was the first to break the thick ice between us for it needed to be broken.

“Life I guess…” he dully replied and my heart fell to the floor. I needed to steady my mind, or else the burden of this situation would flip me over in a matter of seconds. 

“I am willing to chase life and not let it get in-between. But I can’t if I am alone in this”

“Wha’ do yeh mean Y/N?” he turned to face me and I could have sworn that I saw hope in his eyes. A burning hope to push that restart button together. A burning hope to make it right. Again.

“I mean that I am willing to start it all over. To be happy again. To leave those arguments behind and only look back to them to remind ourselves that we can be better than that. I am willing to give it a try and remind ourselves that our love is here to stay for good. I just need to know one thing Harry” I truthfully said and the look Harry gave me was enough for me to muster up all the courage and hope I had left in me in order to ask him two words. Even though I didn’t have a single clue what his answer would be or where we would be standing after this.

“Are you?”

[eleanor-devil]

[Boruto Fanfic] Aihime

As promised here is the new, small, collab fanfic done between me and @mirage-05 !

This fanfic is mainly focused on Boruto’s and Mitsuki’s relationship, with the possibility of romance in the way but mainly regarding their bond as friends. Some other ships will be occasionally mentioned such as ShikaSara and Sumire x OC.

Feedback is appreciated!

Chapter 1: Mitsuki’s Wish

Mitsuki stared at that little baby in the hospital's nursery; well actually there was more than one baby in that room, each one of them with their name written in their crib, some were there with their parents and others were alone, some were awake and others were sleeping.

But Mitsuki, for once, wasn't minding all the other babies around him, he was starting particularly at the black haired baby boy that had been born just a few hours ago. The man's golden eyes stared at the name too.

Shikaharu Uchiha-Nara.

Son and first born of two of his friends, one of them being Mitsuki's former teammate and the current Hokage; nonetheless Mitsuki had delivered this child himself, he had been the first one to hold the baby boy, to see him open his mouth and shout his first cries into the world before passing him to his parents.

Albeit, it wasn't the first child Mitsuki had brought to the world, after all it was part of his job in Konoha's hospital; and it also wasn't the first child from close friends that he had seen been born even if he hadn't been the one to deliver them.

And still... with the lives of all those babies and their parents he touched... he couldn't remember ever being hit with such a sensation... it was pretty overwhelming really. To observe the creation of another living being from the beginning... listening to its heartbeat... watching it grow in its mother's belly��

He was coming more and more to the realization that he wasn't just getting used to it, enjoy it... he was fascinated. And often, from time to time... he wondered how it would be to have a child of his own…

Despite already being in his middle 20's, Mitsuki hadn't found anyone to be with; sure he had dated a few here and there but they barely lasted or Mitsuki just didn't feel "the connection" with them, not in the same way Shikadai and Sarada had with each other or the same way Sumire and her husband, Raiden, had.

But Mitsuki, despite not having found the so called 'soulmate' for himself yet, felt that he was ready to have a child of his own; he didn't really care if there wasn't the second parent like in most children's lives, he would love the child in double if needed.

These thoughts continued to wander in Mitsuki's head, so much that by the end of the day, after his shift was over the blue haired man found himself calling Karin through his phone as he made his way back home.

Karin's tone was light and cheerful as she replied to him. "How nice to hear from you again, Mitsuki. I hope everything is good in Konoha?"

The young man couldn't help a small but genuine smile. No matter how old he became, Karin's motherly instinct toward him never changed - and he was actually glad for that. They chatted light-heartedly for a while, just catching up as they always do in their calls, before Mitsuki finally decided to bring up the subject he originally called for.

"Karin... I needed your advice about something." He took a deep breath. Yes, his father had Karin running this... business for a while now... but it wasn't like Mitsuki gave it a lot of thought before. "I... I decided that I really want to raise a child of my own."

The question caught Karin by surprise, of course it did Mitsuki had never showed interest in this before. The woman tried to understand why the sudden change of heart.

"Why is that Mitsuki? I mean, you know it's a big responsibility."

Mitsuki sighed "I know." he sat down on a bench near the park, watching some kids playing together "But I feel like something is missing in my life and working daily with children has made me realize that I want one."

Karin remained silent for a minute. Well, it wasn't really hard to see where Mitsuki was coming from... he had always been a sensitive and caring  person after all. For a brief second she had the image of a mini-Mitsuki, one that called the young man on the phone with her papa... and she couldn't help a smile.

"Well..." she sighed. "You know the process, Mitsuki... Human genes consist of 23 pairs of chromosomes, ideally coming from two parents. Direct cloning is still not a process that's fully developed, one that the resulting baby might not survive." She had to pause because what she was gonna ask next was... extremely personal. "Do you... I mean can you think of someone...?" She had to leave the end of the sentence dangling.

Mitsuki on his end was silent too, before he had called Karin he had decided that he didn't simply want a clone of himself, he didn't just want his father to make another mini clone so that he could raise him. No..that's not what he intended...so when Karin asked if he had anyone in mind, in reality the answer was yes but he still needed to confirm this.

"I do but..I haven't talked to them yet nor I know if they will accept."

He could hear the small sigh Karin tried to hold back "Well, as soon as you are ready to go with this, just call me. I will have everything ready."

"Thank you, Karin."

The call ended and Mitsuki's arm dropped from his ear down to his lap. His eyes still not moving from those children playing in the park.

He stayed still for a while before eventually standing up and walking back home...a bigger house than the one he had when he first moved to Konoha.

But still, it was an empty house.

He pulled off his jacket and put it on the hanger, but didn't turn on the light as he continued walking into the house. It was like he was there for the first time... which was a funny feeling, but he didn't elaborate on that. He just continued to move in silently.

The house consisted of two more rooms other than his bedroom, the living room and the kitchen. One was his study, the room in which he spent most of his time when he's home really. The other was a plain, one-bed only guestroom.The young man walked in there.

It was almost like the room was changing right before his eyes. He would need a crib there... and a little dresser with a changing table... maybe he should also paint the walls because right now they were a dull yellow. Blue if it was a boy, pink if it was a girl…

He didn't know when he started thinking of that, but he suddenly imagined himself as the proud father of a little girl... a warmness settled in his heart as he thought more of it.

He didn't go to his study this time, actually he hadn't even realized that had sat down on the guestroom bed, still imagining all the chances it would need when...if the baby came.

Mitsuki also imagined all the changes the room would have to suffer yet again as the child started growing. How would they be? Quiet like him? Or the complete opposite?

