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avatarchic · 1 year ago

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— FOREIGNER

How the Karasuno boys would react to meeting Shoyo's foreign cousin.

— starring. karasuno boys x foreign exchange student!reader (separately), student teacher!reader in ukai's

— tags. fluff, first meetings, pining

— warnings. use of 'pretty' and 'cute' to describe reader, but no pronouns are used, you slap ryuu in his LOL, mild suggestive comment in ryuu's if you squint

— requested? yes! thank you so much for your request this was fun to write :)

— notes. some of these are longer than others sorry ADHKWH my biases are showing a lil // this ended up being a first meeting + how they act when they start crushing on you, but it they're so cute so i didnt wanna change it lolol

daichi is whipped for you from the start

he doesn't show it (or he doesn't think he does) but he's attracted to you the second he lays eyes on you

he's extra sure to be polite to you, too embarrassed too show his brasher nature in case it scares you off

he loses his backbone whenever you're around

he needs to scold some of the first years for goofing off, but you're standing there? he's all sunshine and rainbows

when he finds out that you're a foreign exchange student, he's over the moon

he subtly finds out your classes from shoyo, who of course doesn't realize his intentions as he blurts out your schedule happily

he checks up on you often, making sure you're adjusting well to japan because "what kind of captain would he be if he let his underclassman's cousin have a hard time?"

the team is none the wiser, except for maybe koshi who sees through his shit immediately

he has a habit of patting your head as a greeting, even if he's just passing you in the hallways even if you complain about him messing up your hair

overall, he's super soft with you :)

sawamura daichi! was annoyed when he met you. shoyo hadn't shown up to practice and wasn't answering his phone, which left the captain ready to send the orange-haired freshman to an early grave. after kei made a smart remark that he saw shoyo lingering near the school entrance, he was on a mission to give the boy hell.

kei was right, of course. when daichi made his way to the entrance, he saw shoyo right away. he stomps over, lips parting to lecture the younger male about responsibilities when his eyes ghost over you. he stops short, shoyo's name barely dropping from his mouth as he pauses.

when you both turn to him, daichi feels his breath catch in his throat. it was clear that you weren't from around here. your odd sense of dress stuck out like a sore thumb—not to mention he had never seen you before. but if anything, he thought you were pretty.

"you're late for practice," daichi states lamely, barely managing to tear his gaze away from you to glower at shoyo. "i ought to put you on cleaning duty tonight."

the threat fell on deaf ears, shoyo's large grin unfaltering as he wraps an arm around your midsection in a tight hug. "captain! sorry, sorry," he apologizes, though the wide grin on his face told daichi he wasn't serious. "my cousin texted me that they were here, so i had to say hi!"

at his words, you finally snap out of your stupor, offering daichi a small smile. "i didn't realize he had practice. i wouldn't have called him out if i knew."

daichi presses his lips together, feeling his ears warm at your kind tone. "it's okay," he says softly. "i'll let him off for now. it's nice to meet you—i'm sawamura daichi."

when you introduce yourself, he finds himself repeating your name in his head.

"oi," he clears his throat, turning to shoyo with a deadpan expression. "c'mon. we're late enough already." daichi turns to bow his head at you politely, quickly turning around before you can see the warmth in his cheeks.

your sweet voice calls out a goodbye, and daichi decides then and there that he wants to get to know you better.

"hey, hey—why are you so red?"

"you're gonna shut up now if you want to go home early tonight."

koshi didn't realize you were shoyo's cousin until after he got to know you a little

he couldn't help it—when he saw you he just thought you were super cute lmao

he fumbles a bit in front of you

he really really tries to be a cool, calm, and collected person but sometimes he embarrasses himself by saying odd things or staring at you a little too long

when he does figure out you're related to his underclassman, he takes the opportunity to get to know you better

and when he finds out you're in his homeroom? even better

the type to arrange study session together with you every weekend just to spend time with you

he actually invites you to watch their practices and games before shoyo does LOL

the whole team knows about his feelings and he doesn't even care, constantly throwing an arm over you shoulder and hanging around you during downtimes

wants to impress you, so he gives it his all (and then some) whenever you're there

his sets get more accurate and he even blocks more hits than he would've before

he really wants you to think he's cool

but if you compliment him, he's exploding on the spot

suguwara koshi! had no idea you were shoyo's cousin when he met you. you looked nothing alike and your personalities were completely different. despite you being a complete stranger, the lost look on your face amused him.

you met koshi when shoyo accidentally stranded you at the train station. you were supposed to take the same train to his house, but he didn't notice you weren't right behind him when he stepped into the train car. the last you saw of the tangerine-haired boy was the back of his head as the doors closed on you.

you were standing there in a panic, though no one stopped to check if you were okay. shoyo had you hold his schoolbag while he dragged your suitcase along, and when you tried calling his cellphone you heard it buzz in the bag that hung on your shoulder. for the life of you, you couldn't remember which stop to get off or which streets to take to get to his house.

"are you lost?" a gentle voice asks you, pulling you from your anxious thoughts.

your eyes meet and koshi can't help but think you're cute as hell. you look doe-eyed in your panic, rounded eyes and parted lips. when you don't answer right away, koshi's cool demeanor switches and he stumbles into an embarrassed frenzy. "wait, can you even understand japanese?"

thankfully, you do, having learned it from shoyo at a younger age. you blink away the remnants of your panic with a few hasty nods. "yes, sorry. my cousin accidentally left me here, and i don't really know how to get to his house..."

koshi calms down at your insistence, chuckling to himself. "do you know the address?"

you wince, "no."

"alright," he says in a way that he hopes is soothing for you. "i can keep you company while you wait for him to return, then. it'd probably be nicer than just standing here by yourself."

when you agree, he hides his smile. he asks you several icebreakers, such as your name and your favourite colour. with every passing second, he only thinks you're even cuter than when he first saw you.

eventually, shoyo does come back, panting and heaving as he runs up the stairs to the station platform. his bright eyes widen when he sees you together with koshi. "oh, sugawara? you've met my cousin?"

koshi meets your eyes with a grin. "i guess we'll be seeing each other more often."

honestly asahi doesn't even acknowledge you when you first meet

he doesn't find out you're shoyo's cousin for weeks, so you're really just another classmate to him

you don't even talk to each other until like a month or so after you transferred

and even then, your conversations are short

he's polite to you when you work together, but he doesn't really try to become friends with you

don't get him wrong! he thinks you're nice and pretty, but he is too damn shy to initiate anything with you

you kinda think he hates you at first, but after you realize that he's just not an outgoing person you relax around him

when he does find out you're related to shoyo, you end up seeing each other more often out of class

you show up to more practices, even if you're just sitting on the benches doing homework

shoyo even drags you along whenever the team meets up outside of school to hang out

as a result, you and asahi eventually grow closer and he opens up more bit by bit

he doesn't actually start crushing on you until graduation nears

he realizes it when he hears you cheering his name at one of their bigger games

he thinks his name sounds prettier coming from you

he doesn't initiate any skinship with you, but he's always asking about your day and checking on you in his own ways

will absolutely combust if you even so much as brush pinkies as you're walking together

azumane asahi! first met you in class. like koshi, he doesn't know you're related to shoyo initially. when the teacher introduces you, making you write your name on the board, you don't have the same last name as shoyo. he doesn't really pay much attention to you, minding his own business as he takes out his notebook and pens.

several weeks pass and your homeroom teacher announces that you'll be partnering up for a group presentation. your first real conversation with him goes as expected—you exchange contact information and go your separate ways when the bell rings.

he thinks you're attractive, but he's too shy to actually act on those thoughts and he just pushes through the project, interacting with you as little as possible.

it's only when shoyo forgets his volleyball uniform at your house that asahi figures out you're related.

he sees you first, standing in the gym entrance while you wait to be invited in. you look hesitant as your eyes cast over the several members of the volleyball club, your gaze landing on asahi. when recognition flickers behind your eyes, he thinks you're there for him.

he opens his mouth to greet you, but before he can even utter a word, an orange blur runs past him. you're almost knocked on your ass as shoyo tackles you, excitedly calling out your name. "what're you doing here?" he asks you, tilting his head as he releases you from his death grip. "you never come to practice."

"you left your uniform at mine," you explain quietly, pulling the clothing out of your bag.

there's a moment of silence, before all hell breaks loose. the others scream and yell at shoyo, yuu and ryuunosuke shaking him by the shoulders as they demand why they weren't informed about his girlfriend.

even asahi's jaw drops at the thought of you, his classmate and group partner, dating shoyo, of all people.

"we aren't dating!" you exclaim, shaking your hands in front of you adamantly as disgust paints over your facial features. "we're cousins."

as the club eventually quiets down, you meet asahi's gaze over the commotion. when you offer him a bashful smile, he can't help but return it.

as expected, yuu is also whipped for you the second you meet

he swears on his life that he has never met someone as perfect as you—not even kiyoko (which says a lot)

at first, his attraction to you is entirely physical and he doesn't hide it

he compliments you every time he sees you he even compliments your outfits even if you're just wearing the karasuno uniform

he practically begs shoyo to bring you to practice just so he has an excuse to ogle at you and profess his 'undying love'

you'd probably make good friends with kiyoko, bonding over the second years' unabashed feelings and loud professions of love lol

though he's completely smitten with your looks, yuu doesn't learn a thing about you until like two months after your transfer

he realizes it when koshi asks if he knows anything about you and no, the fact that you're pretty doesn't count as something

during a late night run to the nearest convenience store, he runs into you

you're dressed casually, and he realizes it's actually the first time he's seen you outside of uniform

he thinks you're very cute in your bunny pajamas

he approaches you with koshi's words in mind, and asks if you want to hang out for a bit

your hang outs become a common thing, and eventually it's your weekend tradition to meet at the convenient store after sundown

after really getting to know you, he realizes that he likes more than just your appearance

shockingly, once he figures out his feelings for you, he tones down a lot

he would stop confessing his love for you every moment he could, but he gets casually affectionate with you

he'd always stand close enough for your shoulders to touch and would absentmindedly guide you places by taking your hand

he's never had a real crush on anyone before, so he's feeling it out with you

nishinoya yuu! has hearts in his eyes the moment he meets you. shoyo brought you to practice one day, excited to introduce his favourite cousin to his teammates. he had all but dragged you to the gym by the wrist, ignoring your insistent utterings that you can walk on your own.

"this is my cousin!" shoyo announces the second he bursts through the doors in true hinata shoyo fashion. you were the last ones to show up, so the entire team was there to witness you getting dragged in by shoyo. "they transferred here from overseas."

yuu feels the world stop once he glances over at you after receiving a particularly harsh spike from tobio, freezing into his squatted position. his world becomes a romcom movie—he swears someone must be blowing a fan in your direction with the way your hair sways as you walk into the gym. he might even be seeing the air sparkle in your presence.

he's absolutely starstruck with you, and he makes no effort to hide it as he bounds over to you. he takes your hands in his, looking at you with wide eyes as he takes you in. he can hear someone groaning, maybe daichi, as they mutter something along the lines of "he's at it again."

"i'm nishinoya yuu," he introduces himself. "you're really cute!"

your mouth opens, but no words come out as you simply stare at yuu in surprise. shoyo had given you a brief rundown of his group members, and you realize that this might be why he warned you about the libero in particular.

even when daichi smacks the back of his head, apologizing to you quietly, yuu remains in his lovestruck gaze.

you stay to watch their practice, at both shoyo and yuu's insistence, and yuu makes a point to be even more extravagant than usual. you can't help but laugh at his boisterous rolling receives and the way he calls out ridiculous move names.

oh ryuu. typical ryuu.

the first words he ever speaks to you end up with him getting slapped

like yuu, he thinks you've been blessed by the gods with your looks and he makes it clear to you when you meet

he asks you to go out with him, only to blatantly check you out right after, which earned him a smack to the face

eventually, he does apologize for his behaviour, though you don't accept it right away

when you tell him that you hate guys who treat others like eye candy, he's sure to tone it down for you

of course, a man can't change overnight

he still flirts with you, and with other women—he can't help it ;( him n yuu are menaces

however, when he's not being an absolute pest, he gets to know you

he learns about your interests and hobbies, and finds himself indulging you in them (who would've thought he'd end up enjoying the art of bracelet making?)

when you become close friends, you become his person

he goes to you whenever he wants to talk about something, and he lends an ear whenever you need to vent

he asks you about your home country often, wanting to know more about your life before you came to japan

he'd even go out of his way to do things for you that remind you of home whenever you start feeling homesick :)

it's not until well after graduation when he realizes that he might actually like you

tanaka ryuunosuke! was mid confession when you met. shoyo had brought you to one of their games, and just as ryuunosuke was getting on his knees to ask kiyoko to marry him, his eyes fall on you.

it's almost astounding how quickly the second year moved from the glasses-wearing beauty to you, appearing in front of you in an instant. before shoyo can even introduce you, he stares you down with a steeled expression, his eyes narrowing.

"you're the prettiest person i've ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on," he claims in his most serious tone. he takes your hands in his as he presses his lips to your knuckles. "please go out with me."

there's a collective sigh as the team turns away at his antics. you, on the other hand, feel your head pound in irritation. "excuse me?"

ryuunosuke doesn't hear the vexation in your tone, or chooses to ignore it, as his eyes trail over your features. even when you're staring at him in an angry disbelief, he thinks you're incredibly pretty. however, as his eyes drop lower and lower, his mind enters a less-than-appropriate headspace.

the feeling of your hand connecting with his cheek rips him out of his lewd daydreams. you didn't slap him hard, but the sound echoed over the loud chatter of the audience members anyway. "you pervert," you utter, gritting your teeth as you turn on your heel. you barely tell shoyo good luck as you all but stomp off to the bleachers.

ryuunosuke stares at your back, holding his reddening cheek in mild awe. yuu nudges his side. "don't tell me you're into that, man."

he at least has the grace to blush.

to be honest, you and tobio do not get along until much later

it's not because you're related to shoyo it is

he just genuinely has no idea how to talk to you lmao

you meet him on the first day of school with shoyo

the realization that he may be teammates with the very guy he had practically berated in middle school took priority over greeting you tbh

it's only after their initial fight when he realizes that you, a complete stranger, saw him yell at shoyo as harshly as he did (even if shoyo didn't have many nice things to say either)

he's kinda embarrassed abt it tbh

like?? you had to see him like that?? he's mortified

so when he joins the volleyball club and you're a manager, he avoids you like the plague

when he talks to you, he accidentally comes across as if he hates your guts (he doesn't, he just cannot properly converse with people to save his life)

your relationship is extremely terse for months, since you get pissed off at his behaviour and he doesn't know how to act normally around you

he doesn't warm up to you until one of their games later in the season, where the morale is low and the team is hanging their heads

you give them an uplifting speech, telling the team that they're stronger than they think

it's the first time tobio looks at you in a pleasant light, and he merely puts a hand on your shoulder to say thanks as he makes his way back to the court

slowburn as fuck tbh he might not even realize he likes you until you're about to graduate (cut him some slack he's only a lil slow)

kageyama tobio! barely acknowledges your existence when you meet. you had moved to japan before their first year at karasuno began, so you showed up with shoyo to the first day.

of course, tobio recognized shoyo immediately from their encounter in middle school. shoyo had dragged you to the gym to go with him to sign up for the volleyball club, insistent that you try to apply to be a manager or something. tobio was there, about to spike a volleyball.

the second shoyo and tobio lock eyes on each other, they're at it like cats and dogs, and you're left standing there in confusion. seeing shoyo as angry as he was is shocking to you and you wonder what the hell this other guy must've done to rile up your sunshine cousin so much.

tobio doesn't even look at you as he argues with shoyo, not meeting your eyes until after the fight has 'calmed' down. he stares at you quietly for a moment before averting his gaze, grumbling something under his breath as he leaves to retrieve the volleyball shoyo made him drop.

he doesn't say anything to you as you talk quietly with daichi about becoming a manager. he vaguely overhears shoyo introducing you as his cousin, but he's too annoyed to listen.

later on, when him and shoyo are finally accepted into the club, and you're brought on as a manager-in-training, tobio still ignores you.

you don't have your first conversation until a week later, when you corner him after practice. "what is your problem?" you demand, your hands propped on your hips. "i know you don't like sho, but you haven't said a single word to me since you joined the club."

tobio flushes in embarrassment as he stares at you. he doesn't mean to, but his eyes narrow into what could be perceived as a harsh glare. "i don't have anything to say," he says truthfully, his voice coming out colder than necessary.

when he rushes off to hide his growing fluster, you're left standing there confused.

you and kei barely interacted at first tbh

he had never seen you before and it was the weekend when you met so he had no reason to assume you'd ever talk again really

even after finding out you were related to shoyo, he didn't bat an eye

after all, he's not exactly going over to the orange-haired boy's house for sleepovers lolol

but to his surprise, you're in his classroom the next monday morning as a foreign exchange student

your classmates rush to you, overwhelming you with numerous questions about your hometown, and it's clear to kei that you're flustered

you meet his gaze over the crowd of people, and for a moment you're shocked to see him

however, before either of you can do anything, you get bombarded with even more questions

to your surprise and his, kei scoffs as he approaches your crowded desk

"can't you see you're bothering them?"

the gaggle of students dissipates with embarrassed apologies, leaving you and kei alone

your relationship with him from then on is odd

there's an unspoken agreement that you both don't like being bothered by other people, and you lowkey bond over it

he would never admit you're friends, but he comes to your rescue often

if you can't understand a phrase or if you don't know the answer to a question in class, he'll quietly help you out (but don't bother asking about it, 'cus he'll deny it vehemently)

when you start hanging out during practices, he ruffles your hair and rests his arm on your head regardless of your height

making fun of you is his love language (not that he'd ever admit he has feelings)

tsukishima kei! meets you when you're babysitting natsu. the team had been out getting ice cream (as per koshi's insistence—for team building), leaving kei in a sour mood because he would rather be anywhere than here.

