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eu-nicola · 2 days ago

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the finish line part 4

and final - part 1 part 2 part 3

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 4264

author's note: english is not my first language

tags: @a-beaverhausen @maluzets55

The last few days of vacation had been anything but peaceful. It wasn't just Max's attention that weighed on you, but also the curious glances of others. Every time you went out, whether alone or in company, you felt like everyone was watching you, as if they suspected something beyond what was evident. Although you tried to remain indifferent, the pressure was beginning to affect you.

Max, for his part, seemed to handle everything with the same confidence with which he drove on the track. However, not even he could escape the public eye. When the vacation finally ended and the drivers returned to their routines, the questions at the press conferences began to take on a more personal tone. Instead of focusing solely on his recent championship, the journalists wanted to know more about his life off the track.

"Max, after your victory, you were seen celebrating intensely. Can you tell us more about that?" asked one of the reporters with an insinuating smile.

Max, sitting with his usual confident expression, just raised an eyebrow. “I celebrated like any champion would. It was a special moment for me and my team. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

The answer was direct, but not enough to divert attention. Another journalist intervened, this time with an even more incisive tone.

“There has been a lot of talk about a certain company during those celebrations. Any statement on that?”

Max smiled, although his eyes showed a glint of irritation. “My private life is just that: private. I’m here to talk about racing, not rumors.”

While Max dealt with the media pressure, you faced your own battles. Social media had become a minefield. Comments about you began to appear, some insinuating that you were too close to Max, others criticizing you for not always being by Lando’s side at the most important moments. There were those who said you were seeking attention, that you liked drama. The words hurt more than you wanted to admit. You tried to ignore them, but it was hard when every time you opened your phone there was something new waiting for you.

Lando, oddly enough, seemed to enjoy it all from a distance. Even though he had been your boyfriend for so long, his attitude was almost indifferent.

“What did you expect?” he said to you one night while you were talking on the phone because he had called you. “You’re in the public eye now. This is what happens. You should get used to it.”

His tone was so carefree that it infuriated you. Get used to it? To people questioning your loyalty, your feelings? While you dealt with the pressure, he seemed to enjoy his freedom, attending events and meetings without worrying about what they said about him.

“You know what, Lando? It would be easier if you at least seemed to care a little because you caused all of this,” you finally blurted out, your voice thick with frustration.

“I do,” he replied with a sigh. “But I also know that you can’t control what people say.”

The conversation ended, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Max, on the other hand, seemed ever-present, even if it was silent. You knew that if you texted him, he would respond immediately. But after everything that had happened, you resisted.

One afternoon, though, after a particularly rough day on social media, your phone buzzed with a message from him.

“How are you? I’ve seen what’s going on online. Don’t let it get to you. People always have something to say.”

His message was simple, but comforting. For a moment, you felt like you weren’t alone in all of this, that someone actually understood what you were going through.

The days followed, each bringing their own set of challenges. You tried to focus on your own things, but it was impossible to completely escape the whirlwind that had formed around you.

The weight of exposure began to become more than just an inconvenience; it felt like a constant burden you couldn’t let go of. Every time you opened your phone, every notification, every comment, every message seemed to add a new layer of self-doubt and anxiety. No matter how hard you tried to focus on your own life, your own projects, the shadow of social media and criticism was still there, haunting you.

One night, as you sat on the bed in your hotel room in Spain, you stared at your reflection in the dead screen of your phone. How had you gotten to this point? What had once been exciting—standing next to one of Formula 1’s most promising drivers—now felt like endless exposure to judgment and misunderstanding. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to breathe deeply, but even the air felt heavy.

You and Lando had officially broken up a few weeks ago. It had been an inevitable breakup, a step you both knew you had to take. There were no big arguments, no shouting, just a mutual recognition that things were no longer the same. Lando, for his part, seemed to have moved on without looking back. His social media showed photos of him at events, smiling with friends, enjoying his uncomplicated life. And you... you felt trapped in limbo.

Your relationship with Max, on the other hand, was in uncertain territory. There were no clear words, no labels that could define what you had, but there was something palpable between you both. Every message from him, every look, every conversation was imbued with a latent tension, a connection that seemed to go beyond the physical. You were on the verge of something, and you both knew it.

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, breaking the silence of the room. You took it without looking, half expecting another critical message or a sensational article, but seeing Max's name on the screen, something in your chest momentarily eased.

Max: "Are you okay? I saw Lando uploaded something new, but he didn't mention anything about you. Do you need to talk?"

For a moment, you stared at the message. How did he always know when you were at your limit? You didn't know if it made you happy or upset. With shaking fingers, you started to type a reply, but you deleted the words before sending them. You didn't want to seem weak, even though deep down you knew Max was probably the only person at the moment who could understand what you were going through.

Minutes later, another message came through.

Max: "I'm here if you need to vent. You don't have to carry it all alone."

That simple statement broke down your defenses. You felt tears build up in your eyes, but you refused to let them out. You had endured so much, trying to be strong, but the emotional exhaustion was too much. You finally wrote:

You: “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Max. It all feels too much… The pressure, the comments, the exposure. Sometimes I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Max’s response was not long in coming.

Max: “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You’re stronger than you think, but I understand that this is all a lot. I want to see you. Let me help you carry this.”

Your heart was pounding as you read his words. There was something about his way of saying things that always managed to calm the storm inside you. The thought of seeing him, of being able to talk face to face, felt like a necessary balm. But there was also fear. Fear of what it would mean to take that step, to cross a line that already seemed so tenuous.

After a long silence, you finally wrote:

You: “I’m not ready for everything that comes with this, Max. But I want to see you too."

A little while later, you received a call. It was him. You hesitated for a moment before answering, but finally swiped your finger across the screen.

"I knew you would answer," Max said in his calm, confident tone. "I'm going to Spain this weekend. Because of you."

"Max, I don't know if that's a good idea," you whispered, though your voice betrayed your true feelings.

“It is,” he replied without hesitation. “Because this isn’t just pressure or exposure. It’s about us, about who we are when no one else is looking.”

His words resonated with you. Maybe you didn’t have to face it all alone after all.

The weekend came quicker than you expected. Max had kept his word and was in Spain, ready to see you. The first time you met him was in the lobby of your hotel. He was dressed in his usual laid-back style: a simple t-shirt and jeans, but there was something about his presence that always managed to capture your full attention.

When his blue eyes met yours, the air seemed to stand still for a moment. Max walked toward you with a determined stride, without any hesitation. Before you could say anything, he wrapped you in a firm hug, one that offered not only comfort, but also a silent promise: You are not alone.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice deep but gentle. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed in his arms for what seemed like an eternity. All the weight you had been carrying, all the pressure, slowly began to fade away. When you finally pulled away, Max looked at you with an intensity that made you feel seen, completely.

“Max…” you began, but he shook his head before you could continue.

“I don’t want you to worry anymore about what people say. We don’t owe them anything,” he stated, his tone firm. “Let me carry some of this burden with you. I won’t let outside pressure get to us, I won’t let this tear us apart.”

The determination in his voice made you feel a strange mix of relief and apprehension. You had been so used to dealing with everything alone that the idea of allowing someone else to carry some of your worries seemed almost foreign to you. But Max wasn’t just anyone. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he was present, that gave you a security you didn’t even know you needed.

“What if we can’t handle it?” You asked, letting out one of your biggest insecurities.

Max took your hands, his fingers intertwining with yours. “We can,” he replied with unwavering conviction. “Do you know how many times I’ve been told I couldn’t accomplish something? Every time I’ve gotten in the car, I’ve had to prove them wrong. This is no different. We’re no different.”

His words stayed with you, offering a hope you hadn’t allowed to blossom until now. The idea of facing all of this with him, together, suddenly didn’t seem so impossible.

For the rest of the day, Max remained by your side. Every time you saw a phone being raised to take a photo or heard a murmur as you passed, Max squeezed your hand lightly, as if reminding you that it didn’t matter what the world thought. He was there, with you.

That night, as you both sat in your room, Max leaned back on the couch, watching you with a calm smile.

"You know, as much as I love winning championships, being here with you feels like a different victory," he said, his tone lighter now.

“I didn’t know you had such a romantic side,” you joked, trying to lighten the tension in your chest.

“Only for you,” he replied, his gaze sincere. “And if you let me, I’ll prove it to you every day.”

You couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in weeks, you felt safe.

Days had turned into weeks, and your relationship with Max seemed to grow deeper with every moment shared. He was your refuge, your calm in the midst of the storm that continued to rage on social media and in the media. Yet as hard as you tried to stay strong, the persistent criticism was beginning to wear you down. Every article speculating about your life, every cruel comment you unintentionally encountered, made you feel more vulnerable.

The stress was building up. There were nights when you could barely sleep, your mind stuck in an endless cycle of questions and doubts. Was it all worth it? Could you continue to face constant scrutiny? Even though Max was doing his best to reassure you that you were in this together, a part of you was starting to wonder if it would be better for both of you if you stepped away.

One night, after a long day where Max had had multiple media engagements, you found yourself alone in the hotel room in Bahrain where you had flown to join him. The city lights shone through the windows, but they offered no comfort. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you stared at your phone. Notifications kept coming in: messages, social media mentions, articles with sensational headlines.

You sighed and turned off the screen, setting the phone aside. You couldn’t go on like this.

When Max returned, the first thing he noticed was your expression. He immediately came over, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, the words began to come out unfiltered. “I don’t know if I can go through with this, Max. The pressure, the media, the comments… It feels like I’m losing control of my life.”

He frowned, his eyes reflecting both understanding and frustration. “I knew this was hard for you, but you don’t have to face it alone. I’m here, and you know that.”

“I know, Max,” you replied, a lump in your throat. “But I can’t help but feel like by being with you, I’m only making things worse. I don’t want to be a burden on you, or your career.”

Max took your hands, his grip firm but comforting. “You’ll never be a burden on me. And if you think walking away will solve anything, you’re wrong. People will always talk, no matter what we do.”

“What if I decide to walk away?” you asked quietly, fearing his reaction.

Max took a deep breath, processing your words. “If that’s what you need to feel better, I’ll respect that,” he finally said, though his voice betrayed his internal struggle. “But I want you to know that I’d rather face this hell with you, than be without you.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. He always found a way to break down your defenses. But the doubt was still there, fueled by fear and insecurity.

That night, as Max slept beside you, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The decision to walk away wasn’t easy, but perhaps it was the only thing that could bring you some peace. Could you give up what you had to protect yourself? Or could you find a way to endure together, like he wished?

The night progressed slowly and silently. Even though Max slept beside you, you lay awake, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. The dim glow of the city dimly illuminated the room, but offered no comfort. You turned slightly, watching Max's relaxed face as he slept. There was something almost innocent about his expression, a calmness that contrasted with the storm inside you.

You tried to close your eyes, but the weight of your doubts was still present. You didn't know how much time passed before you felt a slight movement beside you. Opening your eyes, you realized that Max was also awake now. His blue eyes, still heavy with sleep, looked at you with a mix of concern and tenderness.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, his tone laden with a care that only he could offer at this hour of the morning.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. Max sat up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he watched you closely.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he insisted, gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hand.

You took a deep breath, trying to contain the flood of emotions. But his eyes kept searching you, offering a reassurance that only he could provide. Finally, you decided to speak up.

“Max, I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “This whole world, the constant attention. And the last thing I want is for it to affect you, too.”

Max remained silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, he sat up fully, turning to face you.

“You know something?” he began, his tone firmer now. “Ever since I started in this sport, I’ve always been surrounded by people who admire me for what I do on the track. People who celebrate my victories and forget about me as soon as the season is over. But you… you’re different.”

You were surprised by the intensity of his words, and he continued before you could respond.

"You're the only person who truly sees me, beyond the driver, beyond the titles and the races. With you, I can be myself. I don't have to prove anything, I don't have to win to feel like I'm worth something. And that, to me, is everything."

Your heart skipped a beat, and Max moved a little closer, taking your hands in his.

"Without you," he said with an honesty that took your breath away, "this all becomes meaningless. Every time I cross the finish line, every trophy I lift, even before you were with me, before Lando stole you from me... it wouldn't mean anything if you weren't there for me."

The tears you'd been holding back began to fall silently, but Max didn't look away. Instead, he squeezed your hands tighter, as if to assure you that he wasn't going to let you go.

"I need you by my side," he confessed. “Not just because of what we share, but because you are my balance. You are the person who reminds me why I do what I do, and who I really am when everything else shuts down.”

You stayed silent, letting his words sink in. You had underestimated how important you were to him, how much you meant beyond the insecurities and doubts that plagued you. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and honest, made you realize something: you weren’t alone in this. It wasn’t just your struggle; it was both of ours.

“Max…” you began, your voice shaking slightly. “I need you too. But this is all so hard. I don’t want the pressure to destroy us.”

“It won’t,” he replied determinedly. “Together we are stronger. It doesn’t matter what people say, what they think. The only thing that matters is what you and I feel. And I feel like we can handle this. If you’re willing to try, I’m not going to let anything or anyone tear us apart.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and hope. Max pulled you close to him, wrapping you in a warm, protective embrace. You stayed like that for a long moment, finding comfort in each other's closeness.

The next day was not really just any other day, after weeks of preparation and nerves, the first race of the year was finally here. Nerves ran through the paddock, and the usual bustle of competition filled the air, but there was something different this time. You had come, as always, to support Max, but this time you would do so in an even more visible way, closer to him than ever.

Max, with his relaxed but focused attitude, was ready to prove that, despite the rumors and criticism, nothing could stop him. He had told you about how he wanted to start the season with a win, not just for himself, but also to show the world that he was at his best, that nothing the media said or speculated could tarnish his success. He looked at you before getting into the car, his eyes shining with fierce determination, but also with a special warmth just for you.

The race was action-packed, as you would expect. Max stuck to his strategy, fighting for every position with that mix of precision and bravery that characterized him. Every lap was a mix of excitement and anxiety, not just for him, but for you, who were watching from the pits. You knew how much this victory meant to him, and as you watched him outpace each opponent, the tension took hold of you.

Finally, the checkered flag fell, and Max crossed the finish line in first place. The sound of the engine fading as he celebrated the victory made your heart skip a beat. As soon as the race was over, all eyes turned to him: the champion, the favorite, the icon.

You ran to him as soon as you could see him, where you found him surrounded by his team. You couldn’t help but smile in happiness for him, but also at the feeling that, in that moment, everything that had happened between you had come to this point, to this victory. When Max saw you in the crowd, his face lit up. There were no words needed; he just ran to you, wrapping you in a hug so tight you almost felt like he was lifting you off the ground.

After the anthems and champagne, trophy in hand, Max stepped up to the camera for an interview that was, of course, going to be broadcast live. What happened next surprised everyone. Instead of going on with the typical answers about the race, Max took a moment, with a smile full of pride, to talk about you.

"I want to dedicate this win to someone very special," he began, his words laden with sincerity. "To my amazing partner, who has been with me through the toughest times, when I needed it the most. I want everyone to know that without her, this win wouldn't have the same meaning. She is my support, my strength, and my love."

Your heart was pounding, but what touched you the most was his next statement.

“She’s the person who makes me feel the happiest I’ve ever been, and I can’t imagine my life without her. My love, you’re the love of my life.”

The cameras focused on your face, and even though a torrent of emotions washed over you, you couldn’t help but smile shyly, a little embarrassed by the sudden attention, but deeply grateful for his very public support. Max hadn’t just won a race; he’d done something much bigger: he’d opened his heart in front of millions of people.