All these thoughts eventually made the blue haired man lay on the bed and drift off to sleep where the thoughts became dreams...very good dreams about his future child.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

A couple of days later, Mitsuki returned from a mission. It was funny how Sarada assured the missions kept going despite being on maternity leave; that woman worked way more than he did in the hospital, it was amazing how Shikadai managed to make her sit down, relax and just enjoy the time she had with their baby.

Boruto was also part of the team that had taken this mission, so the two men were just chatting as they walked past the Konoha gates.

"So how was your last date, Boruto?" Mitsuki asked with a hidden chuckle, knowing perfectly well how that date had gone

"Aww man, don't even get me started," the blond complained. It was amusing to Mitsuki that he still retained his trademark pout from when they were back as academy students. He guessed some things never changed.

"She just kept talking and talking, about oh how many places she had been in the world already, about how her father was willing to pay for another travel just at the end of this month... I mean even if she wasn't this self-aware, I was like how are we gonna keep this up, 'ttebasa..." He sighed in mock exasperation. "I. have. the. worst. luck. When it comes to girls anyway."

He then glanced at his best friend, and a smile quickly raised the corners of his lips. "What about you Mitsuki? Wait, lemme guess... you still don't sleep well enough with the time you spend in the hospital, yet alone another date?" His tone was light and teasing.

Mitsuki hummed before showing one of his trademark smiles towards Boruto "I actually had two dates this week" the look on Boruto's face was amusing "But they didn't work out, I guess I'm probably picky when it comes to dates. Or maybe I just don't need to date anyone to be happy."

Boruto pouted again "Well you don't exactly have people asking you to give them grandchildren already" Mitsuki chuckled knowing exactly who he was talking about. Lady Hinata was a very kind person and wanted to see her children happy as well...and of course she wanted them to give her grandchildren.

And ever since Naruto retired from his position as Hokage, he had joined his wife in doing the same. Mitsuki could only guess Boruto was driving crazy.

However soon the smile on the blue haired disappeared, becoming a more thoughtful and serious face "Boruto...I have been thinking..."

"Hm? What, you want to make changes in your living room again?"

"I want to have a child."

That effectively rendered Boruto speechless and more than that, the shock made him just gape at Mitsuki... and walk straight into a light pole. "Ugh... damn..." he muttered as he rubbed his nose, and then turned to his friend again.

"Come again, a-a child?" he stammered. He had never thought of Mitsuki's father, the feared sannin as a grandpa type (well he never gave him much thought, period) but still found himself asking, "What, is your parent driving you crazy about grandchildren too?"

Mitsuki actually chuckled at that... he couldn't ever imagine his father being like that to be honest. It would be downright out of character. "No... he doesn't really care about that stuff." The thoughtful look was still on his face, although softened by a small smile. "I guess... working in the pediatric ward was bound to bring that out sooner or later..."

"But...uh..I mean...kids...babies ....they need attention, they are a huge responsibility and not that I don't think you can't handle that because I think you already do an amazing job at the hospital but..." he looked straight at Mitsuki "They pee, they poop with a killing smell...and they cry a lot. Are you sure you are ready for all that??"

Mitsuki raised an eyebrow "You do all that stuff you named too...and you're an adult."

"It's not the same and you know it Mitsuki" he crossed his arms "But well...if that's what you really want, I will support you. But how are you going to do that if you don't have...you know a second person?"

"I will be going to Karin, I've told you about the laboratory she has been working on and she has had success cases." he stopped in his tracks, Boruto followed and that was when Mitsuki looked at him directly in the eyes "But for that to work I...do need a second person's DNA."

"Oh." was all Boruto could offer to say, pretty much on the dark about the whole genetics and cloning. He thought for a minute about it. "Well... did you think about it? I mean who would be that second person... It is kind of a big decision, a life-altering one even..."

Mitsuki shook his head slightly, his expression serene but serious. "I'm not going to ask for the person to take responsibility... it's my decision to have a child after all, they'll just be the donor, and it's only understandable if they don't want children anytime soon. But..." he paused for a moment, and his eyes glazed as his thoughts wandered. "I... don't really fancy about walking up to a complete stranger for it. It should be someone I know, someone I trusted... preferably someone I had a bond with for some time now..."

"But then who...?" the blond was kinda perplexed now. Seeing that a lot of the girls their age were married or at least engaged at this era... who could it be...?

Mitsuki's mind would probably remain a big mystery for him for years to come.

There was a silence for a while and then Mitsuki stopped walking which caused Boruto to do the same but their eyes never left each other out of sight.

"Boruto..." Mitsuki finally murmured "If I have to pick someone that I really trust, to be part of my child's genetics...then I would like that to be you."

To be continued...

[regrettablewritings]

All the Write Words, Pt.III (Library AU!Vladimir Ranskahov x Reader)

A/N: I’m gonna be real, this is just total juvenile cheesecake because even at my age, I have the sense of humor of a baby. And let’s be real, this was bound to happen at some point. This is a Vladimir fic after all . . .

Prologue Part I Part II Part IV Part V

For the first time in a long while, Vladimir Ranskahov’s life had a schedule: Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and every other Saturday, he was to be dropped off at the S. Lee Public Library from 10:45 AM to 1:30 PM. After every shift and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he typically would resume his previous work at his and Anatoly’s taxi garage. On Sundays and nearly every single night when he figured he could manage, time was put aside for downing copious amounts of vodka and drunkenly praying to God that this bullshit would end soon.

If not for his upbringing by a God-fearing born-again woman, Vladimir’s belief in a higher power would have died completely the moment he realized the ordeal wasn’t disappearing any faster than it could have been. However, it made no sense to disbelieve in a god when every other day he had to face the Devil.

The Bible had it all wrong. The Devil was not called Lucifer or Satan, and he wasn’t red with horns or anything of that nature. Instead, he was much less predictable: He was a she. And her name was (Y/N). And she was not red and with horns, but brown and small (thought she might have horns lying beneath that bushel of curls, Vladimir suspected). And her domain wasn’t an infernal pit of whips and organ-pecking birds so much as it was a homey little den of a library (still, there was much suffering, it was just relative). And there weren’t any torture devices like spears and daggers and racks so much as there were plenty of books and ridiculous words and references that could make a man feel insignificant all the same.

Or the damn alphabet chart she kept using during their little lessons in the faculty lounge. It was definitely plucked from the children’s learning corner, and it was definitely humiliating that he was being taught pronunciation association with it. C’s cat and F’s fox mocked him with their cartoonish faces. He swore he could hear D’s toothy donkey wheeze with laughter.