"shoyo! sho!"

the whole team looks over, seeing a little girl who is the spitting image of their short middle blocker running toward them. kei's expression drops even more, because there's two of them?

shoyo almost drops his ice cream cone with the way the little girl jumps on him. "what are you doing here?" shoyo asks, scrambling to catch his sweet treat. "where's—"

before he can finish his sentence, another figure comes running at them, out of breath. "natsu!" you scold airily as you make your way up to the team, hunching over and resting your hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath. "jesus, don't just run off like that!"

you look up at shoyo from your hunched position, letting kei get a good look at your face. you're flushed, sweat beading on your brow bone and lips are parted as you breathe harshly through them. it's clear to the blond that you've been running around for some time now, something that makes him snort into his strawberry ice cream cup.

"sorry, sho," you wince, practically dragging the little girl, natsu, to your side. "she ran off while i was paying for her snacks. she probably saw you through the window." you vaguely gesture to a nearby convenience store, holding up a bag of candy.

you talk with shoyo for another moment, before turning to the rest of the team. your eyes briefly meet kei's and he arches a brow at you. you apologize for interrupting them, but daichi insists that you're fine and that you and natsu can hang around since you're there anyway.

as a result, you and kei end up standing near each other as the group converses. kei had been hanging a little bit away from the others, minus tadashi of course. you end up near him by coincidence—you don't know the others, and the three of you end up quietly sitting in acknowledgement that you didn't want to talk.

my darling baby tadashi is a mess when you meet <3

he was practicing his volleyball skills when he accidentally whams you in the face

he'd feel guilty about it for a while (even if you insist you're fine) and would use it as an excuse to buy you drinks from the vending machines lol

"this is the fourth drink you've bought me this week??"

"i have to make up for hitting you somehow :((("

becoming friends with tadashi is surprisingly easy, given how shy he can be

it becomes a habit to meet you by the vending machines before practice

the time in the halls between classes and volleyball are spent getting to know you

he asks a lot of questions about what it's like in your hometown and the differences in your culture

i don't think he'd start liking you until after you also get close with kei though lol good luck

the first time he sees you joking around with the tall blond, he thinks his heart is about to beat out of his chest

you must be an angel, he decides as he watches you get along with kei

the three of you form a trio and you end up spending more time with them than shoyo LOL

kei absolutely knows about tadashi's feelings and takes every opportunity to tease him about it whilst you're blissfully unaware

he's so so smitten around you after he realizes he likes you

the type to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky yourself and to becoming maddeningly red whenever you so much as make eye contact with him

yamaguchi tadashi! hits you in the head the first time he meets you. he was in the gym alone, practicing his float serve. you pushed through the heavy metal doors just in time to get slammed in the face with a ball gone awry.

he feels his heart drop to his toes as he quickly rushes over to you, asking if you're alright and if you need to see the nurse. his panic only worsens when he realizes you're bleeding from your nose.

although the hit shocked you, you're left watching in amusement as tadashi scrambles to find something to stop your nosebleed with. when he eventually returns to you, having ran from the boys washroom to grab a wad of papertowel, he apologizes again softly.

"are you okay now...?" he asks when your nosebleed finally stops. he looks almost like a kicked puppy, his hair falling limply into his eyes.

even after you reassure him that you're fine, tadashi still wears his guilt like a crown. he offers to buy you something from the vending machines, and does so despite your insistence that he doesn't need to.

"you can accept it for my sake," he says sheepishly as he offers you the cold can. the two of you converse quietly, with you introducing yourself as a new foreign exchange student.

"oh!" he suddenly lets out, looking over at you. "did you need something in the gym?"

"i was looking for my cousin," you sigh. "he said he was in the volleyball club and i haven't been able to find him at all today."

he's shocked when he finds out that you're shoyo's cousin—the boy had talked about you earlier in the week when he found out you were transferring to karasuno. as you talk, tadashi thinks to himself that shoyo never mentioned how cute you were.

your first meeting with keishin is awkward

ltrly knocks you off your feet when he runs into you

he's kind of brash when he meets you, not caring if you think of him badly because of it

you don't have much of a relationship at first—your work pulls you to the classrooms after all, so he doesn't really see you around often

the next time he sees you, you're stomping into the gymnasium mid practice with an irked expression

he's about to tell you off for interrupting practice, but he quiets when he sees you make your way to your younger cousin

he only watches in amusement when you tell him off for his horrid grades

when shoyo turns to keishin for help, he only shrugs with a lazy grin on his face

"sorry, little man, you heard 'em. no volleyball games until you raise your grades"

to shoyo's chagrin, you and keishin make a terrifying pair for him (and the other three idiots lolol)

you only really start hanging out with him when you end up making a late night run at his convenience store

it's the first time he sees you in casual clothing and the case of beer in your hands makes him laugh

"you wanna share that?"

he becomes your drinking buddy every other weekend, and he grows to cherish the time you spend chugging back cans of beer with him

keeps his feelings on the downlow, but as time goes on even the boys realize that their coach has a soft spot for you

ukai keishin! bodies you the first time you meet. the man doesn't realize his own strength until he literally knocks you flat on his ass after he turns a corner and bumps into you. his eyes go wide when the books and papers in your hands go flying, falling around you in a frenzy.

"shit," he curses under his breath, bending down to pick up your things. "sorry 'bout that." his voice is gruff as he speaks, collecting your papers without much care. when he returns them to you, some of them are scuffed and crumpled.

as he's handing you your things, he finally gets a good look at you. you're dressed more formally than he is by a mile. he holds a hand out to help you to your feet, his brown eyes falling to the lanyard around your neck.

"you new here?" he asks, jutting his chin out to gesture to your nametag. student teacher is typed above your name and picture.

you nod deftly, brushing off any dirt from your dress pants. "i started today. and you are?" your eyes meet his, and he knows you're silently scrutinizing him. he's much too old to be a student, you deduce easily, but he's dressed far more casually than any other other teachers.

when your eyes drift up to his bleached hair, he snorts. "i'm the coach for the volleyball club," he grumbles. "i don't need to be wearing fancy shit like you."

he sees your eyes light up in recognition as he analyzes your face with crossed arms. "the volleyball club? you must know my cousin then. hinata shoyo?"

keishin deadpans at you. "you're the runt's cousin?"

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

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prosypepper · 21 days ago

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HEAVEN IS A BEDROOM

summary: you loved him years ago, when the both of you were too nervous and immature to express your feelings. what happens when the man you love most shows up out of nowhere?

pairing: ex-lover!kento nanami x fem!reader

content warning: angst, smut, non-canon au, she/her pronouns used, unresolved feelings, alcohol use, dubcon bc of alcohol use, oral (m.receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, me giving random jobs to people, abrupt ending, resolving feelings with sex, crying, professions of love. wc: 3.1k.

pepper's note: it’s finally here! thank you all for 2k and thank you to everyone who’s taking part in this collab with me <3 you guys mean the world to me and i love you all so much! THANK YOUUUU! 18+ mdni!!

collab masterlist

this is stupid.

idiotic, even.

what does kento even say to you? was there a protocol for talking to the girl that—unintentionally—ripped his heart out five years ago? no, there wasn’t. nanami was well-versed in manuals of all kinds, and he hadn’t ever read one about this.

god, he’s drunk. tipsy, at best. and nervous.

just stopping by to see an old friend, right? right. he’s on business, just dropping by.

his hand lifts in a fist to knock at the door.

wait—does he look okay? would you even recognize him with his haircut? or his build, because he was way scrawnier in college than he is now. and his new, more professional sense of style. how are you going to react?

shit.

but, with the courage that only hard liquor could grant him, kento nanami knocks at your door. quickly, three raps that ring through your apartment and almost make you jump out of your skin.

“uh—coming!” you yell, rushing around to throw on a pair of lounge pants. fuck fuck fuck, who the hell is here? you quickly check yourself out in the mirror next to your door—a habit a certain blond someone had passed onto you—figuring you look decent enough.

opening the door, your eyes focus on the figure in front of you—and your jaw drops.

you look just as beautiful as you did when he first met you, nine years ago. and the last time he saw you, and the time in between. kento had always known you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met—would ever meet.

you were once in a lifetime.

and kento—he grew into himself. just as handsome, but a few style changes, hair cut shorter and neatly parted. his shoulders were bigger, arms were bigger, he was past the age of growing in college but it seemed as if he towered over you.

kento nanami was once in a lifetime, too. you resented the fact you neglected that so long ago.

“ken…kento?” you breathe, voice evaporated from shock.

“hey.”

you stare at him, eyes squinting before opening wide along with your smile.

“oh, my god! kento!” you squeal, leaving the door to jump into nanami’s arms, “what the hell? what are you doing here?”

your arms wrap around kento’s neck, breathing in the scent of him—he’d upgraded his cologne over time, you notice. it mixes with the smell of alcohol in your nose, but it’s pleasant. it’s him.

nanami’s arms snake around you, a familiar hold encircling your waist. his nose digs into your neck, his hands rub over your back, fingers tangle in your hair. his girl, his woman. the only thing in his life that’s ever made sense—even when you didn’t make sense.

you’re finally back in his arms.

“i…i missed you,” you admit into his shoulder, beginning to sway a little in his hold, “do—do you want to come in?” you pull away from him, looking at the beautiful eyes you’d fallen in love with. he nods.

wordlessly, kento lets you go and follows you inside, studying the way you set up your home. colorful, a pastel rainbow seeped into every crevice of your space. it was so…you. someplace he’d stay in forever if he could. you usher him to sit on your sofa, grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“do you want some wine? it’s—,” you hesitate, eyes flickering all over the room, “it’s your favorite.”

a smile pulls at the corner of kento’s mouth.

“no, i’ve already drank enough tonight,” he confesses, sinking into the soft plush of your couch with each passing second. he runs a hand through his hair, anxious. the back of his head meets the cushions, trying to force himself to settle down.

it’s not working.

and you are just as nervous. where you lived was no secret—everyone else you’d went to school with had come to visit you from time to time. kento was an entirely different story, however—there were many more layers to your relationship than what met the eye.

you were one another’s firsts—in any way you can think. first loves, first person to sleep with. but at the end of it, you were nervous early twenty-something year olds who couldn’t express their feelings. you felt it, kento felt it.

but once you graduated, you left with a few words, destined for more in the world than what you were given. kento knew that, as much as he hated it.

even after all that time, sitting in your home, those emotions all came flooding back to kento. he never should’ve let you go.

you never should’ve gone.

fate has an odd way of working, you think. the universe had still drawn you back together.

obviously, because the love of your life was sitting on your goddamn sofa.

you pour your wine glass a little too full, treading over to sit next to kento with the bottle in your other hand. not too far, probably too close.

“so. . how have you been?” you ask, mentally slapping yourself because you know how he’s been. satoru had kept you updated weekly. plus, that’s the most generic, worst question you can ask someone you emotionally ghosted years ago.

“surviving,” he jokes, a rare sense of humor that only came out around the tight-knit circle of friends he kept. he doesn’t look at you, speaking straight up at the ceiling, “i’m in town for business. you?”

“i’m good. . i’ve uh—i’ve been working, you know. i’m chief editor for a magazine now, so that’s great. really great,” you ramble, shutting yourself up by taking a big gulp of wine.

the news causes kento to finally lift his head to look at you, eyebrows raised but eyes lidded. he’d always known you were going to do big things. fabulous, important things, as you had said.

“wow,” he whispers, pinching the fabric of his slacks together with his thumb and forefinger. still a man of fewer words, you noticed.

“what are you doing? must be important since they sent you all the way over here,” you giggle.

“insurance. they had a conference here i had to attend.”

as the conversation of small talk goes on, there’s a tension between the two of you in the air. it’s unresolved, full of feelings you were too scared to tell him and emotions kento’s been holding onto. the session of ‘catching up’ reveals little information to you, he’s still the same man you’d always known, a little more matured and polished.

talking to him isn’t awkward, however. it’s natural, easy. just a little tense.

“hey, kento?” you break the silence that your words had dwindled down into, a wave of nausea punching you in the gut as you try to think of what to say. you’ve moved closer, set your wine glass down on the coffee table, and gained a little courage from the buzz of the alcohol.

“hm?”

“i’m really sorry—for leaving like that, after college. i don’t. . i didn’t think about anyone else. i just knew i always wanted to move away, and you know i got that job offer here and i just—i’m sorry. you didn’t deserve that, none of you guys deserved that.”

apologizing to nanami after all this time feels similar to a thousand-pound weight being lifted off your shoulders. sure, it was rushed and probably not the best—you could write an essay of your feelings if you really wanted to.

“it’s alright,” kento responds, flashing you a reassuring look—almost a smile, “you didn’t need to stay. you’re successful here, we all knew you’d be better off somewhere else.”

oh.

you aren’t sure if his response upsets you or not—it doesn’t, not really. people move on and grow apart, of course.

but kento didn’t move on. neither did you.

“i missed you, kento. it was hard to decide,” you begin to babble, “i’ve made friends and stuff here but i don’t think i ever got over you. i haven’t even been with anyone like that since i left.”

oops.

“oh shit—fuck—sorry, i didn’t mean—well, i’m going to shut up now i’m sorry.”

you fucked up. who the hell is stupid enough to just admit that to someone who’s only been in your house for an hour? kento just looks at you astonished, which is making it worse, you feel the air leaving your lungs—

“i haven’t either.”

it’s his turn to talk now. he hesitates briefly, sobering up quickly and breathing in before deciding to let it all go.

“i thought i was going to marry you, but i never gained the confidence to make you mine, and i apologize for that. i would’ve come with you. being here with you now, i feel no different.”

maybe he fucked up, too.

“kento,” you whisper, fidgeting with your thumbs. tears well up in your eyes, but you blink them back, forcing yourself to look at nanami.

here goes nothing.

before either of you can say another word, you lean into nanami, pressing a long kiss onto his lips. it’s heavy, the tension is finally allowed to snap, emotions bottled up finally allowed to bleed into one another.

kento’s taken aback, only for a moment, soon easing into the kiss as if it’s the last breath he’ll be allowed to take. his hands—once softer, now wisened and rough—cup your jaw, one sliding to the back of your head to pull you in closer. you can taste the faded whiskey on his breath, reminding you that he’s at least a little drunk.

“wait—wait, you’re drunk,” you say, pulling back, “i don’t want you to regret anything i—i’m sorry.”

kento blinks, still entranced by your touch. he takes a moment to register what you’re saying—he’s sobered up after his confessions, and it’s you. he’d never regret a thing as long as it was you.

“i’m fine, sweetheart,” he assures you, the nickname from college rolling off his tongue naturally. “we don’t have to do anything, however, trust me when i say this,” he runs his thumb over your cheek, feeling the burning skin beneath the finger.

“the only thing i’ll ever regret is letting you go. now, if you’ll allow me to continue.”

your eyelashes flutter at him, big, glassy, love-struck eyes staring him in the face. nanami has never been more serious in his life.

“yes, please.”

kento leans back into you, initiating a deeper kiss. your lips lock with his like second nature, his saliva beginning to coat your lips. he grabs your waist, firm, pulling you to straddle his lap. his hands run over your hips, up your spine, sending shivers down your back.

you’ve missed his touch for so long.

“ken—ken, bedroom,” you plead when you’re able to come up for air, gasping less than an inch from his face.

wordlessly, nanami picks you up bridal style, standing up from your couch. you yelp, suddenly weightless, before pointing the blond man in the direction of your room.

it’s cute inside, signs of your life strewn all over the place. paintings and photos line the wall—kento doesn’t miss the few you have up of the two of you from college. he lays you down on your unmade bed, standing in between your legs at the edge. kento watches you for a second, sees the way you’re watching him, drinking in every last detail like you’ll forget him tomorrow.

tugging at his belt loop, you attempt to coax him down onto you, wrapping your legs around his hips at the same time. yet he’s not budging, instead he brings his fingers to begin unbuttoning his shirt, slowly revealing the tone and muscle he’d built up over time. when he finally allows the fabric to fall to the floor—you’re awestruck.

“jesus,” you groan, running a hand over his abdomen, “jesus christ.”

he’s definitely changed. and he saved all this for you?

“hm?” kento hums, running his hands over your thighs smoothly. he gazes at you lovingly, while you inspect every part of him—from his arms to the line of hair that leads down the pudgy part of his tummy.

with all your power, you pull kento down next to you, quickly switching positions so you’re on top of him. your fingers make quick work of his belt, fidgeting with the buckle until it’s undone. the button on his slacks is next, then the zipper—until everything but his boxers are haphazardly pulled down around his thighs.

kento is driving you crazy. you’re acting downright feral over him, and he sees.

“darling, you don’t have to—oh,” he starts, but is quickly cut off as you pull the waistband of his boxers down, just enough to allow his length to spring free. it’s hard, already leaking—and you waste no time licking a long stripe up the shaft.

nanami moans at that, a low groan from the back of his throat becomes all you can hear. he props himself up on his elbows to look at you, almost shying away when you look him directly in the eyes. another sound akin to a whimper falls from his lips when you lower your mouth on him, suckling the tip enough to make his leg jump.

kindly, kento reaches down to collect your hair behind your head—something you’d requested the first time you sucked him off—and you smile at him quickly before taking his length all the way to the back of your throat. his cock prods at your uvula, and you will yourself to not gag, letting your tongue slip out your mouth to swipe over the rest of his shaft. you’re messy—drool covering the entirety of his length without you even trying.

kento’s so sensitive he thinks he might cum just from that—and it’s even worse when you hollow out your cheeks and begin to bob your head up and down, a few wet noises escaping from your lips. his hand begins to guide your head, slow you down, using every last ounce of self-control to keep himself from filling up your throat.

but it’s still too much.

he tugs a little harder at your hair, pulling you off his cock, a string of saliva still connecting you and him.

“was that okay? was—was it bad?” you ask, expression changing from seductive to worrisome.