The moment became more intense when the crowd applauded, and some began to cheer for you as well. Even though you knew that not all of Max’s fans would be happy with his statement, something in the air had changed. The media had tried to paint you in many ways, but in that instant, it didn’t matter. Max’s victory, the way he had publicly defended you, was a clear message: you were together, no matter what anyone said.

As the days passed, something unexpected happened. Amidst the criticism and speculation, you began to notice a change. The comments started to become kinder. At first, some of Max's most loyal followers were still hesitant, but as time went by, their support for you began to grow. Photos of the two of you, the photos that Max shared of you, in which you looked so happy and peaceful together, began to appear on fans' profiles, and words of support began to outweigh the criticism.

You were surprised to see how many people were willing to embrace your relationship, to understand that behind the image of a successful driver, there was a real person, someone who also had the right to be happy and to love. Some of the fans, even the most skeptical, began to comment positively on the posts, talking about how beautiful you looked together, how genuine your relationship was.

One night, after a race, while you were sharing a quiet moment with Max, you received a message from one of Max's most loyal followers. They said something simple but profound: “We are glad to see you so happy with Max. You deserve all the good that is to come.”

That night, as you went to bed, Max came to you, smiling with that familiar calm, and whispered in your ear: “See? The rumors don’t matter anymore. What really matters is what we have built together.”

And finally, after so much effort, so much sacrifice, you knew that you were both ready to face the future, not just as a couple, but as an unstoppable team. Together. And perhaps in the future, as a family.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader

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cutehoons02 · 2 days ago

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KISS ME,KISS ME,KISS ME LOVE ME

*pairing: nerd Heeseung x reader

*tags: fluffy,kiss,smut, jealousy

*synopsis: Heeseung didn't mind you because he was busy playing video games like any nerd so you could only do one thing "tease him"

*word count: 2k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

—REBLOG if you enjoyed

(English is not my native language)

Heeseung had two personalities and lived completely two lives.

The first was the idol he became super confident on stage with his harmonic voice that made crazy thousands of her fans during the various tours of Enhypen, he loved to flirt with her fans during meet and greet, and as he danced on stage he transformed and loved to emanate that super sexy aura but extremely illegal aura for most of his fans but at the same time, he was a little nerd who loved spending hours playing video games with his friends, Lego building and watching old movies with a nice plate of ramen, especially during the autumn evenings where at five in the afternoon it was already dark in Seoul.

Y/n and Heeseung had not yet formalized their relationship with the other members but every hour or day when Heeseung had time to spend alone he invited her into his dormitory, especially in his room, or they spent those hours walking in places not too crowded of the Korean capital or they played basketball in one of the many parks that were near their apartments; Y/n wasn’t very good at playing basketball but her competitive side always came out because Hee loved to tease people especially that girl who was now part of her heart.

The blue light of the computer illuminated the faces of Heeseung and Y/n, Hee was playing a game that he had given the girl next to him and she had taken note of not giving him more video games because it was almost two hours that he moved his hands in the controller sexy way and at the same time he passed his hands in the hair when he lost a life in the game for exploitation.

Y/n loved those hands especially when they were attached to her hips, when Hee would arrange a strand of her long hair behind her ear, or when the boy with the eyes of a deer made her come countless times in an evening between his fingers.

"Hee, I understand that you love this game but you’re not a nerd who has to spend the whole evening in front of this computer if you haven’t noticed I’ve been next to you for almost two hours and I’m seriously bored, it’s better to see you beat me at basketball at least I know I have your attention!"

a small grin formed between Heeseung’s lips and he felt one of his big hands hold your thigh "Stop behaving like a child and if you have so much need of my attention sit between my legs, within 10 minutes the game ends and I’ll be all yours!" You wanted to seriously sit between her legs and put your head between her neck and smell that delicious mix of hot spices and the scent of laundry that emanated from her skin but she was seriously tired of not being looked after by her "boyfriend"

"Don't worry i let you play, i go to prepare a shield of ramen in the kitchen who knows maybe there will find someone who appreciates my company!" You felt a small laugh come out of Heeseung’s lips and a slight puff went out of your lips. In the kitchen, there was strange silence but immediately after you heard the laughter that you could recognize immediately from the common room that they had the guys, one was that of Jay, and the other of your bias, nobody knew except Heeseung that "ICE PRINCE" was your bias and when he discovered it a slight jealousy took over in Heeseung’s body.

"look who we have here worthy of his presence" A small smile came out from your lips when you felt Jay make fun of you.

<<How come you’re all alone? your boyfriend doesn’t give you the right attention or is still playing video games...>> You loved Sunghoon but sometimes he behaved as if you and Heeseung were not engaged and it was also true because he had not yet asked you to be his girlfriend.

"Don’t worry Hee gives me a lot of attention i came of my own free will to prepare ramen, you want some too, and stop me and Heeseung are not engaged?" you had just stopped in the kitchen to warm up your ramen and Sunghoon oddly came out slightly talkative towards you.

<<If you don’t get your girlfriend back that guy has problems because you do exactly a "cute couple" watch movies together, go to the games rooms together, wear his sweaters as at this moment, and for my bad luck, i have the room next to that of Heeseung and hear your groans, especially your Y/n>> A slight redness made its way into your cheeks and at that moment you just wanted to have the power to disappear because Heeseung had told you that the rooms were soundproof because people like Jay could play guitar in the room.

Heeseung was not at all jealous of his teammates he knew that he could trust all 6 but since he had discovered that your bias was not him Sunghoon had become extremely towards you. As you could have Hoon as bias and stay with him, they had two different characters and even beauty were opposite; Sunghoon was introverted, Sunghoon’s look was enough to stop a possible argument between the members and he was cold enough with the girls instead he liked touching you (maybe too much) wanted to always have physical contact with you, He easily made friends with everyone and loved to flirt with girls. So when he heard Hoon talk to you like that he ran to your side and kissed you in front of the two members of the enhypen, it was not a shy kiss that gave you just awake or when he greeted you to go to work but immediately crashed his lips in yours and made you open your mouth more to get into your tongue and heard a small moan coming from you and this made him proud of himself same.

It was he who made you groan and loved to hear his name come from your lips, it was he who had the luxury of being able to kiss you,he was the only one able to show you the stars while he was inside of him and it was just him that you wanted as a boyfriend and maybe it was time to seriously arrange an appointment but now he just wanted to take you out of the kitchen and be with you in his room.

"The ramen is ready, if you want a little get up to take it, me and Y/ n go to the room" A slight redness was seen in Heeseung’s cheeks but he was drowning in jealousy and also a bit of anger.

<<I recommend you have fun i’ll stay in the living room with Jay and do not make me become an uncle at 22 years old that there are still people like Ni-Ki who for me are still a child to care!>>. Jay and Sunghoon gave each other a high five, they couldn’t understand why their older member hadn’t asked you after almost 6 months of being in a relationship to be his girlfriend and they loved seeing him jealous.

You took Heeseung to his room and sat him in the giant gamer chair that he had in the room and a look full of questions formed in his face from the eyes of deer.

"how come you have reactivated the video games i want to be with you Y/n" A smile came out of your lips and before sitting between her knees I took a beautiful pink lipstick that you loved to wear and that stood out from your white skin and your green eyes.

Now you say that you want to be with me after being next to you for 2 hours and having heard from Sunghoon that he hears me moaning, and that I've been with you for almost 6 months and you haven’t had the balls to ask me to be your girlfriend." you sat between his legs and immediately his big hands will go to touch your waist to get closer to him but you with a small slap remove the feet from Heeseung

"Now play your stupid game as long as i want, and don’t try to touch me or i won’t make you come you can’t touch me for days and we know that when you see me you look like a little puppy who needs attention, especially my touch." Heeseung looked at you with a drool in his mouth, it was rare to see you blubbering and this thing made him even more excited.

You put on your favorite lipstick and you took his face with one hand as you had seen on Tik Tok there was this trend where you kissed your boyfriend with everything but the tongue and you had to see how long it lasted without kissing you.

You kissed Heeseung in his neck socket, in his adam’s apple and now you were trying to give him a kiss in the mole that had in front, and without fear, you pulled up and felt its length become harder and harder between your legs and felt a slight moan come out from his lips.

"What’s your game, Y/n, you want to make me cum in my pants without even touching you? What is this thing that you kiss me for everything and not on my lips." another moan came out of his lips and a hand went in his hair to make him mess a little, you loved to see that gesture because he always did it when he was agitated and as a bitch as you were you rubbed between his pants and felt the controller fall on the ground.

"How come you don’t want to play video games anymore, Hee? Before I left you couldn’t take your eyes off the computer and now you can’t take my eyes off my body" you came to give them a big kiss and he was beautiful, his hair was slightly messy and locks were falling out of his eyes that he tried in every way to take up, His face and neck were covered with pink kisses, and his cheeks were red from the things you said to him and all those kisses you left for him.

"Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me love me, and not that nerd asshole who left you to bore yourself and suffer the teasing of Jay but especially Hoon."

A light laugh came out of your lips and you couldn’t believe that in that state Heeseung had sung the part of an enhypen song to tell you to kiss him and love him "You didn’t seriously sing a part of "Daydream" to have my lips between yours true?" "Sometimes being Idol has its advantages and I could not think of it asking you to kiss me using one of my songs, seriously y/n you’re driving me crazy I need to kiss you right now" Without thinking for a moment you put your lips in her and a light moan came out of your lips, a hand of Heeseung leaned on one side of you and the other went under his sweatshirt to touch your belly and then to tease your breast. Your breasts were perfect for her hands and after a few seconds you took off the sweatshirt and mouth that you longed so much sucked a hood "Hee, tell me it’s not true that Sunghoon can hear us" You moved your hips where there was his length and to make you suffer began to morph softly your breast and pulled slightly her hair "maybe i told you a lie, love to hear you moan especially my name and must understand that you are mine" His bites became more intense and this asshole nerd with deer eyes made you come in your underwear and a slight stain formed in the pants of his suit.

"I hate you," Lee Heeseung

"I love you, y/n"

#lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung enhypen #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfic #sunghoon x reader

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angellwingss · 5 hours ago

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Wasn’t going to go on a big rant but you know what since that other post is gaining traction yeah I think I will. So big long rant under the cut. Lolll

I feel like. A lot of people might tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ but to me it is that deep.

I don’t have a problem with JayVik or it’s shippers like. At all. I just think some of them are à really good demonstration of like. Every bad thing when it comes to fandom ever LMAO.

Once again I am (supposed to be) writing a whole big long essay about this already so I will try and keep this kind of short and sweet and it might be a bit lacking but wtvr.

I think a lot of JayVik fans tend to be white queer people. Someone left a tag on my OG post that said basically ‘my take is I’m a faggot and I don’t have to care about a character if I don’t want to’ and no hate to that person cuz you’re right, but this is exactly the kind of stuff that made me make that first post.

I feel like a lot of white queer people have an issue with seeing outside their own identity? If that makes sense? This is seen time and time again with the way some of them behave when big movements happen online, some have a tendency to centre themselves and whatnot so i think it’s kind of the same thing.

It makes total sense that a queer person would prefer queer ships and would prefer JayVik over MelJay, that is not a crime. But I do think part of that is because they can’t relate/identify with Mel or see themselves in her like they can with Jayce or Viktor.

I hate to also make it about feminism but i think a lot of you guys are super like. Male centred, like just in your attraction which once again, not the issue not a crime. But i think it’s also why CaitVi, which is a canon queer ship, although popular is still not quite as popular as JayVik despite being canon. Women fetishizing gay men in fandom is not something new, which I think might play a small part in it- I’ve seen a lot of people especially back in s1 infantilizing Viktor and acting like he had no agency or independence and that he NEEDS Jayce to take care of him (that’s another thing. Ableism(looks at you with my eyes)) and they also do the same thing with Jayce where they act like he had 0 agency with any decisions he makes and that he’s like a big dumb baby who doesn’t know anything politics. Hey, guys. That’s a grown man.

My main issue isn’t that people prefer JayVik over MelJay it’s just that some shippers demonize Mel to an insane degree, blame her for getting in the way of their ship (this is also happening right now with Maddie- there’s a leak going around saying that she gets with Caitlyn and people are so upset that this character is getting some INSANE hate and I feel like that’s the same thing going on.)

they blame her for ‘stealing’ Jayce etc etc like. Idk. You don’t have to ship MelJay but I wish more people would appreciate Mel just as a character- imo she is super interesting and has a great story but she’s only ever seen and ‘the other woman’. I’ve seen people say she isn’t like, well characterized and that her story entirely revolves around Jayce which. Yeah she’s definitely heavily involved with him in s1 but she’s clearly got a lot more going on than just that and you would know that if you GAF 🗣️🗣️

for just being. Who she is. I think Mel deserves more attention just in the fandom and it’s just frustrating. People making memes about Jayce going insane over Viktor leaving but like. Mel also just got fucking kidnapped guys. His lover has just vanished without a trace why is nobody also talking about that !!!! Why can’t he care about both these people at the same time !!!!!!!

Anyway I’m not nearly well equipped enough to talk more in-depth about like. Any of this but I do think the demonization of Mel and refusal to see her relationship with Jayce as it is can often times be boiled down to racism like straight up. And also things like the fetishization of gay men in fandom and just things like that are sometimes what can lead to female characters- even the well written ones to be shelved and pushed aside in favour of their male counterparts.

Obligatory ‘not all JayVik fans’ obviously a lot of you are awesome, shouldn’t have to say this. If I’m not aiming for you, you shouldn’t be getting shot.

#hope this doesn’t ruffle up too many feathers eek #I was scared to make the first post I was worried JayVik fans would come at me #also idgaf about whatever was going on in league that lore has been retconned again and again and again #and as far as I’m aware Viktor and Jayce didn’t even like eachother that much #league and arcane are very much separate identities #I’m p sure theyr changing the league lore to match wtvr is going on in arcane #if you prefer JayVik because it’s always been a thing that’s fine but that doesn’t excuse the mistreatment of a black female character #Y’know?#idk #nobody kill me for this #arcane #arcane spoilers #MelJay #Mel Medarda #jayce talis #I won balls

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poepoesstuff · 3 days ago

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Satosugu x Reader Series - Part 1: Meeting Gojo & Geto

Notes: I’ve never written fanfiction before, so please don’t take it too seriously! I was just bored and thought about this idea because I love the concept of being in a poly relationship with Gojo and Geto—it seems like so much fun! I’m new to writing, so feedback, questions, or suggestions are totally welcome! I’m just having fun with it.

Tags:

#Satosugu #Gojo Satoru #Geto Suguru #Reader Insert #Jujutsu Kaisen #Satoru Gojo x Reader #Suguru Geto x Reader #Polyamory #Fanfiction #Jujutsu Kaisen Fanfic #Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto #JJK Fanfiction #Gojo x Geto #Jujutsu High #Satosugu x Reader

You guys knew each other from high school. You came to Jujutsu High later but joined the same class as Gojo and Geto, though you were on a different team. The first person you noticed was Gojo Satoru from the Gojo Clan—a lineage you’d only heard of. His reputation and charm immediately intrigued you. However, it was Geto Suguru who ultimately stole your heart with his calm confidence.

You were introduced to the class about a year and a half before Geto’s path took a darker turn.

As Yaga steps into the class, he calls attention to you. You follow him in, and several surprised faces turn to look at you.

“This is Y/N. She’s a kunoichi from a remote village in Japan and will be attending as your classmate from now on. Y/N, introduce yourself.”

