#eventual pregnancy

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Trigger Warnings: Contains Spoilers: Angst with a side of crack, CEO drama, Overprotective besties, Ex-MI6 Haibara chaos, Silent menace Megumi, Trillionair MC problems, Pregnant and done with everyone, Emotional whiplash, Unhinged humor, Found family dynamics, Themes of betrayal and emotional manipulation, Media harassment, Brief mentions of past trauma (non-explicit), Characters acting unhinged but hilarious, Emotional conflict with undertones of reconciliation, Snarky banter and crackfic energy, Dysfunctional Relationships, Haibara Acting Like a Serial Killer, Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento Regret Everything, Slow Burn Karma, Reader gets the last laugh.

A/N: This chapter has it all: private revenge, public drama, bodyguards with questionable morals, and reporters who are downright nosy. Expect some absolutely unhinged banter to balance out the angst, all while following one very pregnant CEO who isn’t here for anyone’s nonsense. Don’t let the opening scenes fool you—things are about to get wilder. I’ll keep the spoilers to a minimum, but you might want to have a stress ball handy. And remember, comments are my lifeblood! If you laugh, cry, or find yourself questioning your existence while reading, please drop a note.

Chapter 10 (alt ending 2.1) - Silent Reckonings (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 11 (alt ending 2.2) - Snakes & Mirrors

Neither man spoke, but the shared look said everything: they would not lose you for the twins .

Silence blanketed the room, broken only by the steady hum of the machines monitoring your vitals.

More time passed, but neither left your side. Once the IV and the machines were removed and you seemed to be comfortable, exhaustion finally pulled them under. Gojo’s head dropped onto the edge of the bed, his hair splayed messily across the blanket, one hand protectively resting on your stomach. Nanami leaned back against the headrest, his head tilted back, arms limp at his sides—a rare moment of surrender from a man who never allowed himself to falter.

Your body shifted slightly, a faint twitch that had both men snapping awake, their exhaustion forgotten in an instant.

They didn’t move; their eyes locked on your sleeping form, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest like it was the only thing keeping them sane.

After a while, they both laid on opposite sides of you and fell asleep again, and the room settled into an uneasy peace, punctuated only by their soft, whispered apologies.

---

When you woke, it was pitch black. The air was thick with the scent of cologne—familiar. Regret clung to the room like a second skin. Your body ached in places you didn’t know could hurt, but the ache in your chest was worse: a hollow, gaping void that pulsed with every breath you took.

You were home.

Fuck.

The sheets beneath you felt alien, the fabric too soft, too clean—like they’d been stripped of the weight of memories. But they couldn’t erase everything. Your mind dragged you back to the last time you’d been here.

You’d been curled up on this very bed, smaller than you thought possible, their whispers wrapping around each other like silk cords, choking the air out of your lungs. You remembered Gojo’s voice—low, careless: “Why not? She’s asleep.”

The sheets had burned against your skin that night, and the sobs you muffled into your soul felt like they would never end. Your body curled away from their warmth; your back to the cold men, the barrier between you and the betrayal beside you. They hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe they had. Maybe they just didn’t care.

The memory struck like a hammer. You thought of the nights before it all crumbled. Nights when Gojo would crash through the door, arms full of takeout and stories he couldn’t wait to share. When Nanami would follow with tea, slower, quieter, his eyes soft as they found yours. They would pull you close, the three of you tangled together in laughter and plans, in a love that had once felt unshakable.

But love wasn’t unshakable. Love could break. And they’d proven that.

One night, before the distance became unbearable, you had reached for Gojo. Your fingers grazed his back—a quiet, desperate plea for connection. For something, anything, to remind you that you still existed in their world.

Even in sleep, he shifted away.

Subtle.

Cruel. 

Like your touch had been an inconvenience he couldn’t bear to endure.

And Nanami.

Nanami, who had always been your constant. The one who had held you together when you couldn’t hold yourself. He lay silently beside Gojo that night, his breathing steady, his presence frigid. You knew he wasn’t asleep. You knew he felt you breaking apart. And yet he turned his face—toward Gojo.

Gojo’s arm had landed on Nanami’s abdomen, and Nanami had done nothing but pull him closer with an arm under his head, firm and certain. A sight that once would have brought you comfort now left you cold, abandoned like an afterthought .

Like a shameful secret, they couldn’t wait to leave behind.

Like you were a ghost, and they were moving on without you.

Like you never even existed.

You had tugged on your earring hard; the sting grounded you in a way their love no longer could. The pain was proof that you were real, even as they erased you from their lives one touch at a time.

Did you love them so much that they had you questioning your reality, your existence without even saying a word to you? Was there a word for this type of gaslighting?

And now, here you were again.

You turned your head toward the figures beside you. Nanami’s hand rested just below your chest, his brow furrowed even in sleep, as though guilt had chased him into his dreams. Gojo’s arm draped lazily over your waist, his mouth slightly open near your belly, soft snores escaping into the silence.

Vulnerable. Peaceful.

So far removed from the wreckage they’d left behind.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to summon the warmth of their love. The love that once was. But the ache in your chest deepened, a familiar companion now, its weight as suffocating as it was constant.

But you felt nothing. No rage, no sorrow, no flicker of warmth. Just a vast emptiness.

Just the cold, hollow void where their affection had once lived. 

You wondered if you would ever feel whole again.

You had to get out from under their limbs, their bodies, their lies.

The blankets clung to your skin as if they wanted to hold you hostage, a smothering reminder of everything that had gone wrong. According to your husbands—it seemed that five of them, along with the blaring heater—weren’t enough to keep the cold at bay. Or maybe the cold wasn’t in the air but in your chest, festering like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

You peeled the blankets away, your hands trembling, and carefully lifted their arms off you. You placed Nanami’s arm over Gojo’s chest, where it seemed to belong now, and slipped away from the warmth that once felt like everything you had dreamed of.

Your feet hit the cold floor, the icy shock cutting through the haze in your mind. You moved toward the door, each step heavier than the last. Your breaths were shallow, almost gasps, as flashes of their hands snaking around your body in Norway invaded your mind. The way their desperation had bled into their actions. The way their fear had turned them into something monstrous.

Did your leaving make them go to such extremes?

Was this love?

Or were you just a possession they had lost — something they thought they owned and could reclaim whenever they pleased?

Your heart sank lower with each thought.

If they had truly loved you, wouldn’t they have noticed you slipping away?

Wouldn’t they have stopped before you became nothing but a ghost in their home?

Instead, they left you to rot in the shadows of their penthouse, forgotten in a corner like an unacknowledged rodent, an insect?

Going through the motions—taking care of their eggs?

Not even coming back most nights? Especially weekends.

You thought of the weekends they spent together, posting their outings on social media like they were the picture of domestic bliss. Like finishing the week was a victory, they celebrated with each other, never once thinking of the woman left behind.

You thought of the cold dinners and the dinners you’d often forget to eat because there was no one to care or notice if you ate, the empty bed, the sound of your own voice echoing in the silence because no one was there to hear it.

Then they didn’t even bother to notice you were gone for six weeks.

How could they? One needed to come home most nights to notice that a permanent fixture in their penthouse was missing.

And when they finally did notice, they couldn’t just shrug it off like they had shrugged you off that night when you begged them to tell you if they loved you.

No, they went straight for the one thing that brought you joy, the one thing that kept you distracted from the bleakness of your existence. They targeted the dream you had built from the ground up—the dream that had fueled you when you had nothing else to hold onto.

They went after your company. The one you had built alone.

Especially without them!

They went after the innocent people who worked there, targeting them with brutality that left you reeling. You had to intervene with Haibara and Higuruma, even in your pregnant state, when you should have been shielded from all this violence.

So what if they didn’t know you were pregnant?

Did that justify their descent into becoming terrorists just to get to you?

It had the opposite effect; instead of feeling safe, you were now terrified of them, terrified of the fathers of your babies.

But you weren’t weak. You would never let them see that fear.

Then Gojo even grabbed Nanami’s pecks mid-fight like they hadn’t learned anything. They even obliterated your reputation, making you extremely commonly known—leaving you unable to walk down the street without being noticed and humiliated. You were now constantly terrified that someone might grab you, that a mob might form to make an example out of you. All you ever wanted was to keep your life private, to enjoy the simple pleasures without becoming a target for their disdain.

Without becoming a typical CEO, up their own ass.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

Turning around meant shattering—a kaleidoscope of lost selves, and you were already a ghost.

A shell of the woman who once dared to drop her armour to let them in.

You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

If they wanted to own you, they could have the hollow echo of your name, but they’d never reclaim the woman who loved them unconditionally— the one who’d spent sleepless nights massaging their aching bodies after they returned home, broken from battles you couldn’t fight for them— not twice, not in the same breath.

That version of you was gone. You had squeezed out her last breath like a forgotten dream, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of expectation to obediently stay, to accept what they never gave. No amount of regret could resurrect her.

Toji was right— never trust the sweet-talking serpents, the ones who wrap their lies in honeyed words .

And Megumi? He saw through the facade; he knew the truth behind the smiles.

God, how you missed Megumi, the only one who understood the cost of love, the price of freedom .

Maybe this was your karma for betraying the only people who truly cared for you—the ones who stood by you while your own family beat you senseless each night, called you a whore for the simple crime of being born a girl, laughed at you when you told them you’d been assaulted as a child since six years old.

In the shadows of your past, you wondered if this pain was the price you had to pay, a twisted reflection of the loyalty you once turned away.

The thought of your best friend and his father almost brought tears to your eyes, but you willed them away; this was not the place; these were not the people you would allow yourself to be vulnerable around.

If they ever had been, those husbands of yours had died, and you were their widow now, staring down the men who’d abducted you, the ghosts of your past clashing with the harsh reality of your present.

In this modern maze of betrayal, you stood alone, a survivor in a world of whispers, ready to reclaim your shattered pieces and make them regret dragging you back.

They had always seen the gentle you. The soft you. The kind you.

The woman who laughed too easily, forgave too quickly, always saw beneath their surface and helped even if they could never really do the same for her.

The one who smiled through the pain, the one who let their words cut deep without retaliation.

Now, they would know how you became a billionaire at twenty-one, with no family, no money, just scraped knuckles and your wit. They would see the side of you that Toji raised— not by his blood . The one who taught you and Megumi that survival meant striking first and harder.

When the door clicked shut behind you, the silence of the house deepened, wrapping around you like a shroud, a reminder of the strength you had yet to reclaim.

And they didn’t stir.

Pathetic.

There was no point in running; you knew that. They would chase you to the ends of the earth. But it wasn’t fear that weighed you down—it was exhaustion. You were too heavy and tired for the chase, too hollow for the fight.

Your steps carried you to the guest room. A space untouched by their betrayal.

Your hand found the doorknob, but something caught your eye.

The ring.

That wretched ring.

It had somehow found its way back onto your finger, its weight burning like acid on your skin. The sight of it made your stomach churn.

Without thinking, you yanked it off, the motion so violent your knuckles throbbed. It glinted mockingly in the dim light before you hurled it at the hallway mirror.

CRACK!

The sound shattered the silence, a perfect echo of your splintering patience. You heard movement behind you—the groggy shuffle of feet and scared voices.

“Babe?” Gojo’s voice was hoarse, panicked.

“Wait,” Nanami’s voice followed, desperate.

You didn’t look back. You didn’t care to.

Your hand twisted the doorknob, and you stepped into the guest room. The door shut firmly behind you, the lock clicking into place with a finality that made your heart race.

“Baby, please—” Gojo’s voice cracked, his bravado gone. “Just let us talk.”

“Let us explain,” Nanami added, calm but edged with desperation.

You leaned against the door, staring at the barren room in front of you. Their voices blurred into the background, muffled apologies bleeding into the walls.

You didn’t answer. Didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. You were done wasting your energy on them.

This wasn’t forgiveness. This wasn’t understanding.

This was survival.

And you would thrive.

Climbing into bed and turning the nightlight on for the awful nightmares you had these days—you closed your eyes, letting the darkness swallow their voices.

---

Sometime later you stirred in bed, the weight of your belly making it difficult to find a comfortable position. The twins seemed to sense your restlessness; their tiny kicks were a bittersweet reminder of their presence. With a sigh, you realized the inevitable—another trip to the bathroom.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, feeling the strain in your back and the pressure on your bladder. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the nightlight. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the journey ahead.

Each step felt like a monumental effort, your swollen feet protesting with every movement. Was that oil on them?- Nevermind . The distance seemed longer than usual, but you focused on the goal ahead.

Finally, you reached the attached bathroom —thank god, because if you had to see those two right now, you’d kill a man . Inside, the light cast a soft glow as you gripped the doorframe for support. Relief swept over you as you sat down, the tension in your body easing for just a moment. The tears threatened to spill over from all the stress and hormones, but you blinked them back, determined to stay resilient. You had cried enough.

When you approached the sink to wash your hands, a glimpse of a couple of bandaids caught your eye, their placement suggesting something sinister. Fear washed over you.

What had they done? Had they tried to harm the babies? You knew they would never agree to them.

But then the twins kicked, their four little feet retreating, pulling you back from the edge of your spiralling thoughts. Your husbands wouldn’t go that far; they had too much to lose—if they harmed the babies—they would never be able to reconcile with you.

It wasn’t just your emotional assumptions—it was the fact that they would lose their leverage over you, the pretence of “ protecting you ,” that would keep you with them.

What a delusional joke.