Maybe they were (Y/N)’s little demon accomplices? Maybe he himself was so weak that they needn’t resume an actual three-dimensional form to torture and berate him? The thought would make Vladimir shake his head furiously and toss the shot glass to the side, going full-on swig with whatever remained in the vodka bottle he’d nicked from Anatoly’s wine rack. Christianity had gotten one thing right about her, though: She had soul-sucking eyes that could make you feel quiet and nude. Especially when she was certain she could gain an upper-hand. Which, with Vladimir, almost always seemed to be the case somehow.

Vladimir stared blankly at the book in the center of the table, part-because its original cover had been so mangled that at some point it’d been given a new “jacket” made out of folded paper and marker, and part-because with what little English he could read, there was oneword  on that book cover that stood out to him the most. He’d seen it graffitied on the cell walls, heard it uttered a million times more, even said it himself plenty of times if the situation suited it. Enough to identify it by sound and connect it to the letters.

Fun with Dick and Jane.

Was he going to read/look at a porno? Vladimir fought to keep from smirking. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Sip. Oh. Wait.           

“Well, I see that childish humor transcends all languages.” And already, today was back it being normal. Vladimir flashed (Y/N) a reproachful look. She sat on the other side of the round lounge table per unspoken request, wearing yet another baggy sweatshirt that ended practically midway down her thighs and was altogether swallowing her short form up. She should’ve been more than warm in that suffocating getup, but she still insisted upon helping herself to a Styrofoam cup of hot Swiss Miss. She also insisted that she coyly sip from said cup for what seemed like every ten seconds of silence.

“You can try to hide that smirk all you want but the proof is in the pudding, puddin’: you’re all giddy about that Dick.” Proud of her little joke, (Y/N) smiled into her cup. The roundness of her cheeks were still visible. Vladimir quickly tried to change the subject before he slapped that cup out of her hands in a childish revenge fashion.

“What sense does it make that I read this when I can barely write?” he questioned. It was a fair point: how could be possibly read when he didn’t understand what composed the words before him?!

(Y/N) pursed her lips in thought. “Weelll . . .” she dragged, tapping her fingers against the side of the cup. “To tell you the truth, I’ve actually never really taught before . . .” Her cheeks turned rosy slightly, and Vladimir knew instantly that was it wasn’t because of the Swiss Miss. Her tone indicated a sudden realization of the gravity of this task. Maybe it’d prove to be too heavy for her and she’d just give up, sign the papers, and set him loose? Vladimir hoped so.

But all at the same time, there was a small part of him, one he didn’t want to acknowledge too greatly, that wanted her to remain persistent. Just to see where and how far this all would go.

“B-but I have younger siblings, and I read to them occasionally. So . . . so I figured that if I tried reading some basic words to you, you’d begin to connect words to writing. Or at least get more enthusiastic . . .” She shyly played with one of her many curls, suddenly gaining an interest in the image of her Styrofoam cup. She bit at her lip slightly, repressing only a fragment of the smile that was beginning to grow on her face. “I guess I could be on the right track, though.” She glanced up at the rugged Russian. “After all, you could read ‘Dick.’”

A hiss of irritability escaped from Vladimir’s flared nostrils but nothing else. She had a point, as pissed as he was to find himself understanding and agreeing. He glanced back down at Fun with Dick and Jane with its printer paper makeshift cover. What the hell, his mind finally gave in. Jane was having fun with a dick, so maybe this wouldn’t be so bad . . .

“’See Jack laugh?’” A painted illustration of some nancy boy laughing at a clown on a clunky old TV set. “’See Jane play? Jane plays with the doll.’” A little blonde girl swearing a frilly blue dress, playing with a raggedy old doll that his mother probably wouldn’t want. “’Dick is running. Run, Dick, run!’”

Yeah, you dick: Run away for fooling me, Vladimir wanted to say. This was pure torture: Having the poofy-haired Devil read to him – and at such a slow-ass pace! (Y/N), at the very least, seemed to be enjoying herself in some way. Well, that’s what the tight smile plastered across her face had initially said. But about midway through, Vladimir began to suspect that it was because she, too, might be embarrassed by the childish display. 

. . . Or maybe because there was something rather odd about having to constantly utter the word “Dick” in front of a guy with whom she was not involved with nor even on friendly terms. Either way, it managed to create a small sense of victory for Vladimir; the torturer suffering alongside the tortured. Beautiful.

Why should he care about the daily activities of Jane? Or that Spot the dog and Puff the cat liked to play? Or – aw, hell, who the hell is Pam and why is she being brought into the cast seventeen pages into this travesty?!

When (Y/N) began to talk about how Sally was “funny Sally, funny, funny Sally”, a knock came from the threshold. Vladimir’s relief was almost immediately run over by embarrassment as a certain pudgy young man appeared to have walked in on their little lesson.

“Uh, hope I’m not interrupting anything major,” Foggy said from the doorway. “But that one guy? Mr. Wesley? Yeah, he’s here for those language books but we’re having trouble locating the one on Mandarin.”

“Oh, really? Okay, hold on, I’ll be right out,” (Y/N) offered. The slight eagerness in her voice indicated that she was just as excited to stop reading the bore-fest. As she followed Foggy out to the front desk, she called back, “Few-minute break, my little big pupil! Hang tight, I’ll be right back.” Vladimir nearly broke his phone with how fast and frustratingly he whipped it out of his pocket. Immediately, he set to dialing one of the very few numbers he had.

“You should not be calling,” Anatoly greeted after the third ring. Before he could say anything more, Vladimir interrupted, his Russian becoming more like gibberish. “Brother, you have signed me up for sick torture. This -- this witch has me sitting here listening to her read about Jane and Dick and –”

“Zaderzhat, zaderzhat– khuy?! You are reading porn?!” Anatoly demanded. Judging by the harsh whisper he’d delivered the sentence in, it was safe for Vladimir to assume that he was in the garage surrounded by the employees. Vladimir opened his mouth to clarify but the elder Ranskahov went on. “What the hell are you reading porn in a goddamn library, you mudak?! I send you to make you better person, not to be like some horny teenage boy!”

“No, you idiot, listen! I – ”

“Volodya, I understand if last two years in jail were rough on you – urges is -- is normal. But just because it is so long, does not mean you go about letting your dick lead you like a dog on a leash. You are its owner, you control it. So stop hiding in back room and get to work!”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you goddamn mudak!” Vladimir hissed. His pride had been severely wounded. How dare Anatoly assume he was stooping so low. Hell, how dare he assume he couldn’t just walk right out this library and get any! “Women is not problem for me! And to correct you, you idiot, is not porn, is a . . . a fucking book for children!”