You take a breath, feeling the eyes on you, but stand confidently. “I am L/N Y/N, from the C/N Clan. As of today, I’m beginning my journey as a sorcerer at Jujutsu High. My family is known for preserving sorcery knowledge and secrets. As the new heir, I’ve come to study and hone my skills.”

You notice intrigued expressions, especially from a silver-haired boy with piercing blue eyes in the back. Shoko’s gaze also seems particularly curious. Once Yaga leaves, you take your seat and start your Jujutsu High journey. Quickly, you become friends with Shoko, who introduces you to both Gojo and Geto.

First Impressions

Gojo is thrilled to have you in class and wastes no time bringing you up with Geto.

“So,” Gojo nudges Geto with a grin, “what do you think of the new girl?”

Geto raises an eyebrow, already catching onto Gojo’s interest. “You mean Y/N? She has an interesting technique, definitely useful in a fight.”

Gojo laughs, shaking his head. “Come on, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He gives Geto a playful shove.

Geto smirks knowingly. “Well, if you’re asking… yes, she’s beautiful. Kinda reminds me of Erika Sawajiri.”

Gojo huffs, crossing his arms. “Right? I knew I had an eye for these things!”

Meanwhile, you feel lucky to be spending time with both of them. Missions become highlights of your training whenever you’re paired with Gojo, Geto, or both.

Gojo Satoru’s Approach to Win You Over

After Gojo admits he’s interested, he goes all out. Here’s how he tries to impress you:

1. Playful Teasing: Gojo loves to make you laugh. Expect playful remarks and witty comebacks whenever you’re around. His goal? To get you to blush.

2. Showing Off His Power: Gojo’s proud of his abilities, and he doesn’t hold back from showing off. From flashy demonstrations of his Limitless technique to skillful moves on missions, he always seems to be “casually” proving how powerful he is.

3. Grand Gestures: Gojo’s not one for small acts. If he learns about your favorite snack, he’ll buy a whole stash of it. If you’re stressed, he’ll invite you on a night adventure to see the city lights.

Continuing from where we left off with Gojo’s approach:

4. Constant Presence: Gojo wants to be around you as much as possible. He’ll always find a reason to sit next to you in class, join you on missions, or just “accidentally” bump into you between training sessions. He’s persistent and makes sure you notice him.

5. Playful Competition with Geto: Knowing Geto likes you too, Gojo can’t resist turning it into a friendly rivalry. He’ll challenge Geto to sparring matches, jokes, or even silly games to try and prove he’s the better choice for you, often with a smirk and a playful wink in your direction.

Geto Suguru’s Approach to Win You Over

Geto’s approach is more subtle, thoughtful, and grounded. Here’s how he tries to capture your heart:

1. Deep Conversations: Geto values getting to know you on a personal level. He’ll ask about your background, your clan, and your opinions on sorcery. These conversations make you feel like he genuinely cares about who you are beyond your technique.

2. Small, Thoughtful Gestures: Geto isn’t flashy but remembers the small details, like your favorite tea or if you’re having a hard day. He’ll quietly leave a comforting note or share a peaceful place he’s found on campus with you. His kindness is understated but leaves an impact.

3. Protective on Missions: Though both he and Gojo are strong, Geto takes a protective role. He’ll keep a watchful eye over you, subtly stepping in to ensure your safety without making it obvious. It’s his way of showing you’re important to him.

4. Respectful of Your Space: Unlike Gojo, Geto gives you space to make your own choices. He never pressures you to spend time with him, trusting that if you like him, you’ll come to him. This gives him a calm confidence, which contrasts with Gojo’s more in-your-face approach.

5. Gentle Rivalry with Gojo: Geto handles the “competition” in a reserved way, knowing Gojo’s personality. While Gojo’s approach is loud, Geto’s is quieter—he focuses on creating genuine moments with you that show his sincerity, confident that his authenticity will speak for itself.

Gojo and Geto were unbelievably close, and you helped them realize their feelings for each other and get together. They were six months into their relationship before they added you.

#satosugu #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #choso x reader #toji x y/n #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #nanami kento #shoko ieiri #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk geto #polyamory #polyamourous #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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chimimon · 1 day ago

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Your Words

Astarion x f!Reader

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: suggestive, like more so than I have previously written, I think… jealously, biting, and it ends pretty abruptly because I don’t plan on posting smut here, so sorry about that y’all. If I missed any tags let me know! Please! Like fr send an ask my way and let chi know!!

& what I have to say is… This game has me in a chokehold. Baldurs Gate 3 has me in a headlock. Like unimaginably so. I’m hyper fixated all over again but this time a stupid fruity vampire calls me beautiful and asks to bite my neck and I asjdjwwsjidkekwakksdnb :) oh, and trigger warning for Halsin mention. <- E.P.

No eyeful sufficed; it was not enough to simply imagine being intertwined when the sudden ache began a week or so ago while Astarion had been playing with a blade. It was one of those things he did often enough to be called routine, ordinary, or unsurprising. What did not happen as often or routinely was how keen your attention had been on such fixed activities. A dozen times over you had traced his veins, memorizing when they were most defined on his knuckles, his forearms and whether it led to the toss of his knife or not. Worse than that, his sleeves were rolled up and around the two-minute mark he noticed your hypnotic gaze.

Curious, Astarion decided to see for just how long he could keep your attention as he made a show of stretching his fingers afterwards, adjusting his sleeves, rolling his wrists and shoulders before sitting onto the floor with his head in his hands to watch the fire from his tent. Only then did he turn his attention to you with a raised brow and all-knowing smirk. It was obvious you were unaware of your staring as you quickly turned away.

But it felt as though every ten minutes you would find something new about him to gawk at, and Astarion read you all too well. In frozen observation you hardly blinked in between shallow breathes. The deeper into thought you dove, the more your shoulders sunk, and the more your shoulders sunk, so dropped your eyelids.

The attention was reminiscent of your behavior at the Tiefling party. After he made his tipsy proposal, he carefully studied just how aware you were of the events to come in every interaction you had before the night ended. How restless you seemed when you lied coyly on your rolled bed. Or just how often you touched your face and neck as you met him in your shared hidden place. Astarion loved how clearly he took up your mind, how blatant it was. He reveled in your tunneled attention and patiently waited for you to give him the word, or a signal of sorts, feeling that it would be nice to have you initiate intimacy as he was secure in your thoughtfully lustful desire.

But no move was made.

Tonight, it seemed Gale had no issue making conversation with you from across the campfire as you two were loudly going over alchemy notes from a journal Astarion picked up just for you. You began to pull out leaves and branches from a pouch in your lap, holding them to fire for light as Gale leaned in studiously. It didn’t mean anything, Astarion was sure of it, but if he thought that if he was newly recruited or hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought you and Gale were a thing within this flame lit scene which burned into Astarion mind as he replayed the last six days.

It was as though you were scared to be near Astarion, to get close to him, to talk to him, but with him alone. Watching him the way animals watch prey, but without any stalk in your stride, without a wiggle or means to pounce. Just heavy glances and light sighs. Karlach had snapped you out of this state a couple of times as it was in her nature to melt you into an easy, giggling mess. Wyll found something that reminded him of some grand adventure while walking a trail and you two seemed to bond over the found item, making Astarion snort. Shadowheart had also decided to warm up in your company and grew intent with whatever you had to say. The way she looked at you seemed far too soft and sticky for friendship and her demeanor buzzed inside of Astarion’s memory.

But the straw that broke the camel's back was Halsin. Despite you currently seated across Astarion, now handing over some mugwort to Gale, he could no longer ignore having overheard Halsin’s request to keep you company, and how inconsiderately close he was to Astarion’s tent moments ago. By then Astarion was just waiting for you to stop by to talk about it, unsure and indifferent to whether you wanted his permission to canoodle with Halsin. But when you b-lined to the campfire, a suspicious creeping feeling pushed him onto his feet to be seated on the log in front of you. Since he became aware of your careful watch, he noticed how keenly you avoided him and began to wonder if you watched him the way rabbits watch dogs; to run.

Gale would not stop talking, so Astarion took it upon himself to quietly appear beside him, peering over his shoulder with a tilted stare at you. When your eyes met and widened, Gale slowly, and unknowingly turned to Astarion before he could be cartoonishly and audibly spooked by the elven vampire's sudden appearance. Gale took it as a sign to leave and politely excused himself from your company. Those blood-soaked eyes followed Gale until he was hidden behind a couple bushes toward his tent.

Astarion seemed to be squinting, his eyes moving from yours, down to your mouth, before landing on your lap. You scrunched your nose when his gaze returned and he rolled his eyes before letting out an annoyed, airy laugh. “My love, should I be concerned?”

You were obviously uncomfortable with your lap sewn shut, and your posture too taut. “Concerned? About what?” Your brows furrowed before opening. Every muscle melted as you tilted your head, mirroring him. "I mean, I haven’t taken Halsin on any offer to play hunter and bear.”

He leaned back, deepening his stare, annoyed at your stiff disposition when that stupid wizard got to have you malleable and full of conversation.

You nervously smiled and averted your eyes. “You know I would ask if I ever wanted to-”

“Would...” He interrupted. “Of course, you knew I overheard his little, steamy proposal. But that’s not why I’m hurt.”

It was written all over your face that you were replaying the conversation with Halsin, trying to figure out where you may have gone wrong or if you sounded too open to the opportunity. Asatrion continued when you began to chew on your bottom lip. “Darling, you hardly look me in the eye anymore.” His chest deflated as he huffed out another whiny plume of air. “I mean, before I at least knew that you could talk to me about, well, all of this.”

All of this swiftly caught your attention.

“Astarion.” You calmly said, ignoring the ache you pressed between your thighs as you ran your hands over your lap. “What do you mean by ‘this’?” You could swear your heart was beating loud enough to let everyone in camp know that Astarion was the item of your mind consuming lechery. Gods, you could knead dough with how hard your palms pressed into your thighs in some feeble attempt to calm a carnal throb.

“This.” He whined with his hands apart, referring to you two. “Don’t be coy. You’ve been keeping an awfully close eye on me, and more than that you’ve kept your distance.”

“Oh.” You whispered, ripping away the steady eye contact.

“Oh? What do you mean oh-?”

“Astarion.” You stood up, awkwardly fidgeting your feet before you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes. “Astarion can I... I can, um.”

Everything stiff and cold was interrupted with nervous stretching, like you were forcing yourself to warm up in his presence, and he was unsure if he should be bothered or relieved by it.

With mean sarcasm he said, “Your words, darling."

“Don’t- I mean.” You softly snapped, making him nervous. “Could we um… can we maybe speak somewhere private?”

Astarion shrugged, lifted off the log before motioning that you lead the way. When the way led to his tent, he got anxious. To him the conversation could go a couple of ways. One of them being you were too nervous to ask to be with Halsin, and that despite him willing to grant his permission, given his current mood, it would be reluctant permission to say the least. The other way was that you were unsure how to tell Astarion you couldn’t do it anymore. It meaning to be with him, and for that he couldn’t blame you, at least not honestly. The fear of you abandoning him after one good night, in what felt forever ago, grew as you motioned him to sit across from you, both of you on your knees as he watched you struggle once again to look at him in the eye.

He could practically hear it in your inhale, see it in your clenched fists over your knees, and in your eye contact as you finally faced him.

In your mind, everything felt intimate, close, hot even. You could feel your fingernails dig into your palms and you were sure you’d bleed if you balled your fists further. “I’m not sure how to word this without...”

He held in a vain breath, slowly nodding while you searched for the words.

“This is so stupid.” You grimaced, bring a knuckle to your teeth. “Astarion can I just-”

“You can see him.” He said with feigned relief.

“Who?” Your hands relaxed.

“Halsin.”

“What? No, wait.” Your whole body melted as you tried so hard to read the man in front of you. “What the hells are you talking about?” “You don’t have to be so embarrassed, I mean,” Astarion leaned back, sighing more dramatically as he had already come to terms with surrendering you over to him. “I mean who would I be to keep you-”

“Stop.” You held out your hands, shaking them with the same vigor used to shake your head. “Good hells Astarion, no.” You laughed, finally feeling ready to be open about your needs.

Astarion shot back up with a raised brow, tilting his head again as he drummed on his lap. “Okay, well now I really don’t know what you want to talk about.”

The growing silence was easy to bear in the sight of your smile, shy and bashful, making him a little hopeful that this was going to be an easier conversation.

“Great because I’m going to sound stupid.” You sheepishly smiled.

“As if I just didn’t.” He sucked in his teeth. “Come on darling, spit it out.”

“Not if you’re going to ask me to spit it out.”

“My sweet.” The snap in his tone caused you to really look at his face, and he looked anxious. His brows were together and lifted, he may as well have been pouting but you were finally noticing it. “If it’s distance you want, I can provide.” He looked down past your head before his eyes trailed around his space. “I mean you don’t have to go as far as to fighting battles as far from me as humanly possible.”

“Oh, good gods no.” You leaned down to catch his gaze once more. “Wait no that’s not what this is.”

“Then what the fuck is this?”

“I’m just feeling very…” you flicked your hands in the air like you were pushing away the anxiety. “I’ve been feeling rather needy lately.”

“Needy?”

“I don’t want to spell it out.”

“I think I need you to.”

“Damn it, Astarion.” It was clear he was going to quietly wait, as he was also sitting in front of your exit. “Needy, needy meaning… aroused... I’ve been very horny, lately.” With both hands on your face, you hunched over. “I’m sorry,” was muffled into your palms before your hands slid down to see his reaction.

Astarion had a bashful but at ease smile on his face. He let out a sharp laugh until he finally really looked at you. You were gripping your thighs, your eyes dilated and round. The animal like stare and careful distance kind of made sense. “And I thought I scared you away, sweetheart.”

“Quite the opposite.” You whispered, unable to maintain eye contact “So, if you’ll excuse me-”

Astarion hummed as he dropped in. His hands planted themselves on either side of your lap, his nose inches away from yours. “And if I won’t?”

Paralyzed, you held your breath and could feel your resolve snapping. “Astarion, I just… I said… are you sure?” He coyly rolled his eyes, pretending to think about it. “I can be patient.” You breathed, leaning back before he quickly scooted in, catching your chin in his hand before you could retreat.

“Oh, don’t go running away again. Not when I want you.” He was studying your eyes and lips. You seemed so lost in his tent. “Not when I need you.”

“You’ve had me, and I promise I can wait.” You whispered. “Please don’t tease me.” The quiet begging pulled at his chest and his desire.

Then Astarion smiled wickedly. “Don’t think I can’t smell the arousal from less than a foot in front of my nose.” Quickly he snatched your wrist. If your hand were a rabbit, and your wrist its neck, he nuzzled his cheek against its head, playfully biting the neck of the rabbit before you could try to pull away. “And I don’t care to tease pretty things like you,” poisonous desire spilled from his mouth as he asked, “But when you say needy, what exactly to you require of me?”

Mindlessly you shook your head as you feebly fought to take your hand back.

“Your words, darling.”

“Astarion, please this is-”

“Embarrassing?” He purred.

You held your breath as he faced your palm, from the corner of he could feel the heat in your face emit on his as he sighed again. “This couldn’t be nearly as embarrassing as the competition I have, my love.” A shit eating grin plastered onto his face as confusion appeared on yours. “You know... when your hand gets more of affection than I do.”

Humiliated and hot. You were completely humiliated and hot as he waited for you to respond.