They were using kindergarten tactics on the wrong person. Seriously? You were a CEO. Predicting bargaining chips, negotiating, and orchestrating hostile takeovers were all part of your daily grind. This was a child's play. If they thought they could outsmart you with these amateur moves, they clearly underestimated your experience or just underestimated you.

In the bathroom mirror, you caught a glimpse of your complexion—surprisingly better than you expected. That only happened when you’d been given some kind of glucose. But the needle mark on the inside of your elbow raised suspicions.

Why did they care about taking your blood? What were they testing for, and what did they really want to know?

You were too exhausted to unravel it all right now. In time, the answers would reveal themselves. You just had to keep your guard up around them.

After washing your hands, you made your way back to bed, each step a little lighter now that the immediate discomfort had passed. You settled back under the covers, and the darkness felt less oppressive. The twins shifted slightly, their movements a strange comfort. They made you feel less alone. You let your head sink into the pillow, exhaustion dragging you under.

---

Outside the door, Gojo sat slumped on the floor, his head in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing shallow. Every muffled sound you made from the other side of the door was like a knife twisting in his chest.

“She’s struggling,” he muttered, his voice raw.

“And we can’t do anything,” Nanami muttered, his voice hollow. He stood in the corner, shoulders slumped, head tilted against the wall, looking at the ceiling like he was trying to physically hold himself together. You were taking away the one thing he had always given freely—his ability to care and help.

They weren’t used to being powerless. They weren’t used to being the ones left out in the cold. Watching you struggle—knowing they had no right to fix it—was a punishment they hadn’t prepared for.

And for the first time, they realized this wasn’t a nightmare they could wake up from.

It was their reality.

And they had no one to blame but themselves.

“Let me call Shoko. She asked us to keep her updated,” Gojo said after a beat, reaching for his phone.

//

On the outskirts of Tokyo, Shoko startled awake, her face pressed against your ultrasound report. Her phone buzzed loudly on the desk.

"What?” She croaked, her voice raspy with exhaustion.

“She peed,” Gojo announced solemnly.

“Congrats.”

The line disconnected, and Shoko got up and slumped into a nearby hospice bed, muttering, “Morons,” before drifting back to sleep.

//

“Support railings?”

“Support railings.”

“I’ll order them. We’ll install them ourselves before she wakes up. And no calling any random person—we can’t let anyone know what devil spawns she’s carrying.”

“By we , you mean me ,” Nanami deadpanned, though he didn’t object.

“Of course, my big, strong husband. You know my hands are too soft for manual labour.” Gojo grinned. “Besides, I’ll be contributing by paying for it and staring at your glorious behind as you bend over to install them.”

“And you call yourself her husband.”

“Yes, in every sense of the word,” Gojo shot back, unbothered. “Also, I think your ‘efficient’ technique might help get it done faster without waking her. You know, or she might run away again.” 

---

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, pulling you out of restless sleep. You blinked, groggy, disoriented, and then you remembered again: you were in Japan.

On the wall clock, it was nine a.m.—far too late for work. But your aching body didn’t care.

You scrambled for your phone, only to realize—of course—it wasn’t there. Norway? Or confiscated by your husbands? You cursed under your breath, swung your legs off the bed, and forced yourself to move.

Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you froze at the sight before you. Mommy-and-me kind of products littered the counter. Safety railings lined every edge. The entire bathroom looked like a baby-proofing seminar.

They fucking teleported.

You sighed and went on. After your shower and skincare routine, you cracked the guest room door, peeking out like a criminal checking for the cops. 

Silence .

Faint noises drifted from the kitchen, but nothing in the hall.

The coast was clear.

You darted out, moving swiftly down the hall like a thief in your own home.

Midway, Nanami appeared like a wild Pokémon, holding a glass of something suspicious—probably a ginger shot. But you didn’t stop to inspect. Your feet moved faster than your thoughts, and you bolted past him like a child fleeing a lecture, his startled “Wait—” trailing behind you as you slammed your old bedroom door in his face.

Immature? Maybe. Satisfying? Absolutely.

The room smelled faintly of the cologne and regret. You ignored it, tearing through drawers and closets, searching for your phones.

Nothing.

But then Nanami’s phone caught your eye on the nightstand.

Foolish man hadn’t even changed his password. He couldn’t even cheat properly.

Unlocking it, you quickly dialled your numbers.

Both calls rang out to the robotic voice of Norway’s telecom service: “ The number you have dialled is currently switched off. ”

Your grip tightened on the phone. Of course, the morons hadn’t thought to bring them.

But you were nothing if not resourceful. You dialled a number Toji had drilled into your head years ago.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m back in Japan. Come pick me up for office. Bring a new phone.”

A laugh rumbled through the line. “Didn’t last very long, did you?”

“I’ll sit on your chest like a paperweight and crush the laughter out of you,” you snapped.

“Okay, okay, crazy. Megumi’s in Japan. I’ll bring him.”

There must have been a god listening to you last night. Your heart clenched at the mention of his name, but anything was better than dealing with the two intellectually challenged champions at home.

“And the media’s camped out front, just FYI.”

“Fine. Be here in twenty-five minutes.” You hung up, deleted the call log, and locked Nanami’s phone.

You sat at your vanity, forcing yourself to go through the motions. Foundation, mascara, lipstick—each stroke of the brush felt like a battle. Your hands trembled as you buttoned your shirt, deliberately avoiding the mirror’s gaze. The loose fabric offered some camouflage for what lay beneath, but getting into pants felt like a daunting task. Thankfully, you had some in relaxed fit that would make it easier.

After a quick spritz of cologne, you slipped into the heaviest, most oversized faux fur coat you could find. It still did little to conceal your enormous belly, but you took a deep breath and stepped out of the guest room, ready to face whatever awaited you.

The house was still. Too quiet.

You didn’t check for your husbands. You didn’t care where they were.

Just as your hand twisted the doorknob, Gojo’s grating voice came. “Where are you going?”

You froze, heart sinking. Before you could pretend you hadn’t heard him, Nanami’s calm but firm voice followed. “At least have breakfast. We’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

You didn’t even turn around. You yanked the door open, their startled exclamations muffled as you strode toward the elevator.

The sound of frantic shuffling behind you was almost comical—almost. Gojo tripped over his own feet, cursing under his breath as he tried to jam his socked foot into a sneaker. Nanami, in his haste, had grabbed your old slippers. The sight of his toes spilling over the edges like sad, unbaked croissants might’ve been funny once. Not now.

You didn’t care. Not as the elevator doors opened and you spammed the close button like Toji spammed slot machines. The last thing you saw before the doors slid shut was Gojo sprinting toward you, his face painted with pure panic.

“Wait, baby!”

Nanami immediately abandoned dignity, pivoting to the stairs. He bolted down them like his life depended on it, Gojo hot on his heels. Taking another elevator would not have been faster than their own legs.

The elevator hummed as it descended, a moment of quiet broken only by your heavy breathing.

Idiots. Gojo forgot he could teleport.

When the elevator reached the ground floor, you stepped out into the lobby, your fur coat swishing behind you.

//

The cursed energy hit Gojo and Nanami before they even reached the seventh floor. They skidded to a stop, their gazes snapping to Megumi below.

“Oh, come on,” Gojo groaned, slamming his palm against the glass staircase wall.

“Move,” Nanami barked, vaulting over the railing.

//

The car gleamed obnoxiously in the sunlight, a glaring testament to Haibara’s newfound wealth and complete disregard for subtlety.

Megumi straightened the moment he saw you. His broad frame now mirrored Toji’s, but his expression softened as you approached. He stood beside Haibara’s McLaren 765LT , his tall figure tense and unreadable, broad shoulders casting shadows against the sleek car. His eyes, sharper and colder than they had been in childhood, softened slightly when they met yours.

You walked towards him, your pace steady.

His gaze flicked downward, sensing the cursed energy radiating faintly from your belly. His brow furrowed. “Your…? But you… Did they force—”

“No,” you cut him off, smiling. “Nothing of the sort.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice softer now. He hesitated before pulling you into a brief, firm hug, careful around your belly. It was awkward, but it was Megumi.

Before you could respond to him awkwardly, Haibara appeared behind you, grinning like a maniac as he wrapped both of you in an overzealous embrace. “Yay! You’re pregnant! The deadbeats get to continue their bloodline. Fantastic! We missed you. He’s sorry, you’re sorry. blah blah blah, but please get in the car before the Cracked Conjurers catch up and turn this into another trending disaster within the same week.” He stepped back, mockingly serious.

You didn’t need convincing.

//

By the time they reached the lobby, you were already next to the McLaren. Megumi’s stance had shifted; his body angled slightly in front of yours, protective. His glare cut toward the approaching Maniacal Magicians .

“Wait!” Gojo’s voice cracked as he closed the distance. His long legs carried him to you in seconds, his hand darting out to grab your arm, firm but desperate. He spun you around, his wide eyes searching yours for something—anything. Nanami caught up right next to him.

“Baby, please,” he rasped. “You can’t run away again. Don’t do this.”

Megumi’s eye twitched. His voice was low, venomous. “Let. her. go.”

Haibara’s grin widened, faux cheer dripping from his tone, but he was just getting murder-happy. “Oh, good, the jujutsu bimbos are here. Too bad she doesn’t want to talk to you.” He stepped closer, adding lightly, “But thanks for showing up, I guess.”

Gojo ignored them entirely, his eyes locked on you.

You sighed, still refusing to look at either of them. “Haibara, where are we going?”

“Office, like you asked.”

You caught Megumi taking a step toward Gojo, his fists clenched. Your hand shot out, pressing against his chest. He froze but didn’t back down.

“Enough,” you said firmly, your voice stern.

Nanami by now had caught up on where you were going, his hand landing heavily on Gojo’s arm holding you hostage. “Let her go,” he said with weighted words.

Haibara snorted. “Ah, the blonde babysitter speaks. Do you wipe his tears too?”

Nanami’s jaw gritted, but he didn’t respond. Gojo hesitated; his cerulean eyes burned with desperation, hand lingering on your arm like you’d asked for his firstborn, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Nanami sharing the same but slightly more hopeful look.

“Let. Me. Go,” you said, glaring at where his arm was still holding you, refusing to make any eye contact, each word dripping with acid.

Finally, Gojo’s hand fell away, but their expressions made it clear they weren’t letting go in any other sense.

You turned and climbed into the McLaren’s backseat without another glance. Haibara slid behind the wheel, but Megumi hesitated, his gaze lingering on Gojo.

“Megs!” you called loudly, your voice snapping him out of whatever storm was brewing in his mind.

He climbed into the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. Haibara hit the accelerator, the engine roaring to life as the car shot forward.

Through the rearview mirror, you caught one last glimpse of Gojo and Nanami. They stood there like abandoned luggage, their expressions raw and hollow.

Gojo’s lips moved as he stared after you, though you couldn’t hear him. It didn’t matter. You weren’t listening anymore.

//

The roar of the McLaren’s engine faded into the distance, leaving behind an oppressive silence that seemed to echo louder than any sound.

Gojo stood frozen, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

Nanami’s composure was cracking at the edges, the tight lines of his jaw and clenched fists betraying his calm.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“She didn’t even look at us,” Gojo said finally, his voice a whisper.

“She shouldn’t have to,” Nanami replied.

Gojo turned to him, his frustration bubbling over. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means we’ve given her no reason to.” The weight of Nanami’s stare bore down on Gojo. “We’ve done nothing but hurt her, Satoru. What did you expect? That she’d forgive us because we showed up and begged?”

Gojo’s face fell further, replaced by something brittle. “I just…” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands like it would pull the words free. “I don’t know what to do, Kento.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He looked down at his hands, at the faint tremor in his fingers, and wondered if this was what it felt like to truly lose.

Not a battle. Not a mission. But everything that mattered.

“You can’t fix this with grand gestures or empty words,” Nanami spoke finally. His voice was low, laced with the kind of grief that came from knowing he was speaking the truth. “We betrayed her, Satoru. You can’t undo that overnight.”

Gojo’s laugh was bitter, humourless. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see it every time she looks at me like she’s scared of me?” He turned away, his hands clenched at his sides. “She hates us.”

“No,” Nanami corrected, his tone sharp. “She doesn’t hate us. That would require her to feel something for us. Right now, I think she feels nothing at all.”

The words hit like a blow, and Gojo staggered under their weight. His shoulders slumped, his head dropping forward as if the world had grown too heavy to bear.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then Gojo muttered, “She called Megumi ‘Megs.’”

Nanami glanced at him, frowning. “What?”

“She called him ‘Megs,’” Gojo repeated, his voice breaking. “She hasn’t called me anything since she came back. But she called him Megs. Even after he told her to die back then.”

Nanami didn’t respond. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make it worse.

Gojo laughed again, softer this time, almost to himself. “I don’t even blame her. He turned out to be right that day.”

The admission hung in the air, burning and suffocating.

“She doesn’t need us anymore,” Gojo whispered.

Nanami closed his eyes again. “Maybe she never did.”

The two men walked back to the penthouse—to at least make you lunch—side by side but worlds apart, thinking of the empty street where the car had disappeared. The silence was a chasm neither knew how to cross.

//

In the car, Haibara glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “So, are we calling this a kidnapping or a rescue?”

“Depends,” you replied. “Did you bring the phone?”

Haibara tossed a box onto your lap, smirking. “Brand new. Untraceable. I even downloaded a few games on it for you. You’re welcome.”

Megumi, still fuming, leaned towards Haibara. “Why didn’t you just block them out? I could’ve set up wards.”

“Because I didn’t think they’d act like stray dogs in a thunderstorm,” he shot back.