“Ooohhh,” Anatoly muttered with slight relief. A beat occurred between them, with Vladimir too furious and embarrassed to say anything and Anatoly suddenly in thought.

“Why are you reading children’s book?” His voice broke the crisp silence. A flurry of emotions and thoughts banged against the walls of Vladimir’s skull. Like hell Anatoly was going to find it out now!           

“Okay, I’m back,” (Y/N) said as she returned into the room. At that moment, Vladimir considered the little devil an angel. But just for a second. He quickly hung up on his brother without offering him an explanation and shoved the phone back into his pocket, his usual glare holding in place. “Sorry for the holdup,” the young woman said as she grabbed another cup from the counter. She was making yet another cup of Swiss Miss.

“Mr. Wesley is a man with some rather . . . high . . . expectations. He’s a bit of a butt if you don’t put things a certain way, though . . . Oh, well,” she sighed. But her words fell on deaf ears for Vladimir. As did her continued narration of yet another Dick and Jane segment. To be perfectly honest, Vladimir had bigger, better things going on in his mind. Like how his own flesh and blood had the audacity to accuse him of being like a hormonal plebian.

He was a grown-ass man, he was more than capable of controlling his hormones! So what if he hadn’t gotten any kind of anything in a while? . . . A rather long while . . . Vladimir unconsciously furrowed his brows in thought. How long had it been precisely?

“Ow! Dammit!” The little curse yanked Vladimir back into the world of reality. In reality, (Y/N) had spilled a majority of the hot Swiss Miss on to her baggy sweater. The large brown stain coupled with a hiss of minor pain caused (Y/N) to click her teeth with dismay. “Sorry ‘bout that, Vladimir, I was just – gimme a sec.” She said it as if Vladimir had actually made any attempts to help out with the situation. Mentally, the Russian scoffed as he took his seat once again. . . . Wait. When did he even get out of it?

(Y/N) sighed after further inspecting the damage the spill had caused. “It’s all damp and gross now . . .” she muttered, her shoulders slumping in defeat. It made Vladimir roll his eyes. Why did she care about it like a normal woman cares about actually fitting clothes? It was just a baggy, old sweater. Hell, it was probably just a burlap sack dyed a different color to hide just how rough it was. Silly peasants and their attachments to their trash. These thoughts rattled in Vladimir’s head, completely drowning out his previous mental documentation and the insults that had called for them.

Then he noticed (Y/N)’s arms disappearing from the sleeves of her sullied sweater. She began to do that all too familiar wriggle a person does when they were getting a shirt off. What the – ?

“Hope you don’t mind . . .” (Y/N)’s voice sounded bashful from behind the cloth as it covered her mouth. He could see her cheeks reddening as her face descended into the neck hole, the sweater completely swallowing her. “I – I just can’t wear something so damp. It’ll get chilly, I’m sorry if this comes off as unprofessional but – ” The rambling continued on as it normally did with (Y/N), muffled until the little woman emerged from the bottom of the jumper but the embarrassed blush of her face continued. Her brown eyes scurried to look anywhere but at her overgrown pupil. Had she looked up, she would’ve noticed a change in his demeanor.

Well. The Bible might have gotten one more thing right about the Devil: She could completely transform her impression by someone in the blink of an eye because damn was that sweater like a ragged snakeskin hiding a form like that. Maybe it was the way the black fitted t-shirt embraced the slopes of her curves. Maybe it was because without the low-hanging sweater, Vladimir could see that she had soft-looking thick thighs being hugged by comfortable jeans. Maybe he just liked how after the ordeal with removing the top, her hair had become a mess he had only ever seen after becoming very . . .  “playful” with a woman. … Or maybe he just liked the fact that now he could confirm that she had a nice perky-looking set of –

Konechno net! Vladimir scolded himself. You are not some simpleton brat who gets a hard-on at the mere sight of a shoulder!

It was irritating to say the least and it rang in his head even as (Y/N) carried on like normal, clearing her throat as she resumed her place in the book. It was distressing how much Vladimir was actually forcing himself to pay attention to the words she read, especially after being so insistent that he do otherwise not too long ago. But then ago, not too long ago, he wasn’t trying to not think about the last time he’d been with a woman. And not too long ago, (Y/N) the Devil had been wearing an unflattering sweater that made Vladimir certain she probably had the body of a deflated potato. And not too long ago, he was certain the book was mostly focusing on the antics of Pam or Sally . . .

“Dick is lonely. Poor, lonely Dick,” he heard his teacher utter. He was almost certain he heard a wave in her voice as she said it (almost like a laugh attempting to flutter out) but decided against that possibility. But he did notice that among other things, he sat up straighter and his eyes searched frantically for other stimuli. Something, anything to dull out the ridiculous and rather suggestive sentences he had to hear her utter, even the minor add-ins she made to soothe the laughter he swore wasn’t there.

“Dick wants to play. Dick goes to play with Jane.”

This is absurd. This is ridiculous –

“Jane wants to play with Dick as well. Hurray!”

Surely these damn Americans knew how filthy this all sounded!           

“Dick j-umps with happiness (Oh, God . . .).”

Focus! On that poster – shit, it’s in English. The fridge? How many dots are in the ceiling tiles?!

“‘Jump, Dick!’ says Sally (pfft!). Dick jumps high.”

Hell no, nothing down below was jumping, right? Nothing to get all jumpy down there about when you’re looking at – a toaster? Magnets? Napkins?! Hair? Her hair? All messy and curled against cheeks red from being flustered –

“Dick is b-big . . .”

Those curves that didn’t exist until now, that perfect handful set on her chest –

“Dick is bigger than Ja – I can’t do this!” Immediately, (Y/N) burst into what might have been the most juvenile laughter Vladimir had heard in a long time. Like a series of bubbles overflowing from her mouth, rampant and without any of the control or demure nature she’d appeared to have before. It was unsettling. “I – I’m zsorry, V-vladimir,” (Y/N) wheezed as she tried to pat the laughter back with gentle taps to her chest. “I dknow it’z childish but – but come on, it’z zso ridiculous!” Vladimir could only stare and fight off the feeling of gobbsmacked that he actually felt.

He had been brought back to reality by a thunderous laugh and yet he wasn’t sure how much of it was actually real.

“Shoot, man,” gasped (Y/N) when she’d finally managed to calm down. “I think I laughed myself a set of abs almost. Geez, I’m a child . . .” She shook her head. Vladimir was used to only her curls bouncing when she did this but with the sweater gone and her body still making minor heaves after such a laughing spell, he couldn’t help but notice some other things moving in a bouncy fashion as well. And he fucking hated that he noticed this. He also hated how when she laughed in that gross fashion, his face burned. What witchcraft was this freaking suka pulling?!