“I mean your I’m sure your fingers can only do so much for so long in my place.”

Past embarrassment you felt it necessary to say “Astarion, you know that I need you beyond anything you can do for me.”

“So, you have been touching yourself, naughty girl,” he kissed your middle and ring finger without breaking eye contact.

“I- Astarion I wouldn’t have,” you balled up your hand in which his thumb smoothed it open again. With little force you pushed forward to cup his face with him still latched in your wrist. “I just- gods I just worry you wouldn’t say no if you didn’t want to just because I’m asking.”

“I do say no, & I have.” His hold loosened as he pulled back, taking in the soft concern on your face before the thought of that hand between your thighs flashed in his mind. Astarion’s eyes lids dropped, your kind concern caused him to be hard with arousal while his ruby eyes glistened. “Must I worry you won’t ask even if I’ll honestly say yes?”

Your bottom lip was white between your teeth, so he reached out to hold your jaw, his fingers pressing in as you went doe-eyed and dazed. He was so close to your lips, so he whispered on your mouth. “Go on, my sweetheart. Ask.”

“Astarion…” his breath tickled your bottom lip as your stomach dropped.

“Yes, darling?”

“Please…” you voice trailed off as the humiliation of it all set in.

“Please what?” Astarion lifted you up as he lifted on his knees, looming over you as he brushed your hair behind one ear with his free hand. “I don’t think I know what want.”

With all the excitement this brought, you quietly asked. “I want you to please kiss me. Please kiss me, Astarion.” And without a second lost, he pulled you into his hungry kiss, cupping your face with both hands as he pushed into you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #astarion

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mariaofdoranelle · 3 days ago

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Stage Kiss

Written for Throne of Glass Microfics

This accidentally ended up the size of two microfics but I’m tagging you if you’ll still have me @throneofglassmicrofics

Prompts: mainly indulge but I ended up using mayhem too

Warning: teenagers

Words: 1,9k 🫣

1st run

Today, at 3:30 p.m., Rowan would kiss Aelin Galathynius on the cheek.

Pathetically enough, this little knowledge was on the forefront of his mind all day. Not his classes, no. Just Aelin’s ivory—occasionally rosy—cheek.

“Whitethorn!” Fenrys shouted in the hallway several steps behind, forcing him to turn and stop so his friend could catch up. “Looking good,” Fen said, playfully slapping the back of his hand against Rowan’s bicep.

Rowan rolled his eyes. He thought that going to the gym every day—plus taking supplements behind his mom’s back—would magically make him more confident. It didn’t. The only difference was that he looked slightly less thin, so now Fenrys occasionally catcalls him and reacts to his IG stories with the flame emoji.

Even worse, Remelle Wiselheade was now hitting on him. His plan to get Aelin’s attention absolutely backfired.

As if he was a mind-reader, Fenrys said, “And how does it feel to be Aelin’s husband?”

Rowan blinked. “Uh…”

“I mean in the play!” Fenrys threw his head back and cackled, then urged them towards the school theater. “Bro, you’re—“

“I obviously knew that!” Rowan said, defensive.

He was just taking theater classes because his mom thought it’d help him with the shyness. But Aelin? Aelin Galathynius could give Margot Robbie a good run for her money—in both talent and beauty.

If enduring his crush on her during classes wasn’t enough, they were acting as husband and wife for this play.

And it required him to kiss her on the cheek.

He was glad that Mr. Emrys, their drama teacher, had a no-kids-kissing-on-stage policy. Rowan was half a lip virgin—that thing with Lyria didn’t count—and while having an almost first kiss with Aelin would’ve been great, he wasn’t looking forward to a very public cardiovascular malfunction.

Once inside, he quickly found her by a wall with Nehemia. Aelin didn’t see him at first, but he slowed his pace to look at her better, making Fenrys—who was right behind him—trip and take Rowan down with him. Not down, since both recovered before falling face-first on the floor, but the whole thing was loud enough that now he had Aelin’s attention. At the worst moment imaginable.

She smiled at him and sent a tiny wave, and by the poorly hidden smirk on Nehemia’s face—very similar to Fenrys’—she must’ve figured out his crush on Aelin. She had to. Nehemia Ytger was one of the smartest people he knew, he just hoped she’d keep her mouth shut for now.

Once everyone gathered around Mr. Emrys and he gave them directions for today, the first rehearsal for Hamlet began.

It passed like a blur until the scene arrived.

[Modified Act 1, Scene 2]

The court gathers. Claudius stands before the throne—simple practice chairs, actually—with Gertrude at his side. Hamlet watches from a distance, looking somber and disapproving.

Rowan didn’t want to read too much into why he learned even the narration. He turned to his “court” and said:

Though my dear brother’s death is fresh in memory, we must also move forward.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Gently holding Aelin’s hand, Rowan swallowed and almost froze when it was time, but her encouraging smile propelled him further.

He might’ve just dipped in and out, but feeling her skin under his lips was the quickest yet longest second of his life.

His cheek kiss was followed by deafening silence. For a second Rowan thought he’d embarrassed himself somehow, until he found everyone staring at Fenrys, waiting for Hamlet.

His friend looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I forgot.”

“A little more than kin, and less than kind, Moonbeam.” Mr. Emrys took a calming breath. “Let’s do another run of this scene, shall we?”

2nd run

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan took Aelin’s hand again. Both experience and her open expression made him kiss her cheek more confidently this time, and he was calm enough to enjoy the moment.

The same awkward silence again.

“Mr. E, I have ADHD,” Fenrys protested, though the twitch in the corners of his mouth betrayed the seriousness. “Don’t you think it’s a bit fascist of you to make me learn all these lines in medieval?”

It’s called ‘Early Modern Common Tongue’, Moonbeam. You’ll learn with practice.” Mr. Emrys settled back into his seat. “Let’s do another run.”

4th run

By now, Rowan was very well practiced in kissing Aelin’s cheek.

Because of the political nature of their characters’ marriage, a greater actor would make Claudius give Gertrude a triumphant look rather than a fond one, but if Mr. Emrys wanted a great actor, he should’ve thought twice before casting Rowan.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

As practiced, he reverently took Aelin’s hand and leaned in for the cheek kiss.

But she turned her head. The spot on her cheek that he focused on became a blur, and before he could grasp the situation, he felt the softness of her lips in his.

An awkward miscalculation on her part.

Or was it?

The way Rowan jerked back in surprise made their peck quicker than the other kisses.

“Whitethorn!” Mr. Emrys called, one finger pointed at him. “That was supposed to be on the cheek, mister.”

He froze, glancing wide-eyed between the teacher and Aelin’s mischievous look. He could protest and clarify that she was the one to incite the kiss, but that would just be loser—worse, virgin—behavior.

Rowan may be both, but he sure wasn’t acting like it.

With the snickers that came from the students, their teacher’s stance relaxed. He slowly shook his head and muttered, “Teenagers,” as a chuckle escaped him.

5th run

Rowan was determined to return Aelin’s peck, which meant that now stakes were higher. This time, he was even more nervous than before the rehearsal started.

She is cute. Rowan really likes her. And she kissed him first.

And this self-pep talk was shit at calming him down.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Instead of holding her hand, Rowan held her jaw instead. By their silent exchange, she had an inkling of what was coming, and her expression seemed welcoming. A quick brush of his thumb as another warning, and he leaned in.

Pillowy soft lips briefly against his was a brief shoot to the skies and back.

It was quick. It was glorious. The sweet, sticky feel of her lipgloss was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“A little more than kind, and—“

“Gods, Fenrys, it’s kin!” Nehemia shouted from the sidelines, distracting the teacher enough to forget about the kiss.

After this, Mr. Emrys stopped complaining—he had bigger battles to fight.

7th run

After their third kiss—plus four on the cheek—Rowan began to wonder if it was too soon for a “What are we?” conversation.

Maybe he should ask her out.

Scratch that, he was absolutely asking her out. If he got rejected, life would go on—after he changed schools.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan stroke her cheek with his thumb and leaned in once again for their peck, but once he did, Aelin threaded her fingers through his hair and kept him there, tilted her head. She waited a second for his response, then retreated once it didn’t come.

Shit. Was this—

With hawk-like speed, Rowan grasped her face with both hands before she could draw back and… well, it was too much of a whirlwind inside his head to make sense of what was going on. All he knew was exploring tongues and her hands on his neck and his heart that threatened to leap out of his throat to interrupt the kiss.

He couldn’t believe he was kissing Aelin Galathynius, and she felt so soft. Soft lips, soft skin, a soft sigh that he felt in areas he’d rather forget to not embarrass himself.

“A little more than kin, and—HOLY SHIT”

The absolute silence turned into mayhem once Fenrys abruptly addressed what was going on. Once he did, the students howled and whistled at them.

However, the only reaction he cared about was Aelin’s, who stared at him with flushed cheeks and wide turquoise eyes that sparkled with something he couldn’t quite place. She giggled and hid it behind her hand, and the sight of her nervous excitement brought a funny feeling to his stomach.

“Okay, that’s enough,” their teacher said to interrupt everyone’s shouts and cheers. “Moonbeam, you’ll arrive with your lines fully memorized next time—this is not a request. Everyone’s dismissed except for Whitethorn and Galathynius.”

The mood immediately sobered as students grabbed their things between whispers. It didn’t affect him like people thought it would, though. Rowan had just kissed Aelin—with tongue. Mr. Emrys could put him in detention ‘til eternity, he didn’t give a fuck.

They got ready to leave along with everyone else, but gathered around the chair their teacher was still on once the theater was empty.

A twitch of Mr. Emry’s lips into a firm line told them he was trying to get into ‘stern teacher’ mode. He’s not really the authoritative type, but they broke the rules, and it was in the job description that he plays a role for discipline’s sake.

“In the script, it says ‘kiss on the cheek’, and I need my actors to do exactly as scripted, okay?”

Rowan and Aelin both muttered their agreements.

“Great. If that—“ Mr. Emrys pointed at the spot their kiss happened. “happens again, I’ll have to take measures all three of us won’t like.”

“We understand.”

“Great.” He said in an upbeat mode, without his ‘stern teacher’ frown, switching back to ‘nice teacher’ mode. “Glad that’s settled. You can go now, but I want you in your best behavior from now on.”

The thing about Mr. Emrys is that he’s a really cool dude. He rarely gets angry at his students, most times it’s an odd sort of fond exasperation. It worked on their favor this time, but Rowan wouldn’t take it for granted.

Outside, Aelin stopped once the door was closed. So did he. The playful flirtation they had during rehearsal was gone, and Rowan was unsure on how to make a move in this awkward silence.

It was now or never, though.

Aelin chuckled and went her way down the hall, which he followed beside her.

“So, that happened.”

He gave her a brief, close-lipped smile. “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” She swiftly looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Doyouwannagooutsometime?”

Rowan hoped the blood rushing into his cheeks wasn’t visible from outer space.

Aelin had both hands gripping the shoulder straps of her backpack as she fought the corners of her lips from quirking up.

“Sure,” she said. “Do you have something in mind? Because there’s this movie I really wanna watch—”

“We can watch it.”

Aelin bit her bottom lip, eyes brimming with amusement. “I haven’t told you which movie it is yet.”

He tilted his head, silently urging her to give the information.

Please, anything but that gorey demon one he saw last weekend.

“Do you wanna go see Healers vs. Demons?”

“Sounds great,” Rowan half-lied.

Any movie sounded great if it was on his first date with Aelin.

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poore-choice-of-words · 23 hours ago

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In my low-spoons state, I can temporarily stomach the idea of a Psych/Leverage crossover fic because Eliot and Shawn should be cousins. Enjoy the broad-strokes so this somehow enters the world even if I never commit.

Shawn and Gus spot Eliot winning a somewhat ridiculous competition, try to get his attention, and fail because Eliot is not responding to people yelling his name when he has to work a con.

Shawn and Gus argue about if it's actually Shawn's cousin right up until...

Shawn mentions seeing his cousin Eliot, and Lassie asks if he means "Eliot Spencer", Shawn sees the photo of Eliot and says no, it's his cousin on the other side.

Shawn and Gus immediately try to tag along on Eliot's heist shenanigans.

Eliot tries to keep them out of the way until their heist victim gets murdered and now he has to hope Shawn can prove his innocence.

Leverage crew starts like usual.

The trio are absolutely together, who do you think I am?

Eliot is forced to explain that Shawn's his cousin.

Eliot refuses to believe Shawn's a psychic.

But also refuses to believe Shawn's a good enough liar to convince people he's a psychic.

Cue teasing and arguments.

More members of the crew than just Eliot are being questioned, and they're all just keeping tabs while talking to each other about what's happening over earpieces or whatever.

The argument about if Shawn is psychic or whatever continues.

The Leverage crew's client is not the culprit, but someone close enough to them might do it.

They are definitely a suspect though.

Which means the Leverage crew's new goal is to not get their client convicted of murder, but also not get Eliot or anyone else in the con convicted of murder.

Shawn catches who's wearing an earpiece, no matter how well hidden, and that's when Eliot has to explain what the hell is going on.

Shawn and Gus celebration.

I need to iron out the Leverage side of the equation, but that's the approximate idea.

#psych #leverage #crossover #Eliot Spencer #Shawn Spencer #Burton Guster

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pjmmania · 24 hours ago

Text

If Snow Decides to Fall

3. "I hear you now."

Chapter Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of abortion, explicit language, profanity

Tag List: @marihoneywk

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nine weeks. You’d known about the pregnancy for a full month, and neither of you had told a soul. That is, until last night, two weeks after the ultrasound. You revealed it to your parents via phone call when you got home from work, and they were furious. You couldn’t stop stewing over their words:

"What do you mean you're pregnant?!"

"Park Jimin?! And how does he plan on supporting you?"

"Won't this cost you your job? How could you be so irresponsible?"

"We raised you better than this, young lady."

You tried to explain to them that you were, in fact, in a relationship with him. You tried to tell them how you met him a year ago, not in some sexually charged environment, but at work. And this wasn't just a one-night stand gone awry. You were committed to one another and to having this baby, but it was as if their ears were totally closed to hearing anything outside of what they decided was the truth.

You could have cried that morning, but you were also mightily relieved that it was over. Now they knew, they could digest it on their own, and you could move on with your business.

Getting dressed for work, you dealt with the same fatigue and sickness that had become routine. You had figured out that bananas and plain rice helped soothe your stomach, and you could keep it down, so that’s what you ate for breakfast.

As you consumed your food slowly, you stared at the sonogram photos, which you had magnetized to the refrigerator. It took a few conversations to get there, but you and Jimin were finally able to work out a date and time for the next ultrasound. It would be at the twenty-week mark in August at his place. You smiled to yourself as you daydreamed about it, but there was something else to be excited for in the very near future.

You glanced back into your living room, where there was a gift on the sofa. It was wrapped in neutral light green paper and a simple white bow. You’d gotten a little surprise for Jimin, and planned on giving it to him whenever you were at his apartment next.

Jimin was working out intensely at the studio’s fitness center early that morning, partially because it was necessary to keep up with his job, but also to push out nervous energy.

He knew you told your parents the night before, and he also knew how they reacted. You were reluctant to share it for the sake of sparing his feelings, but he insisted on it. Now that he was fully aware of how your parents felt about him, it stirred him up inside. He wanted the grandparents of his child to at least like him.

Even worse, today was the day he promised he’d tell his own parents. Unsettled and keyed up, he was running on the treadmill much harder than normal. The more he overthought about what his parents would say, the harder he ran. It was beginning to draw attention from Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon, who were all working out at the same time.