“They’ve always been like that,” Megumi muttered. “I should’ve punched that white-haired freak of nature.”

“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” Haibara added. “You’d have to punch him twice. Once for his head, once for his ego.”

You let out a faint snort.

“Are you okay?” Haibara asked, his tone softening.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

Neither of them believed you, but they didn’t push.

“HQ’s fifteen minutes out,” Haibara said instead, changing the subject.

You nodded, gripping the phone tightly as you set it up and changed all your old passwords. Work was the only thing that mattered now.

---

After a tense but apologetic exchange with Megumi, the car pulled into your HQ’s heavily secured back entrance. The roar of the crowd outside was impossible to ignore—flashing cameras, yelling reporters, and chaotic energy that hammered against the armoured vehicle like a storm.

Haibara let out an annoyed sigh, scanning the scene. “They’re here too. Persistent little rats.”

He reached into the glove compartment, tossing you and Megumi black baseball caps that obscured half your faces. Haibara donned his own, tugging it low enough to hide the crazy glint in his eyes.

Megumi leaned forward from the back seat. “We should’ve just gone with the helicopter.”

“Next time,” Haibara muttered, cutting the engine.

The second the car doors opened, Megumi’s elite security team—men in dark suits, built like tanks and trained to perfection—descended. Armed to the teeth and moving with military protocols, they formed a protective shield around the three of you.

The reporters swarmed anyway, desperate for a soundbite.

“Do you think your company can recover from the PR nightmare your husbands caused?”

“How does it feel to be married to two terrorists who stormed your own company?”

“Ma’am, are you still running the company, or are you just a figurehead now?”

“Have you left your husbands for the men with you?”

“Ma’am, are you pregnant?!”

The questions were relentless, barbed and ridiculous.

You didn’t flinch. Years of dealing with vultures like these had made your mask of serene confidence unbreakable.

Haibara stepped forward, his posture relaxed but predatory. His smile was polite—on the surface. Beneath it lay the threat of a man who could snap necks like twigs. “That’s a lot of questions for people who clearly haven’t touched grass in years.”

Beside you, Megumi moved like a shadow, his presence a silent menace. His broad frame created an impenetrable barrier between you and the cameras, a hand resting lightly on your back to steer you forward, not letting the vultures trip you.

One reporter, bolder than the rest, shoved a mic toward him. “And who are you to her?”

Megumi turned his head slowly, his icy gaze enough to make the reporter take a step back. His voice was calm but laced with warning. “Someone who doesn’t owe you an explanation. Now move before I turn your camera into a souvenir.”

The reporter stumbled back, unnerved, but another one yelled, “Are you replacing her husbands? You seem better qualified!”

Haibara let out a humourless laugh, glancing at you with mock glee. “Do I get to punch one? Just one. I’ll even aim for the softest one here.”

“No,” you replied dryly, though your lips twitched in amusement.

The questions kept coming.

“Ma’am, are you using these men as a PR stunt?”

“Are your husbands here today, or are they still hiding after embarrassing you publicly?”

“Are the babies of the men with you?”

That one made you pause, your gaze snapping to the reporter who’d dared to ask.

Before you could respond, Haibara’s hand shot out, shoving the mic away with just enough force to send a message. His grin turned feral. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure your next headline is about your missing teeth.”

Megumi leaned down, whispering something to one of his men. Within seconds, the security team swept through the crowd like a well-oiled machine. Cameras, phones, and recorders were confiscated ruthlessly.

One reporter, smugly scribbling notes on a notepad, thought he was safe—until Haibara snatched it from his hands. Maintaining unbroken eye contact, he calmly folded it into a paper aeroplane and launched it into a nearby fountain.

“Oops,” he said flatly, his grin widening.

“Let’s go,” Megumi murmured, his hand firm against your back.

The chaos peaked when one particularly brave—or stupid—reporter blocked your path, shouting, “Were you in on the terrorist attack, ma’am? Our sources say it was an insurance scam to profit off the damages!”

You stopped, tilting your head slightly, your expression one of mild curiosity.

“An insurance scam?” you repeated, your voice cool.

The reporter smirked, thinking they’d rattled you.

Your smile turned sharp. “Let me clarify something. My company is insured against such incidents—because I’m a realist. However, we haven’t filed any claims for damages. I paid for everything—repairs, property damages, even severance packages—out of my personal account. Feel free to verify that with your so-called ‘sources.’”

The reporter faltered, but you weren’t done.

“You’re so eager to harass me, but I see none of you going after the men responsible. They’re living their lives unbothered, while I’m treated like the villain because I’m a woman running a trillion-dollar company.”

Your gaze shifted to the reporter who had posed the question, curiosity mingling with a hint of challenge as your eyes narrowed. You stepped closer, causing the reporter to instinctively back away. “I recognize you,” you said, a smirk playing on your lips. “You’re from that charming little news channel that spread those ridiculous rumours about me—what was it again? That I used to be a man? Because no woman could possibly be this innovative as a CEO?” You gestured to your stomach, where the curve of your pregnancy peeked out from beneath your coat. “Clearly, that’s not the case.”

The crowd buzzed, whispers breaking out.

“And yes, I’m carrying their twins,” you continued smoothly. “But don’t make the mistake of seeing my children as extensions of their fathers. I will make sure they are nothing like them.”

You smiled at the reporters, unfriendly.

“So, next time you want to spread baseless rumours, try using more than half a brain cell. Someone might sue you. And it won’t be me—because I have people for that.”

You turned on your heel, striding toward the entrance with Megumi and Haibara flanking you like demons in suits. The reporters were stunned into silence, their cameras and recorders confiscated, notes destroyed, and pride in tatters.

Megumi said nothing, his eyes calculating as they swept over the crowd one last time. Whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself.

---

After addressing your employees in the sprawling courtyard, you apologized again for your husbands’ disastrous acts. The team’s murmurs had shifted from confusion at your sudden appearance to understanding—your candour and willingness to take responsibility were part of why they worked for you. You weren’t one of those CEOs who didn’t take accountability and/or fix things.

“Thank you for your patience,” you’d said, your voice calm but resolute. “This company has survived, and we’ll come out of this stronger. Now, back to work—this DLC won’t finish itself.”

A smattering of laughter followed as you dismissed them.

Once inside your office—a sleek space overlooking the city skyline—you immediately collapsed into your ergonomic chair. Haibara scanned the room, his MI6 instincts kicking in as he checked for anything out of place. Megumi moved to the large sofa by the window, setting up his laptop and pulling out his noise-cancelling headphones. Ready to start his workday for his own security solutions company.

“Breakfast?” Haibara asked, already halfway to the door.

“Something fast and edible for three-in-ones,” you replied, pointing to your stomach. “And chocolate mousse. I don’t care if it’s not breakfast-appropriate—I need it.”

Haibara smirked. “At ten in the morning?”

“Let me celebrate being the first man to ever get pregnant in peace,” you said sarcastically, shooing him away.

He snorted but left without another word.

Megumi had settled into his corner, his focus already glued to his screen. You appreciated the quiet hum of his laptop—it was grounding, steady. Unlike your husbands, he didn’t fill the silence with needless chatter or make excuses to hover. He let himself be there, letting his actions speak for themselves, and you appreciated it more than you could say.

Reaching for the intercom, you pressed the button. “Get me, Dove.”

Your assistant’s voice crackled through. “The one with the unhinged game ideas?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “Right away.”

You didn’t miss the confused edge in his voice.

Fifteen minutes later, Dove stepped in. Her oversized hoodie was emblazoned with the company’s latest title, and her caffeine-fueled energy radiated off her in waves. She fidgeted, looking like she’d been summoned to her execution.

“Take a seat,” you said, gesturing to the chair across from you. “Want something to eat?”

She shook her head quickly, her knee bouncing under the table.

You texted her department head: “ Make sure Dove eats today. If she’s caught snorting coffee beans again, you’ll find yourself with no one reporting to you and reassigned to a position where you’ll be working solo. ”

Turning your attention back to Dove, you folded your hands. “You’re the one who suggested turning my husbands into horror game villains, right?”

Dove froze, colour draining from her face. “Uh… yes. But it wasn’t a serious pitch—I mean, I didn’t think it was—”

“Good,” you interrupted. “Make it serious. I don’t care if it’s a DLC or a full standalone title. Make it as unhinged as possible. Tank their reputations if you have to.”

Dove blinked. “Seriously?”

“Excuse me?” Your tone grew authoritative, though the glint in your eye betrayed your amusement.

Her face lit up, a manic grin spreading across her lips. “I mean—yes! Absolutely. This is going to be so good. Thank you for letting me be my true self!”

“Don’t disappoint me,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “HR will be in touch about your promotion.”

But Dove was already halfway out the door, mumbling to herself about game mechanics and voice actors, her hoodie strings flapping wildly.

From the corner, Megumi smirked faintly, his eyes flicking up from his laptop. “You’re really giving her free rein on this?”

“She’s good. Let her cook,” you replied simply.

You shot a quick Slack message to the CHRO: “ Process Dove’s promotion immediately. Increase comp to match senior developers. She’ll be working on something high-risk, high-reward. ”

Soon after, Haibara returned with bags of food, setting them on your desk with a flourish. “Breakfast for three and two,” he announced.

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s safe, right?”

“Triple-checked,” he said, pulling out neatly labelled containers. He handed you one.

Megumi glanced up. “Got anything for me?”

“Of course. You’re still growing, after all,” Haibara teased, tossing him a box.

Megumi caught it with a deadpan expression, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help it, Grandpa. It runs in the family. You know, like your prehistoric wisdom.”

Haibara feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “Prehistoric? I prefer vintage. Besides, I’m not that much older than you!”

“True,” Megumi pointed out. “But you are older than her, and I’m younger than her, which makes you practically a fossil. Tell me, what was it like inventing fire? Did it take a lot of R&D?”

“Fire?” Haibara snorted. “Back in my day, we didn’t even have matches. We had to walk uphill both ways, barefoot, to borrow fire from the neighbour’s cave. And don’t get me started on dial-up internet.”

“Dial-up?” Megumi shook his head, smirking faintly. “Sounds like medieval torture. ‘Your honour, I sentence you to AOL.’”

Haibara, already chewing, gestured wildly. “Well, at least our self-esteem didn’t hinge on likes and TikTok dances. You lot cry over one bad comment. Back then, we had entire poke wars on Facebook!”

“Poke wars?” You interjected, trying to suppress your laughter. “That sounds like a euphemism for something wildly inappropriate.”

Megumi tilted his head, faux-serious. “Sounds more like an HR summoning waiting to happen.”

You snorted mid-bite, turning your laugh into a mini-coughing fit. “Ugh, I think I just choked on the weight of your outdated humour.”

Haibara grinned, patting your back. “See? Even the food agrees I’m intellectually superior.”

Soon the conversation shifted as Haibara leaned forward, his grin turning mischievous. “So, about that horror game, I overheard the buffering girl muttering about. What if we make one of your husbands cry every time the player loses? Real tears. Full mocap. I’m talking cinematic trauma .”

Megumi chuckled softly, not looking up from his laptop. “Too subtle. Make them bosses you can only beat by insulting them. The more personal, the better.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “Cross-platform compatibility, unhinged marketing, and emotional catharsis? We’d break pre-sale records.”

“Or start a lawsuit,” Megumi added dryly.

“Then we’ll counter-sue for emotional damages,” you said smoothly, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “And knowing Dove, she’s probably already plotting how to make a multiplayer mess with five DLCs.”

“Remind me to never piss you off,” Haibara muttered, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you replied, chewing.

After that, the three of you ate in companionable silence, the kind only years of friendship could create. Haibara cracked jokes about the absurdity of corporate life, Megumi made dry remarks about Dove’s inevitable rise to cult status, and you—despite yourself—felt the weight on your chest lift slightly.

---

When you left your office to meet a senior VA, Kenjiro Tsuda, the gaming HQ was buzzing with its usual chaotic energy. Mechanical keyboards clacked furiously, RGB lights glowed like a cyberpunk rave, and somewhere in the distance, someone blasted a remix of “ Look at this graph Gone Wrong ” mashed with death metal.

As you walked by, conversations quieted, heads turning in your direction. Employees who were already working doubled down, typing like their lives depended on it. Others grabbed random papers, pretending to read them. One was even reading the in-house lunch menu with the intensity of a SWOT analysis.

“Morning, boss!” a junior developer called out, waving a little too enthusiastically.

“Morning, Jack,” you replied, nodding with a small smile but not slowing your stride. Haibara and Megumi flanked you, their imposing presence drawing whispers.

“Uh… who’s the muscle?” someone muttered, eyes wide.

“Security detail,” another replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“They’re built like they maxed out strength stats at character creation,” a third chimed in.

“Is that the Exo suit guy? Someone please get me his number!” a product manager whispered, practically swooning.

Haibara caught wind of that. He flexed his bicep without removing his hand from his trousers, and pulled his sunglasses down just enough to shoot her a wink. He continued walking alongside you and Megumi, exuding effortless charm.

The product manager nearly fainted, clutching her keyboard like it was a life raft.

---

By noon, Dove had already assembled a team. The conference room was packed, with employees chatting animatedly as they waited for you to start. The meeting ran smoothly, and by the end, the team had transitioned into post-meeting chatter, unbothered by hierarchy.

That was when Francisca leaned across the table, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Boss, about turning your husbands into NPCs... cool if we give them negative stats?”

“Like charisma set to zero and a special ability called gaslighting,” someone added.