Knock-knock.

The two looked up to see Claire in the faculty lounge doorway. “Hey, (Y/N)? Yeah, a young man at the desk is asking about Arachnemania? That one book on spiders? I swear we have it somewhere but we can’t find it in our system, is there any way you could . . .?”           

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thanks Claire,” (Y/N) turned to Vladimir. “Hang tight for a sec. When I come back, we can start on some workbook crap, a’ight?”

Vladimir nodded slowly. He had to remind himself to make his perpetual scowl at last minute. It didn’t last long, however, as when (Y/N) turned to leave, Vladimir’s eyes could help but slink downward on her body. Well. Apparently there were now two things Vladimir didn’t hate about his teacher from Hell. It took the end of his shift and his distance from them for him to realize in pure frustration that the little cheeky devil had turned the things he liked against him to get into a false sense of enjoyment.

[winsomelychic]

20 Things I Wish I Knew

You’re pregnant and having a baby. For some of you, this is a dream come true and you have waited for this moment. For others, you are staring at the test in disbelief. I think I was a bit of both. I was so excited to be pregnant, but my mind was also in a million different places. What was happening next? I wish there was a “You’re pregnant - For Dummies…”. I am sure there is a book like this but I am too lazy to go searching for it and I lack the patience to fully read it to find the generic textbook pregnancy answers. If you’re like me, you want the truth and facts up front. People often sugar coat pregnancy, but if you are anything like me, you want to know what it is really like. The good, the bad, the ugly -SPILL. So buckle up and enjoy the ride! Here are a few things I didn't know . . .

20 Things I Wish I Knew

The doctors don't come in until the baby is about to crown. You and your L&D nurse do most of the work together. When she has your legs situated, you will begin to push. If it is anything like me, the practice pushes are the real deal. Those pushes are just the first couple to help you figure out what to do. So don’t panic when she says lets go and there are no doctors around. Once you baby is in a certain position, then a team of doctors will come in. *This is at least how it was for me.

You might get stretch marks or a black line down your belly. Your body is changing rapidly and sometimes the creams and oils just don’t help.

Don’t over pack your hospital bag. Just pack the essentials because you wont need to much while you are there.

Your hormones are all over the place, during pregnancy and after birth. I broke out in hives when I found out, my leg hair started growing really slowly, and my emotions were all over the place. If you have changes, its likely the hormones.

Your birth plan might not be what happens the day of. I can attest to that - My husband and I were preparing for my labor. It happened so fast that our two friends that were visiting got stuck in the room. It is a funny story to look back on!

You might go number 2 when in labor- LIKE I MEAN YOU MAY POOP. You practically are pushing like you are using the restroom. They know this might happen and they will quickly remove it so you don’t even know. If your husband is like mine, he will tell you if you do. Luckily I didn’t or else I wouldn't hear the end of it!

If you get an epidural, you never see the needle. They simply put it in your back while you are staring in your partner’s eyes. There were like three vibrations with mild pressure that went up my back and that was that. It might not work at first or at all - it all just depends.

You might wear a nursing gown, you might get naked, you might be dressed and covered. It just depends on how your labor process goes. I would wear the nursing gown the hospital provides though because it does get a little messy.

You see all those ladies post partum - leaving the hospital and looking ADORABLE. What you do not see is what is happening underneath it all. They are probably wearing a diaper and feeling like S*@!. They have bleeding - and most likely there is a lot. If you have a vaginal delivery, there is a lot of stuff going on down there. I would bring loose clothing and make sure it is comfy because you will have either a diaper, pads, and cooling pads and you still have a tummy when you head home. Sorry, that belly doesn’t disappear overnight. I looked about 4 months pregnant when I left the hospital.

Push time may be hours or it could be 40 minutes and 10 contractions later.

GOODBYE TMI. Prepare to say things you would never imagine saying- like my poop comment up there. Also, prepare for everyone to be looking at your lady goods. You will not be shy and if you are - get over it. No, when the time comes, you will only be thinking about having that baby.

The first potty time: Okay, after I had Marleigh I just wanted to shower. I quickly showered and then a nurse came in and said she needed a sample of my urine. Peeing is no joke when you just had a baby and you feel like everything is going to fall out. I was so scared to sit down. Don’t be ashamed to have the nurse help you walk to the bathroom. Also, have your nice Frida bottle with warm water ready to help ease the sting. Going #2… Yeah that is also scary and you will be uncomfortable. Like I said, you feel like everything is about to fall out. Don't worry- it doesn't. Also it is messy down there- remember that too. So the bathroom might get a little messy too.

Baby poop: I knew the first poo was a thick, dark, poo but I did not realize it would be tough like tar to get off the babies bottom. It also lasted a few days. If you have a girl as well, she might have a “baby period” - so prepare for that. Nothing scary, just kind of weird.

Say goodbye to a lot of cute clothes - Nursing friendly outfits can be difficult to find. I figured once I had the baby and lost the weight, I would go back to wearing my cute dresses, rompers, etc. Rain check on those outfits now sitting in the back of my closet. You will be wearing clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty and that are nursing friendly. Unless you formula feed or exclusively pump, you will need easy access to your boobs.

Breastfeeding- I don't know how to explain the feeling of a letdown when you first get your supply and go into oversupply. Mine was like a painful, but relieving feeling (Is this how It feels for everyone?). Also just be careful for clog ducts and mastitis - I haven’t had it yet but I have heard it is very common and is SO painful. If you go through your first night with baby sleeping and miss a feeding, your boobs may be lumpy, super full, or leaking like you wet the bed.

You might get a hernia- before the baby or after. If you do, prepare to use the restroom for up to 30 minutes SWEATING and for some blood to be apparent. Not everything is beautiful when you are pregnant.

Prepare to overthink and doubt yourself, and when you think you finally found a solution, prepare to doubt yourself again. I swear making decisions seems daunting and impossible when it is a decision for your child.

This one is kind of nice: You do get some sleep with a newborn while in the hospital. You wake up quite often to feed and people coming in and out- but you can find time to sleep with the help of nurses and whoever is there to support you. What I didn't realize is that I was so lost in admiring my baby, I didn’t use that time to sleep wisely. USE IT IF YOU CAN. Once you go home, there is no help or sleep from there. I thought life would be like it was in the hospital when I went home but that was not the case. Bye bye sleep. The exhaustion is real the first few weeks. I would dream I was feeding Marleigh and then wake up and she wasn’t there. I would panic and realize she was sleeping in her crib.