Taehyung finished his set on one of the leg machines and got off so he could switch places with the leader, gesturing to Jimin with the quick tilt of his head, "What is he doing? We have a dance practice today. He's going to burn himself out."

Namjoon furrowed his brows, agreeing that this was most unlike him to do something like this. If they had dance practice on a given day, then he made sure he kept his gym activities lighter, more like a warm-up. Right now, it looked like he was training for a marathon. Something had still been a little off about Jimin over the past few weeks. This was just the latest example, and he was becoming more worried by the day.

Jungkook finished a set of pull-ups, "I'll go check on him."

The youngest wiped his dark brown, sweat-clung hair off his forehead and then dabbed off his face with his t-shirt. He made his way over to his panting friend, trying to get his attention.

Jimin took out an earbud when he thought he heard someone calling him. He turned his head to find a humored Jungkook standing there, "What's up?"

"You need to slow the fuck down," Jungkook said, "Don't kill those legs before practice."

"I'm fine," he puffed, "This is light."

"You've been at it for almost thirty minutes. That's double what you typically do before dancing. Come on, Jimin. You'll get all the cardio you desire in a few hours."

He had a point, so he hit the button for the machine to come to a halt. It was only when he became sedentary again that he realized how hard he had pushed his body. It felt like his chest was going to implode. He clutched his shirt over his chest, taking the other earbud out.

Jungkook stepped a bit closer and lowered his voice, "You okay, hyung?"

Jimin said nothing, too desperate to catch his breath. All he could do was nod, but it did little to convince.

The weight was coming down on him. Abruptly, he got off the treadmill and walked out into the hallway, not even stopping to take a drink of water. His heart and mind were both racing. He couldn't take it anymore - he might as well just give them a call now. Rip the bandaid off.

He took the elevator up to the eighth floor, where the private studio rooms were. Yoongi, Jin, and Hoseok might have been in theirs, so he opted for the one that was open for general use. He thanked his lucky stars that this was taking place before work hours, so there was no outside party there to see him looking this distraught. All he had to do was avoid the eyes of the managers, who were likely already in their offices.

He pressed the access code into the pad on the wall with a hasty index finger. Once inside the four soundproof walls, the door locked automatically behind him.

There was a desk set up against the wall with a couple of monitors and a swivel chair. He sank into the chair and took a pause, staring his mother’s contact on the phone. Breathing finally slowing down, he cleared his throat and forced himself to push the button against his own wishes.

He put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring four times, before his mother’s sweet voice.

“Jimin?”

He gulped, “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked him immediately. A mother knew her child, and she certainly could detect the nervousness in his voice, no matter how hard he was trying to sound normal.

There was no point in lying to her, “Nothing’s wrong, per se. But I do need to tell you and Dad something really important. Is he around?”

“Sure, honey. One second.” she said before calling his father’s name in the background.

Jimin’s knee was bouncing up and down as he tapped his foot. The time was fast approaching.

“Hey,” his father’s voice joined in, “How are you, son?”

“I’m alright Dad. I need to tell you guys something and I don’t necessarily know how to do it,” he smiled anxiously, “Um…Yeah, I really have no idea how to do this.”

His mother used a soft, caring tone, “You can tell us. You said it was nothing bad, right?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Jimin sighed, reclining back in the chair, “To me it’s not, at least not anymore. But it’s probably going to upset you.”

“That’s most unlike you. You know you can tell us anything.” His father said.

He nodded, starting to work up the courage he needed, “I know, I know…Okay, I just have to do it. Do you both remember me telling you about the girl I’ve been seeing, Y/N?”

“Yes,” his father said wearily, “I think I know where this is going. Son, please tell us you didn’t propose to this girl without introducing her to your mother and me first.”

“What? No, it’s not that. But we’ve been seeing each other for a year now and things have gotten pretty serious…really serious actually,” Jimin coerced the words out of his mouth, “She’s pregnant.”

The air went dead. On the other end of the line, his parents were utterly stunned. Their silence was making him writhe. He went from leaning back in the chair to bending forward, doubled over with his elbows on his knees.

He pushed his free hand back into his hair, “I know this comes as a shock. I’m sorry. It just sort of…happened.”

His mother came back instantly with a voice full of worry and sternness, “Babies don’t just happen, Jimin. You weren’t being careful.”

“How long have you known about this? And are you certain it's yours?” his father inquired. Jimin could tell he was fuming.

“About a month,” he admitted, “She’s nine weeks along, and yes, it's mine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. We wanted to wait until the first ultrasound to make sure things were okay, plus it’s just been a lot to deal with.”

The concerned and aggravated woman laughed out of bewilderment, “Of course it’s a lot, honey. It’s a baby. I hope you have gotten a plan together by now. Are you going to be able to co-parent with her? How will this all work?”

He wanted to shrink into oblivion, “I honestly have no idea, Mom. And I know that’s not what you want to hear, but Y/N and I will figure it out.”

His father’s tone was the slightest bit gentler, “At the very least, can you tell us you are committed mother of your child?”

He answered quickly, wanting to appease them with something they’d actually want to hear, “We are deeply committed to each other and to being good parents together. I love her. This is the first relationship I’ve had that has grown slowly over time and I think that makes it different. She really knows me, all of me. And I know her.”

His mother sighed, “I’m glad you’ve developed strong relationship and that she makes you happy, but love alone doesn’t make for good parenting. You need a plan, Jimin, especially with your career. Stability is everything for a child.”

Finally, a chance for him to vent, “I know, that’s been the hard part. I feel like I’m failing them both every time I pretend that we aren’t together. No one even knows we’re seeing each other, and if they did, she’d get fired. How can I offer them stability if the options are to either keep it all a secret or to expose it and upheave our whole lives with a scandal?”

“Your life has already been upheaved, son,” his father said, “Becoming a father is the biggest change you will ever undergo, whether you are an idol or not. And it disappoints me to hear you call this a 'scandal'. Your son or daughter is not a scandal. Now I’m not thrilled with this news, but if you are going to make this work, you need to stop that kind of thinking.”

“He’s right,” his mother said, “Both of you must accept the repercussions of this, even though a lot of it will sting. Anything less would be putting yourselves over this child."

As embarrassing as this conversation was, their guidance was something he had been starving for. They had a way of giving clarity amid the disarray.

Deep down, he knew this would have to come to light someday - you'd both acknowledged that multiple times already. But now he had a different perspective:

The inevitable reveal didn't have to be scary if it was seen as a necessity for this baby's wellbeing. It was something that had to be done for the sake of raising a child with as much normalcy and steadiness as possible. Otherwise, his or her life would be nothing but secrecy and isolation. The thought of his child feeling like a burden that needed to be hidden away sent shivers down Jimin's spine. If the way to prevent that turmoil was to face the fire, then he would do it.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I needed to hear that. Thank you, even though I know this news isn't a talk you ever wanted to have with me. I'm sorry this disappoints you."

"We wish you'd been more careful," his mother sighed, "But your father and I love you and we will always do what we can to support you. It seems like you have hard months ahead of you, but being a parent comes with unimaginable sacrifices. If you can face them, it will be worth it."

The middle-aged man concurred before adding to the sentiment, "And we have no doubt that you have it in you to be a wonderful father, Jimin."

Unexpectedly, emotion consumed him. To hear that from his own dad meant more than he could have anticipated. He'd been torn up in a never-ending pendulum swing ever since finding out, going back and forth between excitement and fear. Such assurance from an outside party had been a missing piece.

Choked up but not quite crying, Jimin bit the inside of his cheek and then grunted, "Thanks, Dad. Thank you both. I love you guys and I want you to meet Y/N sometime soon. You'll adore her."

He couldn't see it, but his mother was starting to smile, "You really love her, don't you?"

"She's something else," he cleared the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and index finger, "You'll see it after a only minute of talking to her...I did."

“And you said there’s already been an ultrasound,” she said, “Is everything going okay so far?”

He found himself unable to hold back a small grin, “Yeah, it’s going well. Y/N's been pretty under the weather lately, but she was told it's all normal."

"We will look forward to meeting her," his father said, "We will work out a day to come by. In the meantime, just bear what we've said in mind and take time to plan the next steps."

"I will.”

Both parties then said their goodbyes and hung up. Jimin set his phone on the desk and put his arms behind his head, inhaling and exhaling deeply. It was over with. He’d made it over that hurdle, and it went better than he thought.

He walked out of that studio room in much better spirits than when he went in. Even though he was due at practice in a couple hours, he went back down to the floor on which he started this morning. There were showers available for use, and he felt like he needed a rinse, feeling cold from the drying sweat.

On his way to the showers, he grabbed his bag, which contained a change of clothes for practice. It was waiting for him along the wall in the workout room. Thankfully, the other members were gone when he re-entered the gym, having finished their warm-ups.

It only took him a few minutes to rinse off, refreshing his mood. He washed his body while leaving his hair dry. When he came out, he changed into cargo sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He felt most comfortable rehearsing in baggy garments, allowing his body the maximum range of motion.

He folded his dirty workout gear and packed it away in the bag, then slipping into some sneakers and heading back upstairs to get something to eat. That’s where he figured he’d find the others, eating one of the private common areas.

On the way back up, he noticed some employees making their way into their respective offices. The workday was beginning. It made him think of you and how you might have been feeling that morning, not just physically, but emotionally in the aftermath of calling your parents. He decided to send you a quick text, asking how you were. He knew he would be seeing you after their rehearsal - you and Chaeyoung were coming in to take the guys' initial measurements for the tour concept.

Right as he hit send and rounded a corner, someone bumped into him. His grip on his phone slipped and it was knocked to the floor screen-down. Luckily, it turned out to be Jungkook.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jimin sighed, "Wasn't looking."

Jungkook chuckled, rubbing his shoulder, "All good. I was just coming to look for you. You don't have to tell me what you're stressing about, but I know there's something and I'm going to make sure you at least eat, so come on."

He appreciated the concern, and it was valid, though he would hate to admit it. Jimin could forget to eat sometimes when experiencing strife.

Then Jungkook's eyes went to the floor, noticing that he'd accidentally caused it to fall. He crouched down to retrieve it, making the older internally panic and rush to get to it first. Unfortunately, his friend beat him to it. Innocently wanting to make sure the screen hadn't cracked, Jungkook turned it over.

The screen hadn't yet locked. He could see the text thread between Jimin and his new girlfriend and it made him smirk as he stood up, prepared to unleash some good-natured teasing.

Jimin’s stomach felt like it could have fallen out of his body. He tried to snatch it back, but it only made matters worse. It only confirmed that there was something to hide. With alarmed eyes, he surveyed their surroundings to make sure no one was seeing this.

Jungkook’s brows became furrowed as he scrolled a bit. It was nosy, sure, but he had to know what his brother was hiding. It was painfully clear that something wasn’t right. What he read made no sense to him, but then he saw a black and white photo.

The millisecond he realized, his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets. Jimin went rigid. He could feel his pulse in his throat.

It was nothing less than a blessing that Namjoon suddenly appeared, startling the youngest member into locking the phone and handing it back to its owner.

The two remained stuck in some form of telepathic eye contact. With a baffled gaze, Jungkook’s face was screaming out the question. Jimin had his lips pressed together and jaw tight, eyes begging him not to say anything.

The leader looked back and forth between them, “Hello? Everyone good?”

Jungkook realized his hands were tied. He couldn’t simply obliterate this giant beast of a secret out in this public hallway. He nodded his head, “Y-Yeah, all good.”

The panicking member was caught red handed. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, faking an unperturbed smile, “We’re fine. He just came to see if I was coming to eat.”

Namjoon wasn’t buying it. This was the last straw. Jimin wasn’t okay. There was something he wasn’t being open about. Even so, this wasn’t the time or place, “Yeah, come eat with us. You had a long run.”

As a threesome, they headed into the room that held the other members, all snacking on energy-packed foods to fuel them later on. Jimin joined them, but had no appetite whatsoever. His mind was too preoccupied with trepidation to send hunger signals. Jungkook knew the biggest secret he'd ever kept from any of them. He needed to do whatever he could to ensure he wouldn't divulge.

During the dance practice, he wasn't nearly as focused. He and Jungkook kept making eye contact in the mirror, breaking one another's concentration repeatedly. It made the rehearsal drone on, as they kept messing up the choreography. One wanted a code of silence, while the other felt like he needed to shout.

The physical labor ended after a couple of hours. When it was done, the members had a quick breather to cool off. After about fifteen minutes, you and Chaeyoung entered the room with your measuring tapes draped from your necks. Whenever you and Jimin were in the same room at work, you both made conscious efforts not to pay special attention to each other. The other members took stock of how good the two of you were at hiding your feelings.

However, when Jimin noticed you walking over to Jungkook to take his measurements, he couldn’t stop himself from looking.

You smiled at the man, who looked somewhat perplexed by you, “Hey, Jungkook. How are you?”

His eyes darted from Jimin and then back to you, “Uh, great, Y/N…How are you feeling? I mean, how are you?”

Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend’s stern gaze shot upon him for that slip of the tongue.

You took the tape measure off your neck and began to wrap it around his torso, “Not too bad. Busy these days. I hardly have time for anything else.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, well aware that Jimin was listening, “But even if you’re busy, it’s important to still make time for other things in life, like friends. Friends are so important, you know? I bet they’d be able to help you cope with whatever you’re struggling with, but only if you reach out. If you don’t, then what’s the point of even having them?”

It wasn’t a message directed toward you. The intended recipient, however, got the message loud and clear, and it vexed him. What did he think he was doing, using you to prove a point like that?

While making note of his measurements, you looked at him, lost, “Um, yeah. I guess that’s true.”

It was awkward, but there wasn’t much time to ponder about it. You and Chaeyoung had to get this information down quickly, before the guys had to run off somewhere else. She was busy taking Yoongi’s.

When you were done with Jungkook, you moved on to Jimin, only because you had to move quickly and Chaeyoung looked like she was going to do Taehyung’s next. He was the closest to you, so he was the natural next in line.

You grinned at him, “Hi.”

As was routine, he lifted his arms a bit so you could measure his midsection. You were already paying close attention to the tiny numbers on your tape when he greeted you back, shooting Jungkook a glare, “Hey.”

He thought about whispering a warning to you about the current situation, but decided not to. It would only freak you out.

Instead, he asked as you removed the tape from his torso and wrapped it around his biceps, “Did you get my text?”

Even though he kept his voice low, you hesitated to answer, “Yeah. I’m alright, just a little…bummed.”

The look on your face told him you were far more than bummed, “I called mine earlier.”

Your stomach did a flip, but you played it off as if you were having a casual conversation, using a muted voice, “How did that go?”

Jimin shrugged, smiling softly, “Honestly, not bad. I’ll tell you about it later.”

You nodded, recording his updated measurements on your notepad. In light of his parents' wisdom, your unwillingness to indicate that you were involved with him upset him. He wasn't frustrated with you personally, but with the situation itself. It crashed into him like never before - his love, the mother of his child, had to pretend she hardly knew him. And although he knew the reasons, it truly disturbed his conscience for the first time.

When you and Chaeyoung had collected all that you needed, you left. Yoongi and Namjoon went up to their studios to write, Hoseok following suit to record a demo. Taehyung and Jin went to a vocal lesson.

Jimin and Jungkook remained in the room together, much to the dismay of both. The former was firmly planted in one spot with no idea what to say or do. He wanted to rebuke the younger for speaking so candidly and thoughtlessly with you - that was far too hazardous for his comfort. Yet, he was at a loss. How could he be one to talk, when it had just been revealed that he'd been keeping something so enormous from them all?