“Or make them lootable!” Haibara chimed in, grinning. “They could drop useless items like half-baked apologies and expired promises.”

Megumi smirked faintly, still clicking away on his laptop. “Program them to flee when faced with accountability. Though the AI coding might be too complex for that.”

You couldn't help but laugh. “If this game ever happens, you’re all getting royalties,” you said with a smile. "Sam, please open a mailing account so employees from all departments can send in their ideas and share the access with Dove’s team to sort them out,” you instructed your assistant, then turned to the team. "Now get back to work before I change my mind.”

The team groaned but obeyed, their chatter following them out.

---

The calm didn’t last.

Around two p.m., the courtyard was alive with laughter as the rare winter sun cast a golden glow over your employees. Conversations ebbed and flowed, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. You sat with your CHRO and CFO, enjoying a rare moment of levity that softened the lines of tension on your face that had settled in recent months. The three of you were discussing the budget allocation for the 'villain energy' game, as Dove had deemed it in the absence of an official title yet.

“Why are there clowns at the entrance?” Your CHRO whispered, leaning in.

Your stomach sank.

“They’re not clowns,” your CFO muttered darkly. “Clowns have jobs.”

The courtyard fell silent as Nanami and Gojo entered, a contrast to the lighthearted energy moments before.

Your employees exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh or run. One bold soul—a wildcard who always seemed to be on the verge of a write-up—stood up.

“Can we help you gentlemen find the exit?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, short-lived as Nanami’s cold gaze swept over them. Conversations died mid-sentence. People stared at the walls, the ground—anywhere but at the two men who had turned their vibrant courtyard into a mausoleum of awkwardness.

You didn’t look at them. Rising from your chair with the help of your CHRO—damn these low sofas and your swollen ankles—and began walking toward the building. Your heels clicked sharply against the floor, each step deliberate.

“Baby, wait—” Gojo’s voice cracked.

You froze for a fraction of a second.

Is he fucking insane?

After everything?! The gall!

Of course, he would; he hadn’t held a job where he wasn’t the all-mighty in his life.

It was humiliating behaviour in the workplace, and Nanami didn’t even bother to correct him.

The sheer nerve of it sent heat creeping up your neck. To call you that here, in your office, after nearly destroying it?

You didn’t turn around. You wouldn’t dignify his words with a response. Your stride grew more aggressive as your CHRO and CFO fell into step beside you. The conference room door clicked shut behind you, sealing them out.

Megumi materialized like a shadow and with a twist of his neck motioned for the men to follow him to the farthest corner of the courtyard.

Once the men had followed him in, he crossed his arms, eyes colder than the winter air outside. “You’re trespassing.”

Nanami, the unpaid diplomat, held up the bag. “We’re just here to deliver food.”

“For who?” Megumi asked, his voice flat.

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his desperation bubbling over. “For our fucking wife ,” he snapped.

Haibara walked in behind Megumi, his presence casual but razor-sharp. He carried his own takeout bags, the logo from your favourite date-night-only restaurant glaringly visible. Nanami’s gaze lingered on it, his chest tightening.

“Why are they here?” Haibara asked Megumi, his tone light but loaded. “Didn’t you want to shoot them if they showed up again?”

Megumi shrugged. “I’m getting there.”

He exchanged a look with Haibara—silent, efficient, unspoken understanding passing between them—that the men had teleported inside somehow and they could not kill them anymore since they gained so much attention on social media, especially with you pregnant with their offspring. It would be too stressful for you.

Nanami felt it like a slap. The connection between them was something even he’d never had with Haibara.

“Hello, Haibara,” Gojo said, his charm forced.

Haibara barely glanced at him, unimpressed.

Nanami’s voice softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through. “You’re still going to act like we weren’t friends?”

Haibara tilted his head, his smile nonchalant. “Hmm. Don’t remember.” He handed a bag to Megumi and gestured toward the conference room door. “Let’s go.”

Gojo looked genuinely baffled. “How do you not remember me? I’m me!”

“That explains it,” Haibara replied without missing a beat.

Nanami would have surprise-snorted if the situation was different. Haibara was never the one who’d understood sarcasm, even if it hit him with a pan. But this Haibara was cunning.

Megumi smirked faintly. “Maybe you should get your name tattooed on that billboard you call a forehead.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. “She hasn’t been eating properly. She needs homemade food.”

“She’s fine,” Haibara said, holding up his own takeout bag. “See? Covered. Now go cry somewhere else.”

“Please, Haibara,” Nanami said quietly, his tone raw. “We just want to help.”

Megumi’s glare turned lethal. “Help? Like you ‘helped’ her move to another country, isolated her, and left her dependent on you, only to abandon her when she needed you most?”

The words hung heavy in the air, cutting deeper than anything else could have.

Haibara sighed dramatically, breaking the tension. “Let’s not waste time. Give me the food, and we’ll decide if it’s worth sharing. If not, I’m feeding it to the pigeons.”

Gojo started to protest, but Haibara held up a hand. “And no, you’re not feeding the pigeons yourselves. They deserve better.”

He turned to leave, but Nanami’s voice stopped him.

“Yu.”

Haibara froze mid-step.

The name hung between them; a thread tied to a past Nanami wasn’t sure still existed.

For a moment, Haibara didn’t turn around. Then, slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “What?”

Nanami hesitated, his voice softer now. “You really don’t remember me?”

---

Within the hour, you sat in front of the camera, the live feed streaming to major news channels and platforms. The room was stark and professional; the company logo displayed discreetly behind you. Your hands rested on the table, folded loosely, your expression calm yet unyielding. You had opted to do this in only your shirt, no coat, for reasons the world was about to learn.

The light on the camera blinked red.

“Good evening,” you began, your voice steady but weighted with unspoken truths.

A/N: Thanks for making it to the end! Now, a quick poll because I need to know where your chaos alignment lies: Let me know your choice in the comments! Bonus points for creative write-ins😏

Next chapter 12 (alt ending 2.3) - Not Heroes (Tumblr/Ao3)

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Taglist Open.

[dykedvonte]

Jimmy killing himself because he knows he is incapable of living an life without Curly and knows that in the miracle chance they were found and saved they would not let him have contact with Curly and he hates the idea he'd actually have to take responsibility.

Even if he lied, its only a matter of time before Curly is capable of showing or telling what a monster he really is, no matter what delusions tell Jimmy Curly would never do that to him.

He understands that he was the monster in everyone's worse moments but refused to accept that at the end. So he made sure that he died without the possibility of it being actualized as he's the only one that saw death as an escape rather than a release. Jimmy truly didn't believe Curly had anything to escape from even after everything and let him have what he perceived as glory as the sole survivor and thus Captain of the Tulpar.

[samanthamulder]

THE X-FILES (1993-2018)

SEASON EIGHT — I will go on record to say this: that I have seen things that I cannot explain. I have observed phenomena that I cannot deny. And that as a scientist and a serious person it is a badge of honor not to dismiss these things because someone thinks they're BS.

[kkcauseway]

Forever Chapter 2

Changed forever.

Chapter Summary I Life after moving isn't all it’s cracked up to be. Baby time happens much faster than expected, but your family rally round you in your moments of need. Chapter warnings/content I Tw- depictions of childbirth- premature baby 3weeks early. So much fluff. Making our beautiful Joel Miller a daddy again. Caring!Joel. Bill and Frank are the most amazing supporters. Word count I 7.6K

Next I Series masterlist I Main masterlist

In the days following your move Joel’s been busy constantly rearranging furniture to make each room to your liking. Not allowing you to do the most menial of tasks, which with you nesting and constantly looking for jobs to do around the house doesn’t help. He has to give in eventually, knowing you’re itching to keep your mind busy allowing you to get yourself ready for the impending arrival. You mostly stick to organising baby clothes into colours to wash, putting them away in specific orders and spaces which are labelled once dry, and cleaning, it keeps you happy and busy for long enough to not have Joel worrying about you hurting yourself whilst he deals with the big heavy tasks. And this is how it stays as you count down the days till babies arrival -or at least that’s how it’s supposed to be.

🍓🍓🍓🍓

When he’s occupied one morning you get to work on one of the jobs round the house you know he’d go mad at you for doing.

“Please explain to me what in the hell you’re doin?” He’s stood in the doorway staring at you, hands on his hips as you’re practically lying on the floor scrubbing away at the skirting board.

You look over your shoulder at him still scrubbing there’s no way to hide what you’ve been doing, “there’s just so much dust! I don’t want our child breathing it in!”

“Woman, get off your knees now” he moves towards you to lend you a hand getting up. You take it gladly, because as much as you don’t want to admit it, your back is hurting, and you think you’ve got a headache coming. “I can do that; you need to be relaxing there’s so many other jobs you could be doin’ that don’t take half as much strength as that.”

You laugh as he walks you to a dining table chair and forces you to sit.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack if you’re not careful.” He strokes your cheek.

“Sorry” you’re still giggling.

He shakes his head before moving over to where you were. He groans as he gets to his knees and drops his hand into the bucket of water to grab the sponge. He looks over his shoulder at you “s’it just this one you want doin?”

You nod “yes please.”

“See baby all you gotta do is ask.”

“Yeah, but you’re busy.” You feel bad constantly getting him to do things for you even though you know he won’t mind.

“M’never too busy for you baby” he turns back, reaches for the skirting, and begins scrubbing away. His top lifts slightly as he leans and gets to work. Revealing the bottom of his lean back.

“Mmm, you look good like that Miller.”

“You checking me out?” He grumbles still scrubbing.

“Maybe” you giggle. “I mean you’re hot regardless, but watching you do housework increases that tenfold” you both begin chuckling at that. After a moment you rise, walking over to him “I’m gonna go get some water, coffee?”

He looks to you “now that’s why I love you, yes please” and the smile he gives you is so genuinely so full of love. He really is the most amazing man.

As he turns back to the task at hand you hear him mumble under his breath as you leave the room “gonna be the death of me” you can’t help but begin laughing again. You know you make him mad, but you can’t help it. You love him.

You return a few minutes later drinks in tow “your drink sir.”

“Why thank you, ma’am,” he smiles as he takes the mug of black coffee from you and sipping. “Why are you drinkin’ water anyway, you hate it?” He quizzes as he pulls the mug away from his lips.

“Just got a bit of a headache starting” you shrug.

Concern laces his face; this is why you don’t like telling him when you don’t feel one hundred percent because he automatically worries “you okay?”

“I’ll be fine” you smile but he doesn’t seem convinced.

As the headache progressively gets worse you opt to take some of Frank’s homemade herbal pain relief in the hopes that’s all your body needs to finally get rid of it. You’re forever grateful for Frank’s wonderful medical mind and his need to learn, because he’s spent years investigating and learning about herbal remedies for all kinds of ailments.

-

When the headache doesn’t shift you decide an early night is what you need. It’s only about seven, but you make your way up to bed. Not having any dinner because you aren’t up to eating. You hope with sleep the pain will go and you’ll wake up refreshed.

-

It’s fitful, constant tossing and turning even if you do manage to sleep. After having been asleep for an hour or so Joel comes to check on you. Sitting down on the edge of the bed close to you as he begins stroking your cheek. He doesn’t miss how hot your skin feels.

His touch is enough to wake you and when he looks at how pale you look, he’s worried.

“How you feelin’?”

You groan as you open your eyes “my head hurts bad, and I feel a bit sick.”

“You want somethin’ to eat? You haven’t had any dinner that won’t help baby.”

“Maybe I don’t know.” You groan as you move to sit up in the bed “just don’t feel good.”

“I’ll go make you somethin’ just somethin’ small, but so you got some food in ya okay, anythin’ you want?”

“Yeah okay. Erm…” you begin giggling.

“What baby?” He smiles at you.

“Please don’t think I’m gross” you chuckle again “but can I have Strawberries and ketchup? Please beg Bill for some of his strawberries.”

“Can you what?” the disgusted look on his face has you cracking up.

“I’m serious, that’s what baby wants.” You shrug.

“Strawberries and-” he scoffs shaking his head “you’re crazy.”

“Nu uh, your daughter is the crazy one, she’s telling me she wants it!”

“Okay baby. Whatever my girls need” he kisses you before moving away.

He returns a small while later with some of Bill’s precious strawberries chopped up and some ketchup.

You can’t help but groan as you eat it “Jesus Joel this is good."

He chuckles watching in awe “whatever you say.”

“You should try it…” you smile wholeheartedly at him, wanting him to join in on the fun.

“Baby you’re lovin' it n I’d never take food from you. Just eat.”

“Well, more fool you” you chuckle as you take another mouthful.

You manage to eat it and keep it down, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. So, you think sleeping really is the only thing that will help. Joel decides to stay in bed with you, holding you close to him and that helps a lot. Just knowing he’s near is enough to calm you. He always knows exactly what to do to help.

You wake a few hours later still safe in Joel’s arms, but you don’t feel better yet. Carefully and quietly, you move out of his hold and make your way to the bathroom to splash your face with some water. Your headache is mostly gone, but the sick anxious feeling remains.

When you starts feeling super-hot again you make your way downstairs to go and sit out on the porch for a while. There’s a slight breeze out and that’s exactly what you need right now. The wind chime sings into the night quietly as you sit in the peace of the incredibly early morning; you can’t help but feel overwhelmed. And that’s when it hits you what’s wrong. You’re not ill, you’re stressed, almost overwhelmed by how calm life suddenly is. It’s like you’re actively seeking for something to be wrong because your life has never ran so smoothly. You’re just waiting for a really bad moment to happen. You can’t help the tears that begin to fall. You curl in on yourself on the bench as you will yourself to get all your emotions out.