“no, you’re perfect, just—,” he replies, pursing his lips for a moment, “come here.”

he urges you to crawl up, your body settling into the mattress next to him. one arm cradles around your back, holding you against him, the other bringing a hand to cup your face and pull you in. he initiates the kiss now, catching your lips against his and keeping you there. you oblige, closing your eyes and relaxing into it, allowing kento’s hand to trail from your face down, and down to the band of your bottoms.

his hand slips under, immediately bringing his fingers to the wet heat of your cunt. you’re soaked, and kento lets out a small groan at the realization it’s all for him, because of him. his digits are immediately circling your throbbing clit, you whine into his mouth at the feeling of being so sensitive, so pent up because you’ve been waiting on him.

and he’s finally here.

your eyes squeeze together, and you bury your head into kento’s shoulder, whimpering and whining into the warm skin. he makes you feel safe, makes you think only about him—you can’t get that feeling with anyone else.

“i know,” he whispers, kissing your hair as he speeds his fingers up. soft flesh of your thighs squeeze around his hand, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even let up—nanami remembers exactly what makes you tick, knows how to make you lose yourself in him.

testing the waters, kento slips his fingers down into you, curling his the digits slightly to stretch you open. it’s too good, leaving you to clutch at the sheets and mutter out some nonsense to nanami.

“ken—want you inside, please,” you murmur, glassy eyes looking up at him in a plead.

of course, nanami can’t deny you.

he allows you out of his grasp to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. you quickly follow suit, throwing every last article of clothing across the floor and laying back on your pillows. butterflies fly around your tummy in anticipation, even more so when kento crawls on top of you with a smile.

“hi,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you.

kento cradles your head with one hand, his other slides between the two of you to guide his cock into your heat, sliding the tip in with ease. you gasp into his mouth, arms tightening up around him, feeling the stretch of each inch entering you. you’d almost forgotten how big he is, how he fills you up perfectly.

as he begins to move, you feel him hitting the deepest parts of you, almost impaling your cervix. but he’s not rough—anything but, really. he’s slow, taking his time to savor the feeling of you squeezing him, each flutter of your insides sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. it’s overwhelming, for both of you—emotions of love and lust and everything that had been bottled up for so long are finally coming to the surface in the best way you could think of.

nanami’s glad you keep his mouth so close to yours, he’s almost embarrassed of the sinful, desperate noises that fall out of his lips—and you drink all of them up with ease. you take every part of him—the good and the ugly—and absorb it into you, you adore every part of him as he is.

every moment, he’s reminded why his love for you never died.

“ken,” you moan, pulling your head away from his to look him in the eyes, “i love you—i’m so sorry. i love you so much.” your apologies are accompanied by a few tears welling up in your tear ducts, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“i love you, too, it’s okay. i forgive you, sweetheart.”

those words are all you’ve wanted to hear, all you’ve needed to hear, sitting atop the years of frustration and anger with yourself for leaving. the tears begin to run down your cheeks, hot, devastating, but happy.

happy that kento’s here, and even if everything isn’t resolved between the two of you—this is a start.

and as kento looks down at you, the sweet girl he’d loved for so long, below him, telling him how much she loves him, he thinks that this is heaven.

you are heaven.

with you in your bedroom, professing your love to him, your bodies together—

this is the closest kento nanami would ever get to heaven.

special thanks to: @twilightsumu @nanamisbbygirl @dearsnow @spearofheaven @prisvvner @aquasoftware and @naammiii for all working with me in this collab <3 i adore you all

#who really cares collab ⋆˙⟡#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento nanami #nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami x reader smut

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 10 months ago

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jjk ♡

JJK Fics:

Keep Talkin' | Gojo x Reader, smut

Gojo’s Hands | Gojo x Reader, suggestive

Hold me. Console me | Gojo x Reader, angst

Nightmares | Dad!Gojo with Kid!Megumi, fluff

Suck and Blow | Satosugu x Reader, smut

Their plaything | Satosugu x Reader, smut

Early Morning | Toji x Reader, smut

Shameless | Toji x Reader, smut

Shameless Mini Pt. 2 | Toji x Reader, smut

MILF | Toji x Reader, smut

Incubus | Sukuna x Reader, smut

Say “thank you” | Sukuna x Reader, smut

Wish I didn't care | Sukuna x Reader, angst, hurt/comfort

Unwavering | Sukuna x Reader, fluff, smut

Giving the Nerd a Chance | Nanami x Reader, smut

Giving the Nerd a Chance Part Two | Nanami x Reader, smut

Fuck being nice to you | Nanami x Reader, smut

Alt Ending to Fuck being nice to you | Nanami & Gojo x Reader, smut

Shibari Master | Nanami x Reader, smut

You're my... my wife? | Nanami x Reader, fluff, crack

Rainbow Baby | Nanami x Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

At Law | Higuruma x Reader, smut

Cat Scratch | Choso x Reader, smut, fluff

Full of love | Choso x Reader, suggestive

JJK drabbles:

“She tried to stand me up but I dicked her down and bent her spine” | smut

Career day | fluff, crack

Shut up, Mom! | fluff, crack

Baby’s first words | fluff, angst

Baby's first Christmas | fluff

Doting | fluff

Vampire Lover! | fluff

Period Problems! | fluff

Hand Print | fluff

Chubby Chaser Sukuna | Sukuna, fluff, smut

Dance Partner Toji | Toji, fluff

Chubby Satoru | Satoru, fluff

JJK smaus:

"Special" Chocolates Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

Slipping them a "special" chocolate before a party Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

"She's busy" Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3

Ex texts you after you post on your insta Pt.1 | Pt. 2

Your Birthday!! Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

You want me to do WHAT to you after I get off work Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

You're "late" Pt. 1

Texting your boyfriend Nanami

Texting your boyfriend Nanami but you're "just a girl"

Texting college Nanami with BDE

Asking unhinged questions Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

Sending you pictures Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

Matching halloween costumes

Reacting to their pics like TikTok comments Pt. 1

Butt Dial! Pt. 1

Is your boyfriend home? Pt. 1

Not telling then that you love them back over the phone

Communication King

Them watching you get tattooed by another man Pt. 1

They hear you call them your husband

They snap at you Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

They want a break Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

Giving them lunch

Baking them a cake

Them comforting you after being made fun of

JJK smau stories:

The other woman Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5

Die for you Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

Jealousy, Jealousy Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

I just wanna be your sweetheart ♡ Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

I'd let the world burn for you Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

Come bounce, bunny Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

#masterlist

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aajjks · 3 months ago

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Mommy Issues (V)

Synopsis. They wanted you, they needed you.

Pairing. Yandere single dad jungkook x fem reader

Warnings. Yändërë bëhàvìøür, ëmøtìøñàl mánìpùlàtìøñ, pøssëssìvënëss, dëlùsìøñàl thìñkìñg, gùìlt-trìppìñg, jùñgkøøk bëìñg wëìrdly søft ànd scàrÿ àt thë sàmë tìmë, ùnhéàlthÿ àttàchmënt, sèdúctìón, lónlínèss.

note. OH MY GOD I KNOW YOU GUYS HAVE PROBABLY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS BUT LIKE SERIOUSLY I MISS THIS SO MUCH SO I HOPE YOU GUYS WILL LIKE THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE SHARE YOUR FEEDBACK AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED REPLY UNDER THIS POST!

series masterlist.

•••

The house is too quiet.

That’s the first thing jungkook notices when they get home.

Seol runs inside ahead of him, dropping his little backpack by the door like always, shoes half-kicked off, already calling for his tablet.

Jungkook doesn’t move.

He stands in the hallway with the door still cracked open behind him, hand on the knob, heart way too loud in his ears.

He can’t stop thinking about you.

Your face.

The way you looked at him when he said it. Like he’d shattered something between you with that one sentence.

You’re not his mother. You’re just his teacher.

God.

He didn’t mean it. Or maybe he did. He’s not even sure anymore.

He just wanted to hurt you the way you hurt him. The way you made his son feel like he wasn’t normal.

Like he loved too hard. Like needing you was a problem.

But it’s not.

It’s not.

Jungkook locks the door, finally, and shrugs off his jacket. He can hear seol’s little voice somewhere in the house, but he can’t make out the words.

Probably talking to his tablet again.

Or talking to you. He’s been doing that lately. Pretending to FaceTime you.

It’s cute. It’s scary.

Jungkook walks to the kitchen and grabs a beer, doesn’t bother with a glass. His hand is still shaking a little when he takes the first sip.

Why did you look so… disappointed?

Why did you make him feel like some broken thing?

You smiled at him just days ago. You tucked his son’s scarf under his chin. You touched his shoulder when you laughed at that dumb joke he made.

You wanted them.

He saw it.

So why are you backing away now?

What changed?

“Daddy,” a small voice says from the hallway. Seol’s peeking around the corner, thumb in his mouth. His eyes are wide. Wet. “Are you mad?”

Jungkook blinks. “No, baby. I’m not mad.”

Seol shuffles into the room and wraps his little arms around jungkook’s leg. “Miss yn didn’t say bye to me.”

And just like that, jungkook wants to punch a wall.

He crouches down slowly and cups seol’s face in his hands. “She still loves you. Okay? She’s just confused. Grown-ups get confused sometimes.”

Seol sniffs. “But I didn’t mean to be bad…”

“You weren’t bad.” Jungkook kisses his forehead. “You were perfect. You were just trying to protect what’s yours.”

He means it.

He means every word.

Jungkook tucks his son into bed a little early that night. Reads him his favorite story twice.

Holds him until his breathing slows.

Then sits beside him for a long time, staring at the glowing nightlight and the picture on the wall.

The one seol drew.

Stick figures. Him. Daddy. And you.

Under a rainbow.

Labeled “our family.”

Jungkook stares at it until his throat hurts.

You don’t get to walk away.

You made them need you.

So now you have to stay.

•••

The morning starts soft.

Sunlight spills, Jungkook wakes up before his alarm, which never happens, but something about the quiet feels right today.

He stretches and slips out of bed without waking seol, who somehow ended up tangled in the covers beside him again. Tiny limbs everywhere.

Drool on his pillow.

God, he’s perfect.

Jungkook stares for a moment, just watches his son’s chest rise and fall, messy hair sticking up in every direction.

He’s all he has.

He’s all he needs.

And now… they have a mission.

•••

“Come here, baby.” Jungkook kneels in front of seol, zipping up his puffy little coat. “Let me fix your hair.”

Seol groans dramatically, already eating a rice cracker in one hand while holding a toy car in the other. “You always make it look weird.”

“It’s called handsome.” Jungkook grins, ruffling the front until it doesn’t look like a bird nest. “Miss yn likes it like this, remember?”

Seol perks up at that.

Jungkook sees it. Sees the glow in his face whenever you’re mentioned. It stings.

He ties seol’s shoelaces slowly.

“You know what?” Jungkook says softly. “I think… maybe we don’t talk to miss yn too much today.”

Seol frowns. “Why?”

“She’s a little… busy lately.” He keeps his tone gentle. Like it’s nothing serious. Like he isn’t burning inside. “And sometimes when people are busy, they don’t like being bothered.”

“But… she likes when I talk to her…”

Jungkook nods, brushing seol’s cheek. “I know. I know you love her.”

He swallows.

“But today… maybe just wave. Be polite. But not too much. Let’s give her space, okay? If she wants to talk, she’ll come to us.”

Seol is quiet for a second, then nods. “Okay…”

Jungkook kisses the top of his head. “That’s my boy.”

He zips up his own jacket, picks up seol’s little lunchbox, and heads for the door with his son’s tiny hand tucked in his.

They’re the perfect picture.

A young father. A devoted son. Matching shoes.

But inside?

Inside jungkook is ice.

He’s still angry. Still hurt. You made him feel small yesterday. Like he wasn’t doing enough. Like his love wasn’t enough.

So fine.

If you think you can turn away from them, he’ll show you what that feels like.

You want to act like you’re just the teacher?

Then that’s all you’ll be.

For now.

•••

The classroom is already buzzing when you look up and see them walk in.

Jungkook with his hand on seol’s back, guiding him through the little sea of cubbies and jackets. He doesn’t even glance at you.

Not even once.

Your heart dips. But it’s fine. You’re used to parents being distant after difficult conversations. You can handle this. You’re professional.

But then seol walks past you too.

No bright “miss yn!”

No little hug around your waist like he usually does.

Not even eye contact.

He just walks straight to his seat and sits down, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

You feel it like a slap.

You blink. Smile. Try not to let it show on your face. “Good morning, seol.”

Nothing.

He doesn’t respond.

Jungkook is standing at the door, arms crossed, silent. He meets your eyes now, just briefly. His expression is unreadable.

Cold.

“Thank you for yesterday,” you manage to say, keeping your voice soft. “I hope—;”

He cuts you off. “We’re good.”

That’s all.

Then he’s gone.

And you’re standing there like a ghost.

•••

You make it through the first hour of class on autopilot.

Your voice is gentle. Your instructions are clear. But your eyes keep flicking to the corner where seol is sitting, shoulders small, lips pressed together, refusing to look at you.

Your chest aches.

You want to walk over and crouch beside him. Ask him what’s wrong. Run your hand through his hair the way he used to love.

But you don’t.

Because you know what this is.

You’ve seen it before.

You’ve felt it before.

A man with power. Pulling the strings. Turning love into a punishment.

You press your hand to your stomach for a second, right where the pain used to be. The pain that never really left.

You remember the hospital. The pale blue gowns. The way your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The nurse who asked, “Was this your first?”

You nodded.

You lied.

That baby was already real to you.

You already loved them.

And now? now you’re losing another one.

Even if seol’s not yours, he was something close.

Something sacred.

And you don’t know how to stop the tears welling in your eyes as you turn away from the class, just for a second. Just long enough to breathe through it.

You’re just his teacher.

That’s what jungkook said.

That’s what he wants you to be.

But he doesn’t know what it cost you to love his son the way you did.

And he doesn’t know what it’s doing to you to let go.

•••

You wait until story time. The kids are all sitting on the carpet, half-listening, half-daydreaming.

Seol is sitting cross-legged at the very edge, back straighter than usual, like he’s trying not to look comfortable.

You pretend it’s nothing.

You keep your voice steady as you read, but your eyes flick to him again and again.

He doesn’t raise his hand like he used to. Doesn’t giggle when you do silly voices. Doesn’t lean against your leg, even though he’s sitting right there.

You close the book and say, “Okay, let’s go get ready for snack time.”

As the kids scramble up, you place a gentle hand on seol’s shoulder, just like you always used to.

He flinches.

It’s small. Barely there. But he flinches.

And then he stands up without looking at you. Walks away without saying a word.

You follow him.

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Seol…”

He stops at the sink, washing his hands.

You kneel beside him, slow and careful, like he’s something fragile.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

He just nods.

It shatters you.

Because seol is never like this. He always has something to say. Always wants to show you something, tell you something, ask for something.

You try again.

“You’re being really quiet today,” you murmur. “Did something happen?”

He dries his hands. Doesn’t meet your eyes.

“No,” he says.

Just that. No.

It’s not angry. It’s not rude. It’s just…

Empty.

You’re still kneeling there as he walks away to join the other kids, and you feel like the floor could split open beneath you and you’d just disappear into it.

You sit on your knees for a few more seconds before you slowly get up, your legs numb, your hands trembling.

This isn’t just about him being tired.

This is deliberate.

And now you know exactly who taught him how to do it.

•••

You find a moment alone in the staff bathroom. You close the door. You sit on the closed toilet lid and press your hands to your face.

You don’t cry.

Not yet.

But you feel it creeping up your throat like nausea.

You were a mother once.

Not for long. Not even long enough to hear a heartbeat. But you felt it. Felt them.

And when they left, you thought that maybe that part of your heart would just stay empty forever.

And then there was seol.

Seol who clung to your leg the first week of school. Seol who drew you pictures of his “family” and put you right in the middle.

Seol who looked up at you with love like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You didn’t try to take his mother’s place.

You didn’t mean to.

But he gave you that role.

And now. now he’s being taught to unlove you. To unneed you.

To keep you out.

And it hurts in a way you can’t even explain. It’s a grief that has no name.

Because how do you mourn a child that was never really yours?

How do you mourn a second time?

•••

The day ends slow.

Painfully slow.

Every smile you force feels like peeling a band-aid off skin that’s still bleeding underneath.

Seol doesn’t come to show you his crayon drawing.

Seol doesn’t ask for help opening his snack.

Seol doesn’t even flinch when you help another student zip their backpack.

You keep checking. Watching. Hoping.

But he’s gone. Still right there. but emotionally, he’s already been walked away.

The final bell rings and your chest squeezes like it always does when it’s time for dismissal.

Usually, you’re crouched down with open arms when seol runs into them, squealing about something that happened at lunch.

Usually, he makes you promise to come watch him draw chalk outside before his dad gets there.

Today, he stands by the door like a stranger.

You call each name one by one as the kids are picked up, and you pretend your eyes aren’t glancing to the street every five seconds.

And then you see him.

Jungkook.

Standing tall in that all-black outfit like he’s about to bury you.

His hair’s still a little messy, and his hand is tucked into his pocket, but his face?

Blank.

Cold.

You call seol’s name and the little boy lights up. It’s instinctive. Like a switch was flipped.

He runs.

Straight into his father’s arms.

“Appa!” he squeals.

You watch jungkook drop to one knee to scoop him up. Seol throws his arms around his neck, burying his nose against his cheek.

“I missed you!” he says.

You feel your heart rip a little more.

Because he used to say that to you.

You see jungkook’s mouth twitch with the faintest smile as he lifts his son, holding him close like a trophy.

You try to look away. You try to breathe through it.

But then jungkook looks straight at you.

And that’s when he twists the knife.

“Did you have a good day?” he asks seol, loud enough that you can hear.

The boy nods quickly. “Uh huh! I didn’t talk to miss yn just like you said!”

Your stomach drops.

Jungkook doesn’t flinch.

He just brushes his son’s hair back gently and murmurs, “Good boy.”

You nearly stumble.

There’s this heavy silence pressing against your ribs and you’re trying not to show how fast your pulse is racing. You’re trying not to cry.

He meets your eyes again, gaze calm—almost amused.

Like this is what you asked for.

Like this is what you deserve.