During labor and the first few weeks home, you might see a new side to your partner. I swear I fell in love with my husband all over again. He had these emotions all over his face when she was born and had her first cry and then his face changed when we drove home. Then, again his demeanor changed the first time she fell asleep in her crib and then cried at 1am. It was like each emotion was completely new and I have never seen it before. It was an experience I can’t explain, but my heart will always remember.

When you go home, it might feel a little weird. You are happy, but its kind of like WOAH. This is real now. I kind of felt like I was sitting on the couch unsure of everything, but it will become a new norm. Your home will start to feel like your home again.

XOXO,

Jeana

[festivalists]

The Erlprince

In the last several months, Polish cinema has been making waves again: THE LAST FAMILY / OSTATNIA RODZINA (2016) has been conquering world festivals since Locarno, THE LURE / CÓRKI DANCINGU (2015) is being shown in US theatres right now, Agnieszka Holland won big at Berlinale, and Kuba Czekaj's second feature THE ERLPRINCE / KRÓLEWICZ OLCH (2016) scrored two very important festivals – Slamdance and Berlinale Generation 14plus. Fortunately, our new contributor Rohan Berry Crickmar had the opportunity to interview Kuba Czekaj in Berlin, so now you can read all about the independent filmmaking community in Poland, and risks.

The young Polish filmmaker Kuba Czekaj is a very busy man. In the space of eighteen months he has completed and promoted his first two feature films, BABY BUMP (2015) and THE ERLPRINCE / KRÓLEWICZ OLCH (2016). The latter has received its European Premiere in the Generation 14plus Competition here at the 67th Berlinale, after having won the Young Jury Award for Best Film at Gdynia Film Festival in 2016.

Czekaj is very much at the vanguard of an emerging generation of exciting young Polish film talent, alongside the likes of Agnieszka Smoczyńska, Tomasz Wasilewski, Katarzyna Rosłaniec, Bodo Kox, and Krzysztof Skonieczny. Born in Wrocław in 1984, Czekaj studied Directing at the Krzysztof Kieślowski Radio and Television Faculty at the University of Silesia in Katowice, graduating in 2010. After this initial training, he then attended the Andrzej Wajda Master School of Film Directing in Warsaw during 2011. He initially produced a series of award-winning short films between 2009 and 2014, including the highly original DON’T BE AFRAID OF THE DARK ROOM / CIEMNEGO POKOJU NIE TRZEBA SIĘ BAĆ (2009). BABY BUMP, his first feature film, premiered at the 72nd Venice Film Festival in 2015, winning a Special Mention in the Queer Lion Award category.

Having been impressed by the hyper-excessive inventiveness of BABY BUMP when I saw it at the 2015 Gdynia Film Festival, I was keen to see what aesthetic developments, if any, Czekaj had made during the shoot of THE ERLPRINCE. Little did I know just how difficult it would be to assess this director’s progress between first and second feature. This was nothing to do with the quality of THE ERLPRINCE, as I think it is a bold film that builds upon and expands the scope and ambition of BABY BUMP. Rather, it was difficult to talk of progress due to the surprising revelation of how both films were produced.

On meeting Czekaj in Berlin after the premiere of THE ERLPRINCE, I was immediately struck by the seeming contradiction between his physical timidity, as if his wiry frame was desperately trying to discreetly disappear from view, and the genuine warmth and openness of his character. The resulting interview is peppered with candid details about the production histories of his self-described “informal diptych,” as well as some clear insights as to his working methods and the importance he places upon collaboration. Although, some areas of the interview have been slightly amended to facilitate clarity and comprehension, I have tried to preserve, as much as possible, the idiosyncrasies of this director’s English, as I believe it best captures his engaging and self-reflexive personality.

Rohan Berry Crickmar: Before this interview, your publicist was telling me that you effectively produced BABY BUMP and THE ERLPRINCE simultaneously?

Kuba Czekaj: Yeah, mostly at the same time, because, you know, we started shooting at the beginning of, I think, 2015, this was the first part of the shooting. Then I had a break, after which I started shooting BABY BUMP, and after that I immediately came back to the set of THE ERLPRINCE. Then, in September 2015, there was a premiere at the Venice Film Festival. So it was a crazy year for me, but also a wonderful and very unique lesson, especially for someone, you know, who is a first-time director. So, yeah, I think it was a very important time for me.

RBC: Before you did these two features, you had a quite considerable body of work in terms of short films?

KC: Yeah, I made several in my school, and you have some opportunities after you finish your education. There was a program for young filmmakers to make a professional audition film. Normally, something like thirty minutes. My film was called DON’T BE AFRAID OF THE DARK ROOM. It was just after my education that I made this film, and after this film the same studio offered me the chance to do THE ERLPRINCE. But, of course, as you probably know, because everybody knows, it is very difficult to get the financing and to have the money for these sort of films [laughs].

RBC: Indeed! Am I right in thinking that Venice helped to develop the project?

KC: Yeah, Venice has some program, It is called Biennale College Cinema. This is a program for first or second-time filmmakers. They help, supporting productions, because they give you money with just one rule that you can only spend 150,000 EUR, no more. It is a kind of competition. At first, twelve production teams are invited. You just apply with a treatment and some additional materials, and then they choose the twelve teams, and you have some workshops. This helps you in talking about and pitching your film. After all the workshops, you return back home and write up the first draft of the script, send it, and then they make the decision based on: your stay in Venice, the pitch, the quality of the script, and, I think, trust. After all, they don’t know the people who are applying, so it is a kind of risk for them to just give anyone the money. After receiving the money, you have only one year – for us it was nine months – to make the film and be ready for the following year’s Venice festival, where the film will receive its premiere. So after all, when I had the decision that BABY BUMP would be financed, I also had the decision that THE ERLPRINCE would begin shooting. This led to a very difficult decision as to whether I could do both films. I had a lot of feedback telling me “This is too much, you should just concentrate on one film.” But I just said “Come on guys, I have to film these, as it will be my most important lesson, and I will have a film in Venice, so I need to test myself, I need to take this risk and fight for my dreams!”

RBC: So, with BABY BUMP that was partly funded by the Venice Film Festival?

KC: Yeah.

RBC: With THE ERLPRINCE, funding was coming from?

KC: From Poland. It is a public fund. The most amount of money came from the Polish Film Institute. There was also investment from the Polish public television, as well as one of the regional funds in Poland, the Wrocław Film Commission.

RBC: And that is where you are from?

KC: Yes, this is my hometown. And we had involvement from a post-production company, as part of this funding arrangement, which meant that we had to use their services to complete the film.