When Joel wakes not long later and finds the bed empty, he’s immediately concerned. He searches the whole house for you eventually meeting you outside. You’re almost hysterical as he moves to sit next to you grabbing you close. He shushes you as he strokes your hair gently. “Baby what’s wrong?” He questions softly as you begin to calm down.

“Are we crazy?” You laugh wetly looking to him the sadness evident in your eyes.

“Crazy” he laughs “for what?”

“For having a baby, for choosing to bring life into this world.”

“No. Why would you think that darlin’?

You sigh, the thought alone making you want to burst into tears once more. “Well what sort of life will she have?”

He grabs your hands “well, we don’t know till it happens baby, but we are never gonna strive t’give her any less than the world, are we?”

“Nu uh” you shake your head as you sniff.

“No, we won’t. She’s gonna have the best life possible, so stop worryin’ that pretty head o’yours. Everythin’s gonna work out I promise baby. I know you’re worried even if you’re tryna hide it, and that’s okay havin’ a baby is a big change and it’s stressful, but we’re ready. Remember we’ve only been here three days, we’ve had three days of total calm after havin’ t’watch our backs all hours of the day for months, it’s a big change baby. It’s normal how you’re feelin’.”

You are ready to have this baby. You’ve known that from before you even made it to Bill and Frank’s, but it’s scary. Knowing you’re responsible for bringing new life into the world. Into a world where you have to survive in a completely different way to just needing to work to put food on the table and live comfortably. There’s a lot of twisted people in this world. That all that weight is on your shoulders, that your body is the one that has to go through it.

Thankfully Joel is the best support you could ask for.

“I hope you’re right.” You mumble.

“Baby I am you know I am. You’re just tired and stressed out, you need t’sleep. You’ve obviously been overdoin’ it t’keep your mind busy and you’ve been neglectin’ your feelin’s, you’re gonna make yourself sick if you keep doin’ that. So that stops now, okay? You need t’take it easy.”

You know he’s right “okay, I will I promise.”

“Good” he cuddles you close kissing your temple “you ready to go back to bed?”

You nod, and he kisses you once more before rising taking your hand in his to help you up.

-

When you wake the next morning cuddled up to Joel feeling one hundred percent again you think you must’ve seriously overdone it, mix that with how stressed you’ve been you genuinely were making yourself ill. So, you heed Joel’s advice to take it easier from this point forward.

🍓🍓🍓🍓

It’s only when you’re six nights into sleeping in your new home that there seems to be a bit of a life blip.

-

You wake with a gasp clasping at your lower stomach, breathing heavily. The painful wave slowly washes over your body, it’s baby time you can tell instantly. You’d been waking through the night with what you were thinking were back spasms but now you’re sure, they were contractions. Your heart pounds at the thought of it being too early, even if it is only a few weeks, it could be a whole lot worse, but even so, it’s early.

You’ve been nothing but surprised this whole pregnancy hasn’t been worse considering what you’ve been through and the world you now live in. Yet it’s like now that you have proper relaxation, a happy safe home, helpful people surrounding you, your baby is ready, your body is ready, you’re ready. It’s baby time…

Surrounded by the darkness of the room you reach to turn the bedside lamp on. Looking to Joel; he’s sleeping soundly next to you, unusually he hasn’t woken up in feeling you suddenly no longer in his grasp. It’s taken him a really long time to be this comfortable in his slumber. Fitful sleeps lessening more and more as time goes on, so you hate so much that you’re now going to have to wake him.

You eventually bring your legs over the side of the bed, your back to Joel as you take in a few deep breaths before trying to gain his attention.

“Babe.”

…

You clasp your stomach again “baby.”

…

With no response, mid catching your breath, you grab a pillow and throw it back at him. Catching him in the face.

“Joel!”

“Hmmm” he finally responds, instinctively reaching out an arm for you with his eyes still closed, realising the space next to him is empty, he opens his eyes.

Catching his bearings on where he is, he sees you perched on the side of the bed. He shoots up scooting over to you. Wrapping his arms around your body, resting his chin on your shoulder. “What is it baby, what’s wrong?”

“I think it’s time. Fuck it’s too early” you let out a puff of air.

He jumps away from your body stunned. “Shit what... really, are you sure? Fuck we need t’wake Bill and Frank, we gotta get everything prepped!”

You can’t help but let out a small chuckle before turning to look at him whilst bringing a hand up to stroke his face, “I think so.” You sigh “the pain comes in waves and it’s bad, but fuck she’s coming too early, I mean I’ve got like what three weeks to go, that can’t be a good sign.”

“Baby, how many books have we read on this stuff, I know this is scary, but anything after thirty-seven weeks is classed as full term. You’re over thirty-seven weeks, plus most babies don’t come on their due dates! They’re either early or late, try not to worry too much about that.”

“I know but it’s still early babe,” your voice breaks “she could be inside growing for another three weeks at least. I’m scared… I just want her to be okay. I want to keep her safe.”

That’s your mantra ‘keep her safe’ and it’s fucking scary.

“Don’t be scared gorgeous girl, we are all gonna help you through this, okay? She’s gonna be fine and so are you we will get through all of this together baby, okay?”

“Okay yeah.”

“Now let me go get Bill and Frank” he kisses your shoulder before moving to jump out of bed.

“No baby I don’t- sigh- I don’t think it’s fair waking them yet, or Ellie. There’s no point doing it any earlier than we need to. If we wake them now, I guarantee we are all gonna be up for hours and it’s not gonna be fun for anyone… we’ll all end up tired and cranky. We know what to do to prepare and to help my body to get ready, we know how to help me get through the contractions, so let’s leave them for now.”

“Okay” he whispers. “So, what d’you wana do baby?”

You sigh “I don’t know I guess just see how we go. Wait it out.”

“Fuck… I can’t believe this is happenin’” he laughs stroking a palm over his face, still puffy with sleep.

“Me neither” you giggle. “Ugh, I need to stand my backs killing” you move groaning as you stand from the bed turning to face him. You grip the underneath of your bump as you sway your hips slightly from side to side, Joel looks to you flustered and sleepy. Eventually throwing his head back onto his pillow on what can only be perceived as a stressed huff. You can’t help but laugh at him “awh you’re so handsome” you smile crawling back on the bed leaning over his body to kiss him, “I’m sorry I had to wake you” you mumble against him.

A look of disgust appears as he parts his lips from yours and looks into your eyes, “did you really just apologise when you’re havin’ our baby?”

“I guess I did” you laugh “force of habit, I don’t like it when you don’t sleep properly.”

“I know baby and I appreciate that” he reaches up to stroke your cheek, “but there’s more important things goin’ on right now than makin’ sure t’get my eight hours” he laughs again.

“Yeah, I guess” you huff, gazing around the room briefly “it’s so quiet here, you know I forget sometimes what’s going on beyond those gates. I forget how”- you’re cut off as a pain overcomes you. “Fuck” you whisper softly sitting back on your heels rolling your hips. Joel sits up with you, reaching round to rub at your back as his other hand envelops yours allowing you to squeeze. “Just breathe baby, y’got this.”

“Mmm, it hurts” you moan.

“You’re doin’ good baby” he presses at your back as you breathe through it. Letting out a big sigh of relief when the pain is finally gone.

“Do you think a bath would help you darlin’? I can go run y’one if you want.”

“Ooo, that might be quite nice actually. Will you stay with me when I’m in there though?”

“Course wasn’t plannin’ t’leave you anyways” he climbs out of bed with a groan not bothering to get dressed in any way, leaving you on the comfort of the bed. He turns on the water and adds some rose smelling bubble bath Frank had found especially for you.

After checking the temperature of the water, the way, he used to do all those years ago for Sarah, he returns to you, grabbing your hands and helps you to stand gently. He looks into your eyes a second as you try to maintain your balance smiling before rubbing your stomach. Standing behind you, one hand on your hip, he helps you walk to the bathroom.

“You, okay?” he questions tying your hair out of the way, you lean against the sink whilst he does.

“Yeah, I’m okay” you smile looking to him through the mirror before focusing on your bump “hoping the bath will help me relax.”

“I’m sure it will baby, will work wonders, ‘specially for your back.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” You begin moaning as another contraction takes over, swaying your hips in an effort to help you through the pain as you take deep breaths. Joel now finished tying you hair presses at your back “just breathe baby, breathe.”

Once the contraction is over you stand tall and turn to look at your husband. You smile and cup either side of his face. “Honestly Joel, I’d be so lost without you” you press a kiss to his lips before pulling away yawning, “ugh it’s like half two in the morning, great time to choose to be born bubba” you poke at your bump.

“She’s keepin’ us on our toes.” He rests a palm onto your solid bump.

“Yeah… well I mean she could choose to keep us on our toes at a reasonable time, you know after a full night’s sleep” you jest.

Joel chuckles as he holds your arms tightly helping you to lower into the bath. You let out a soft moan as your stomach hits the water. Feeling instant relief from the warmth. When you’re settled down, Joel gently grips your chin and brings your face to look at him as he presses a long kiss to your lips, but when you don’t respond how he expects he pulls away in order to search your eyes for what’s wrong, but you’re keeping them firmly shut “what is it baby?”

You let out a wet shuddering sigh “fuck, I’m just scared her coming early means somethings wrong.”

He brings a hand to cup the side of your face and you lean into it wantonly as he kneels beside the bath “baby look at me please” he smiles at you as you finally open your eyes “does it feel like somethin’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so, -sigh- it’s weird actually because it feels right almost, like she feels safe and wants to come.”

“See, then if it’s her time, it’s her time. She’s ready to let us meet her baby and we’re more than ready t’meet her ain’t we?”

“Yeah, we are” you whisper.

“Been waitin’ a long time f’her to make an appearance” he gently strokes your stomach in the water. “So, there’s no bein’ scared, we’re ready for this.”

His words are so relaxing to you as you lean back allowing the warm water to cover you up to your neck. You take deep breaths as you allow your mind to wonder, imagining your little family. After an hour of relaxing between contractions, when your body begins pruning you decide to get out. Joel helps taking your hands in his as you lift one leg out and to the floor before you move to take the other out, gasping when it’s halfway out. You gaze at the floor as you stand Joel looking with you, the clear fluid with hints of red that has just left you has you both startled. “Fuck my waters” the realisation makes your heart race.

“S’okay baby, it’s good means we’re gettin’ there, just breathe, let’s get you comfortable and then I’ll clean this up, okay?”

🍓🍓🍓🍓

After dressing you in a baggy shirt and leggings he leaves you on the comfort of the bed. He quickly changes into some clothes himself before stopping off at Ellie’s room knocking on the door gently before opening it and walking in. Ellie is quick to respond sitting up, grabbing her knife, flicking it open and turning on her light.

“Jeez gonna go on a stabbin’ party?”

“Shut up” she groans sleepily, eyes squinting from the brightness of her bedside light. “You know you can’t sneak up on me like that! I did the exact same thing to Riley; I literally told you about that last week! What’s wrong, it’s the middle of the fucking night Joel?”

“Baby’s comin,’ we need you t’run and wake Bill and Frank up.”

“Shit!” she hops out of bed fast, desperately searching the room for shoes and socks before turning to him quizzical look on her face “wait it’s too early, isn’t it?”

“Only a couple weeks, it’ll be fine baby girl, hurry and go get Bill and Frank, okay?”

“Yeah, I will, is she okay?”

Before he can respond you’re screaming his name, begging him to come back, he doesn’t hesitate to leave Ellie’s room finding you hunched over on yourself as you moan through a pain. “Fuck Joel, they’re getting so bad, this seems really fast!”

“It takes as long as it takes baby if she’s ready to come out, then we’re ready to get her out, v’sent Ellie to get Bill and Frank they’ll be here soon. We’re ready for her baby don’t be scared.”

“I just want her to be okay, that’s all I want. Her to be healthy, I’ll never forgive myself if she isn’t, I don’t want my body to fail her” you whimper as the pain begins to deplete; Joel holds you close.

“She will be baby, she will. Your body hasn’t failed her, it will not fail her” he kisses the top of your head.

By the time Ellie returns with Bill and Frank you and Joel have made your way into the living room where Joel is laying out some things ready. You’re pacing the length of the room sucking on your water bottle as they get into action to help.

“Guessing it’s showtime!” Frank beams

“Seems that way!” you laugh.

Frank is laying out some towels along the sofa as Bill and Joel ensure everything is organised. Your pacing stops, you place the bottle down and you rest your palms on the back of the sofa as your contraction takes full throttle, the groaning that leaves you has Frank quickly at your side pushing against your back.

Joel reassures from across the room, “remember your breathin’ baby, yeah good baby that’s good.”

You can’t believe the amount of support you have in your time of need. As your gaze searches the room whilst you breathe through the contractions you can’t help but admire how these three men before you are doing everything in their power to help make this as easy a process as possible. Everyone is running on the love you all have for this baby- it’s transformed into pure energy. Everything is so organised.

“Okay?” Frank quizzes holding your waist as you stand straight again with the pain finally gone.

“All good” you smile.