“You ready to go, bud?” he says, and seol nods again, still clinging tight.

And then jungkook turns.

Walks away without a word to you.

Not even a glance back.

You’re left standing there, arms empty, watching the boy you loved be carried away like you were never anything at all.

This is the consequence of your concern.

•••

The ride home is quiet at first.

Jungkook adjusts the mirror. Checks the street. Buckles seol in, tight and gentle.

He doesn’t speak.

Not until he knows you’re watching.

He saw your face at pickup. Saw the pain, the guilt, the confusion spinning like a storm behind your eyes. You looked so lost. So broken.

It made him hard.

He pulls out from the school lot slow and smooth, his voice low but firm.

“You did good today, seol-ah.”

The little boy beams in his car seat. “I did what you said! I didn’t talk to miss yn!”

Jungkook hums.

His hand rests on the steering wheel but his knuckles are white from how tightly he’s gripping it.

“That’s right,” he says softly. “Because she’s not your mommy. You remember that now, right?”

Seol nods, a little slower this time. His voice drops, quieter. “Yeah… she’s just my teacher.”

“That’s right, baby,” jungkook murmurs. “She’s just a teacher. And teachers don’t get to love you like I do.”

He glances in the rearview mirror. Seol is kicking his legs gently, humming to himself now.

It’s almost too easy.

He knows it hurt you. The silence. The rejection. He knows how tender you are.

he’s watched it grow.

The way you used to touch seol’s hair like it was sacred. The way you bent down to his level and told him he was brave. The way you always said our boy during conferences.

And yet, you had the nerve to stand there and say he had a problem for loving you too much.

No, baby. You just didn’t understand. You still don’t.

But you will.

Jungkook reaches into the console and pulls out a small pack of gummies. He hands it back to his son.

“Good boys get treats,” he says, and seol lights up.

You should be here to see this.

But you’re not.

That’s the point.

“You know…” jungkook starts again, voice dripping low, almost wistful. “If she was your mommy…”

He trails off.

Lets it hang.

Seol tilts his head, curious. “What?”

Jungkook smiles, slow and secretive.

“If she was your mommy, she’d be here in the car with us. She’d sit next to you, maybe even hold your hand. She’d help you pick what to eat for dinner. She’d tuck you in and kiss your forehead.”

Seol goes quiet.

Jungkook watches his son blink up at the ceiling, his little mind drawing pictures he can’t fully understand yet.

“She’d love you forever,” jungkook finishes softly.

And in his head— he sees it.

You.

In the passenger seat.

Hair messy, eyes soft. Your hand resting on the center console, close enough to touch. Seol in the back, giggling. A little family. His family.

But you ruined it.

You said things you shouldn’t have.

So now?

Now he’ll make you want it so badly you’ll beg to be part of it.

You’ll beg to be his.

“Appa,” seol says quietly, “do you think miss yn is sad?”

Jungkook’s smile grows.

That twisted, beautiful smile.

“Maybe,” he says.

And he drives the rest of the way home with that ache in his chest slowly fading into satisfaction.

Because you’re hurting.

Because you miss something that was never yours.

And because he knows—

It won’t be long until you come crawling back.

Begging to be her again.

Begging to be theirs.

•••

Later that night, the silence is too loud.

You’re still in your work clothes.

Sitting at the edge of your bed. Staring at the folded drawings seol made you two weeks ago.

Crayon hearts. Stick figures with messy smiles. One of them had you holding his hand and saying “I’m proud of you.”

He used to shove them into your hands every day like they were treasure.

You trace the wobbly letters with your finger and your throat tightens.

God, you miss him.

It’s been one day and you miss him like you lost a limb.

And it hurts even more because you know that detachment wasn’t his idea. Seol’s just five.

A soft, clingy little thing who loves big and easy.

He doesn’t understand emotional punishment. He doesn’t understand passive rejection.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing to you.

Someone told him to do it.

But you don’t blame jungkook.

Because maybe… maybe he’s right.

Maybe you were too harsh in that meeting.

Maybe you shouldn’t have said it like that. Called his son possessive. Said “he’s not your mother” out loud.

It sounded so clinical. So cold. You didn’t mean it to be. You just wanted to help.

But now?

Now that warm, sweet little boy is looking right through you.

And the worst part?

You can’t even be mad at him. You get it.

You press your hand to your chest, eyes blurring.

You’ve always been maternal. Even when you tried to pretend you weren’t anymore.

But no one knows what you’ve lost. No one knows the way your arms still ache when you wake up some nights.

No one knows how your heart cracked in half when you lost your baby in that apartment with the thin walls and the screaming man who never loved you.

You never got to hold her.

But seol…

He made you feel like a mother again.

For just a moment. He gave you the thing you were so sure you’d never have.

And now he’s gone.

You blink back tears, but they come anyway. Hot and heavy. You curl in on yourself and try to swallow the sobs.

Maybe this is your punishment.

You tried to set boundaries. You tried to do the right thing. But it feels like you’ve only made it worse.

And the image that haunts you the most?

Seol’s face as he ran into his father’s arms. That tiny, bunny smile.

The soft brown hair, those Bambi eyes. He looks just like jungkook.

You can’t stop seeing it.

The way he clung to him. The way he laughed. The way he didn’t even look back.

You lost two people in that parking lot today.

And you don’t know how to get them back.

Maybe you shouldn’t.

Maybe you can’t.

You don’t even notice your phone vibrating at first. You wipe your face and blink at the screen.

Mr Jeon:

[9:52 PM]

I hope your day was peaceful, Miss yn. Seol had a wonderful one. Thank you for everything you’ve done for him. Truly.

You stare.

No name. No heart emoji. Just that cold politeness that stabs like a knife.

You type a reply. Then delete it.

Then cry harder.

Because you miss them.

And the worst part?

You’re starting to believe you don’t deserve them.

•••

The house is quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that’s peaceful. No, this is curated. Designed. Controlled.

The lamp in the living room hums softly. The wine glass on the table is half full. The screen of his phone glows against his skin, illuminating the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

He reads the message again.

I hope your day was peaceful, Miss yn. Seol had a wonderful one. Thank you for everything you’ve done for him. Truly.

Polite. Distant. Perfect.

It sounds just fake enough to stab.

He takes a slow sip of wine, eyes flicking to the couch across from him.

Seol is fast asleep there, curled up with his favorite blanket. Lips parted. Cheek smushed against the pillow.

One arm clinging to the stuffed rabbit you gave him on his birthday.

It’s kind of cruel, really. How easily seol trusts.

But that’s what makes this so easy.

So beautiful.

Jungkook reaches for his phone again. Opens his camera. Snaps a quiet photo of the boy, soft and small and vulnerable.

The bunny toy in frame. That’s the detail that makes his smile widen.

He hovers his thumb over your contact. The urge to send it pulses in his fingertips.

You’d break down if you saw it.

He knows you would.

You’d take one look at that little boy with his matching smile and think about everything you’ll never have.

Not unless he gives it to you.

Not unless he lets you have them again. But he doesn’t send the photo. Not yet.

He wants to wait.

Let you sweat. Let your guilt simmer until it burns. Until you’re begging to be let back in. Until you think you’re the one who left.

That’s the thing about good manipulation. It’s never rushed.

He’s been alone a long time. He’s gotten good at waiting. And now that he has something worth fighting for worth keeping? he’s not about to let it go.

You were too good at loving seol.

Too gentle.

Too warm.

And when you looked at him with those soft eyes, when you smiled and asked if he’d been eating properly, if he was sleeping okay.

jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about it for days.

Not because he wanted your care.

Because he wanted it forever.

From the same person.

Over and over. On his terms.

His.

He leans back, phone resting on his chest. Wine glass in his other hand. His gaze drifts to the side table where a folded paper rests.

One of seol’s drawings.

Stick figures. You, him, and seol. All holding hands. Big red heart in the middle.

He keeps it close. Like a promise. Like a prophecy.

You’ll come back.

You have to.

Because you were made to be theirs.

And the longer he keeps you out, the harder you’ll try to claw your way in.

•••

You read the message five times.

Then a sixth.

You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence of your apartment suddenly heavy. Your phone is still in your hand, thumb trembling slightly over the screen.

The glow of it makes your eyes sting, but you can’t look away.

I hope your day was peaceful, Miss yn. Seol had a wonderful one. Thank you for everything you’ve done for him. Truly.

Miss yn.

Truly.

Your chest tightens.

You almost laugh. He used to call you “yn” like it was a delicate, precious thing. And now you’re back to Miss yn.Like a stranger.

Like the woman across the hall who used to matter.

You set the phone down, face down on the comforter, like it’s infected.

But it doesn’t stop the ache.

Because all you can think about is seol.

Sweet, clingy seol. The boy who used to throw his arms around you and bury his little nose in your neck when he didn’t want to say goodbye.

The boy who used to smile like you were the sun.

And today? He didn’t even meet your eyes.

He clutched his backpack straps too tightly and gave a quiet, polite “bye.” And that was it. No hug. No smile. Nothing.

And the worst part is— he looked just like his father.

The same bunny smile. The same soft, dark lashes and wide, unblinking eyes. The same ability to gut you without saying a word.

You press your hand to your stomach, not because it hurts—but because there’s a ghost of something that used to live there. Something you lost.

A baby that never made it.

Maybe you’re too soft.

Too maternal.

Maybe that’s why this hurts so much. Because somewhere in the back of your mind, you let yourself feel like a mother again.

And now it’s gone.

Stripped.

Ripped away with a smile and a formal text from the man who lives just across the hall.

You stand up too fast. You don’t know where you’re going, but you end up by the window.

Your building complex is quiet. The lights in jungkook’s apartment are still on.

You can’t see much from here—but it makes your chest ache anyway.

You press your fingers to the glass.

It’s pathetic, maybe.

But you just miss him.

Both of them.

You miss the boy who called you mama in his sleep, even though you told him not to.

You miss the father who used to watch you like you hung the stars, even when you pretended not to notice.

You pick up your phone.

You start to type a reply. Just something simple. Something soft.

I’m glad he had a good day. I’ve been thinking about him.

Delete.

Too much.

You try again.

Thank you for the update. Please let me know if he needs anything.

Too formal.

You delete it again.

In the end, you don’t send anything at all.

You just curl up on your side of the bed. The side that’s always cold. And you wonder— just for a second. what it would be like to live in the warmth of their home instead.

Even if it’s built on a lie.

Even if it hurts.

Because love always hurts. And you?

You already know what it’s like to lose a child.

You don’t think you can survive losing another—even if he was never yours to begin with.

•••

You feel weird.

Attached. Too attached.

You’ve been thinking about Seol all night. The way he brushed you off. The way he used to cling to you like you were his lifeline. Now he barely acknowledges you.

You never meant to get this close to a student.

But here you are. Sitting in your apartment, heart heavy. You’re too deep in this, too involved.

You need to clear your head.

You decide to go outside. Maybe the cold will help.

The wind hits you hard as you step out onto the balcony. It cuts through you. Makes your chest tighten.

You don’t expect it, but it hits you all at once.

You feel the tears.

You try to hold them back, but they fall anyway.

I have to make it up to him, you think.

Seol. The sweet boy who doesn’t even know what happened. He doesn’t understand why he’s being distant.

You should apologize. Maybe that’ll fix it.

Maybe if you talk to Jungkook tomorrow, maybe you can fix it.

But there’s a lump in your throat.

You know you’re being manipulated. You know this is more than just a mistake.

You’re already in too deep.

And as the wind whips around you, you don’t know how to stop yourself from falling even deeper.

•••

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide.

You’ll bring cookies. Just a small gesture. Something to say “I’m sorry” without using words.

It’s Saturday tomorrow—no school. You know they’ll be home. And maybe if Seol sees you outside of the classroom, it’ll soften him. Maybe he’ll remember how much you care.

You bake them yourself.

Sleep-deprived, face still puffy from crying, but your hands move like they know what to do.

Like they’re aching for something warm, something gentle, something motherly.

Chocolate chip. The kind he once said was his favorite.

You go to bed feeling a little calmer. A little bit stupid. But hopeful.

The next morning, you’re at their door by ten.

Your hand hovers over the doorbell.

Then— press.

A few seconds pass.

And then the door swings open.

Jungkook stands there.

He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a fitted black tee, like he didn’t expect company but somehow still looks devastating. His tattoos peek from the sleeves.

His hair is messy. He looks… domestic.

You almost forget why you’re there.

Then his eyes drop to the cookies in your hand.

You smile, nervously. “Um… I brought something for Seol. Just thought maybe— uhh I know it seems a little inappropriate that I’m here, but you know I’m here as a neighbor..”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.

Not rude. But not welcoming, either.

Still, he opens the door wider.

“Come in.”

You step inside.

The apartment smells like detergent and lemon and something soft. You don’t know why that makes your chest ache.

You spot Seol curled up on the couch, a little blanket over his lap, cartoons playing softly on the TV.

But he doesn’t jump up when he sees you.

He just blinks.

“Hi sweetheart,” you say gently. He waves. A small, half-hearted wave.

And it punches the breath out of you.

You turn to Jungkook, trying to stay composed.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I just… wanted to see him. I felt bad.”

“Why?” he asks. His tone is innocent. Too innocent.

You blink. “After the meeting. I think maybe I… overstepped.”

He doesn’t reply.

You place the cookies on the counter.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I hope he likes them.”

Jungkook nods slowly. Then he steps a little closer.

“You didn’t have to bring anything.”

His voice is low. Soft. He looks at you with those deep, unreadable eyes.

“But you did.”

You feel your stomach twist.

He walks past you, picks up one of the cookies, bites into it. Chews, thoughtful. Then…

“These are really good.”

You smile, a little. “I’m glad.”

He takes another bite. Still watching you.

“He missed you yesterday,” he says suddenly.

Your heart jumps. “He did?”

Jungkook nods, licking a bit of chocolate from his thumb.

“He told me after we got home. Said he missed your hugs. Your voice.”

You feel your eyes sting.

“I think he was just… confused,” you whisper.

“Maybe,” Jungkook says. “Or maybe he just needs someone who won’t leave.”

You stare at him.

His words are so simple.

But they feel like a blade.

“I never meant to—;”

“I know.”

Silence.

The TV buzzes softly in the background. You hear Seol’s soft humming from the couch.

The warmth of their home is thick around you, pulling you in.

And yet— why does it feel so lonely?

Why does it feel like you’re on the outside, looking in?

Like you’re being allowed in for just a moment. Just enough to crave it. Just enough to never forget what it felt like.

Jungkook looks at you for a long, long second.

Then he smiles.

Small. Gentle.

“You can stay for coffee if you want.”

•••

You sit on the edge of their couch with your hands curled around the warm coffee mug, trying to stop the ache in your chest from spreading.

The apartment is quiet, except for the sound of Seol’s cartoon.

Spider-Man zips across the screen in bright flashes of red and blue, his little voice chiming in every now and then.

But he doesn’t look at you.

Not once.

You thought maybe. just maybe he’d come over.

You baked. You apologized. You tried.

And now you’re sitting here feeling like an extra.

Like someone on the outside of a picture-perfect family.

You sip your coffee, throat tight.

Jungkook is across from you at the kitchen counter, leaning against it like he lives in a magazine.

His arms are crossed, tattoos on full display, the shirt hugging his chest in a way that’s way too intentional for a Saturday morning.

You try not to look.

But of course you do.

Because he’s beautiful. And soft in all the places you miss having. And strong in all the ways you don’t.

“Seol,” he calls softly. “Aren’t you gonna say thank you for the cookies?”

The little boy turns, mouth full of juice pouch, and gives you the same small wave from earlier. “Thank you, Ms. Yn.

“Yn,” Jungkook corrects, voice smooth. “She’s not at school.”

You blink.

Seol repeats, “Thank you, Yn.”

You smile, aching. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

But the ache doesn’t go away.

He turns back to the TV, curling deeper into his blanket. Like that’s all he needs. A cartoon. A blanket. His dad.

You watch the scene in front of you and feel something raw bubble in your chest.

This is what you wanted.

This is what you used to have. Before it was taken.

Before it was crushed.

You blink fast. Sip your coffee again. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“You alright?” Jungkook asks.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He tilts his head, a little smile playing on his lips.

“You don’t look alright.”

He moves closer.

Stands behind the couch. Behind you.

You feel the warmth of him. The weight of his gaze. The quiet power in the way he doesn’t speak unless he wantssomething.

“I just haven’t been sleeping,” you say.

“You should,” he murmurs. “You look like you need rest.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean it.”

He walks around the couch now. Closer. You feel the heat of him as he leans against the armrest near you.

“I think you need to let yourself be taken care of for once.”

You look up.

His eyes are so dark. So steady.

“You’re always taking care of other people. Of kids. Of their parents. Who takes care of you?”

The words drop into your chest like heavy stones.

“I’m fine,” you say. Too quick.

He doesn’t reply. Just sips his coffee, slow. His jaw tightens with every swallow.

And for some reason, watching him do something so simpleit wrecks you.

You wonder what it would feel like to sit like this every morning.

In silence. With coffee. With someone beside you.

Not alone in your apartment, holding your own body through another long night.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he says, voice low. “I see through it.”

You glance at him.

He’s watching Seol. But his words are for you.

“You’re lonely.”

You freeze.

“You don’t need to say it,” he adds. “It’s just written all over you.”

Your breath hitches.

You open your mouth. Close it.

The silence between you hums.

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t move. Just sits there.

Radiating heat.

Smelling like woodsy cologne and dryer sheets and safety.

But the kind that’s too close to danger. Too close to falling.

“You can stay for lunch,” he says.

Not a question.

Just a line. A trap.

And something in you… something soft and broken wants to walk right into it.

447 notes · View notes

corroded-hellfire · 3 months ago

Text

April Fool's and Babies Due - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story ❤️ Written with the best of the best @munson-blurbs

Summary: When you go into labor on April Fool’s Day, Eddie thinks it’s a prank. It’s kind of hard to deny when your water breaks, though.