RBC: So the post-production is locked in to the funding arrangements?

KC: Yeah, yeah.

RBC: Now you retained a few people over both films, mainly amongst the actors, first and foremost, and then also within two areas of the technical crew that I am particularly interested in. In terms of the actors Agnieszka Podsiadlik and Sebastian Lach seem to reprise quite similar roles. Was that a deliberate choice on your part? Was it a very obvious thing to go “Right, once we cast in this film we just continue on to the next film”? What was your rationale behind this?

KC: You know, Agnieszka and Sebastian were on this film [THE ERLPRINCE] from the beginning. At this stage I could not have imagined we would have had the chance to do something else. I really believe that you should be making films with your family, and this family is made up of your cast and crew. You need to work with people you trust, people who trust you too. To say it simply, we are really just very close friends. It is really important that you have this kind of relationship, as when you are on set, you really don’t have any time. You have so much to do, and you are really fighting with your schedule. So beforehand I had a lot of meetings and conversations with actors, but also with the likes of Adam Palenta (he is the DoP of the films), or the costume designer. So after all of this preparation, we felt ready to do these two films in a very short time. As I said at the beginning, I could not plan that we would be doing two films, but I felt “Come on, I have wonderful people right in front of me, so I need to invite them on to the next project!” For me this was so natural. I think this is a good way of filmmaking.

RBC: What was it that drew you to Agnieszka? She has such strong and interesting roles in both films, so what was it that drew you to her when you were casting? Prior to your films, I had only really seen her in quite minor roles in things like ZERO (2009) and BABY BLUES / BEJBI BLUES (2012), but I hadn’t actually seen her in a significant major role?

KC: It is kind of funny, or strange, because we met a few years ago, when I was the second director on, maybe you know this film, IT LOOKS PRETTY FROM A DISTANCE / Z DALEKA WIDOK JEST PIEKNY (2011). It is a film by Wilhelm Sasnal [co-directed with his wife Anka], a very famous Polish painter. She [Agnieszka Podsiadlik] was playing one of the roles and I was just the First AD. After the shoot, we met in some bar, or restaurant, and just started talking. Also, then I met Sebastian, and even then I had a script of this film [THE ERLPRINCE]. So after talking with them, we just kept in touch, month to month, and remained friends. I am talking about this, because this was the casting. I realized at a certain moment that I had wonderful people right there in front of me. Of course, I knew both of them as actors, but for me it felt more crucial to know what kind of people they are. It was easy for me to ask them to join me [on the project], as I loved them and believed in them. I could trust them, because we shared similar tastes, we liked the same films. Of course, sometimes we were fighting, but it is like I would do with a friend. A friendship should be sometimes heated. It is really nice in this way, because the relationship is really honest. Sometimes we have a difference of opinion, but that is the relationship, the way it is.

RBC: It is interesting that you say this, because I think that is something that you are getting in the dynamic between son and mother in both of the films. There is a dynamic there that is really warm and tender, on the one hand, but very quickly and very easily flies into a moment of, as you say, heat, or anger that flickers up, and then gets suppressed.

KC: Yeah, for me it is very important for the actors to feel like partners. Also this extends to my kids, and by that I mean the kids who are playing in the films. After two films, I am sure that there isn’t any difference, as a director, for me to direct them. It is always the same, we are talking about trust and spending a good time, being close and having fun sometimes. Obviously, there is the need to fight if the situation requires it, but the actors being my partners is crucial.

RBC: I think a lot of the best filmmakers, the kind who have a real identity early on, establish a core group of people that they work with.

KC: Yes, this is your community.

RBC: Exactly! I am seeing this often in the current Polish situation, and correct me if I am wrong here, but I think this is a very good time to be a Polish filmmaker, because there seems to be a lot of these little communities popping up around young filmmakers.

KC: I think we have a lot of good signs that it is better than the past. Of course, I think there is still a lot to do in terms of film opportunities, but you have the likes of Agnieszka Smoczyńska, whose last film [THE LURE / CÓRKI DANCINGU (2015) ] just had a big opening in the US, which has already enabled her to start work on a new film. There is also THE LAST FAMILY / OSTATNIA RODZINA (2016), so this is wonderful. There has also been a great change as there are now a lot of new faces in the film industry in Poland – and really young. You know, in the past a first-time director would have been something around forty-six or fifty. Now it is more like thirty-something, so it is wonderful, but I am really waiting for someone to come along who is twenty-one, as cinema needs young energy. Film needs to sometimes be told “Fuck you!” So I am really waiting for someone to do that.

RBC: I would agree with that, definitely. You talked about Adam Palenta. You have worked with him a long time. I just would like you to give me some insight into the importance of this working relationship to you, and how it has helped you to shape what, I think, is a very unique visual style, and, perhaps, how this relationship has developed over time?

KC: It is a very simple answer. He is like my brother. We met at film school. I was in the first year, and Adam was already in his final year, in the Cinematography department. He taught me a lot of things. I remember when we first began to collaborate together on my first filmmaking exercise, it was done using film stock, and I was so nervous because I knew we only had one reel. So I was not thinking what we were shooting, I was thinking about how much film we had left. He got me to concentrate on each shot. This is a very simple example of how he helped me along this wonderful journey of making films. And now we don’t really talk too much about what we are trying to do. It is very similar to my relationship with Agnieszka and Sebastian, and the rest of the crew. We have the same taste. For example, if we are talking about how BABY BUMP was shot, we both really liked the idea of simple cinematography. We do not use sophisticated tools. Yes, we are toying with various things, but the shots remain very simple. Mostly, the characters are in the centre [of the shot], and we mainly work in close-up. Of course, we used close-up to build this very intensive atmosphere, especially in THE ERLPRINCE.

RBC: It is all very insular?

KC: Yeah, yeah, we like this way in which actor’s look into the camera. Of course, it is not an instruction for the rest of our films, but in this case we thought it was necessary to help describe these two different universes. Also, when we knew that we would be making two films at the same time, it was crucial to think of two ways of storytelling. I am thinking here of the form, both of the picture and the sound. This became crucial, because if you are making two films about one theme, there needs to be formal difference. BABY BUMP is more about sexual transformation and body transformation, it is more like a body horror. However, in THE ERLPRINCE we are talking about mind and soul, and all of these naive moments you have when you are around fifteen.