With a makeshift bed made on the sofa, waterproof protective sheets topped with blankets cover it as well as the floor, leaves there with nothing left to do but wait. Joel is at your side the whole time pushing on your back as and when you need it. Helping you to breathe through the pains. Reassuring you when it gets too much, and you need help calming back down. Helping with your random bouts of shivering- where you suddenly find you’re unable to stop your whole body from shaking, but you aren’t cold. There’s no reason for you to be cold it’s the middle of the summer. “Hey Darlin’ you cold?” You shake your head no “I- j-just can’t - stop-p shaking.” Evidently nerves and anxiety are getting the better of you, you can feel it. Your whole body is going into a kind of fight or flight response as you sit there shaking. Joel holds you close rubbing at your side to try to coax your body to calm down. “S’okay baby, all part of gettin’ her here that’s what you gotta focus on, gets us closer to meetin’ her.”

🍓🍓🍓🍓

Hours have now passed evidently as the light is now creeping in through the sides of the curtains and the birds have begun chirping.

“Joel, I think we should go on a walk?” you decide remembering reading about how exercise helps in practically all the books you read.

“A walk really, now y’sure?”

“Yeah fresh, July dawn air, plus exercise is meant to help you progress. I really just want her out now.”

“She’s right!” Frank adds smiling at you both “walking will work wonders.”

“Okay, if that’s what you wana do baby that’s what we’ll do.”

As it’s a warm July morning despite it being so early, there’s no need for coats, instead you just slide on your shoes and begin taking a slow walk around a small section of the town.

“You, okay?” Joel questions quietly.

You take a deep breath before replying “I’m okay, I can’t believe we’re actually doin’ this.”

“I know, it’s crazy. Wasn’t anything like this when we had Sarah, we were straight in the hospital and they looked at us like we were clueless kids, I mean we were young yes, but we knew what we were doing, well as much as the next couple… They weren’t nice to Sarah’s mom one bit, and I couldn’t wait for us to get outa there! Doin’ it like this is so much nicer, it’s real, surrounded by good people who only wana help.”

“I couldn’t imagine having this baby in the QZ, or even in a normal hospital if the world hadn’t gone to shit… I love that it’s like this. I might be in fucking agony, but I love this.” You’ve only been walking for about 15 minutes not having got too far almost constantly needing to stop as you contract. “Can we go back home now? I need to sit down.”

“You sure baby ain’t been out f’long?”

“I know but I’m feelin’ a lot of pressure I just wana sit down.”

“Pressure? Like you need to push?” He startles eyes bugging.

“No” you can’t help but chuckle as you look to him “not yet, but just there’s all this pressure in my back. It hurts more being up on my feet. I kinda thought it would help but it definitely doesn’t, I think no matter what I’m gonna be uncomfortable until she gets here now.”

“Okay. We’ll get you home baby, get you comfy again.”

You slowly walk back to the house arm in arm with Joel. He hasn’t left your side, completely ignoring his own needs to ensure you’re okay. He’s been awake for hours, just as long as you but he isn’t complaining. He’s being absolutely perfect. The sort of example of how a man should treat you and you can’t wait to tell your child this story.

Once back in the house he helps to ease you back onto the couch. The room is empty, and so much brighter with the curtains now open. You can hear chatter coming from the kitchen. “They must be eatin’ breakfast” Joel utters as he cuddles you close.

You push off him to look him in the eye “go join them you must be starving.”

“M’not leaving you baby.”

“Joel go eat, please.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, it’s not like you starving yourself is gonna make this baby come any faster” you chuckle before gently shoving at his chest “go eat now.”

“You want anythin’?”

“No thank you, I’m good I’d definitely throw up if I ate something right now.”

“Want a drink or anythin’?” he stands but is super reluctant to leave.

“Joel, we are gonna fall out in a minute! Please goooo and look after yourself for five damn minutes, I’m okay I’ve got a massive bottle of water here” you laugh as you point.

“Okay baby, holler if you need me?”

“I promise, now go and eat!”

He jokily salutes as he walks into the kitchen disappearing behind the door.

You breathe slowly through the next few contractions swaying your body from side to side to try to alleviate some of the pain in your back. They’re agonising and there’s hardly any space between them at this point, but you’re managing it as best you can. Finding ways to cope, trying not to scream the house down (too much).

You begin to shift uncomfortably as you feel a load of sudden pressure down below, vastly different from the pressure you’ve been getting in your back. You can’t help the way your body begins to squeeze and the pain that overcomes you is absolutely excruciating. Then you feel it, that sudden agonising urge to push.

“JOEL!” You scream as tears coat your cheeks. He smashes open the kitchen door and comes running to the room. Bill, Frank, and Ellie close behind. You’re in too much pain to speak to any of them your hearts beating too quick to register what they’re asking of you. It’s the only thing you can hear, the thump of your own heart echoing through your body. You feel as Joel comes to sit next to you grabbing your hand, but your entire body is tight as the pain rips through you, and you can’t help but scream. All composure lost.

As the pain slowly begins to alleviate you hear as Frank seems to address Joel “I think it’s time.”

When you stop screaming and it turns to panting your tear-filled eyes scan the faces looking back at you. Your lip quivers as you struggle to steady your breathing.

“Okay baby?” Joel softly questions “that’s it just breathe calm yourself down.”

You nod. Looking to him through glossy eyes “I need to push” you whine.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I really need to push I can feel her coming out!”

Joel and Frank both jump, Bill seeming to be the only adult in the room who’s still composed, and Ellie just watches from the sidelines, a nervous spectator.

“Okay baby we gotta get y’leggings off.”

You nod in response as Joel kneels at your feet “want me to cover you up?”

“I don’t care just get them off so I can get her out!” you scream again pushing at the waistband of your leggings as a pain rips through you. Bill rushes to your side sitting as he gives you one of his hands to squeeze using his free hand to rub at your back.

When the leggings are off your body Joel coaxes you to move closer to the edge of the couch so you’re in an optimal position to give birth.

Joel looks up at you as he rests his hands over your knees “Just listen to your body baby if you need t’push, push.”

“I’m scared!”

“I know baby, I know, but she’s finally comin’ n’that’s what matters.”

“Exactly flower” Frank presses a kiss to your forehead before also kneeling before you giving you one of his hands. “You squeeze onto mine and Bill’s hands as much as you need to and let’s get this baby out. I know what I’m doing so don’t worry okay?”

Joel and Frank both kneel on the floor before you watching the progress, Bill had readied towels and hot water before coming to be your personal squeeze toy. When a pain starts, you scream and push, you can’t help but cry too. Never ever having felt pain like it. You push for the ten seconds that Frank counts, stopping with a gasp as you throw your head back panting.

“Joel come up here please” you beg.

“But I thought you wanted me here; said you wanted me to catch her?”

You move your head back looking into his eyes “hold me please” as you begin crying again.

“Okay baby girl”

He has a quick conversation with Frank before moving to sit the other side of you taking your other hand from Frank’s. You rest your head on his shoulder as he kisses your head, much preferring it this way. “You got this baby” he whispers softly. Joel acts all composed but you know deep down he’s as scared as you are and rightfully so, he doesn’t need to be down that end stressing he should be with you helping you and enjoy seeing your baby come into the world the same way you are. Frank had already said multiple times he was happy to be the sole person to help deliver, but you always liked the idea of Joel being there too. “M’right here baby, you got this m’so proud of you” he mumbles into your hair.

“Her heads coming” Frank announces as you continue to pant heavily. “Push hard with the next pain” and so you do, giving it everything you’ve got as the contraction takes over. Feeling the head coming out further you take a quick deep breath before pushing again not waiting on another pain to get it completely out. You do this until the head it fully out gasping loud as you throw your head back. You’re about to go again when Frank interrupts “just keep panting don’t push yet” he demands suddenly. “What, why?” He doesn’t reply but reaches to hold the baby’s head. “Frank?” You plea whispering. You can’t see what he’s doing but can feel as his fingers move.

“S’going on Frank?!” Joel growls.

“Cords wrapped round her neck just easing it off” you watch the concentration on his face and the relief that washes over once he pulls his hands back away “okay you can push when you’re ready. Give me a nice big one okay flower gotta get the shoulders out.”

You nod taking a moment to compose yourself before pushing again, panting heavily as you feel the sweat that coats your face drip, eager for it all to be over so you can meet your beautiful baby. You know you have to push a lot harder to get the shoulders out and you’re more than ready. After three more agonising pushes, screaming loudly as you grip onto the men either side of you. “Push, push, push, that’s it she’s coming!” Frank exclaims you feel as the baby slips free, crying instantly as you gasp with relief. Frank quickly places them against your chest as you lean back against the couch. He places a towel over the tiny body as you hold them close, tiny but loud whimpers matching yours. Joel sits back with you placing a palm to his new babies head. You can’t stop crying, he can’t stop crying, emotions way too high “she’s here, oh my god she’s here!” You cry.

“You did it baby, you did so good” Joel praises kissing your forehead his own tears forming “Oh she’s so beautiful” Joel whimpers.

“Oh my god she’s so small” you utter eyes glossy as you stroke at her back, chest still heaving from what you’ve been through.

Minutes pass in what feels like seconds and when everyone’s tears have subsided, and yes everyone does include Bill. Ellie breaks the silence “well?”

“Well, what?” Joel counters looking over his shoulder at her as she moves closer to get a look at the baby.

“You’re still saying ‘she’ does that mean it’s confirmed?”

“Oh yeah, best check huh?” Joel chuckles looking back to you.

You begin to laugh too gently easing your body forward to sit straight Joel helping you to do so. When in position you cradle your baby’s body in both palms as you bring them off your chest. They squirm slightly as they’re moved, you pull them away from your chest quickly observing the tiny body and as expected; it’s a girl…

“Beautiful little angle girl” Frank whispers stroking a finger over her tiny little hand.

“She’s gorgeous beaut” Bill praises aside you.

You look to Frank before also flicking your eyes to Bill. “Honestly thank you both so much for this, for all of this, you two gave me life, you’ve allowed me to live out my dreams in this fucked world. I love you both so much.”

Bill moves close to your side brining you in close to his body “we love you too, always.”

“Ouch” you suddenly wince. Feeling a stabbing pain down below, you’re already feeling so much going on down there, but as you feel something coming away it hurts all over again.

Frank stokes at your leg “take it easy, sit back for me flower gotta get the placenta out, it’s not gonna be pretty” you nod carefully leaning your body back keeping your legs spread so he can work as you admire your crying daughter as you cradle her to your chest again.

“Oh, I know honey you’ve had a busy day huh?” You stroke her back softly, laughing when she doesn’t let up her cute sobbing “yeah that’s it you tell em.” You continue to hold her close willing her to calm down and then she does. Turning the noises she makes into little coos.

“Joel look at her” you whisper as you place a kiss to the top of her head.

“She’s absolutely stunnin.’ You did so amazin’ gettin’ her out.”

You breathe a much more content sigh as you really take a moment to process what you’ve just done. Exactly what it is that your body’s been through. Your heart hurts with the amount of love you’re feeling for this tiny bundle on your chest. Frank gently clamps the cord and once white Joel has the honour of cutting it.

“Joel why don’t you clean her up, get her in a nappy and some clothes before she gets cold and starts screaming again. Best to get her comfy before then huh? We know exactly what her mamas like when she’s not happy so let’s not have her getting that loud again” Frank looks up briefly with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Frank, you love me way too much to mean that” you chuckle softly before kissing your daughter’s head.

“You know I do” he winks before looking back between your legs again to focus on the matter at hand.

Joel strokes your head gently to gain your attention “you okay if I take her baby.”

“Yeah” you mumble sadly, placing another kiss to her head before he very carefully picks her up. It makes you cry again as you watch him love his new daughter; hold her for the first time and kiss her forehead gently.

“Hi, my beautiful girl, your momma and I have waited a long time for you, and we’ve picked out the cutest little outfit for you.” He utters quietly as he walks over to the changing table. You watch it awe at his ability to parent, at how natural it all is to him. He makes conversation with her the entire time he’s paying her attention, it’s obviously in his blood that he’s meant to be a daddy. And even if it has been over thirty years since he was last a daddy to a newborn, it’s as though nothings been forgotten. Down to the most minute of details, he’s amazing.

Bill kisses your forehead whilst you wait admiring Joel work from a distance “I’m so proud of you, I really am you did amazing.”

You turn to look him in the eye as tears threaten release once more. He quickly brings his thumb to wipe the escaping tears away. “No more tears now, it’s over and a new chapter of your life is starting.”

“I just still can’t get over the fact I did it and that I got to do it here, with my whole family around me, somewhere safe, so full of love.”

“Trust me when I say we’re honoured you chose to have her here, we’ve both never been so excited for something. You gave us both so much purpose in life beaut, I know you always say we saved you, but you saved us just as much.”

As you begin sniffling, he pulls you close to his chest, stroking your arm gently as he places another kiss to your head.

“Here she is” Joel announces returning after about fifteen minutes with your clean daughter in a little pink floral baby grow. Way too big for her tiny frame. You’d picked out a blue and pink baby grow ready for when you knew what gender your gorgeous baby was.

Bill is still holding you close as Joel begins speaking “now mama, we got her all dressed up for you, but it’s a bit too big so her feet don’t go where they’re supposed to just yet, they don’t reach” he chuckles as he admires his daughter all scrunched up. Mittened hands held close to her face as she stares up at him.

“Placentas out. You wana move to lie down flower?” Frank questions as he brings a blanket over your legs.

“No, I wana feed her first so I’ll just sit back and try that first.”

“Come on beaut I’ll help.” Bill stands quickly helping you move into a better position propping pillows up around you so that you can feed her comfortably. He then begins helping Frank to tidy away. You quickly take your top off and Joel helps to put her back into your arms. She immediately starts fishing around for your nipple and with Joel’s help placing her in a position to take it into her mouth she latches quickly. It’s painful at first and you can’t help flinching, but you get more comfortable with every suck. Joel covers your other breast back up with a blanket, so you don’t feel as exposed and sits where Bill just was as they get to work cleaning. He doesn’t leave your side through the feed.