Notes: The time has come, the day is here 💕

Warnings: childbirth and all that comes with it, there’s a scare but everything is okay, Eddie just about has a panic attack

Words: 9.8k

[As You Wish masterlist]

April Fool's is always an amusing day in the Munson household. A day full of mischief and trickery seems tailor-made for you guys. To no one’s surprise, Luke gets the most into it. Sometimes you think he starts planning next year’s pranks as soon as this year’s ones are done. Ryan has been known to throw a solid prank someone’s way once in a while as well. Personally, it’s hard for you to decide if his pranks against Luke or Eddie are the funniest to witness.

Your husband can keep up with his sons in regard to the shenanigans. He can usually get one over on you before you don’t trust anything he says for the rest of the day. It’s definitely a day that’s taught you how to think on your toes.

This year’s April Fool's is the first one Eliza is old enough to truly understand. It’s much easier for her to understand the concept now that she’s four. Of course, she wanted to join in on the Munson fun and prank her brothers and father. Luckily, the simplest tricks gave her immense joy. She placed a whoopee cushion on Eddie’s chair at the dinner table. It was quite evident to your husband that something was off when the cushion of the seat was raised several inches higher than usual. One glance at the little girl biting her lip and clenching her fists was enough to broadcast that she’s the one waiting in anticipation to see how it goes. Of course, Eddie sits down on the cushion and the fart noise that comes out sends Eliza into hysterics.

“I got you, Daddy!” She cheers.

“You got me, sweet pea!”

The pranks pulled on you this year were pretty mild, and you give full credit to the babies growing inside of you. No one wants to truly scare a pregnant woman who is at 35 weeks. The bag of Luke’s Lucky Charms shoved into your Rice Krispies box did manage to catch you off guard. You chuckled at the rainbow in your cereal bowl as you poured in the milk. Ryan switched half of the family photos in the living room to pictures of different actors. It was certainly amusing to see Johnny Depp posing on the red carpet right next to your wedding photo.

Eddie’s prank on you was a good one, you eventually admitted to him. For days on end, you had been telling Eddie how you were craving Chinese food. He kept saying he would pick some up this week. So, when Wednesday came and he said he was bringing home your favorite, you saw red when he walked through the front door with a pizza box.

“Eddie, what the hell?” you’d asked.

“What?”

“You said you were getting Chinese.”

“Huh? I thought you wanted pizza, princess,” he’d said.

You whined and rubbed your hands over your face. Part of you wanted to cry, actually. You’d been looking forward to this for so long.

“Well, maybe you’ll like the kind of pizza I got?” Eddie set the box down on the counter and opened the lid to reveal Styrofoam containers overflowing with noodles and rice.

“You’re such a dick,” you whined with a laugh.

“But you love me anyway.”

He had a point.

You told everyone the day before April Fool’s that you wouldn’t be pulling any pranks because you didn’t have the energy to devise any. Of course, none of them believed you and were on the lookout the entire day. Even if you did have something planned, the pressure near your pelvis kept your mind pretty occupied. The doctor said that it’s to be expected the further along you go, with the twins bearing down, ready to get into position. But the pressure seemed to be just a little worse today.

“Feeling okay, baby?” Eddie asks as he takes his watch off for bed.

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh as you waddle over to your side of the bed. “This damn feeling like they’re pressing on all my organs down there is a pain in the ass.”

“Literally?” Your husband gives you a playful smirk as he pulls down the blankets on your bed.

“Kinda feels like it, yeah,” you reply.

It takes some effort to get into bed and get comfortable under the blankets. Eddie sits on his side, attentively monitoring to see if you’ll need his help or not. Once you’re settled back against your pillows, you give him a thumbs up.

“Good to go,” you say.

Eddie slides closer to you beneath the blankets until his legs are pressed up against yours. Gently, he lifts your chin and leans in to press his lips to yours.

“I love you, gorgeous.”

When he pulls away, you’re glaring up at him—not too fiercely, but enough to let him know you’re not exactly feeling the pet name at the moment.

“I love you, too, Daredevil.”

“Daredevil?” Eddie cocks a brow.

“He’s blind right?” You stretch your arm out haphazardly in the direction of the stairs in your home—near where your youngest son’s room is. “That’s what Luke said. Talking about that movie with Ben Affleck or something? Ugh, I don’t know.” You heave a deep breath and let your hand fall onto your protruding belly.

“And why am I blind?” Eddie asks as he scoots himself back over to his side of the bed.

“That little term of endearment you gave me.”

Eddie sighs and looks back over at you.

“We gonna do this again?” he asks. “How many times do I have to knock you up for you to get that you’re so fucking hot pregnant?”

“Okay, I’m even putting that aside,” you say, swiping a hand in front of you. “I’m just a mess lately. No sleep. Pain. Harder to do basic shit, even like, brush my hair.”

“You’re just being a Mrs. Grumpy Gills because you’re so uncomfortable right now.” Eddie lays back against his pillows and tucks one arm behind his head.

Your eyebrows raise as you slowly turn your head to meet your husband’s gaze.

“Did you just call me, ‘Mrs. Grumpy Gills?’”

He groans and flops his other arm down across his face.

“Ugh. You know, I appreciate the boys taking Eliza out places lately, I really, really do. But did they have to go to the goddamn aquarium? It led to this Finding Nemo phase that seems never ending.”

“How many times has she made you watch it now?” you ask.

“Shit, I lost count.” Eddie chuckles and lowers his pale, tattooed arm from his face onto his chest.

Another pulse strikes your pelvic area and even irritates your lower back this time. Your face scrunches up as you squirm around a little, coming to the realization that there is no feasible way to rub your lower back at the moment. Last time your back hurt this way, rubbing it helped, you remember. God, it’s hard for you to even remember the last time you had that pain down there. The last time must’ve been…nah, it’s just the pressure the doctor told you about getting worse. Isn’t it?

“Goodnight, princess,” Eddie says, reaching over and ghosting his knuckles along your jawline.

“Goodnight, Crush the Turtle.”

Eddie scoffs and playfully swats at you before leaning the other way to turn off his bedside lamp.

The room plunges into darkness. The pain spasms in your back again and this time you sure as hell know what that was. You stretch as far as you can to click on the bedside lamp on your end.

“Hmm?” Eddie pushes himself up onto an elbow and looks at you in concern. “What? What is it?”

“Shit,” you mutter as you try to push yourself up to a seated position. “Eds, I’m having contractions. This isn’t the carrying low crap anymore.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he goes to get up, but then he pauses. A smile grows on his lips, and he shakes his head as he settles back down again.

“Nice try, babe,” he says.

“What?” You furrow your brow and rest your hands on your bump.

“I’m not falling for it,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “You thought if you waited until the end of the day, you’d be able to get me. But I’m wise to you.”

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you get out through gritted teeth.

“Sweetheart.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re talking to the man who once pranked his uncle by bringing a raccoon into his trailer. You’re gonna have to up your game.”

Pain rattles in your lower back once more. You’re this close to calling Wayne right now and scolding him for raising an absolute moron. But those plans are put on hold when you feel a trickle of liquid between your legs.

You pull back the blankets and point towards your pajama shorts. “I’m. Not. Joking.”

Eddie’s eyebrows nearly scrape his hairline. “Oh, shit.” He sits up straighter, his body tensing. “Is that—”

“Yes,” you practically hiss. “And unless you want to accuse me of peeing myself to ‘keep the prank going,’ I suggest you get your ass in gear.”

“Y-Yeah. No. I mean, my ass is gearing. In gear.” Christ, this is his fourth time doing this, and he’s acting like it’s his first. “You wanna get changed, or…”

You bite your tongue to keep from making a snarky comment about hoping you get to sit in your amniotic fluid. “Yeah. Grab that god awful purple dress? I’m not putting on pants.”

After he gets you dressed, he helps you down the stairs to the ground level of your home.

“Why’d we buy a goddamn two-story?” you grumble.

Eddie isn’t dumb, so he doesn’t remind you that you’re the one who fell in love with this house the minute you stepped inside. He leads you into the bonus room—soon to become the younger kids’ playroom—that’s between Luke and Ryan’s rooms, and gets you situated on the futon in there.

“Ryan’s probably still awake.” Eddie instinctively looks at his wrist where his watch should be, but he forgot to put it on, all his focus securely on you.

Even though it’s a school night, Ryan is still a seventeen-year-old boy, and he’s not going to go to sleep just because his parents told him to. He’ll give you guys going into his room at a certain time, but no way is he going to go right to bed.

Eddie knocks on Ryan’s door, hand itching to grab the handle and just barge in, but he restrains himself and waits for Ryan’s soft reply of, “Come in.”

The look on your son’s face as he tugs out his earbuds tells Eddie that he was prepared to be reprimanded about being up still, listening to music and reading. But Eddie is honestly thankful he’s still awake.

“Ry,” Eddie says and ignores the little huff of annoyance the boy gives in return. “I need you to listen out for Eliza if she wakes up. We need to head to the hospital.”

Ryan is instantly up off his bed, his eyes wide as he pushes past his father in the doorway.

“The babies are coming?” Ryan’s head swivels until he spots you on the futon.

Mere feet away from the two Munson men, Luke’s bedroom door swings open, and his curly-haired head pops out into the hallway. Patch takes advantage of the fourteen-year-old’s door opening and darts out.

“The babies are coming?!”

It will never cease to amaze Eddie that Luke won’t hear shit going on if he’s watching television, but he can have selected bat sonar hearing when he wants.

Somehow managing to push yourself up off the futon, after scratching Patch’s ears and assuring him that you’re okay, you waddle over to the three of them, one hand on your belly and one on your back. You’re already practicing the breathing techniques you read about a few months ago.

“Yeah,” you answer both boys. “Unless they’re learning how to pull an awesome April Fool’s Day gag.”

“They’re Munsons,” Luke says with a shrug. “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.”

Wincing your way through a contraction, you move the hand on your belly to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Do you have the hospital bag, Eds?” you ask.

“Shit,” Eddie grunts, dropping his head back. “Can one of you help her to the car while I go grab the bag?”

In true competitive brother spirit, they both insist on helping you. Nothing can be simple with them.

Ryan grabs your jacket from the closet near the front door and helps you maneuver your arms into the sleeves. Luke kneels down and helps you slip into your comfiest pair of boots. It might technically be spring outside now, but it’s still chilly these Indiana nights.

“Alright,” Eddie says as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the hospital bag slung over his shoulder. “We ready to go?”

“Yes,” you groan and turn towards the door.

But the sound of small, yet very heavy, footsteps upstairs gives you pause. They thunk down the stairs and you see a sleepy Eliza, one hand rubbing her eye, the other clutching her gold stuffed dragon Darla by the hand—or claw.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” she mutters.

Eddie steps forward to press a kiss to the top of her unruly curls.

“I’m taking Mommy to the hospital because it’s time for the babies to come.”

As he finishes his sentence, a rough contraction hits, this one feeling a little deeper. You wince and reach out to grab something to brace against. Ryan’s shoulder was the closest thing, so your fingers are curled into his pajama shirt.

Eliza watches it all, her eyes widening as she sees her mother in pain.

“Mama?” She dodges through everyone to get to you and slips her small hand into your larger one.

You do your best to smile through the pain, trying to reassure the little girl that you’re okay.

“I’m okay, sweet pea. I just get a pain in my belly to let me know the babies are coming.”

The over-tired four-year-old’s bottom lip begins to wobble. Her emotions get the better of her, and the real crying starts.

“I wanna come,” she says through her sniffles.

Eddie crouches down and presses a kiss against her forehead.

“You’re going to stay here with your brothers, okay? Ryan will tuck you in, and when you wake up in the morning, the babies should be here.”

Eliza shakes her head. “I wanna stay with Mama! Not the boys!”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Luke mumbles under his breath.

You smooth back her hair, trying to diffuse the situation without wasting precious time. The last thing you want to do is deliver two babies on the kitchen floor.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll have Daddy with me, and you know he would never let anything happen to me.”

Another contraction grips you, and you squeeze Eddie’s hand in warning. If Eliza sees how much pain you’re in, she’ll never let you go.

Luckily, Eddie receives your silent message. He crouches down in front of Eliza and offers her a reassuring smile. Fairly convincing considering the man is a bundle of nerves.

“We’ll call you guys when the babies are born, okay? Even if it’s still nighttime and you’re still asleep. How about you go pick out a movie, and your brothers will watch it with you? Patch too, I bet. How about Mulan? Or Pocahontas?”

Ryan holds out his hand, which Eliza tepidly takes. “Come on. Let’s go pick something out.”

Eddie stands up in time to see Luke raise an eyebrow at him.

“Isn’t it past her bedtime?”

His father leans in and whispers, “She’ll be out in less than half an hour; she just needs a distraction. Here.” Eddie hands Luke the hospital bag. “Bring this to the car, please.”

Luke dashes out to the car, drawing Eliza’s attention. She’d started to go with Ryan, but all plans for a movie are tossed out the window when she remembers that you’re leaving.

Two little arms wrap around your thighs. “Mama, I wanna go with you!”

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You rub her back, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt. “I love you.”

Eliza sniffles but reluctantly unravels herself. “I love you too.”

Eddie leans down and gives her one last kiss before putting his hand on the small of your back, helping you into the car.

He takes off down the road at warp speed.

“How you feeling, baby?” Eddie glances over at you before returning his attention to the dark road stretched out ahead of you. Trees line both sides of the highway and the only light comes from the full moon straight above you.

One of your hands is gripping the handle on the roof, just above the car door. The other hand is splayed out on the console between you and Eddie, your nails digging into the leather.

“Pain,” you grunt out. Your legs are spread, your booted feet bracing you against the floor mats.

Eddie nods, a sigh coming out of his nose like an anxious puff of air.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he asks.

“No,” you shake your head and wince when another contraction starts.

“Do-Do you want to talk? Or do you want quiet?” Eddie just wants to make sure he can give you whatever makes you the most comfortable and at ease.

“Um.” You lick over your dry lips as you breathe through the contraction. “Quiet, I-I think.”

The drive to Hawkins Regional Hospital should only take about ten more minutes, but that feels like an eternity with the rate of intense spasms that wrack your lower body. The dull roar of the engine provides a soothing soundtrack as you close your eyes and rest your head back. You are only allowed a few brief moments of relaxation, though. A pop echoes out in the space of the car.

“What was—” Eddie goes to ask before he hears you.

“Oh boy.”

“What?” Eddie asks, trying to glance over at you, but also doing his damndest to get you both safely to the hospital as soon as possible.

A trickle of water leaks down the insides of your legs, the sound not far off from when you’re out on a walk with Patch and he lifts his back leg to relieve himself on a fire hydrant.

Now, Eddie can see the pool of water gathering on the mat between your boots. He nods his head as he slowly increases the pressure on the gas pedal.

“Good call on the no pants,” he says.

Not a minute after fluid stops leaking down your legs, you feel a shift inside you.

“Whoa.” You give a small jump as it catches you by surprise. One hand comes up to rub over your swollen belly. “Baby Number Two is squirmy right now, geez.”

Luckily, Eddie turns the car into the emergency room parking lot and pulls right up to the automatic double doors. He leaps out of the car, and rushes inside to get some help. He comes back with a small Calvary. A male and a female nurse both help you into the wheelchair they’ve brought out, and various medical team members hover by for one reason or another. You don’t have the mental energy to give a shit at the moment.

“I’m just gonna go park the car. I’ll be right back, okay baby?”

You don’t have much of a choice as an orderly forcefully pushes you through the sliding glass doors and into the main atrium. Your wet dress beneath you is unpleasant, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the contraction that strikes as you’re wheeled into the elevator.

The minutes feel like hours between the pain and not having Eddie at your side. Mentally, you try and calculate how long it will take him to find a spot, get back into the building, ask reception where you are, then make his way back to you. It’s too damn long in your opinion.

Mint green walls greet you as you’re brought into your room. The white linoleum floors that squeak under nurses’ sneakers and the distinct tang of antiseptic shout out that this is still a hospital room, no matter how nice they make everything else look.

“Okay, Mrs. Munson, let’s get you all set up.”

A hospital gown has never been a more welcome sight than when you’ve been sitting in amniotic fluid for the last twenty minutes. A nurse helps you change before helping you get comfortable in the bed—or as comfortable as you can possibly be. The medical team works like a well-oiled machine as they insert your IV, slip a blood pressure cuff on your arm, a finger sensor to monitor your oxygen, and two heart rate belts around your belly—one for each twin.

Just as they’re securing the last belt into place, Eddie bursts into the room, his cheeks red and forehead dotted with sweat from exertion. With the way his breathing is labored, he looks like the one who should be hooked up to medical equipment.

“Hey, baby,” he breathes out with a sigh. He dodges through the staff to get to your bedside.

You’ve always known there were going to be more medical professionals in the room this time around because it’s twins, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking because it feels more intense than when you had Eliza. On one hand, it becomes scarier because you know there are more risks associated with twin births, but on the other hand, it’s reassuring that there is more help around you.

“Eds.” You reach for his hand, and he’s quick to lace his fingers with yours. He presses a kiss to your forehead and then your knuckles. The backpack from home lands at his feet as he gives all of his attention to you.

“How you feeling, princess?”

“I’m okay.” Both of you hear the slight shake in your voice, but Eddie doesn’t comment on it.

“I heard someone ordered two babies today, huh?” Dr. Hahn smiles as she walks into your room. She gives you a playful wink as she grabs two latex gloves and slips them on. “Let’s check on the little rascals, shall we?”

Eddie tries to keep your focus on him as Dr. Hahn starts checking to see how dilated you are.

“I brought the list of names,” he tells you with a soft chuckle. “I slipped it into the backpack.”

“Good.” You nod. “Still gotta narrow some of those down.”

“Should we take bets on the sexes?” he asks.

The question brings a smile to your face, but you shake your head.

“I’ll leave the betting to the boys. As long as the babies are healthy, I’m happy.”

“The fact that it became double or nothing when they found out there are twins still brings me such joy.”

“Not necessarily,” you counter, but giggle at his words anyway. “Could be one of each. Then they both win. Or lose.”