Jungkook looked around the room, hands on his hips. The quick survey assured him that no one would hear them. He shook his head, tone surprisingly calm, "Hyung, I'm begging you to be honest now. I swear, if you try to squirm your way out of this I will kill you."

The older accepted his fate, but this place was nowhere near secure enough to have this discussion.

"Is Y/N-"

"No," Jimin stopped him, frazzled and alarmed, "Don't finish that question yet. I'll tell you everything, just not here. Please."

His eyes were so desperate that they bent the will of the other man. Jungkook pursed his lips together, annoyed to hell and back but still understanding, "Fine. Your place, then. Now."

Both men tossed their bags by the door once they got into Jimin's apartment, one out of aggravation, and the other with dread.

Not a word was spoken as they naturally gravitated toward the living room. Jimin waited to see where Jungkook was going to sit, so that he could sit opposite of him.

Both men got settled into a seat, wondering how this conversation was going to go. They were silent for a brief moment, collecting themselves so they could speak like adults.

Jungkook leaned forward, letting his forearms rest on his thighs. He was biting his tongue, giving it his all to approach this matter calmly, even though he was irate. He wanted to believe it wasn't true. There was no way Jimin could have done something like this, nevermind keep it from all of them. If this was what had been going on with him all that time, then he had to have known for a while. It would have been weeks of dishonesty - all those times he told them nothing was the matter.

The younger inhaled through his nose, "I feel like I don't even need to ask it now. We both know the topic at hand. Just tell me."

Jimin nodded for a moment without saying anything, looking anywhere but in his friend's eyes, "She's pregnant."

It was one thing to have seen the sonogram, but it was quite another to actually hear it come from his mouth. Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose, "How far along is she?"

"Nine weeks," he replied, "I found out the night before we went to Jin's."

"So you have known for a while," Jungkook's suspicion was confirmed, "Why didn't you tell us sooner, hyung? God, this is...this is fucking huge."

The older huffed, throwing his hands up in irritation, "I don't know, maybe because this has been a crazy time for me and Y/N. I mean, put yourself in my shoes. Would your first priority be telling everyone? We have been literally just trying to make it through each day."

Jungkook took a deep breath, collecting his emotions. If the situation was reversed, Jimin would be nothing but supportive. He had to be smart about how he reacted to this news.

"Look," he said with a softening tone, "I didn't mean it that to come off like a judgment. I'm sorry. It's just, as your friend, I wish you'd have come to us sooner. We've been watching you struggle for the past weeks, wondering what was wrong with you. You had us convinced for a few days after telling us that you and Y/N were official, but then your strange behavior didn't go away. And to learn that this is the reason...it's a lot to take in."

Jimin dropped the defensiveness, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his stomach in some sort of self-embrace, "Believe me, I know."

"How are you doing with it?"

He shook his head a bit and let a minuscule smile break onto his face, "That's the thing I can't figure out. I don't think there's a general feeling. There have just been moments. When I'm with Y/N, I'm mostly happy about it. I feel like I wouldn't want to have a kid with anyone else. The fear creeps in when I think about everything else - our careers as BTS, the fact that she will probably get fired over this. The thought of becoming a dad doesn't scare me nearly as much as the consequences that will come from this."

For the second time that day, he became emotional. He tried to keep it concealed, but the crack of his choked voice gave it away, "I'm terrified that she will lose it all because of this. I hate that having my baby might ruin her career. I hate that for now, I have to convince the world that I'm not in love with the woman who is carrying my child. I-I can't be there for her like a real partner. I had to miss the ultrasound, and I didn't get to hear my kid's heartbeat, because I had to be at work. And I hate that when this all eventually comes to light, there will be a media frenzy on her, on me, and probably on all of you too."

A few tears started to roll down his cheeks and he buried his face in his hands, sniffling. Jungkook reflexively stood up and went over to him. He sat on the very corner of the chair and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, "Let it out. It's okay."

Jimin broke, "Everything negative in this situation has to do with me! It all traces back to the career I worked so hard to have! They always say there's a cost to fame, and we've all experienced that, but I don't know. I just never thought about this cost."

Jungkook rubbed his back, "I agree that it's your career, but don't equate that to you personally."

"How? I'm the one that chose it."

"But you just said it yourself - you never thought about this cost. That's no reason to beat yourself up," He said, "No one ever fully grasps the downsides to fame until they have it."

Jimin was settling down now, removing his hands from his wet face and drying it with his t-shirt, "It's hurting Y/N. She's been trying so hard to tell me that she's accepted the reality, but I can see it behind her eyes, Jungkook. She'll grieve the loss of her job, and I don't even want to think about her enduring all the scrutiny she will have to face."

"She has you," Jungkook offered a reassuring grin, "Now, I don't know about her family, but I know yours. They will support both of you wholeheartedly. And you'll have all of us too. You just need to tell the rest of the members."

Jimin nodded, "I know, you're right. Both of our families know now. There's no reason not to tell them. Just give me a few days to work it out with Y/N. I can't break the news without letting her know."

The younger man concurred, "That's understandable, but for your own good, consider doing it soon. I think it will take a lot of the pressure off your back, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by the support."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're our brother. We will help you make it work. And you're going to be a dad. That makes us uncles, doesn't it?" Jungkook chuckled, "There's a cause for excitement in all of this."

Jimin broke into a small laugh, "I didn't think about you all being uncles. Don't know whether it's heartwarming or concerning."

"Only time will tell," Jungkook smirked, "So when's this little Park coming?"

There was a flutter in his chest at the nickname, "The doctor said January eighth."

"And everything's looking healthy so far?"

He hummed, "Yeah. Apparently, the heartbeat was unusually strong for his or her age. That made me oddly proud."

Jungkook nudged him playfully, "I mean, it only makes sense, considering how fit you are. Your sperm's probably the healthiest known to man."

He laughed harder this time, turning to give him a jestful smack on the arm. Jimin felt better now. Not great, but better. When the laughter died down, he breathed in deeply and let it out, “God, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. When I said our parents know, I meant we’ve only just told them. Mine found out this morning.”

“Shit,” the other patted him twice on the back, “How did they take it?”

“You know my mom and dad - they weren’t leaping for joy, but it wasn’t awful. It ended on a good note,” he shrugged, “I just feel like this day is giving me whiplash.”

You got into the elevator in your apartment complex, letting your head rest against the back wall as it carried you up to your floor. You had a headache and had used up the last of your over the counter painkillers. Jimin likely had some, so you figured you’d eat dinner and then go to his place.

You felt like a towel that had been wrung out, twisted and squeezed of all energy and substance. You were desperately spent. The only thing keeping you fully present, ironically, were your mood swings.

If something didn’t go according to plan at work, you felt like you wanted to punch a hole in the wall, or cry, or both. Those were the lows. On the other end of the spectrum were short bursts of sexual urges. You prayed that you’d hidden it well enough while you were measuring Jimin earlier. Getting to touch him and examine his body like that didn’t do you your raging hormones any favors.

You put your key into the lock of your door and turned it, hearing the latch open up. Then you got inside and immediately wanted to vomit, not as a side effect, but out of shock.

The lights were on, and there were two faces sitting in your living room that you hadn’t seen in a while.

Speechless for a moment, you dropped your bag and froze in your tracks, “M-Mom? Dad?”

They got up from the couch while you remained rooted in place. Your mother was the first to give you a hug, but you barely embraced her back, far too confused.

“Hi, sweetie,” she sighed, “How are you feeling today?”

Your father hugged you next, “It’s been forever since we’ve seen you.”

You were shocked. Not even twenty four hours prior, these people were scolding you and telling you how disappointed they were in you. You stared at them, totally discombobulated. Your head was pounding so hard that you felt it in the back of your eyeballs.

“What are you both doing here?” You asked, brushing past them both and going into your quaint little living room. You needed to sit.

Your parents turned around and followed you back to their original places on your sofa. You were tucked into an armchair that was perpendicular to it.

Your mother leaned on the arm of the sofa towards you, eyes full of a lukewarm concern, “We came to have a much calmer discussion about this.”

Bringing your knees up to your chest, you asked, “You came all the way here just for that? How did you even get in?”

“You gave us a copy of your key when you moved in, remember?” your father replied, “Anyway, we aren’t happy with how we reacted to the news yesterday. We’re sorry we resorted to anger.”

Your mother sighed, “We love you, Y/N. And we realize that you are a grown woman now who can make her own choices. But as your parents, we ask that you please listen to what we have to say.”

You nodded hesitantly, “O-Okay…”

She continued, “We are worried that you aren’t considering the enormity of this, and the risk you are taking by placing so much trust in this man.”

You felt a twinge of exasperation, having had a sneaking suspicion that it was going down this route.

It must have shown on your face, because your father looked a little indignant, “Your mother is right. It appears as though you aren’t thinking this through. We don’t want to see you get hurt. Park Jimin is one of the most famous men in the world. He took advantage of you, as his type often does.”

You felt like you could have spat, “He did not take advantage of me in any way. Neither of you know him well enough to assume that about him. Jimin is a good man.”

“You are a stylist at his agency,” your mother scowled, “He knew that your position would make it impossible to disclose your relationship without putting your career on the line. He used you for his own pleasures, knowing you’d never say anything to anyone.”

Your father cleared his throat and looked down, unable to imagine his daughter fornicating with anyone, let alone a member of a global sensation like BTS. A man who had women practically falling at his feet wherever he went.

Your hormones made your reaction sharper. They were talking about the man you loved, the father of your child - denigrating him to the level of a scumbag and a womanizer, "You're both so wrong about him...I don't even know what to say. I told you already, we've been together for a year. If he'd had enough of me at any point, it would have been easy for him to toss me aside, but he hasn't. I know it's not what anyone would have envisioned, but he...he loves me. And I love him."

"We aren't here to argue over whether he loves you, Y/N," he said, "Our point is that he knows damn well how his job works. He's been perfectly willing to hide you away like some impropriety all this time. What makes you so sure he won't do the same thing with you and this baby?"

"Because he-"

You paused and closed your eyes, not wanting to finish your sentence for the sake of not sounding naive. They had you cornered and you hated it.

"Because he what?" your mother looked at you with sympathy, like you were some poor foolish girl, "Because he told you so? What good are words without action?"

You were so upset and exhausted that you felt tears prick your eyes. You looked down, "It's not that simple, Mom. In this case, action will cost me my job and who knows what else. We haven't figured much out yet, but I think we both deserve some credit for being committed to this anyway. We could have easily decided not to go through with this, but we did because we are dedicated to each other."

Your father put his hands on his knees, "And even if that is true, how will he ever be able to be there for you? I won't have my little girl stuck raising a baby alone while he galivants around the world and across every red carpet that would have him."

An angry tear rolled down your cheek, "He's not like that. I don't know how else I can convince you guys. Jimin understands the importance of being present."

"He missed the ultrasound." he said.

You shook your head, eyes closed, "Only because it was right after we found out and it was too late to change plans."

"Then will he plan on being at the next one?" your mother asked, crossing her arms.

You hugged your knees to your chest, "Yes, he will. We have a date scheduled in August."

She raised her brows, "You're telling us he will show up to a public doctor's office and risk exposing this?"

"W-Well, no. It's going to be at his apartment."

Your father scoffed, "You see? He's going to keep you and this baby a secret."

You were seething, "You know what? Yes, we are going to keep this a secret for as long as we can, because neither of us needs the media storming us while we're still trying to figure out our lives. Who would want to put themselves through that? But we've already agreed that it can't last forever - we just haven't worked out when we will take the step to tell the company and make an announcement."

Your mother reached out and put her hand on your knee, "Sweetie, we're trying to look after you, and our grandchild. We want you both to have a stable home environment."

"Well then what do you suggest we do?!" you shook out of her touch by standing up out of the chair, "It's clear that you guys won't be satisfied either way. We could keep it a secret forever or we could go public today - you'll continue to believe that he won't be there for me and that this is all a bad idea. So what? Would you rather me get an abortion or something?"

They were silent, looking at each other. You were a horrible mix of furious and embarrassed. It wasn't your intention to get so heated. You stubbornly defended your relationship, but you couldn't deny that their concerns were valid. You thought about the child in your belly. If you were standing in your parents' shoes, you'd probably have reservations too.

Then your mother looked back at you. She stood up and placed her hands on your upper arms, tone subdued, "We want you to move back home."

You were wiping tears from your eyes as you drove. It was dark outside now. Your parents got back on the road, and you followed suit. As you passed under every traffic light, you kept telling yourself to hold out just a little longer. You'd be there soon.

After pulling into the lot and parking your car, you glanced to your left, where the green-wrapped present sat in the passenger seat. Sniffling, you dried your eyes one last time and grabbed it, taking it with you into the building. You were walking with a quick gait, anguished and itching for some comfort. Fortunately, the gift in the box had the potential to bring you the solace you needed.

You took the same elevator as normal. When you reached the door, you fumbled in your pocket for the key, balancing the gift box on your thigh momentarily.

The door opened, and you heard something in the kitchen. He typically ate dinner around this time. When you appeared, he seemed delighted, but then he noticed the slight puffiness of your eyes. It was a confusing sight - you standing there upset while holding a gift.

"Hey," he put his wooden spatula down and turned down the heat on the stove so that his fried rice wouldn't burn, "What happened, sweetheart?"

He gave you a kiss on the cheek and searched the features of your face as you sighed, "Hi. I just had the longest, weirdest day."

You placed the gift down on a nearby stool and finally let yourself melt into his arms. Jimin kissed the top of your head repeatedly, "I did too."

You pulled your head off of his chest so you could look at his eyes. He was giving you an assured smile, but you still wanted to know what went on, "How come?"

His lips found your forehead before he brought you into his loving hold again, "Well, as you know, I told my parents about the baby, and then Jungkook found out by accident."

This time, you drew away from the hug completely, "Wait, say that again?”

Jimin scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah. I dropped my phone and he saw the sonogram photo.”

He saw how worried you looked and smiled, taking your hands loosely, “Don’t worry, he’s not going to tell the others. But this probably means we need to come clean soon.

You nodded, “Yeah, we should. I know it’s been hard for you keep it from them.”

“It has, but that’s a conversation for later. Tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been crying.” His eyes were plagued with distress.

“I…” you didn’t know how to start, “I got home from work and my parents were there.”

He dropped your hands, “What?”

You put you hand to your forehead, “Ugh, my head is killing me. Yeah, I walked in the door and they were just sitting waiting for me.”

Without you having to ask, Jimin turned around and headed to one of the cabinets, where he kept any medicines. As he prepared a glass of water for you to take the pills, he felt a pit in his stomach. This didn’t sound good.

“Were they that upset about yesterday?” he asked.

You took the glass of water when he offered it to you, holding out your hand to receive the capsules, “Not exactly. They came to have a better discussion about it…Only it didn’t really go that way.”

“Ah,” the hurt on his face was clear, “They still think it’s a bad idea, huh?”

There was no way you were going to elaborate on all that they said. You didn’t want to damage his feelings any further. You merely nodded, “I’m afraid so, but it’s more than that. They want me to move back home.”

He had only just started to stir his dinner on the stove again when he ceased any movement. The pit in his stomach deepened into an abyss, eyes leaking with dread as he looked at you, “But they live on the other side of the country, right?”