“I still can’t believe she’s here” you whisper stroking a finger over your daughter’s cheek as she guzzles content whilst Joel leans his head on your shoulder to be as close as he can.

“You did it baby, you did so amazin,’ and I love you so much f’giving her to me.”

“Awh” you turn to look him in the eye smiling “I love you too, so much” you lean in to kiss him, and he meets you halfway.

After about thirty minutes of feeding, an even 15 minutes on each breast she begins showing signs that she’s full. “I think she’s done baby.”

“She did good, bet she’s all nice and full now.”

You gently pull her away from your breast and Joel helps cover you back up. She scrunches her body together evidently tired. “Will you burp her I’m scared” you look to Joel.

He chuckles lightly “baby you won’t hurt her I promise.”

“But she’s so small and you’ve done it before you know what you’re doing I don’t. I don’t want to do anything wrong.” You can’t help the way your eyes begin filling with tears.

“Hey baby no, none of that” he wipes the tears from your eyes “you won’t do anythin’ wrong; you learn as you do with parenting. Trust me you can do so much preparing, so much reading, but until you do you have no idea what you’re doing. Take it from me I was young, way outa my depth, but I did it and loved every fuckin’ second just like I’m gonna again. And I’m always gonna be here to help. We will help each other we both have loads to learn. Okay?” He smiles as he reaches to take your daughter from your arms “just watch what I do okay baby, I promise you won’t hurt her.” You nod as you watch him perch your tiny daughter on his knee holding under her chin as he keeps her back straight tapping and rubbing firm but not too hard. Your daughter looks unimpressed and scrunches her face angrily as her daddy taps at her back. It doesn’t take long for her to let out a loud belch and he then brings her to his face, places a kiss to her forehead before lying her so her head sits on his shoulder.

“You’re so good with her” you stroke at your daughter’s head as he pats her bottom gently.

“You’re good with her too, a lot better than you give yourself credit for.”

“How can you know that she’s about an hour old” you chuckle.

“Trust me I know. You’re an amazin’ mama and m’gonna tell you every single day."

Next I Series Masterlist I Main masterlist

[beachyserasims]

Geneva Island Legacy┃Chapter four┃Imagining Things

~ Transcript ~

To Be Continued in Chapter 5

Shoutout to @lynzishell for inspiring me from this post

Beginning / Previous / Next

[tadpole-apocalypse]

This has been in my drafts for months I’m just releasing it so I can be free:

***

Thinking about Shadowheart and Halsin getting together post game in her little cottage core ending.

After her mother passes away she starts to fret about her dad being left all alone after she dies and gets a little bit of baby fever. She approaches Halsin to be the father with no expectation of anything further; she knows his lifestyle and he’s busy at the rebuilding of his old settlement. She’s fully prepared to raise the child by herself.

Halsin agrees but after she gives birth it ends up being twins and he just…stays for a bit to help out on the farm and with the babies, she’s not far from Reithwin so he can still get there quick by paw or wing. And then 20 years pass and they have 5 kids and are just like, well I guess we’re in love now!

[valewritessss]

I’ve seen someone say that Sally was selfish and inconsiderate for telling Percy they need his room for Estelle???

[misstictart]

Can you tell us more about Giulietta? Would love to hear about involvement with the mob, and her ill-fated relationship with Harold... And about Claryce's relationship with her. I imagine there's a lot of baggage there.

Of course! And yeah there's definitely a lot of baggage, might as well call it a cargo!

Giulietta is Fat Tony's older sister (by 5 years of difference) and the previous leader of the Mob - later on nicknamed "La Mama" for the way she often spoke of her daughter.

(Fun fact: the necklace she wears here is a locket necklace with a picture of baby Claryce!)

Giulietta's past

She wasn't meant to lead the Mob at first, as the legacy was meant to be given to her little brother when he would be old enough. She didn't mind, in all her honesty. Her dream was to open her own Italian restaurant, as she loved cooking! But her parents' sudden passing when she was 15 (in a gang-related attack that she sadly witnessed) changed all the plans, and she took over- both to protect her brother, who she felt was too young to carry such responsibilities, and as a personal decision, as she swore to avenge her parents' death. Which she did. And she didn't stop there. And to everyone's surprise, she became an even fiercer leader than her own father was, not hesitating to resort to torture or murder when things didn't go her way. Her catchphrase for such occasions (and, ironically, more mundane ones) is "Now listen, darling..." (which could be interchanged later with "Now listen to mama...").

Giulietta and Harold

She had a few husbands; at best, she'd break up with them, at worst, she was a Black Widow. Harold Whitman was probably about to meet the same fate, except that... Giulietta got pregnant. And if she knew one thing from her own parents' loss, it's that she refused to leave her baby without a father (and, if you asked her, Harold wasn't too bad; she used to like his brutal honesty and his overwhelming confidence). However, if you asked Harold... it was a bet that didn't turn his way. He only stood because 1) he didn't want to be a dead man 2) it was the opportunity to have a son to raise for his legacy, as other women tended to ditch him - no wonder why). Fast forward to present time - Giulietta was too busy to properly take care of her daughter, and Harold didn't get a son. No one was happy about this! Surely this won't have any emotional impact on their child, right? Yeah, no, you know what this did to Claryce already.

Leaving the Mob

Giulietta didn't mean to stay this long as a leader. But her childhood trauma, as well as the determination she earned as the years went on made her less likely to hand over the title (even if she did share it with Tony, with who she often worked as a team) but the most important decisions were left to her. ...Until the day she received her daughter's distressed call. This felt like a waking-up call. She dropped everything to move back to Texas. Both to keep an eye on Harold, and to emotionally and financially support Claryce as she recovered from her burn out so she could start over her studies to find a new career. Frankly, she will never forgive herself for letting down her daughter - she was convinced she would be safer with Harold than with her and the Mafia's ordeals - and to this day she still has trouble letting Claryce stand on her own feet. This is why a few months after Claryce had moved back to Springfield, she divorced Harold and returned to live with her brother.

Giulietta and Chiara (Claryce)

While Claryce is happy her mother cut ties with her father, she still wishes she wasn't so overwhelming with her love and also accepted her as the person she grew up to be rather than pushing her to become her own idealised daughter. No, she won't pursue her mother's dream to own a restaurant (she's an awful cook). No, she won't give her grandchildren (she can't have kids). And no, her favorite color is NOT purple like hers, as she claimed to Fat Tony when he asked her what color to paint the walls of Claryce's flat. The sad truth is that Giulietta knows little to nothing about Claryce - what she really likes, her dreams, her ideals... And the reverse is just as true, except Claryce refuses to acknowledge the lives her mother (and her uncle) had taken away for their own affairs. And yet, slowly but surely, they'll learn to understand each other a little better as time goes on. Even if Claryce (and her loved ones) still think her mother is nosy.

Too nosy.

B - "I truly appreciate your concern, but let's not rush things- I believe Claryce has a say in the matter-" G - "Aww, what a gentleman you are! Do you want to see her baby pictures? My favorite is the one where she-" C - "MA, STOP THIS ALREADY--"

Giulietta today / in the show (link to her character reference)

Ironically, as opposed to her past, Giulietta would be your local Italian-American grandma who loves gossiping, putting her nose where she shouldn't, and making sure no one passes hunger (Claryce especially loves her carbonara pasta, although Giulietta is mostly known for making the best lasagna of the city).

Sometimes her bossy temper resurfaces, but nothing that would lead to her awful past ways. Speaking of it, if you asked her, you'd be stuck listening to hours of her old stories - tales of love, tales of crimes, or just saying how much she loves her daughter... But hey, you'd get to have a free meal, so here's that.

Oh, also. She has a rivalry with Luigi, who constantly tries to learn her secrets - while she's upset a guy who's not Italian gets to live her childhood dream.

Isn't she a criminal still, though...?

She is! She'll still have a say sometimes when Fat Tony needs a piece of advice, but she'll never get herself involved in the Mob's affairs. Unless she happens to be there - and she'd be able to defend herself just fine (she always keeps her trusted gun under her skirt). As to why she's not in prison or hunted by the police, well....... I'm still not too sure about that. Perhaps she faked her death before moving to Texas, or something of the likes. I still need to think about it. But the idea of an old Mob leader running free while guys like Snake or Bob get arrested does sound fitting for the humor of the show.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Trigger Warnings: Contains Spoilers: Angst-heavy, Mentions of neglect and emotional trauma, Medical themes (unconsciousness, pregnancy complications), Body horror (distorted pregnancy elements), Minor violence (tension with cursed techniques), Discussions of abortion.

A/N: Damn, after the last chapter, I really struggled to piece this one together, but here we are! The drama is hot, Shoko wants to move to Mars, your husbands are stoopidos (bless their dumb little hearts), and I hope this chapter wrecks you in the best way possible. 😘 Buckle up, besties—this one’s a ride!

Chapter 9 (alt ending 1.5 Final Part) - The Shadows We Bury (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 10 (alt ending 2.1) - Silent Reckonings

“Just go,” you said, your voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

Nanami’s face fell, the weight of your words crashing down on him. “We can’t just walk away,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “We love you. We want to be here for you. And the babies.”

You wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, your body trembling from the effort of holding yourself upright, the weight of their presence suffocating. “I don’t need you. We don’t need you.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying the pain you’d tried so hard to hide.

The finality of your words made them both freeze, their faces pale and stricken.

You turned your face away, unwilling to look at them any longer. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing.

(alt ending 2.1)

But this time, Sukuna was late by just a few seconds, and your body betrayed you again.

The world tilted, colors smearing into each other as if your mind had finally decided to nope the fuck out of reality. The ground rushed up to meet you, but the darkness came first—silent, absolute, and oddly merciful. Your body gave out before you could muster the strength to fight it, leaving you limp and defenseless. The last thing you felt was the faint impression of arms catching you, strong, but you were already gone, spiraling into unconsciousness before you could berate whichever one of your deadbeat husbands had the audacity to touch you.

Husband’s POV

“Satoru, teleport us out. Now!” Nanami’s voice was tight, his arms cradling your unconscious form with a gentleness that belied the panic bubbling under his calm exterior.

Gojo hesitated, his six eyes scanning over you. Outwardly, there were no immediate injuries—your breathing was shallow, your skin dull, but nothing explained the oppressive weight pressing on his chest. He could see everything except the scars etched deep into your soul, the ones he and Nanami had carved there through neglect and failure.

“She said to leave her,” Gojo muttered, his voice almost uncertain.

“She’s pregnant and unconscious!” Nanami snapped. “We’ve already failed her. Leaving her now would be the final nail in the coffin. Get us out of here, or we’ll never be able to make this right.”

Gojo didn’t argue. The hesitation drained from his frame as he stepped forward, his fingers tracing sigils onto the ground, circling himself, you, and Nanami. Rising to his full height, he intertwined his fingers on opposite hands in an ‘x’ and clapped his palms, the sharp sound reverberating through the room. A flash of cursed energy engulfed the three of you, swallowing you whole.

//

Sukuna’s POV

By the time Sukuna reached your apartment, all that greeted him was a fractured floor and the faint remnants of strong cursed energy dissipating like smoke. His lips curled into a snarl.

“Fuck!”

//

Japan

The three of you materialized in Shoko’s infirmary, your limp body still cradled in Nanami’s arms. Your head lolled against his chest, sliding back slightly, but Gojo’s hand shot out to support it before your neck could strain.

Shoko, mid-bite of a sandwich, froze. The half-eaten food dangled precariously from her hand as she processed the scene unfolding before her.

“What the—” she began, her words muffled by bread.

“Help her,” Nanami urged, lowering you onto the nearest stretcher with painstaking care.

The sandwich hit the bento as Shoko sprang into action. With disinfected hands and gloves on, she began her examination. Her fingers found your pulse, and her gaze swept over your form. First, she checked your airway, breathing, and circulation, ensuring the basics were stable. Satisfied with the ABCs, she moved on to your heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation. Recognition flickered in her eyes; she knew you from somewhere, but a nagging feeling tugged at her mind—something she was forgetting to discuss with the men, likely a consequence of her excessive all-nighters.

Her eyes flicked to your obviously pregnant belly, her mind racing. "There it is.” She didn’t need her stethoscope to detect the strong cursed energy signatures emanating from your womb.

Without looking up, she asked, “Aren’t you both suspended? Didn’t think they’d let you back so soon after the whole internal terrorist thing.”

Neither man answered.

Shoko’s gaze drifted to your face, recognition dawning. “Wait a minute. You both stormed her office! You never told me you two were married, let alone to a fucking MacKenzie Scott variant. But... she's been vocal about not wanting children in the media. Which one of you is responsible for this?” She gestured at your stomach.

Nanami flinched, guilt radiating off him in waves. “We’ll tell you everything later, but right now, please focus on her condition.”

Gojo, less practiced in humility, shrugged with forced nonchalance. "You can fangirl later, Shoko. Although I didn’t know Yaga was so gossipy.”

Shoko’s glare could have peeled paint. “If I wasn’t trying to keep my hands clean right now, I’d break your teeth. I have internet, dumbass. Just because I don’t watch TV doesn’t mean I’m blind to the cringey TikToks your students send me. Now, tell me what you two did to her.”

Gojo opened his mouth to respond, but Nanami’s quiet voice came first. “We failed her.”