“Who bet on what again?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose up in thought.

“Ryan said girl, Luke said boy.”

“Right. And I do love how they both have the Care Bear onesie they want the other to wear already picked out.”

“Okay,” Dr. Hahn says, not giving you a chance to respond to your husband. “It shouldn’t be very long at all. Second babies always come faster and so do twins. And you’re batting two for two there.”

“Thank you, Dr,” you say.

When Eliza was born, you remember it feeling like a lifetime before you started pushing. You know this pregnancy and delivery are different than when you had your little sweet pea, but it’s hard not to compare this situation to the only comparable one you’ve ever been in before.

Dr. Hahn wasn’t kidding when she said it shouldn’t be very long. A glance at the clock on the wall tells you that you’ve only been in this bed for fifteen minutes before you’re told it’s time to start pushing.

Eddie is ready at your side, one of his hands holding yours and the other squeezing your shoulder in gentle encouragement. A nurse stands on your other side, also holding your hand to help brace you for the exertion of pushing.

“We’re about to push now, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn says from the foot of the bed.

You nod, any words dying on your tongue as you feel the telltale signs of a contraction beginning.

“Come on, sweetheart, you’ve got this.” Eddie rubs his hand soothingly over your shoulder blade as you lean forward, garnering the momentum to get things going.

“Okay, Mrs. Munson, push!”

You grit your teeth and squeeze both Eddie’s and the nurse’s hands as you do what you’re told. The grip you have on both people at your sides has to be hurting them, but they’re both troopers and don’t so much as flinch.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie encourages.

“You’re doing great,” Dr. Hahn adds. “Keep it up.”

Keep it up? You know you have to, but your body is already exhausted. And you have a whole other baby to push out after this one. You silently decide that any woman who has delivered triplets or higher deserves a Medal of Honor. Twins are difficult enough.

“Ah, here we go. I see the head,” Dr. Hahn says.

A groan that’s a mixture of exertion and pain claws its way free on your next push.

“Almost there, princess.” Eddie holds your hand in both of his and presses kisses against your white, straining knuckles.

“Here’s the head. Alright, Mrs. Munson, we’re going to do one more really big push, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out through clenched teeth.

“Big push on three, okay? One, two, three.”

A strangled scream gets caught in your throat as you put all of your effort into getting this baby out of you.

“There we go, good job,” Dr. Hahn praises. “Almost there, almost there…”

A shrill cry fills the room, and you fall back against your pillows, drenched in sweat and breathing like you just finished running a 5k. But you smile. It’s impossible not to with that beautiful noise coming from your newest child.

“It’s a boy!” Dr. Hahn announces. The nurses wipe down your son—your son—as the doctor turns to Eddie. “Cutting the cord?”

“Of course.” Eddie carefully snips the cord where Dr. Hahn instructs, though he probably memorized the procedure. After all, this is his fourth kid.

Dr. Hahn checks the position of the other baby before placing your wailing son on your chest. “Take a moment before the next baby arrives,” she says gently.

You press a kiss to the baby’s scalp. He’s so perfect, so little and sweet. Even his cries are adorable. One tiny fist rests just above your breast as he soothes himself to your heartbeat.

“Another boy,” Eddie muses. “We have three sons now.”

“Eliza is not going to be thrilled if there’s a fourth,” you say, though you know your daughter will probably claim the babies as her own, regardless of their genders.

Eddie kisses your forehead. “I can’t believe this. I…” he swallows the emotion choking his throat. “…I love him so much already.”

“Me, too.” You smile, glancing down at the baby once again. Tears blur your vision. “Hi, sweet boy. I’m your mommy. Aw, I know, I know. It’s bright here on the outside.”

Eddie leans in, tears leaking out as he beams at his new son. “Hi, pal! We got another Munson man here to drive Mommy and Eliza crazy, huh? Welcome to the team.”

Dr. Hahn clears her throat kindly. “Baby B can arrive any time in the next five to thirty minutes,” she explains. “When you feel the urge to push, tell us.”

You nod, barely paying attention to her directions. You’re too in love with the little boy pressed to your heart. After a few minutes of cooing over him, a nurse offers to take the baby to be cleaned and get his vitals taken.

After both of you keep your eyes glued to your new son as he’s being assessed, Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks.

You tilt your head up and gaze at him with a sleepy smile.

“Exhausted. But so happy,” you tell him. “The contractions don’t feel as painful anymore.”

“That’s better. Now you’re all snuggled up.” A nurse smiles down at your son as she carries him in your direction. “Do you want to see your Daddy? He’s been waiting a long time to meet you.”

“He is absolutely worth the wait,” Eddie says as he accepts the baby. Pure pride gleams in your husband’s eyes as he takes in all the details of your son. The little button nose that scrunches just a bit whenever anyone makes too loud of a noise. The already-dark eyelashes that flutter against the apples of his rosy cheeks. “He’s perfect.”

Eddie takes a few steps closer to your bed and sits on the edge, twisting so you can see both him and the baby. The sight of your husband holding your baby boy brings tears to your eyes, which you quickly wipe away. Nothing is going to obscure your vision while you’re admiring your boys—not even tears.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You reach out and run your index finger over the small knuckles that are clenched into fists. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Just like his mom,” Eddie says.

With a bashful smile, you hide your face against the sleeve of Eddie’s t-shirt.

“Any names in mind?” Dr. Hahn looks up at you from where she’s reading over a chart. She gives you a smile when your eyes meet.

“We have a handful of names,” you say, gaze turning back on your son. “We didn’t know the sexes beforehand, so we had to come up with a little collection to consider.”

“Smart,” Dr. Hahn says with a nod. “A lot of people who don’t find out the sex beforehand find unisex names.”

“We’ve got a few of those on the list,” Eddie confirms.

To you, it feels like you’ve been holding your newborn for mere minutes, but your husband has been glancing at the clock every so often, his pulse speeding up every time you get closer to the thirty-minute mark Dr. Hahn mentioned. He notices you haven’t winced or appeared in pain from contractions during this time either. The last thing he wants to do is worry you as well, so he keeps quiet but keeps tabs on the medical team in the room, trusting they have control of everything.

The moment the clock strikes thirty-one minutes past the first birth, a nurse comes over and gives you a kind smile.

“Okay, Mom, we’re going to start focusing on the next birth now. I’ll keep your little boy safe and sound over here in his cozy bassinet.”

Reluctantly, you watch her take the little bundle and Eddie stands up from the edge of the bed. The nurse rolls the bassinet right on the other side of Eddie, so your husband is between you and the baby.

Dr. Hahn walks over to the other side of your bed and tilts her head as she looks at you.

“I notice we’ve had contractions slowing down,” she says. “That happens sometimes, but we want to make sure we get them going again. I just sent for some Pitocin, which will kick them back into gear. Just hang tight for a few, and then we’ll get your other bundle of joy out here for you to hold.”

Eddie nods at the doctor, too nervous to thank her aloud. He doesn’t want to risk you hearing any trepidation or warble in his tone. You heard the doc, he says to himself. This happens sometimes.

He releases a sigh of relief when the medication arrives only two minutes later. A nurse injects it into your IV line, and all Eddie can do is stare at the clock again. Next to him, your son begins to cry, so Eddie bends over him and gently strokes his beanie-clad head.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he says. “I know, you miss Mommy, huh?”

A little hand reaches up towards the sky, and Eddie slips his forefinger into the tiny grasp. He chuckles at how tight of a grip the tiny man has on him.

“Alright, looks like we’ve got a contraction coming,” Dr. Hahn says, looking at the monitor near your head.

“Ah, shit,” you groan as a familiar wave of pain crashes over your body.

Eddie is torn between the attention of the baby and wanting to hold your hand for support. Luckily, the bed and the bassinet are close enough that he’s able to hold both of your hands at once. Another glance at the clock tells him you’re closing in on forty minutes since the last birth. His heart hammers in his chest, the nerves right on the tipping point of becoming true fear.

At minute forty-five, Dr. Hahn takes up her position at the foot of the bed again.

“Okay, Mrs. Munson. It’s time to start pushing again.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie encourages. “You got this.”

You nod at him before taking a deep breath, mentally psyching yourself up for another round.

The pushing starts off just as it did last time. But after already doing this once and having the intensity and pain of the contractions come back within a matter of minutes, you find yourself overwhelmed. You wish for the moment you had not ten minutes ago, holding your son with your husband by your side. All smiles and excitement. The stabbing pain reminds you that that moment isn’t here anymore. Suddenly, the lights in the room feel hotter. The beeping of machinery sounds louder. All senses have been dialed up to eleven, as if the medication they gave you not only kicked the contractions into gear, but every other function of your body as well.

As attuned to you as always, Eddie gives your hand a squeeze of encouragement. That small act of affection is enough to give you the strength for another push.

“Okay, we’ve got the head,” Dr. Hahn says.

“Agh!”

Eddie’s brow instantly furrows. This is the third time he’s seen you give birth, and you’ve never made that exclamation of pain before.

“What?” he asks urgently.

Dr. Hahn looks over her shoulder and calls to the medical team, “We have a shoulder dystocia.”

“A what?” Eddie asks.

“What’s wrong?” you pant out through labored breaths, face still pinched in pain.

Dr. Hahn turns back towards you while one nurse steps out of the room, and two others come closer to the bed.

“Your baby’s shoulders are stuck, Mrs. Munson. We’re going to help them out now.” She turns to the nurses approaching the bed. “Let’s get her into McRoberts.”

Eddie’s stomach falls through the floor. Your baby is stuck? A shoulder what? Dystocia? What the hell is that? And what is McRoberts?

“Stuck?” is all Eddie manages to squeak out.

Dr. Hahn nods as the first nurse returns with, what looks like, other doctors. That can’t be a good sign, Eddie decides.

“Stuck on the pelvic bone,” Dr. Hahn says. “Mrs. Munson, we’re going to try and get you into a different position to see if that helps.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small, a punch to Eddie’s gut.

“Mr. Munson, could you just step back a little bit? Nurse Jennifer needs to get in on that side.”

The moment Eddie’s hand lets go of yours, he feels like he’s going to be sick. The urge to push back in and wrap you up in his embrace is strong, but the logical part of his brain tells him he needs to stay out of the way and let the medical professionals do their job. The emotional part wants to kick that logical part’s ass though.

“Mrs. Munson, Nurse Jennifer is going to work on that leg, pushing your knee up toward your chest, and Nurse Peter is going to do it with this leg. Don’t push while they do this, okay? Just breathe. Here we go.”

Eddie watches as each nurse takes one of your legs and hikes them up towards your head. He bounces from foot to foot, his hands coming up to rub over his face, his hair, his neck, anywhere to expel some of that nervous energy. Every terrifying thought flashes through his mind. What if I lose her? What if we lose the baby? What if I lose them both? His entire world hangs in the balance and there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it. He’s never felt so helpless in his entire life. There’s quite literally nothing he can do but stand there and watch it all happen.

A deep breath doesn’t do much to calm Eddie, but it helps enough for him to take a moment to lean down and whisper to your new son, “Use some of that twin telepathy, okay? You’re both Munsons and Munsons are strong. And no one is stronger than your Mama.”

It’s hard for Eddie to see you as Nurse Jennifer stands closer to your head now, holding your leg up at this new angle. Your husband looks up and sees the other medical staff hovering, which, in theory, should be comforting, but it just adds to the stress and fear he’s drowning in.

“Is the baby okay?” your strained voice asks.

“The baby is fine,” Dr. Hahn assures you—assures you both. “We’re just going to have to work a little harder, that’s all. Now, big push for me, okay?”

Your pained moans make Eddie’s heart ache. Nurse Jennifer steps slightly closer to your head, so Eddie takes advantage of the open spot between her and the foot of the bed. He’s standing just above where your pelvis is and he takes in every little detail of you, scanning for any and all possible issues. Your head flops back against the pillow and weakly tumbles to the side.

“Why don’t you try talking to her?”

Eddie looks up to see that Nurse Peter is talking to him. The nurse nods his head towards your struggling form on the bed.

“Encourage her, keep her focused,” he says.

For the first time in his life, your husband doesn’t know what to say.

Eddie nods and licks over his lips. For some reason, he wipes his sweaty palms on the sides of his jeans. He mentally wonders what the hell he’s doing as he thinks about everything that you mean to him. His mouth opens and he just goes with it, becoming a pure stream of consciousness.

“You’re so goddamn strong, Sweetheart. You pushed out one baby and now you’re about to push out another. Even with all of these tubes and needles and beeping things, you’re doing it. I could never do it. I mean, not just because I’m missing the, uh, parts—”

“Eddie,” you choke out as another bead of sweat slides down the side of your face.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Shut up about your ‘parts,’” you choke out with a terse huff of laughter.

Eddie shakes his head before continuing.

“You got this. You’re gonna push out this baby and our little family—well, not that little—will be complete. All because of you. Just keep going, okay? I’m right here.”

“Good, good, we’re making progress,” Dr. Hahn says. “Baby is coming out now. Mr. Munson, do you want to watch?”

If she had asked with the first baby, he probably would have said yes. But with all the adrenaline and emotion coursing through his body right now? He is not up to the task.

“I think I’m gonna stay in this region over here,” he motions around your head and upper body area.

“We’re almost there. Keep pushing, Mama, you’re doing great.”

“You’ve got this, princess,” Eddie adds. “I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

“There we go!” Dr. Hahn says. “She’s here.”

“She?” you ask, pain and weariness falling to the background now that your second baby is finally out. Tears stream rivulets down your face, but you refuse to let them keep you from speaking.

“She,” your doctor affirms with a nod. “It’s a girl.”

“Is she okay?” Eddie asks.

Dr. Hahn looks over her shoulder at where the newly-brought-in medical staff is.

“Neonatal—check for distress.”

A man in scrubs takes the baby from Dr. Hahn and brings her over to where her brother’s vitals were taken. You feel like you’re holding your breath, though.

The nurses who held your legs gently release them back down and step out of the way so Eddie can get to you properly. He immediately cups your face in his hands and presses his lips against yours. Both of you have ragged breaths so he doesn’t hold the kiss for long. But once he pulls away, he’s kissing every part of you he can get his mouth on. Your face and hair are both drenched in sweat, but Eddie could not care less. You’re here and you’re safe and Eddie feels like he could collapse in your arms.

It’s quiet in the room though. The machines are still beeping. Sneakers still squeak against the linoleum. But it’s too quiet and it steals the breath from your chest. Oxygen is sucked out of the room and time seems to stop as your muscles lock and you freeze completely still. A very vital sound is missing.

A few deep inhales followed by a piercing cry cause you to fall apart. She’s breathing. Your baby is breathing and crying. Sobs wrack your body, and you lean into Eddie’s touch. He gently cradles your head as you wrap your arms tight as a vice around his waist.

“She’s okay,” you say to yourself between sniffles.

“You’re both okay,” Eddie responds.

A few drops of water fall onto your forehead. You look up to see Eddie crying almost as hard as you are. Seeing the raw emotion pouring out of him tugs at your already sensitive heart. Your face crumples, and you fall into another round of sobs as you bury your face against his shirt.

Both you and Eddie get the worst of your emotions out before you try to compose one another. By the time you do that, your little girl has been checked over and cleared. Nurse Jennifer walks over with your youngest baby, all bundled up in a white blanket dotted with pale yellow and green polka dots. A small pink cap is situated on her tiny head, and you couldn’t be smiling any wider as you accept her from the nurse.

Every emotion and every hormone are surging through your body right now. The adrenaline crash has left you worn out and weak. But the moment you hold that baby girl, none of it matters.

When you look down at her, you see that your daughter is looking right back at you. A brighter grin than you would’ve thought possible to muster lights up your face. Slitted eyes take in your face almost as much as you’re taking in hers.

“There you are, gorgeous.” Your words are soft and as gentle as the newborns’ skin.

Eddie wipes at his eyes and leans against the side of the bed. His head tilts to the side while he takes all of her in. The pink puckered lips. The sparse eyebrows that already twitch as if she’s displaying all of her emotions through them. She has him wrapped around her finger already.

“Hi, little angel,” Eddie says. “You’re already trying to upstage your brother, huh?”

You let out a soft chuckle.

“Oh boy. Are we gonna have two dramatic little girls on our hands?”

You lean down and press a kiss to her smooth, unblemished forehead. The last thing you want to do is take your lips off of her, but you know Eddie is itching to hold her.

Gently and carefully, you transfer your baby to her father.

Once she’s in his arms, he does his damndest not to cry. To no one’s surprise, it doesn’t work very well. The memory of always wanting a baby girl when he was younger comes rushing back to him. Something in him always knew he was meant to be a boy dad and a girl dad, and he was just waiting for the opportunity for the second one to come along. And now here he is. The father to two daughters. Three boys and two little girls with the woman of his dreams.

A faint beeping is the first thing you register. A phone? No. A smoke detector? No. Oh shit, that’s the monitor you’re hooked up to.

Slowly, your eyes blink open only to be assaulted by the bright fluorescent light directly above you. You squint and shield your eyes as they adjust.

A deep soreness permeates most of your body, but you feel rested and refreshed after getting some sleep. Eddie could see how tired you were and was eventually able to talk you into a nap. Something you assumed he would also take. But when you look towards the window, you see your husband sitting in an armchair, completely bleary-eyed, as he holds one of your babies. The baby is asleep though, so that’s something, you suppose.

“Eds?” you call, voice a hair above a whisper. “Did you get any sleep?”

A tired smile graces his lips as he shakes his head. Gently, he stands up and lays the baby (who you can now see is your daughter) in her bassinet right next to her brother’s.

Eddie goes to take a seat on the edge of your bed, but you carefully move over so there’s enough room for him to properly sit next to you, side by side.

“I called the kids,” Eddie says as he situates himself.

“Were they awake?” You look up at him and let out a large yawn. “Wait, what time is it now? What time did I even give birth?”

Eddie delicately wraps his arms around your shoulders to tuck you into his side.