He couldn’t lose you. If you left, you’d be taking his child with you. And then what? How would you be able to stay together as a couple with that amount of distance? Everything you’d built over the past twelve months could crumble.

You saw how alarmed he was by the prospect and put him to ease immediately, “Yes, but I’m not going of course.”

He put his hand over his heart and exhaled, shaking his head a little, “God, please open with that next time instead of letting me think the worst.”

“Sorry,” you smiled softly before recounting their reasoning, “They say it would be best for me and the baby. I’d quit my job and live with them for a while. They think it’s the only way to guarantee a secure home environment.”

His expression could have broken your heart, and it was only scratching the surface of what your parents had said to you. Jimin kept stirring the rice, turning the heat back up a little bit. You knew him well enough to see that his avoidance of eye contact was due to a wound.

You took off your shoes and tossed them back by the door before coming to wrap your arms around him. Your cheek made its home on his sturdy back, "I'm sorry. They just don't know you yet. They haven't seen what this really is."

He sighed, his shoulders slouching. "I know. That's why I want to meet them and you to meet mine. I understand why your parents feel the way they do. And I know you're leaving a lot out to spare my feelings. That doesn't make it fun to hear, but I get it."

You held him tighter, "Then we'll find a time to meet each other's. Maybe even at the same time."

Jimin let out a subtle chuckle at the notion, and then went back to serious, "And you? Do you still believe that I can provide a secure home environment?"

You stopped hugging him, instead joining him at his side, leaning against the counter so that you could look him in his eyes, "I've had a little while to think about it. I think that the environment this baby enters will never be a normal one. You could quit BTS right now and the fame will always follow you. That automatically makes for an abnormal upbringing. But that doesn't mean we can't do things to mitigate that, and that doesn't mean we can't raise a healthy, happy child. Above all, it doesn't mean he or she will lack security. Jimin, you're one of the most loving people I've ever known."

A hint of a grin began to form on his lips. You put your hand on your still flat tummy, "Whoever is in here will feel your love and support every day. Because that's just who you are."

His smile became a little bigger, "'Who I am' feels more complete whenever you're around. Thank you."

You pushed yourself from the counter and craned your neck upward so you could kiss him, "You're welcome. Now did you make any extra for me? I haven't eaten yet."

He smirked and pecked your lips once more, "Yes, there will be enough. Grab a couple bowls, it's about done."

He dished out the meal for two and you ate in the living room, sitting on the floor and using the coffee table as the surface. It tasted like heaven to you, but you were mindful to eat it slowly for the good of your gut.

"Mm," Jimin's eyes went wide suddenly, "I didn't tell you about my parents."

You swallowed, "Oh, right. How was that?"

"Like I said earlier, not bad. They were shocked and I got chided a little bit, but I hung up feeling a deeper sense of purpose," he explained, "And I want to share it with you if it's alright."

You were intrigued by the uptick in his mood, "Yeah, please."

"They made me realize that I, and possibly the two of us together, have been so terrified to tell the company because of the consequences to ourselves. But those consequences are necessary if we want what's best for our child, so we don't have to see it as some horrible doom coming our way," he studied your face to see if it was making sense, "All I'm trying to say is that we shouldn't see it as this awful storm cloud hanging over our heads. That doesn't mean it won't be hard or painful for us, but we can at least take comfort in that we'll be doing right by our little one."

You smiled, "I like that way of thinking. You know, after seeing the ultrasound, I felt something of a bond form. I'd do anything if it meant he or she was saved from hurt, and I know we both agree that the secrecy would hurt."

Jimin nodded, "Exactly. You're such an incredible mother already, baby. I can't wait to have Doctor Yoon come here for the next scan. I hope I feel the same thing you did."

That reminded you - the gift.

"Oh!" you stood up, "One second."

He was puzzled for a moment, but then you re-entered the living room with the green present in your arms and an eager look on your face. When you first got here, he'd been so caught up trying to figure out what was wrong that he'd totally forgotten about this.

He grinned curiously, "Oh yeah, what's this for?"

You sat beside him on the floor and put it between the two of you, "For you."

He laughed, "But why?"

You shrugged, "You'll see when you open it."

He took one last bite of fried rice and then set his bowl aside. He removed the white bow first and then began to rip the paper off the box. His brows knit together as the item inside gradually became visible. You were pressing your lips together in anticipation.

When the wrapping was fully removed, Jimin read the outside of the box. Shortly, he was looking at you again, eyes spilling over with exuberance. You couldn't hold back the same expression.

You giggled at his speechlessness, "A fetal doppler, so you can hear the heartbeat."

"Y/N," he was beaming down at the box, "I don't even know what to say. Thank you."

You nodded, "I know you felt like you were missing out. With this, you can listen whenever you want. No need to wait for a doctor's appointment."

"Can we try it now?"

You grinned, "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

He shot up, taking the box and your hand with him. You laughed as you were tugged along into his bedroom. You both sat on the bed and he flipped his nightstand lamp on, giving the space adequate yet dim lighting.

You worked together to free the small machine from its encasing, discarding any extra wrappings. It came with a small monitor that would show the heart rate and had a button panel for volume control. It was attached to a cord with a wand at the other end. Separately was a tube of gel, similar to what Doctor Yoon used at your appointment.

It came with the right batteries inside, so all you had to do was turn it on and go for it.

You laid back on the bed, adjusting your pants so the wand could access the right location. You smiled and pointed at the tube of gel, "Okay, take a little bit of the gel and put it right here."

Jimin couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't be more excited. He carefully squirted a good amount of the substance on your skin, "Now what?"

You giggled, "Just turn it on and use the wand to spread it around."

He found the power button on the side of the monitor and pushed it, making the small screen light up. Before placing the wand on your belly, he made sure the volume was turned up. Then he laid on his side next you you, head propped up resting in his palm.

When the wand first made contact with your skin, there was hardly any sound. Thankfully, it only took a few seconds of spreading the gel around to start to hear something.

Jimin's features were fully alert instantly. He found the right spot and held it there, enthralled by the pulsing sound. His lips parted slightly as he stayed in a state of motionless elation. When it finally began to register, he broke into a joyous smile, "Oh my God, there it is!"

You laughed, basking in his happiness, "It sounds just as strong as it was before."

The immense weight of the day was lifted from him. He leaned closer to your belly, keeping the wand in place, "H-Hi, baby. It's Daddy. I hear you now."

You were overflowing with adoration for this man. Once you saw his brown eyes glisten with gleeful tears, you began to get choked up as well. He couldn't help it. In fact, he didn't even realize it was happening until one streak came down his face. All that you'd both been through in the past month, and all that you would go through in the months to come - it would all be unimaginably rewarded when the owner of this precious heartbeat came into the world.

Jimin wiped the tear from his cheek and sniffled, turning his focus to you now, "Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you so much. This is…it means everything to me.”

You grinned contentedly, “It does for me too.”

The two of you listened some more. The thumping was persistent and even. You daydreamed in your own minds, alleviating yourselves of any stress, even if it was just for this one moment.

He laughed, “I can’t believe we made this little heart together. You might come to regret giving me this.”

“You love it that much, huh?” you giggled.

“I wont be able to get enough of it.”

“That’s okay,” you said, “It gives me an excuse to come over more often.”

He hummed at the idea, still intently focused on the sight of your exposed abdomen and the sound coming through the monitor. You then watched as his blissful smile faded, and his eyes fell into a contemplative state.

His voice sounded distant as the gears were turning in his mind, “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“When is the lease on your apartment up?”

#angst #jimin x reader #bts #fanfic #jimin #park jimin #romance #bts fanfic #bts fic #established rp #pregnant #jimin fluff #fluff #jimin angst

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frodopotter7 · 1 day ago

Text

The memories of Edwin Payne

(Or an interactive fanfiction)

Note: I had the headcanon that Edwin‘s notebook contains all his personal writing including the writings from his life as an Edwardian boy. So I wrote those entries in his notebook. Now this book is obviously all of Edwin‘s personal thoughts and I thought it would be fun to do a collaboration. So if you are a writer yourself or creative in any other way, feel free to use this entries as a starting point for another fanfiction. For example Charles finding the notebook and reading it or Crystal reading it or anything else. The only rule that I set is that you clearly mark my text and tag me, because first of all it was a lot of effort to write it and secondly I want to see what cool things you came up with. And if you don’t want to creatively interact with this fanfiction, then you can obviously just enjoy it by reading it.

Summary: Edwin Payne‘s most treasured item is his notebook, because it contains so much private information that no one else knows about him. Not even Charles. Including the struggles of a posh, gay, autistic Edwardian boy and his times before hell, in hell and shortly after hell.

Triggers: bullying, implied suicide, dolls

Shipping: Payneland, but you could also include other shipping in your part

The song that I thought of while writing:

One of Edwin’s most treasured objects was definitely his notebook. He had it all the time and he used it for every case they had. It meant a lot to him, since it was with him when he died. It was with him in hell and it was with him in his detective career. The reason why he never gave it to anyone, not even Charles, was that it had been with him even as a child. Well, back then he had several notebooks, but as he died every personal writing of his got transferred into it. The notebook always had enough pages and was still not getting thicker and his pen was always full of ink. And still even though it contained so many different notes, Edwin navigated through it without any problems. It was his own writing after all. His family sigil was carved into the black front cover and the word ‘Payne’ was written underneath it.

If anyone would open it and tried to start from the beginning, he would be greeted with Edwin’s signature under the printed words. ‘Family member:’ After that the handwriting would be harder to read. Scribbly, crossed out spelling mistakes and spilled ink from a little boy, who was writing for the first time. If you manage to identify the words it would read:

1905

Greetings,

my name is Edwin Payne. I am the only child of the family Payne. My father says, that mother wanted more children, but just failed every other time. You probably have heard about my family’s name. The family with the best lawyers of England. When I’m grown up, I will be a lawyer too. Lawyers are like detectives says my father. I like that. I like detectives.

My nanny told me to interact more with others. Why would I need to talk if there is no one to talk to anyways? My parents are often absent and my nanny is just not understanding me. My father says that I am too slow for my age. My motion skills too clumsy. My spoken words only contain information from detective books and I cannot properly respond to people yet. I know a lot of novels by heart though. Others just don’t seem to like talking about crimes as much as I do. Father sometimes lets me have a look in his older cases. They are interesting.

We visited a doctor again today, because of my slow development. We visit him quite often. Actually since I can remember. I don’t feel sick. He says there is nothing wrong with me. Still I know that something is wrong. I overreacted at loud noises. A lot of things stress me out.

1906

I haven’t writing about Cordelia Primrose Surname-von-Hovercraft. She is annoying, loud and a restless soul. She runs around the house and breaks rules just to get the attention. She is a bit younger than me, but that doesn’t justify her actions. I don’t like her. Although sometimes she be helpful. Like the time she stole the biscuit jar and gave me one of the special biscuits. They had to expel one of her nannies for this. But Cordelia had plenty nannies anyways. No one stays long with her. I had my nanny since I was born. I don’t like changes. Cordelia sometimes scares me with ghost stories. She says she would see them and that my fortune says that I will die a painful and early death. I don’t believe in this unscientific nonsense.

I take piano lessons now. It’s is fun. My mother seems to enjoy it. It is somehow the only way to get her attention for me.

Additionally to my regular private lessons I go to school now. Simon obviously needs to be in my class as well. I don’t like him. He bores me and he is too clingy. And sometimes he says mean things to me.

I had an outburst in class. Everything was just so loud and I was frustrated. The teacher hit my finger with the ruler and send me in the naughty corner. I don’t see why I get punished, when the other boys are clearly the distraction. Overall I am a good student. So it will probably not affect my grades.

My favorite subject is Latin and literature. I love books and translating old languages. It is like solving a code or a riddle. I don’t like maths, since it is all just numbers and no words.

1907

I had another outburst in class after Simon tried to touch me. He kept tapping my arm and I don’t like that. The teacher called a nurse, but I was too overwhelmed to respond to any of her questions to my health. I wanted to go home and I told her that again and again, but she didn’t understand. They called a priest. He said something in Latin. I think, it must have been biblical words. I tried to focus on translating them, but there was so much panic around me that I barely focused on anything. But I managed to calm myself after what felt like hours due to exhaustion.

My parents had a talk with the priest. He says that I am possessed by a demon. So now he straps me to a table and mumbled something in Latin again and again once a month or whatever I have an outburst. The robes around my wrist hurt. I am afraid. It is scary to know that there is something inside of me.

1908

I hate being possessed. Although I start to doubt that I have been in the first place. I did some research in the library and the real demonology books aren’t describing my symptoms. Even Cordelia, who usually always tells spooky stories, agrees with me. She said, if I was possessed she would have been the first one to know. She is a mystery to me.

1909

Today I saw a nice looking man across the street. I told my nanny that he looks like a basket full of oranges. My father uses that term a lot when he talks about young women, so I thought it is just a term to use if you think someone looks nice. She gasped and hit me lightly with the newspaper. It didn’t hurt but I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. She told me that a man cannot say that to another man. I guess the saying is reserved for women then.

1910

I started to mask my uncomfortable feelings in public. It is difficult, but it helps. My parents and the priest both think that I am healed.

1911

I got called a Mary Ann for the first time. I asked my nanny and she started to mumble to herself how she must have failed. I told her that she did a really great job, since I would consider myself very well behaved and educated. She ignored me and told me to not tell my parents. How should I tell them if they are never there in the first place?

I did some research again, which mainly was asking Simon. I know, getting down on his level is a hard sacrifice. He told me that a Mary Ann is a boy who behaves like a girl and isn’t manly enough so they love other men. I thought about that for a long time. What is it about me that makes me a Mary Ann?

The writing in the book started to get better and appeared way more elegant. You could find little drawings here and there. Edwin was quite a good and realistic artist. Drawings of flowers, buildings, his nanny, his mother or Sherlock Holmes.

1912

Mother is constantly coughing loudly. It is irritating. Not even cocaine will help. They don’t let me in her room. They fear I would catch it too. Not that I was ever close to her before.

Mother is in a special hospital now. She took the train far away in a hospital in the mountains. No one ever returns from there. I know it. Everyone does. I will not see her again.

Mother died of tuberculosis. I miss her, I guess. I don’t know what I miss. It is a change. I hate changes.

1913

Father is sending me to a boarding school for boys. He says it’s for my education. I know, he just wants to get ride of me.

I hate the new school. Simon is here and people are still calling me a Mary Ann. Simon started to join them. I guess he sees it as a new opportunity to mock me.

I take fencing lessons now. It is nice, since it is not required any sort of touch with other boys. Nothing that I can be blamed for.

1914

I found a hideout in the school attic. It is a great place to read in peace.

The world has started a war. It worries me. They tell us that we are save in the school. But in the end all you can do is pray.

I came back home on Christmas. My nanny was gone. Father said they would be no need for her any longer, since I am in school now anyway. He looked like he knew something, but wasn’t going to tell me.

1915

The next page had some blood drops on its pages.

I want to go home. I want to be back in my room with my detective books. I want to be healed from this darkness inside of me. My nose is bleeding from another attack by the other boys. They started to get more violent now. Simon isn’t joining them, but he watches.