RBC: I thought about the films as being one about prepubescence and one about puberty. So one of the films was about that transformation of a child into this awkward, in-between stage, where they are neither child, nor adult. Whilst the other film was mapping out that departure from the uncertainty of puberty into adulthood. I really liked this thematic continuity between the two films, and it was interesting for me to find out you were working on both films at the same time. You also worked with the same sound designer and sound recorder, Radosław Ochnio and Filip Krzemień. The sound design in your films is a real marker of your identity as a filmmaker. I think it is something very different to any other filmmaker I have seen in recent years. So first of all, I was going to ask whether you have a musical background yourself?

KC: No.

RBC: That’s interesting, as you seem to display a very good ear for how elements of your film can be made to operate like music, I am talking about the way you layer dialogue and sound effects here.

KC: It is always about intuition and working well with the people I invite onto the film. When this comes to sound, that relationship is extremely important. Picture and sound have equal importance in my work. I really believe that you build a film so that it breaks through the screen. I want the audience to feel something under their skin. This is much more important than any A+B=C thinking, because in my opinion this is how we build our memories. If we are talking about our childhood, we easily remember sounds and smells, and these recollections may make us laugh or cry, or everything. These stories are so simple. In THE ERLPRINCE and BABY BUMP the form and the connections between sound and image are much more, I would say maybe not difficult, but it is a…

RBC: Unconventional?

KC: Yes. Also, Radek and I met some years ago, when I made one of my shorts. We share a similar sense of humour, and obviously he knows the importance of sound. As I was trying to say before, sound is almost like another character within the films. If we have done it right, then you feel the film through your whole body, and it brings out the emotions.

RBC: It was really interesting what you were doing in both your films with sound and image, which is that you are using them, not necessarily in an interconnected way…

KC: Contrast is… Contrast, I love it.

RBC: This is an amazing element of your films, as you have these two things, sound and image, that are operating in tandem, yet somehow they aren’t married together.

KC: Yes, the first impression could be that it is not combined, but in the overall context of the film, and its characters, its emotions, it works. It is correct. It is right.

RBC: Yes, it gets right under the skin.

KC: Well it is also about talking about risk. I am a guy who loves to take risks. I love risk in films.

RBC: Well you are taking healthy risks, I think.

KC: [laughing] I am aware of it.

RBC: I like it, I like what you are doing here. Right, I am going to go out on a limb here, as this is something that I have an obsession with, and I think you are a very clear example of this, along with a few other people that you may not like being associated with (such as Lee Daniels, The Wachowskis), but nonetheless I think you are a clear example. I find the excess in your work really fascinating, and I would also describe your cinema – using a label I have coined – as a “promiscuous cinema.” It is a cinema that marries together all elements of culture, without giving any single element a greater degree of importance, or a preferred cultural significance. Schubert and Shostakovich rub shoulders with Mano Music on the film’s soundtrack, with seemingly no distinction, no cultural bias. You have English, German, and Polish being used freely and interchangeably, without any immediate sense of their usage being attached to separate ideas of national culture. The scatological goes hand in hand with the scientific and philosophical, with little sense of these things being culturally detached. It is as if all elements of culture are acceptable and you are free to choose from any of them. Does this echo with your conscious approach to the film, or am I reading into it what I want to read into it?

KC: Yeah, well my answer is so simple. Making films, sharing films with others, is an invitation to a different island, or a new planet. In my job, I would say, I am always trying to create a new universe – something that is unique for me, and it would be great if someone else tells me it is unique. Basically, I am trying to create something new, a new place, a new island. I have my toys, so to say, and from them I build a new house. BABY BUMP is a good example, because in BABY BUMP, if you are making this kind of film you need to make some kind of instruction. So the first twenty minutes of the film is building the language of the film. Now, of course, I know that after twenty minutes some people just go out from the film, saying “I don’t understand, it’s not for me.” But the people who stay, clearly say OK, and stay till the end. In this case, it is very important to teach the audience the flora and fauna of the film. I am always trying to build something like that, as I really adore the audience. Come on, I don’t do this only for myself or my friends, I would like to share these films, and I am really wanting to open up discussion. If someone doesn’t like these films, then I hope they would tell me. I also have some observations that even when people don’t like, for example BABY BUMP, even when they don’t like it they still have a lot of emotion about it. This is a success for me, because even when someone hates my film, I still have a feeling, I can see in their face, that the film has had an effect, that something is going on. This is cinema. I don’t want my films to be OK. I don’t want the last two years to have been OK. I hate OK. I don’t want to be OK.

RBC: That is how I have always thought about the role of a film critic, and I know that often critics are seen as very negative individuals. But the role of a film critic surely is one defined by things loved and things hated. Those are both good, valid responses to a film. The worst kind of scenario is to see something that is unaffecting and bland, and feel no strong emotion one way or another towards it.

KC: A lot of films, so many films, are produced, and we don’t care about them, we forget about them by the end credits. Or we just can’t remember what they are about even twenty minutes afterwards. You don’t remember one shot or one scene.

RBC: When talking about your two feature films I would say that you are a real poet of this tumult in the development of a teenager. You effectively capture the craziness of that particular period. Why do you find this age so rewarding, rewarding enough to visit not once, but twice?

KC: I think I will start from the end here. Now I feel like I am closing these kinds of story. I am finished with stories about childhood. In some ways I am maturing like my characters, especially in THE ERLPRINCE. This isn’t about me exactly, but about my filmmaking. If the film is about fighting for your independence, as a filmmaker I have been doing the same in making the film. By finishing the film I am saying “Look guys, I am ready, please listen to me, give me a chance, give me the money, of course, because I have a good story, I am well prepared to make it, you can trust me!” But, of course, it was not so simple. I was full of naivety. I remember this very important moment when we received a large amount of money from the Polish Film Institute. Now this was a lot of money, but it was not enough to begin the shoot. I remember crying when I heard we had got that money, as I thought tomorrow we will start making the film. However, my producer called me and told me “No, Kuba, this is just a little part of the cake, we still need to find more and that will not be straightforward.” For me this was so painful, really. I am telling you this, because now I am working with a different set of characters. My next project will be about older characters, although they might not necessarily have a different point of view. I truly believe, and it is maybe nothing new to say this, that we all have a little child inside of us, and so we should have. When I think about my job, where I need to be really open, listen, and smell, and feel many different things, then that is really the best way. Growing up for me is about an increasing awareness of shame: shame about your feelings, about your body, shame about what we really are. Growing up is about becoming ashamed.

RBC: That came across very strongly in BABY BUMP. With this next production you have mentioned is it likely to be Polish based, or will it be another co-production?

KC: It should be a co-production, because this next project will largely take place between Poland and one of the Asian cities.

If you are a film industry professional, you can watch THE ERLPRINCE on Festival Scope