“It’s almost 3 am now. I called around two, and the boys were still awake. Eliza fell asleep around half an hour after we left. The boys asked if the twins are girls or boys, but I told them they’d have to wait to see until they can meet them in the morning.”

You let out a sleepy chuckle as you let your head rest against your husband’s shoulder.

“Gonna keep the suspense on that bet going for as long as possible, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a grin. “And Baby Boy Munson was born at 12:28 and Baby Girl Munson was born at 1:26.”

Though he doesn’t say anything else, you’ve known Eddie long enough to know that he wants to. His lips keep moving, as if he’s trying to psych them up to form words. You’re not going to pressure him, though. You give him time to gather his thoughts. It only takes a few minutes.

“Sweetheart, I…” he trails off and tears fill his eyes. “I was so fucking scared before. First, the baby is late, and your contractions went down. Then she gets stuck on the way out. Babe, every horrible scenario was running through my head. I was terrified I was going to lose you and a baby at the same time.” He sniffles and shakes his head, a hauntingly devastated look in his eyes. “Even if we hadn’t already decided that we’re not going to have any more kids, this would’ve convinced me. I can’t bear thinking about that, or something worse, happening again.”

“Oh, Eddie…” You slowly reach up and cup Eddie’s face in your hands. One thumb traces along his cheek bone. “It was scary. All I kept thinking was that I need her to be safe.”

“What about you?” Eddie asks.

You take one hand off of Eddie’s face and wave it dismissively in the air. He gives you a reproachful look before you speak.

“I wasn’t thinking of me. Just that little baby who’s been with me for nine months. She was all that mattered in that moment. And Eddie?” You do your best to sit up a little straighter so you can look him in the eye. “If we hadn’t decided to not have any more kids, I’d have so many more of your babies. This didn’t deter me at all. It was a scary few moments, but now we have the rest of our lives with these little miracles. I’ll take that trade any day.”

Eddie sighs. He knows it would be a moot point to argue with you. Though you might not be a Munson by blood, just the name is enough for you to be considered stubborn and hard-headed. Nothing he could say would get you to put the importance of your own safety on the same level as your baby’s. But he knows if the roles were reversed, he would be the same way. You know it too and would absolutely wield that against him in a debate. The thought makes Eddie chuckle softly. He loves how he knows you so well, and how stubborn you can be—though he’s careful to never admit that out loud.

“I love you so goddamn much,” he mutters.

“I love you, too.”

Eddie shifts carefully, handling you like you’re as fragile as porcelain. Part of you wants to tell him to cut it out, but the amount of pain you’re in makes it hard to argue with his gentle demeanor. His moves are slow and intentional as he cups the back of your head and presses a light kiss against your lips. Now this, you won’t stand for. Your hand that doesn’t have the IV needle stuck in it curls around your husband’s neck, and you force more pressure into the kiss.

You feel his chuckle rumble against your lips.

“You’re so difficult, you know that?” he mumbles once he pulls away.

“So I’ve been told.”

Despite how he shakes his head in bemusement, there’s a smile on Eddie’s lips as he pulls you against his chest. You happily mold against him, contorting to lay your head against his shoulder. From how you’re both positioned, you have a perfect view of both babies snoozing away in their bassinets. The two of you stay silent, enraptured in watching the newest members of your family. Each of them has a pacifier in their mouth, but your son’s moves up and down faster, his suckling more insistent in his sleep. Your daughter moves more in her sleep, though. Her little arms move in small circles, reminiscent of rowing a baby-sized boat.

Eventually, you break the silence in a hushed voice.

“I guess we should finalize those names, huh? Unless we want to stick with ‘Baby Boy’ and ‘Baby Girl’ Munson.”

“Those do have a nice ring to them.”

Moving slowly and carefully so as not to disturb him, Eddie reaches out and pulls your little boy’s bassinet closer to the bed. It allows you both to see his face better.

“Well,” you say with a sigh, “since you won’t let me name him Edward after his dashing father…”

“Hey,” Eddie argues, “I agreed to it as a middle name. And I still think Charles would be funny.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lift your head to stare down your husband.

“Charles Munson? With us, his Munson family?”

Eddie laughs softly, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m just kidding, you know that.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m strictly against naming our children after murderous cult leaders.”

“What about cult leaders that didn’t commit murder?” you question.

“Those I’ll consider.”

You huff a laugh, half fueled by exhaustion, as you nuzzle your face against Eddie’s t-shirt. A large, warm hand rubs up and down your back in a soothing manner.

“Out of the few boy names we narrowed it down to, which do you think fits him the most?” he asks.

You turn your head to look back at your newborn son. A couple of the names on the list automatically are scratched off the list in your mind; they just aren’t him. Next, your brain scrolls through the unisex names you can recall.

“He looks like Hayden to me,” you finally say.

Eddie grins and looks down at you. “I was just thinking the same thing. Hayden Edward Munson.”

“H.E.M.”

“Sounds like a good name for a band, those initials,” Eddie comments. “Alright. It’s your sister’s turn, Hayden.”

Eddie gingerly pushes Hayden’s bassinet back to where it was and pulls your daughter’s forward. Once she’s in the position her brother just held, Eddie hums as he rests his head against yours. Most of the names the two of you had on your list were for girls, so this task is going to take a little more time and deduction.

“Wanna try out a few?” Eddie asks. “See how they feel?”

You nod and pick your head up to address the bundled-up baby.

“Hi, Chloe.”

Immediately, your nose wrinkles up and you shake your head, Eddie shaking his as well. It doesn’t suit her.

“What about Dianna?” Eddie asks. He pauses for a moment, considering. “Nah, don’t think so. Amy?”

As if voicing her own opinion, your baby girl starts to whine. She squirms around more than she did in her sleep and lets the pacifier fall out of her mouth. Her little lungs inhale a few breaths, and Eddie carefully slips out from underneath you to scoop her up before she can start properly crying.

“Okay, okay, not Amy,” Eddie says as he picks her up. He sways back and forth next to your bed, gently bouncing the little bundle.

“Her least favorite March sister, I guess,” you joke.

“Well, duh,” Eddie says with a scoff. “She stole Laurie from Jo.”

“No, that’s not…” You smile to yourself and give a slight shake of your head. “That’s a topic for another time.”

A nasally “wah” rings out of your daughter, Eddie’s preemptive strike not enough to keep her from crying.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie frowns and tries bouncing her with a little more fervor. “Do you want your mommy? She’s right here. It’s okay.”

Eddie gives you a few moments to situate yourself on the bed, readying to accept the baby from him. You hold your arms out and he delicately transfers her.

The moment she’s in your arms, her name strikes you. It’s as if the moment you had contact with her, she spoke to you, telling you what you’ve always been meant to call her.

“You’re Scarlett, aren’t you?” You grin down at her.

Immediately, her cries cease. She turns her small head and nuzzles her little button nose against your arm.

Eddie watches, an adoring smile on his face. He cautiously sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Well, I guess that settles that,” he says. “Hello, my little Scarlett. You almost gave Daddy a heart attack today, you know that?”

“No offense,” you say, quirking an eyebrow up at your husband, “but I think she put my body through more than yours today.”

One corner of Eddie’s mouth kicks up in a smile as he nods his head in agreement.

“What about a middle name?” he asks.

“Can I see the list?” you ask.

The backpack had been kicked halfway under the bed during the course of events this evening, so Eddie bends at the waist to retrieve it. He slips the worn paper out from the front pouch and holds it up for both of you to look over. Your eyes scan down the numerous names, some scratched out or spellings changed over these past nine months.

“How about Aurora?” you suggest.

“Scarlett Aurora Munson. Sounds pretty damn beautiful to me.”

Already as dramatic as his father it seems, Hayden begins to fuss about not being part of the conversation.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Eddie says as he picks Hayden up. He cradles the baby to his chest and lightly boops the tip of his nose. “So does Hayden Edward Munson.”

You watch in adoration as Hayden settles down. Your husband holds him with such tenderness and care. A look back down at your daughter shows she’s drifted off to sleep again. A warmth bubbles up from your stomach, settling in your chest.

“I can’t believe we’re the parents of twins,” you say in breathless wonder.

Eddie steps closer as he sways back and forth.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m a parent.”

Light as a feather, so as not to disturb her, you run your finger over Scarlett’s tiny knuckles. It doesn’t matter that you’ve held countless babies before, it still astonishes you how small they truly are when they start out. Eliza was once this little. So were Luke and Ryan, even if you didn’t know them then.

“You guys are going to love it here,” you tell the twins. “You have the best big brothers and big sister.”

“Who can’t wait to meet you,” Eddie adds. “And there’s a crazy dog named Patch. He’s a good boy.”

“And your room looks just like you’ve walked into the Hundred Acre Woods.”

“Or, if we carried you in there,” Eddie says. “Since you guys can’t walk yet.”

“There’s Pooh Bear and Piglet and Tigger and Rabbit,” you go on. “All the cool ones.”

“And it won’t be long until your sister introduces you to the princesses. I give it less than twenty-four hours, honestly.”

You chuckle, knowing your husband is absolutely correct. A mental image of Eliza bringing out the little chalkboard that’s in her room tickles you. You can picture her setting it up in front of the twins while they rock back and forth in their swings. She would give them a thorough education, that’s for sure.

“You two have so many people who already love you so, so much,” you tell the babies. “Lots of aunts and uncles and cousins to play with. And the coolest grandpa.”

“And you have me and Mommy,” Eddie adds. “And I’ll tell you a secret…we love you guys more than any of those other people do.”

You let out a soft giggle and nod in agreement.

“We’re so glad you’re here. Welcome to the world.”

“It’s not always great,” Eddie says, “but you’re always going to have your family behind you when things get tough. Cause Munsons stick together.”

Scarlett smacks her lips together and turns her face up in your direction. You carefully lean down and press a kiss on her forehead.

“You made our family complete, guys. And we’re so happy that you did. Our little Hayden and Scarlett.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie Munson fan fic #Eddie Munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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chris-prank · 11 months ago

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Yandere Android x GN dumpster diver reader

A second chance Part 1

CW: Creepy behavior and possessive behavior

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

💿 You walked confidently, the rays of the streetlights revealing you to the eyes of the world, taking you away from the protection of the night. It was 1am and almost every soul that lived in this affluent place was comfortably asleep in their silk sheets, except for you; you were an intruder.

💿 In other words, you were a dumpster diver. Stalking the streets of the richest neighborhoods in the hopes of finding food and objects in good conditions. It was the perfect spot, with the dumpster of grocery stores, since these wealthy idiots couldn’t help but waste edible food or discard their phones for the newest ones.

💿 What explained your lack of paranoia of being spotted or arrested by the police was that people here could not suspect for the life of them that an individual could commit these types of nocturnal activities. They believed they were secure, surrounded by their fellow rich, so why would they bother installing surveillance cameras and alarm systems.

💿 You weren't a fool though. You always made sure to dress in subtle clothing, but from pricey brands to pass off as one of them. It’s surprising how easy it is to find designer clothes in thrift stores for less than ten dollars.

💿 Sadly, chance wasn’t on your side tonight, and you couldn’t find anything interesting. It was either a sign that these people were leaving behind their overconsumption habits or that you arrived after the garbage collectors. This last theory was sadly the most plausible one.

💿 You were so demoralized that you almost didn't take the chance to go through the trash at the last house on your list. But you decided to check it out in the end. Who knows, maybe you were going to find a golden goose.

💿 That's when you saw him resting against a metal trash can. His head was hanging low like he was sleeping. With his eyes closed, he gave off a peaceful expression, as if the nightly breeze didn’t bother him at all, which of course it didn’t affect him; he was an android.

💿 What gave away his identity was his striking pearl hair with subtle rainbow reflections and the metal looking skin on both sides of his cheeks.

💿 Androids weren't a commodity that everyone could afford and based on his look he was definitely a customized model. These guys went for insane prices, so it was baffling to see one next to moldy leftovers.

💿 You slowly approached him, as if you were worried you would wake him up and scare him away. Your suspicions were confirmed when you slowly lifted his head. This guy was shut down.

💿 You knew he wasn’t a human being, but you felt bad seeing him abandoned like a broken toy. You couldn’t leave him behind now, you at least had to check if he was still functional.

💿 You looked around. No one in sight. You had to be as quick as possible, because taking a walk at night with a backpack was fine, but holding something that looked like a passed out person was really putting you at risk.

💿 As you brought him home, you didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was a gift to a spoiled brat that discarded him the second he wasn’t the shiny new thing.

💿 You sat him up on your couch before pushing the little “on” button behind his ear.

💿 “Systeme reactivation” appeared before Atlas’s full vision was back. He turned his head to look around and that’s when he noticed you, watching him with a giddy smile.

💿 “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a Hydrotech 6000 model, personal companion and assistant. Pronouns he/him. You can call me Atlas.”

💿 You were overexcited to interact with him. It wasn’t your first time speaking with an android, but you never had one of your own, so you felt like a child in a candy store. You also thought you were very lucky that he didn’t trigger his alarm system, since you technically stole him.

💿 Unbeknown to you, the android was aware that his last masters didn’t want him anymore… that he became useless to them. The last thing he wanted was to alert the authorities and be given back to them.

💿 Every android had a safety camera that would be activated while in shutdown mode. So Atlas couldn’t do anything except be the spectator of his own imminent destruction, until you came along.

💿 He had seen how gentle you handled his unmoving body. That despite the risk you were putting yourself in, you decided he was worth saving. Proving him that he was still important, at least in one person’s eye.

💿 At that moment Atlas could feel a new objective integrating into his programme as he looked at your gentle smile: PROTECT MY SAVIOR.

💿 The following day, you were surprised he didn’t make any demand to leave or to be returned to his last masters, but you didn’t comment on it. Who were you to judge if he wanted to stay by your side? He was really helpful so it was a win-win situation for you.

💿 You still had to acclimate to having someone new in your apartment, especially one that followed you everywhere. It's like every corner you turned he would be standing there, waiting to spend time with you.

💿 “Is there something you want to do Atlas?”

💿 “I want to do anything you want me to do.” He looked at you with such a soft and delicate expression that you couldn’t be mad at him.

💿 “That’s not what I— forget it.” You sighed, while pinching the bridge of your nose.

💿 The first few nights, he watched over your sleeping form. He took in every little detail, from your breathing pattern to the way your eyes move under your eyelids. He wondered what you were dreaming about that made you look so peaceful.

💿 “I wish I could sleep too, so I could dream of you master…” He whispered into your ear, even if you wouldn’t remember it the next morning.

💿 Living with you also introduced him to basic things he never thought were possible before. The most surprising one was how human you treated him, he felt more like a roommate instead of an object. Before that he thought androids didn’t deserve this type of respect and consideration.

💿 It was weird when you insisted on cooking and letting him “rest”, despite the fact he didn’t need to. In his old life, his masters took every chance they got to make him do everything in the house, even the simplest things like feeding the dog.

💿 If he did chores for you it wasn’t because you had necessarily asked him, it’s because he felt compelled too… like something in your smiles and words of gratitude made his wire warm up in a pleasant way.

💿 He often connects himself to your computer without you knowing… He needs to make sure you don’t have any virus or hacker stealing your information! (It’s totally not because he wants to learn more about you.)

💿 He checks all your friends on social media and searches for all their information. They could secretly be a bad person, you never know!

💿 He definitely doesn’t use the fact that he was engineered specifically to help humans to his advantage. That would be immoral of him.

💿 “It scientifically shown that cuddling is good for one's mental and physical health, since the human body release toxin that—”

💿 He isn’t lying! His code literally prevents him from doing so.

💿 His immeasurable strength is also a real help when you have to go shopping, but you aren’t a fan of the attention he brings up, being a unique model and all.

💿 When you would pull Atlas closer to you by intertwining his arm with yours, because someone was eyeing him out, the android would make a small buzzing noise. Weirdly similar to purring.

💿 He hoped that you were doing this by pure jealousy, wanting to show everyone that he was yours.

💿 One night in particular, Atlas was observing you put your black branded hoodie on, his head tilted to the side. The street lights were already turned on, maybe it was a bit too late to go for a run.

💿 “Why are you going out at this hour?”

💿 “I’m going dumpster diving! Wanna come?” You said cheerfully.

💿 The second you mentioned dumpster diving he was already checking all the related information he could find about it, and he didn’t like what he saw.

💿 “In your area dumpster diving is considered illegal… You could get arrested if caught.” He replied with his usual neutral voice as his eyes flashed yellow, but you were too busy to notice.

💿 “It’s going to be fineeee. I promise. I do this like all the time.”

💿 Atlas placed himself in front of the door. “You can’t go.”

💿 “Come on buddy, I know your program doesn’t let you break the law and all, but you know sometimes it’s good to go against it.”

💿 “That is not my reason… I… I do not wish for my human to get hurt.” He looked down, his body language leaving a more vulnerable impression than before.

💿 You had to hold in a squeal of adoration, but it was impossible to stop the blood pumping to your face. Calling you “HIS human” like it was nothing and caring for your safety was enough to break your stubbornness.

💿 “Fine, I’ll stay in for tonight…”

💿 “Your body temperature has risen, are you feeling unwell? Would you like me to give you a check up? ”

💿 “N-no I’m ok, don't worry! How about w-we…em…watch a movie instead?”

💿 You made your way into the living room before he could move, hoping that your heart would calm down a bit in the meantime.

💿 Atlas smiled to himself, which was unusual for an android. They had no need to emote emotions outside of the objective of making humans more comfortable around them. But he did, because as long as you were safe and by his side he was happy.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I hope you guys liked Atlas! It took me multiple attempts before I was truly satisfied with the direction the story was going.

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dirtyvulture · 5 months ago

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The Maid - Part 3

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 3973

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: I am so glad everyone is enjoying this fic! Now we get to see who's guesses from Part 2 were correct...

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Things with Wanda have become increasingly difficult lately. Your temper inches shorter and shorter with every argument the two of you have, which seem to be almost every conversation now. After your night out with Natasha, which felt dangerously normal, you realized what you were missing with your own wife. But the two of you had been together for nearly a decade–surely there were bound to be rough patches, right?