I came home on Christmas, but it wasn’t my home anymore. Just a house. My father didn’t speak a word. I asked him, if it was about the war and he looked up towards me. I could feel his cold gaze from across the table. He took out a letter and slammed it on the table. It was from my headteacher. I was confused. I am class best and the best behaved student in class? The only reason why I get to stand in the naughty corner is if I got caught reading in my comics or books. In my defense I am usually already finished with the exercises if I read in class. What could possibly be a problem with me? The letter was about the other boys calling me Mary Ann. And that they didn’t wanted a boy like that in their school. That I should stop whatever was wrong with me. My father told me in his absent voice, that he was not having a son like that either. He had exchanged letters with the headmaster for quite some time now and I didn’t seem to get better. I asked him that I had no idea. He interrupted me as always. Told me that the only way to make me a man would be to send me to war. I started to cry and he continued holding a speech about heroism and that his generation had understood this so much better than mine. I am too young for war, he knows that too. He told me that the only thing rescuing my life is my good grades. He sees potential in me as a lawyer. He has talked to the Surnames-von-Hovercrafts they agreed that I should marry their daughter as soon as possible. I mean I knew that I would be married to Cordelia one day, but not already when I turn 16. That’s only some months away.

As the train brought me back to the boarding school and as I saw my father standing in the doorway of the house with his usual expressionless face, I knew that this was the last time I would see him and that he wished to rather have no son than me. I just knew it.

1916

Simon stole my hat. I wouldn’t mention this minor form of his bullying, if it hadn’t been a special hat. My mother and I bought it, when her disease hadn’t been noticeable. It was too large back then, but it suits me now. Or rather suited. I don’t think I will see it again as Simon comes up with the best ways to either destroy or hide it. I cried about it. Childhood is over, but honestly I don’t think it ever started in the first place at least not for me.

The numbness is spreading inside my body. I think about the military and the forced marriage daily. I am too young for this. I cannot even properly cope in a classroom. How am I supposed to cope in the war? My hands are to soft. My brain is too precious. Please, spear me. They won’t. It is just a question of time.

I went to the lake today. It is spring and still fairly cold, but I went inside non the less. It was cold. Ice cold. I went under water and yelled out some poetic nonsense. I thought about staying under water. Turning into Ophelia. But I reminded myself, that this is something a coward would do. A Mary Ann. I would proof everyone’s suspicions as correct. Scared to live. Scared to die. I got out of the water. My gaze landed on my clothes and the letter. My father had written me that the marriage would be held in some days, since I am 16 now. I ripped the paper in half and tossed it into the ocean. Letting the water destroy the writing on the paper. Of course this would make nothing undone. I would still need to marry. I would still need to go into the military. I would still need to die. I am frightened. The other boys seem unbothered. They laugh and play like the world isn’t ending around us. Well, their world is probably not ending anyways. They will live. Their parents are rich after all. They have the privilege. I would have had this privilege as well, but they took it from me by putting this name on me. I took it from myself with my impure thoughts.

Cordelia sent me a telegram that just read that I would need to be careful as death was approaching me in the worst way. I hate her for that. As if I wouldn’t know that. As if I wouldn’t know that I needed to go into the army soon. Not a single word about our forced wedding. I thought we had always agreed to both be against it. But then again she isn’t even trying to love me. Not that I would try. Not anymore. I tried when I was younger, because I was told to. But Cordelia has just no idea how to react appropriately to a gentleman. Her behavior makes it hard to believe that she is from such a high rank.

I saw Simon with a weird book today. He told me it is from his brother and that it is about demons. I told him that this was total nonsense and that he should get a grip on reality. He didn’t spoke to me again after that. Weird for someone who is as annoying as him. I am going to put my notebook in the pocket of my sleeping clothes tonight just to make sure Simon cannot steal it. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. My heart is aching for absolutely no reasons. I am afraid as I try to sleep tonight and the worst thing is that it is irrational. I am going to die alone, this is all my head produces right now.

Now every page was covered with blood at the side of the pages and sometimes even on the writing itself. There were no drawings to be found anymore. Just drawings for the escape plan and hierarchy of hell.

I don’t know if my dates are correct. I don’t know how time works in here. I don’t even know how long I am able to write without this thing waking up. This thing with the many doll heads. This spider like creature that kills me every time I move or make a sound. I sometimes wonder what happened to the other boys.

I try to change my perspective. It is hard when you are in so much pain. My brain learned to be sharper now. I can think and act quicker. I need to see this as one of my old detective games or as the times that I had to run away from my bullies. Everything is achievable with logic. Although I would say after being in hell for such a long time that might be a delusional optimism.

1988

I think I made it out fairly well. I am still uncontrollably shaky when I hear any noises. I fear that this demon might comeback to get me. I am back in the old school attic where they strapped me down on the table and sacrificed me. I learned a lot from hell and from the books in the attic. Like the basic ghost rules or that my death and the death of my bullies were labeled an act of god. I compared hell to the war a lot. After all I would say that hell was definitely the worse death. Much longer torture than war would have been. In the war you die just one death after all. But maybe a Mary Ann like me would have ended up there anyway.

I finally was brave enough to get out of the attic. I figured out that the year is 1988 from a newspaper that one of the teachers was reading. 72 years of torture. I wonder how often I was torn apart in this time. But I shouldn’t think about that. That reminds me of the pain and of the times when I tried to count my own corpses. The school hasn’t changed a lot. The teachers are less violent, but still rather strict. They have more lower class people here now. I can see it by the ways they behave and by the clothes they wear. That is especially confusing for me. So rude, so explicit, so freely. It is not a boarding school anymore. Luckily that gives me the freedom to have my peace after dark.

I started to watch a specific boy. I am not a stalker. At least I wouldn’t use this therm for a ghost. He is just interesting for my scientific research about this time. The boy has a darker skin. Some children in this school have this skin and get picked on, but somehow he isn’t the one who gets pick on. He wears very interesting clothes. Especially the golden earring. Something I would just see a woman wear, but it fits him so much better than it could ever fit a woman. His clothing is mostly black, though I would say that the red shirt he once worn fits him best. His lips have always a smile on them and he cracks loud jokes. But I see the sadness in his eyes. I recognize my own sadness in his eyes. His name is Charles Rowland. I heard the teacher yell it at him. A little trouble maker in class. He seems to never be able to focus. Maybe he is also possessed like I was when I was a young boy. But after experiencing hell, I doubt that the priest back then had any idea what a demon was really like.

The following page is filled with a very realistic drawing of Charles, who is smiling so iconically and his eyes seem to be filled with emptiness and some smaller doodles of Charles playing Cricket or talking to others.

Charles Rowland. His name repeats itself in my brain. I am not obsessive. He is just the best way of distraction I can find in this school. Distraction from the fear of hell. The fear of death coming back for me. Analysis and observation keep me away from those horrible thoughts. I have less panicle outbursts since I started my observation of this boy. Although when I am alone at night in the school attic I often start to cry in silence and my breathing races again.

Charlie. That is what his friends call him. It doesn’t suit him. Charles is his name. Not Charlie. I don’t like his friends. They are rude. They remind me of the boys in my old life. I wonder why I like Charles then. Maybe because he points out obvious misbehavior of the group even if they mock him.

The most interesting time is when Charles thinks that he is alone. That is mostly in the dressing room, when he gets ready for Cricket. As a short notion he is a fabulous cricket player, but he always waits till the other boys have changed and are out of the room. He pretends to struggle with his shoes or shorts. Even if that sometimes means that it is getting really dark outside. His smiles fades completely then. I saw the scars on his body. I feel bad for even looking at him in that state. Seeing a boy my age without a shirt is clearly inappropriate and it triggers the Mary Ann inside of me, but sometimes my detective senses is taking over too much. Especially after I saw all the scars and bruises. You don’t need to be that clever to understand that his family probably his father beats him. Although beating may be a too mild verb for those scars. I appreciate the absence of my father when I see him. My father and teachers used to beat me as well. With a ruler or the flat hand though not as much as my classmates. And after being through hell, that all seems like nothing in comparison. But even in my time no father would have mistreated their sons like that. I speak from a higher class, maybe it had been different in the lower class, but they were happy if their sons made it through childhood without a disease or scars so they could work properly. Although maybe they did this with the child workers. Is Charles secretly a child worker? Is there still child labour? Why would someone bruise their son like that if their son could provide a great income for the family? Or how many things was Charles doing something seriously wrong?

1989

His friends talked about me last night. They had cricket practice until the sun had settled and on the way back home I heard them talking about a school ghost. The janitor must have heard my weeping last night. My hysteria yesterday was indeed a lot. Too much to handle for myself. I think I was shaking till dawn. This vivid fear must have crossed over into the living world. They told Charles, that this had scared the janitor and he quitted. Then they told him of Mary Ann who was sacrificed 1916 and killed all the boys that night. Charles questioned this logically, since it was an all boys school, so there probably was never a girl. I certainly appreciate his thinking, but this just triggered a lot in me. Being called a Mary Ann even after all this years. Being remembered only as a Mary Ann. Being blamed as the murderer. Those boys clearly had no idea of what the term Mary Ann actually meant, but it just triggered me so badly that I started to panic again. My panic must have bursted through the worlds again, because the boys suddenly turned white and ran home. Charles stayed a little longer. Looking in my direction. I know he couldn’t see me, but maybe he could sense my panic more than the other boys could. Again we are much a like if you observe closely. After this strange second of him just starting into nothing and me starting back, he ran away as well.

I need to leave this place. But I am too scared. Too scared of the outside world. Too scared of the changes.

I wanted to leave today, be brave enough. But I heard Charles ‘friends’ talking bad about him behind his back. How weird he behaved. They had no idea about his scars. Then again if I would be his friend, which is rather unlikely, I wouldn’t confront him. I know how horrible I panic if someone says the word Mary Ann, I imagine that it is a similar situation for him with his scars. I stayed. I don’t know why. Again irrational fears.

I wish I would have left. I saw Charles defending a boy who got bullied by his so called friends. I felt tears in my eyes, because this was the kind of protection I had wished for when I was alive. I definitely feel too many emotions at the moment or maybe it just feels like more emotions because I was mostly numb in hell. The younger boy could escape with only a few bruises, but his friends still were in this blood lust. In this moment of still wanting the fun even though there was nothing funny about the action in the first place. I have seen those faces before. The faces of murders who only realize their actions when it is too late. They stoned him in the cold water. The water of the lake in which I once thought about killing myself a long time ago. I wanted to help. I wanted to stop them, but I had no idea what I could do. I am too new in this ghostly body. I tried desperately, but I ended up only pausing them by holding them back for a short time. It gave Charles time to ran away to the school building. He hid in the attic. I wanted to help him. The least I could do was by giving him a light. He was in a state where a floating light probably was his least problem. It turned out that he could see me and that was the moment I knew it was too late for him anyway. It was a strange sensation to properly speak again. I had never spoken in hell and in my ghost form I had only weeped. Hearing my own voice was odd. I was shortly surprised that I still knew how to use my voice. Reading to him from one of my old comics in the attic calmed him and gave me the opportunity to adapt a bit to talking for a longer period of time. He stayed with me, which honestly stresses me out a lot. I am not made to be a friend. I have been isolated for too long to be a good friend. I have been in hell for so long that I am probably a horrible person myself. I haven’t talked in so long. I am just adapting to just have conversations, how should I teach him to be a ghost, if I haven’t figured it out myself? Even if that all would not be the case and even if we would not be from different times, still I never have been good with other people. I never had friends. The only person a bit close to me was Cordelia and she was always more a sister for me. And still he chooses a stranger his own afterlife. From my observations I would blame his intentional behavior. He sees something and does something without thinking long. Although this decision might be too big for only this explanation.

I really can’t understand why Charles is choosing me over his afterlife. I just read to him once and gave him a lantern. He barely knows me and now he follows me everywhere. I showed him some ghost tricks and somehow I can really impress him by everything I say or do. But he made me smile for the first time in my life. So I am impressed by him as well. Whenever I read in this book, I just tell him that I like to keep record of things. That I would plan were we can go next as we no longer can stay in the school and waking around without plan is never good for too long. It is partly a lie I really am making a plan. But I do this in my head rather than writing it down, but it is an excuse for not letting him see my private writing. I tell him that it is rather boring planning and he believes me. I feel bad for lying to him, but if he would know about my past he surely would leave me and I would be all alone again.

We mirror traveled together to London. Charles felt a bit sick after it. He seems to still need to adapt to his ghost body. I was a bit overwhelmed with his sudden mood shift. I have been too selfish all my life and in my death so much that I don’t know how to help. He didn’t notice or he just didn’t say anything. But we had to mirror travel, it was too dangerous in the school after Charles died. Besides Charles is a talented and athletic boy, he will get the grip of it. In addition death could have caught me in the attic. I didn’t tell him why I am on the run. Not yet. I fear that once I tell him that I was in hell, he will think I am evil. Maybe that is true. Maybe I am just doomed. I feel like it was my fault that he died. I watched him so long with this incorrect feelings of mine. Maybe this cursed him like in a Greek tragedy. For now I just want to make sure that Charles is not alone. I had been alone for too long to know how dreadful it can get and he is much more social than I am.

We visited his family in London. A real rural area. His mother was crying over the loss of her son. His father just seemed to see it as a natural thing to happen to those who aren’t careful enough. I made a mental note to haunt this man every year to Charles’ death day without telling Charles. The school, once again, swept the problem under the carpet and made it appear like an accident. How can someone possibly stone himself while being in the water and then run in an attic? No clever detective would see that as the solution. I said that out loud and it turned out that Charles and I both share a passion for detective stories. That was something to make him smile. But he started to cry again as he saw how desperate his mother and sister were. He hugged me, which was a lot. I never have been hugged before and at first it felt like this demon from hell was gripping around me again. I froze in place and pushed him away in a reflex. Charles stopped. I didn’t tell him about the hell part, but I told him that I am not used to hugs and touches in general. He took it in surprisingly well, but for his own sake I added that I might could get used to it. I hope that I am able to get used to it. Charles sees it as something that he can teach me.

It was just a matter of time till my hell trauma wouldn’t be able to keep hidden anymore. We were in an abandoned apartment, since we both are not staying out the whole night. We don’t have to sleep but it is just too awkward. He usually talks through the whole night and I like his voice even with his weird way of talking. He likes me reading to him. He even carries all my books for me. But as we explored the abandoned house, I discovered an old doll. I overreacted I know. But there was just so much panic inside of me all of the sudden. My fight or flight mood was activated again. I don’t know what Charles did. I don’t know how he managed to stop me from repeating the word ‘Please spare me. I don’t belong in hell.’ I vaguely remember his hands securely holding my head and his shining dark eyes and his calm voice, but I don’t remember his words. He was confused by my sudden changed behavior, but he tried to not show that whole calming me. Once he had calmed me, I obviously had to tell him the truth. I gave him the opportunity to leave me again, but he stayed and he understood, said that this is probably the worst thing someone could have been through. We didn’t speak the rest of the night, but we continued the next day as if nothing had happened.

It is harder to continue my writing as Charles could find out and I don’t want him to know about this. He is so lively. He is jumping and sprinting around, while telling me things and just appears from behind. I cannot risk that. We have a detective agency now. We don’t want that others have their deaths so badly twisted as ours. Another reason was that he had introduced me to a game called Clue, which is basically a detective game, and then we both came up with the idea of starting our own detective agency. He is the brawn and I am the brain. It fits perfectly. We even managed to get a abandoned flat in London. I probably have no time to continue this memoirs, but I will make sure to use my notebook as a case lock book from now own.

I will never tell him about the real meaning of the word Mary Ann. I will never tell him that I had been in the school for a whole year and not just shortly before his death. I will never tell him that I have watched and observed him. I appreciate him now too much. I don’t ever want to lose him.

After that only a whole lot of cases and notes and questions on them followed.

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