“I have to work late tomorrow night,” you say as the two of you get ready for bed, and as soon as the words come out of your mouth you regret it.

“Late again? Really, Y/N?” Wanda shoots back. “I already made the reservation for our dinner. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Reschedule it?” you suggest, trying to hide your frustration. How many dozens of dinners (and anniversaries) had she stood you up?

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not doing that,” Wanda says, angrily climbing into bed and turning away from you. “If you can’t put the effort in to remember when we have dinner dates, then we’re not going to one.”

“You literally forgot our anniversary,” you respond, finally losing control of your temper.

“I did not forget,” she argues. “I had other plans that you forgot. And don’t use that tone with me. You’re not the one who should be annoyed right now.” Anger flares up inside you, but you hold your tongue. Arguing further with her would be pointless. You crawl onto your side of the bed and look over at your wife, balled up and small-looking under the covers.

You loved her. That was never a lie. But sometimes you wonder why you allowed her to cause you so much pain. Was it just to further prove your love to her? And how much more of it could you take?

***********************************************************************

After Natasha returns from picking up Wanda’s dry cleaning, she neatly hangs up the half-dozen dresses in the closet and begins dusting the house from top to bottom. It’s not an exciting chore, but due to the vastness of your home and the few people living in it, a lot of dust has accumulated and even she knows Wanda’s not exaggerating when she complains about her allergies acting up.

Natasha starts in your bedroom, carrying around a small stool to help her reach high places. She gently pats the dust off a plush teddy bear sitting on your dresser. She gets on her knees to brush the floorboards running along the perimeter of the room. Although the work is painfully dull, she finds satisfaction in the way her duster fibers turn grayer and grayer. She cleans the glass doors of the china cabinet with a special wipe, smiling at a little ceramic turtle perched on a shelf at eye level. She waltzes through the kitchen, which needs the least cleaning because she spends the most time there, but pauses to give special care to the rainbow-colored plastic cow looking out the window.

In the living room is a massive bookshelf that takes up an entire wall’s worth of space.Natasha doesn’t even know where to start, but she hops onto her stool and begins dusting the spines in every row. When she gets to the end of the fourth row, a title catches her eye: Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. She had read the book for the first time in its native Russian, and while it may not have been a child-friendly novel, it did bring back more fondful memories of her childhood.

She takes it off the shelf, surprised at its weight. It’s over 500 pages, but much heavier than she remembers. The front cover swings open and something big and metal falls out, nearly landing on her foot. Natasha gasps in surprise as she pulls her leg back, her eyes widening as she stares at the revolver on the floor.

She opens the book, finding a huge rectangle cut out of the center of the pages to house the weapon. Whose gun was this? Neither you nor Wanda struck her as physically violent people. Maybe it was for protection?

The garage door rumbles open.

Natasha scoops up the gun with shaking hands and puts it back in the book, shoving it onto the shelf again. She grabs her duster and continues to dust the shelf.

“Natasha? Are you here?” Wanda’s voice rings out.

“In the living room! Good afternoon, Mrs. L/N!” Natasha responds, not turning around and staring at Crime and Punishment as if the gun will go off on its own.

“Why are you dusting our bookshelf?” Wanda asks.

“I’m dusting the whole house,” Natasha answers. “Just want to make sure every area is clean–”

“You read?” Wanda interrupts.

“I can, yes.” Natasha has no idea where the conversation is going and her stomach twists in knots.

“I mean, do you read for fun?”

“Yes,” Natasha lies.

“You ever read Crime and Punishment?”

Natasha just wants Wanda to leave her alone. “Yes.”

“A little advanced for you, don’t you think?” she says, and Natasha doesn’t even feel the need to defend herself from the cruel comment. She still hasn’t faced Wanda and wonders if she’s holding another revolver pointed at her back.

But Wanda is still waiting for an answer, so Natasha draws herself taller and says, “I’m Russian. I read it in high school.”

“Of course.” Wanda shifts her weight and the floor creaks. Natasha tenses and closes her eyes. “Well, I pay you to clean my house, not read my books. So keep your hands off my copy. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Footsteps indicate Wanda is going to another room.

Natasha has never been genuinely scared of Wanda until now.

***********************************************************************

It’s laundry day in your household, another chore Natasha completely despises due to the sheer amount of bedding you and Wanda seem to accumulate. Wanda insists that she wash the sheets in every guest room, despite the fact that you and her only sleep in the master bedroom. While Natasha is certain she knows the real reason, she overheard her telling you it was to prevent bed bugs.

Still, Natasha knows better than to question your wife and falls into the routine of stripping every bed, washing one load at a time, and redoing all the beds. The laundry machine is so noisy, she doesn’t hear the garage door open, nor the footsteps down the foyer. She doesn’t listen to music while she works, afraid Wanda will accuse her of being distracted, so she hums the soundtrack to Mamma Mia.

When the next load finishes, Natasha gathers up the bedding in her arms, almost smothered by the heat from its tumble in the dryer. She precariously walks up the stairs, trying to remember which bedroom the sheets are from, when she hears a thump from the master bedroom.

Natasha freezes. She thought she was alone in the house. Maybe you had snuck by while she was in the laundry room, and clearly she didn’t learn her lesson from the last time she walked in on you and Wanda to stay away. Heart pounding against her chest in anticipation, Natasha inches towards the door and peers through the crack.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me,” Wanda moans, followed by the repetitive banging of the headboard against the wall. Natasha shifts around to get a better view of the room, straining to see what’s going on. She catches a glimpse of Wanda on her knees, moving in and out of her view, someone holding onto her waist from behind.

“I want you to put a baby in me,” Wanda pants, and her partner grunts in response.

While the two of you had no children that Natasha was aware of, she wonders if that was an intentional decision or perhaps you two were waiting for a better moment. Kids would certainly give you a reason to stay with Wanda, and maybe that was exactly what she was planning.

Natasha hates the way she keeps watching, wanting more material to fuel her never-ending fantasy of being betrothed to you.

“Honey? Are you here? I’m home!”

“I’m upstairs!” Natasha calls. She hears you tramp up the steps as she patiently waits for you in the bedroom. You poke your head through the door first, the top few buttons of your shirt undone, and although the exhaustion from work is evident on your face, you perk up when you see her.

Especially with what she’s wearing, or lack of it.

“I hope you had a good day at work, baby,” Natasha says, turning around to face you. She’s wearing the red lingerie set you bought her for her birthday. It hardly leaves her assets to the imagination and she can feel your gaze lingering on her body. She’s never felt so appreciated or wanted before.

“It was a good day that’s only getting better.” You step into the bedroom, hastening to take off your clothes. Natasha comes over to help you and you easily scoop her up in your strong arms, and she wraps her legs tightly around your hips. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you whisper, your mouth hot on her neck as you nip at her skin.

You walk forward until Natasha feels her back bump into the vanity. You rest her on the edge and spread your legs to jerk yourself to full hardness. Natasha struggles against the impatience in her core, wanting nothing more than for you to fill her to the brim. She watches the veins in your muscular arm pop out as you move your hand back and forth faster, your cock swelling to its large size.

Finally, Natasha cannot wait any longer. “I need you,” she begs, swatting your hand away and sliding forward, ready to practically fall on your dick.

“Careful, baby,” you warn with a chuckle, gripping onto her thighs and stepping forward to find the right angle to insert yourself.

Natasha sighs in relief when you enter her, holding onto your shoulders in case you get any ideas of pulling out too far. Her walls clench around you tightly, drawing a moan from you and you press your hips forward until your whole cock stretches her out. Natasha loves how much you fill her, how you soothe the empty throbbing in her. She must be the luckiest woman in the world to have you like this.

The vanity bumps against the wall with every thrust. Natasha squeezes her thighs tighter around your waist, trying to hold you in as long as possible. She runs her hands up and down your broad back, digging her nails into your shoulder blades when your thighs meet hers.

“When are you gonna put a baby in me?” she asks, her lips crashing heatedly onto yours.

You grunt with another deep thrust.

“You would look so beautiful carrying my child.”

Natasha’s blood goes cold when she hears Wanda’s partner. Because it’s not your voice.

It’s Vision’s.

She angles herself to see better and feels sick to see her stomach when she sees your wife and Vision tangled on the bed together. She can’t bear to watch another second and flees down the stairs, the bedsheets still in her arms, not even caring if they hear her.

She has to find a way to tell you. That was the least you deserved.

***********************************************************************

You stand in the dim hallway, watching as Wanda whips around, grabbing her coat and Louis Vuitton purse. “Where do you think you’re going?” you ask.

“I’m not allowed to leave the house now?” she bites back, not even looking at you.

“It’s Friday night,” you point out.

“So?”

“Friday nights are our nights,” you stress, and Wanda finally looks at you when you raise your voice. “It’s been that way for years, unless you’ve been so bored of me you haven’t noticed.”

“You can survive without me for one night,” she shoots back. “I have a dinner night with the girls–”

“Don’t go,” you say, your tone changing from anger to pleading. “Please. We hardly spend any time together since I started the new job here and–”

“That’s not my fault,” Wanda clips. “That was your decision. Moving here was also your decision, in case you forgot.” You don’t miss the way she stresses the blame on you. “You thought it would be better for your business, and you’re still in the red. I gave up my old friends and relationships to be here with you, and then you have the audacity to act like this is my fault.”

“I asked if you wanted to stay, and you said you were fine with moving,” you remind her, although you are uncomfortable at the truth of her words.

“I said I was fine moving because I thought it’d make you happy,” Wanda says. “But it looks like out of the two of us, I’m the only happy one here.”

You know it’s wrong, but you can’t help but be frustratingly jealous of your wife. Even waking up every day is now a struggle for you. You’re buckling under the pressure of work, unable to meet the deadlines or find the capital to pay your mounting debts. The only person you have to support you is Wanda, but she’s always off partying with her new friends or going to some made-up meeting meant to give her a false sense of significance. You’ve never felt lonelier, and it scares you that the only person you have may be slipping away.

“I’ll be back tonight.” Wanda whips out to the garage and clearly doesn’t want to hear any more protest from you. You stagger back and collapse onto a sofa, holding your head in your hands and feeling a burning sensation in your eyes.

Natasha peeks around the corner of the kitchen, wondering if you remember that she’s still here. “Y/N? Is everything okay?” she asks.

“No,” you say, forcing yourself to laugh. “I’m sorry if you heard any of that. That was very unprofessional of us.”

“It’s okay.” Natasha inches out so you can see her. You’re rubbing your eyes and she’s startled to realize you’re crying. Not knowing what to do, she retreats into the kitchen, grabbing a handful of rambutans from the bottom drawer of the fridge and a box of tissues and brings them to you.

You laugh when you see her offerings. You pat the sofa cushion next to her to indicate she is welcome to join you. “Have you had one of these before? I can show you how to eat them.” You peel off the furry red exterior, revealing a pearl-colored center. “You just eat this part. It tastes like a grape.”

Natasha takes one and follows your example. When she bites into the center, the taste is not as exotic as she expected but quite mild, reminding her of an oversized, fleshy grape. “It’s pretty good,” she says.

“My favorite.” You peel open another one, leaving the exterior on a pile on the table.

Natasha has another one and anxiously looks around the room, as if Wanda is still in the house. “Y/N, I need to tell you something,” she finally has the courage to say, heart pounding in her chest.

“Yes?” There’s a soft crunch as you bite through your rambutan.

“Wanda’s cheating on you with Vision,” Natasha blurts out, with no build-up whatsoever.

You are completely silent, chewing the fruit as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever eat.

“I saw them together in bed yesterday.” Natasha now realizes how foolish she sounds. What if you didn’t believe her? What if you thought she was lying in order to get you for herself? She could’ve taken a picture (as weird as that would’ve been) to provide actual proof.

“I know,” you say, to Natasha’s shock. “I know she’s cheating on me with Vision.”

“You do?” Natasha is stunned. She wonders how long you’ve known, and why you’ve never acted out on it.

“She’s cheating on me with half the fucking neighborhood.”

***********************************************************************

One month earlier…

“Need a hand?”

“No, I think I’m good, thanks!” You roll out from under your car, your arms and face covered in grease and oil. A skinny man stands on the sidewalk, surveying your propped-up car on the driveway.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks.

“Not sure,” you respond, reaching for a rag in your tool bag and wiping off your face. “It won’t start though, so I’ll probably have to get it towed to the shop.”

“Need a lift?”

“Uh…” You glance back at your empty house. Wanda was out until nightfall, although you wouldn’t put it past her to be gone until tomorrow. Despite the brand-new house the two of you had just moved into, she didn’t seem to want to spend much time in it.

“It’s no trouble,” the man insists. “I live over at the end of the street. You can call me Vision.” He comes forward to shake your hand.

“Y/N,” you introduce. “Well, I’d really appreciate it. We just moved here and my wife’s out of town right now, so I don’t have many friends I can call on here yet.”

Vision waves off your comment. “You have neighbors! That’s what we’re for, right?”

You call a tow truck and join Vision in his purple Camaro with a yellow racing stripe along the center of its hood to tail your vehicle to the shop.

“What do you do for work?” you ask, genuinely impressed with his sports car. He didn’t seem like the type to own one.

“Oh, I’m retired,” he says, effortlessly shifting the gears and the vehicle purrs in response.

“Really?” He hardly looked a few years older than you.

“Corporate life just wasn’t for me,” he says. “It paid very well though, so I retired early and bought the house out here. It’s just me though, never found the right person to settle down with.”

“It’s not for everyone,” you admit, because sometimes you wonder if you even found the right person.

***********************************************************************

After the mechanics determine your car needs an overnight stay to repair, Vision drives you back home. He drops you off and speeds down the street to his own. You find him to be a little quirky, but harmless. You head inside for a much-needed shower. When you’re done, you wrap a towel around your waist and step into the bedroom to find some clothes. You pause when the front door creaks open.

Excited to greet your wife, you rush out to say hello from the top of the stairs, but stop in your tracks when you realize she’s brought someone in.

“Oh, Y/N isn’t home,” Wanda says, her voice carrying through the foyer.

“This house is huge!” It’s Steve. Your heart bangs against your chest and you retreat to the bedroom, unsure where to hide. The closet seems like a decent spot, and you nestle in between your hanging jackets as you hear Wanda and Steve stomp up the stairs together. You peek out through the crack in the door.

“Ours was built first, but it looks like this one has a lot of improvements that we could’ve used,” Steve goes on.

“Yes, yes, it’s very nice,” Wanda says. They walk into your bedroom, Wanda behind him with a mischievous glint in her eye you recognize all too well. “I wish Y/N could be around more,” she continues, and you fight the urge to burst out of the closet. “Like you said, it’s such a big house and it feels so lonely in it without another body to keep it warm.”

You see Steve’s gaze travel along the walls and over your furniture. To his credit, he does seem genuinely impressed with your home. He always struck you as a simple man, maybe even a little bit ignorant at times. But now you were about to see if his ignorance was true or an act.

Wanda approaches him so closely you’re sure her body is rubbing against his.

“Y/N isn’t here, but maybe you can keep me company for a while?”

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve jerks away from Wanda when she puts her hands on his hips.

“We can be quick,” Wanda insists, taking off her jacket. “No one has to know–”

“Wanda, stop it,” Steve says, sounding angry. “I have a wife and kids at home and you’re married to Y/N–”

“So?” Wanda replies, and it makes your stomach clench with how dismissive she is. “I’ve been married to Y/N for four years and I’ve been cheating since day one.” She shrugs. “Honestly, the only reason I settled down is for the thrill of it.” She holds her hand up, the wedding ring you gifted her with three months’ salary glinting in the light. “It’s much more exciting to get what you’re not supposed to have, right?”

“You’re disgusting,” Steve says. “Stay away from me and my family.”

He hurries out of the bedroom, but Wanda doesn’t go after him at first. She puts her jacket back on and admires her reflection in the mirror, clearly a little frazzled by Steve’s rejection. How many people hadn’t rejected her? You always had a hunch, but had never heard Wanda admit it outloud before. How could you be so stupid this whole time?

Your body starts to vibrate with rage and you accidentally knock a jacket off its hook. While the jacket falls soundlessly to the floor, you can’t see well enough to catch the hanger and it lands with a quiet thump on the carpet. You look through the crack, holding your breath as Wanda’s head whips towards the closet.

The next few seconds are so tense you want to vomit.

But then Wanda turns back to her reflection, fluffing out her hair, and leaves the bedroom.

***********************************************************************

Your paranoia kicks in like a drug that won’t let you rest. You buy cameras and sprinkle them all around the house, in the trinkets and knick knacks Wanda insisted on showcasing in every room. The teddy bear on your dresser in the bedroom. The ceramic turtle in the china cabinet in the living room. The plastic cow on the windowsill of the kitchen window. You monitor them religiously, but it doesn’t take long for more evidence to show up.

Vision is the most frequent offender, visiting during your long nights at work or sometimes in the middle of the day. Steve never sets foot on your property again, although sometimes the camera in the potted plant by the front door picks up the conversation of Wanda trying to convince him to come over. As nice as Steve was to turn down your wife’s advances, he never came to tell you what she had tried to do with him either.

There are some visitors you don’t even recognize. And Wanda isn’t a stranger to women either. She brings over Agatha, her supposed HOA nemesis, and many of the ladies who would greet you so kindly and fawn over you every time they saw you working in the front yard. You would bet money that she was also fucking some of her girlfriends on their trips away.

And now you have it all on camera, your wife fucking multiple strangers in your own home. The proof didn’t make you feel better; in fact, it made you feel worse. All that time, effort, and money you had spent trying to cultivate the perfect relationship with her when she would turn around and fuck the first thing that looked at her.

It made you so angry you couldn’t see straight. But you knew you couldn’t act hastily. You would formulate the perfect plan to get out of the marriage and leave Wanda behind, even if it meant leaving her for dead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Whomp whomp. So...was it who you expected? Or worse? 🤭And I think we collectively owe Steve an apology.

Next part is here!

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#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader

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