Shoko’s gaze softened briefly before she refocused on your body. The cursed energies surrounding you were erratic, fluctuating between malevolent and passive. She leaned in, scanning for patterns when sudden, faint indentations rippled across your abdomen—like unseen palms pressing from the inside. They vanished as quickly as they appeared.

She recoiled, a shudder running through her. Gojo steadied her, holding her shoulders.

“That’s been happening,” Nanami murmured. “We don’t know why.”

Shoko didn’t respond. Her expression hardened as she motioned for Gojo to roll the ultrasound machine over. He jumped to obey, grateful for something to occupy his hands.

Once the machine was in place, Shoko gestured for Gojo to step aside.

Her hands moved to remove the fabric of your thin nightgown but then turned sharply to glare at the men standing behind her. She caught them staring at your stomach.

The men suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to look anywhere but at you. Gojo fixed his gaze on the ceiling fan, examining the dust particles on its blades, while Nanami scrutinized the curtain as if verifying its thread count.

“Get out,” Shoko hissed.

Neither man argued. They retreated but hovered just outside the door, their cursed energy leaking anxiety into the hallway.

Shoko turned back to you, her focus sharpening as she carefully unbuttoned a section of your thin nightgown, exposing your abdomen. The room’s lighting felt oppressive, the warmed gel she applied glinting under the faint glow of the monitor. She adjusted the machine, selecting the obstetric preset and fine-tuning the depth and gain to focus on your reproductive organs.

As the screen flickered to life, the rhythmic sound of heartbeats filled the air.

Outside, the men froze, their hearts pounding in sync with the two heartbeats echoing from the monitor—a soft presence of the life they had created together, but also a stark reminder of the fragile state of their relationship with you.

Nanami's face remained a mask of calm, though his hands were clenched into fists. Gojo, on the other hand, stared blankly at the wall, lost in thought.

Inside, Shoko’s breath hitched. Two grotesque growths protruded from the surface of your uterus, their fleshy masses pulsating faintly. Tendrils extended like parasitic roots, wrapping around the uterine walls, their texture uneven and wrong.

Her hand trembled as she continued, scanning deeper. The fetuses came into clear view, and Shoko’s stomach turned. Their forms were distorted—limbs too long, spines twisted unnaturally. The development was horrifyingly advanced, organs forming far too quickly for a typical gestation. Their growth was accelerating at an inhuman pace, the implications rattling her composure.

Shoko forced herself to document everything, measuring the abnormal structures and recording the fetuses’ sizes and shapes. The tendrils appeared to be feeding on your body, leeching energy to fuel their grotesque growth.

Once she finished, Shoko printed her findings, wiped your stomach clean, and disinfected the equipment, her mind racing.

Disposing of her gloves and sanitizing, and stepped into the hallway, grabbing both men by their hair and dragging them into the adjacent room.

Nanami, guilt weighing him down, didn’t resist.

“What the fuck?” She hissed, her voice razor-sharp.

“We… found out today,” Nanami admitted, his tone heavy with regret.

“Found out what?” Shoko snapped.

Gojo yelled, rubbing his head once she let go. “We didn’t know she was pregnant! She had a hysterectomy!”

Shoko stared at them, unblinking. “You’re telling me the two of you didn’t even know she was pregnant until today?”

Nanami spoke, his voice laced with remorse. “We didn’t notice until she left, and we found her in Norway today.”

Shoko snorted, folding her arms. “No wonder she left you both. I feel zero sympathy.”

Gojo's voice cracked. “Is she okay?”

Shoko sighed, crossing her arms. “She’s stable. Fainted from a panic attack.”

Both men let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

“She’s carrying twins,” Shoko continued, her tone unnervingly calm. “You’re both biologically their dads.”

For a moment, both men were silent, their faces slack with disbelief. They knew it, but confirmation was something else. Then, like a switch flipping, Gojo’s mouth stretched into a grin that looked halfway deranged. Nanami’s jaw relaxed, his hands twitching at his sides, but neither of them spoke.

“I need some of her blood to understand somethings better,” Shoko said, more as a formality than a request.

Both men nodded, and Shoko walked back in. Disinfecting her hands again, she donned a glove and tied a Velcro wrap around your arm, eyeing where your vein was. She reached for a syringe, muttering, “Just a quick blood test.”

The air shimmered around her, heatwaves dancing like a mirage, but Shoko knew better. That wasn’t heat.

It was Gojo’s Infinity.

No, not his. The twins’.

She didn’t even get close to your skin with the needle.

A translucent, shimmering blade—pure Ratio—slashed through the air, nicking her forearm. Blood trickled down her wrist. Shoko hissed, jerking back. The blade dissolved into nothing, but its message was clear.

“You’re not even born yet,” she hissed wide-eyed, wiping the cut with a gauze dipped in disinfectant and covering it with a band-aid.

The twins had surrounded their mother with layers of Infinity and Ratio—a fortress no one could breach. And who could blame them? They’d inherited Gojo’s paranoia and Nanami’s quiet wrath—a deadly combination.

Shoko exhaled sharply and strode to the infirmary door, yanking it open. “Get in here,” she barked, her surprise at their protective instincts momentarily overshadowed by the urgency of the situation.

Both leaning against the opposite wall snapped to attention.

“What’s wrong?” Gojo asked as they walked in, his voice soft.

“Where do I start?” Shoko crossed her arms, glaring at them. “She’s got Infinity wrapped tighter than your damn blindfold, and every time I get close, your kids try to fillet me with Ratio. They’re defending her like I’m the enemy. Care to explain why your kids are homicidal maniacs before they’re even born?”

The men exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting to confusion. Nanami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, while Gojo fidgeted, his usual swagger completely gone.

“We… unintentionally ignored her for months and were sleeping with only each other,” Nanami admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

“What?” Shoko snapped, disbelief etched on her face.

“Then we kind of chased her around the world and abducted her,” Gojo murmured, his voice barely audible.

Shoko stared at them, unblinking.

“She fainted while she was angry at us, and we didn’t know what to do, so we brought her here,” Nanami said quietly, his guilt evident.

“So you two were too busy screwing each other to notice she was pregnant for almost six months?!” Shoko spat, her words venomous. “And now she’s here, unconscious, with two ticking time bombs in her womb, and you’re acting like—”

The room trembled. The lights flickered.

The twins weren’t happy.

“Stop yelling,” Gojo hissed, glancing at you, his six eyes scanning your womb with a mix of concern and disbelief. The sight of the pulsating energies sent a chill down his spine, and he felt a surge of protective instincts.

“At fucking six months, your unborns are already in control of their inherited techniques,” Shoko threw up her hands in exasperation. “I can’t even get close enough to help her because they are trying to shish kebab me!”

“I’m sorry, what?” Nanami asked, confusion etched onto his face as he tried to process the chaotic energy radiating from your womb.

“Yeah, I need you both to calm them down so that I can draw blood,” Shoko said, her frustration palpable.

“It can’t be that bad,” Gojo lied to keep her calm, his six eyes wide with a mix of awe and horror. The cursed signatures were unlike anything he’d ever seen—a tapestry of life and malice intertwined.

Shoko handed him a blunt scalpel, gesturing for him to get it near your skin. Gojo obliged, his heart racing, only for the scalpel to explode into a shower of confetti, leaving him bewildered.

Another Ratio blade materialized, this one sharper and angrier, hovering dangerously close to Shoko’s face. She froze, her heart racing as she watched the blade shimmer ominously. The air felt thick with tension, and she didn’t dare move until it dissipated, leaving her breathless.

“Okay, Gojo, you talk to them. I’ll try to suppress their energy,” Nanami sprang into action.

Gojo’s eyes darted between the twins and you, his mind racing. He spoke in a voice surprisingly gentle, though the fear in his eyes betrayed him. “Hey, little ones! Daddy’s home…”

He was immediately cut off.

Gojo felt the pressure of Infinity tightening around him, a suffocating embrace that made him gasp. “Okay, okay! I get it! You don’t like me!” Is this how his enemies felt?!

Nanami, meanwhile, was struggling to keep his own breath steady as he felt the cold edge of the Ratio blade hovering dangerously close to his throat. “We’re not here to hurt her! We just want to help!” he pleaded, his voice calm despite the fear coursing through him.

The babies' techniques, while highly deadly, were not as powerful as their fathers' due to their inexperience. However, the men were unable to use their own techniques, as doing so could potentially harm both you and the babies, further deepening the babies' distrust of them.

Shoko, sensing the rising tension, took a deep breath. “Listen, I know you’re scared, but I need to take a little bit of blood to help your mom. If you let me, I promise I’ll make sure she’s okay,” her tone softening as she tried to connect with the twins.

The air shimmered with their energy, and for a moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath. Then, as if sensing Shoko’s sincerity, the pressure began to ease, the Ratio blades retracting from Nanami’s neck.

“See? We’re all on the same side here,” Shoko said, her heart racing as she took a cautious step forward.

The twins seemed to hesitate, their energy fluctuating as they-probably-processed her words. Shoko’s gaze flicked to your belly, and she felt a strange connection, as if the life within you was responding to her plea.

"Just... let her do her job.” Gojo said, his voice trembling slightly.

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, Shoko felt a flicker of hope.

But then, another Ratio blade materialized, this one sharper and angrier. Shoko froze, watching it come for her head at lightning speed, paralyzed until Nanami yanked her back from its path. The wall cracked  where it hit, then disappeared.

“Not only can they hear everything, but they are skilled at deceiving too,” Nanami observed, while Gojo sweated bullets.

“I didn’t even get to finish my dark chocolate mousse,” she muttered bitterly.

The air stilled.

Shoko blinked. The oppressive energy softened, just a fraction. She frowned, glancing at your belly. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Gojo asked, tinged with desperation.

“Oh, no DNA test needed here, obviously,” Shoko said with a roll of her eyes, pointing at your stomach. “They’re just responding to food, like their fathers, craving dark chocolate.”

Nanami’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile.

Gojo’s grin was instantaneous, bright and smug. “Our babies have good taste already.”

“They’re trying to kill me, and you’re proud?” Shoko glared at them, incredulous.

“They’re protective,” Nanami corrected, his voice softening. “Just like their mother.”

Shoko sighed and turned to your stomach. “If you let me live, I’ll prescribe your mom that mousse.”

The twins relaxed immediately, the shimmering barriers disappearing. Shoko sighed in relief, rubbing her temples. “She’s going to hate waking up to your faces,” she muttered.

Gojo and Nanami’s eyes were fixed on you, guilt and love etched into every line of their faces.

As Shoko drew the blood with careful precision, she discarded her gloves, quickly jotted down your prescription, and walked out of earshot. The men followed wide-eyed, still processing the whirlwind of emotions and revelations, their protective instincts for you igniting anew.

Shoko had to interrupt before the men could wrangle their students and/or adopted kids—they kept insisting weren't— for a baby shower. “Before either of you starts celebrating your shared fatherhood, let me be clear: this is not good news.”

Gojo’s grin faltered. “What do you mean, not good? Twins are... good, right? Twice the… fun?”

“Shut up, Gojo,” Nanami muttered, bracing himself for whatever Shoko had to say.

“Medical science would deem it impossible— double fertilization combined with heteropaternal superfecundation ,” Shoko said, her tone clipped but deliberate.

Gojo frowned, looking genuinely offended. “You’re using big words to confuse me on purpose.”

Shoko’s hand twitched like she was debating beating him with the file. “It means,” she snapped, “two or more eggs are fertilized by sperm from different fathers during the same cycle, which itself is extremely rare for humans. But in this case, one egg was fertilized by both of you. Twice. It’s unprecedented and unnatural.”

Gojo opened his mouth, but Shoko silenced him with a glare. She continued, her voice growing sharper with every word. “Not only are you both going to be fathers of twins, but you are also going to be the double fathers of both of them. So in lesser words, the fetuses have two fathers each.”

Gojo blurted out before he could stop himself, “Oh hell nah. That sounds weird.”

The words hung in the air like a lead balloon. He clamped his mouth shut immediately, eyes darting toward Nanami, who looked one second away from slamming him through the nearest wall.

Shoko continued, glaring at Gojo, daring him to interrupt her again. “Their genetic makeup is unstable. There’s too much DNA, and their growth is accelerating at a rate that’s anything but normal. If this continues, they’ll die before they’re born. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, they’re feeding on her body to fuel their development, so there’s a small chance she might not survive either.”

Her lips twitched into a humorless smirk as she finally addressed Gojo’s blurted comment. “While it’s insensitive, you’re not wrong. It’s horrifying. It has never happened before, and science doesn’t even make sense for it to ever be possible. And I’m saying this with all due sensitivity, but your lusts and special grade techniques led us here. I’m deducing Kento’s technique did not just explore but ‘created’ series of openings, while both your RCTs regrew her entire uterus.”

She then thought aloud. "Although one thing doesn’t make sense to me. Techniques don’t work outside of one's mind’s control. So, tell me: were either of you thinking about having kids at the time? Not even trying or planning, just thinking—even fleetingly?” Shoko did not want to know about her longtime friends' breeding kinks, but she was forced to, and the look on their faces answered it for her.

Nanami’s face burned red, his eyes glued to the floor like he was begging it to swallow him whole. Gojo’s face twisted into something between a grimace and a horrified laugh; without his sunglasses, his eyes glowed unnaturally while he muttered under his breath about wanting to bleach his ears.

Nanami’s voice cracked when he finally spoke. “Can we get an abortion?”

Shoko’s glare silenced him instantly. “First of all, that’s not your decision. Second, given the resources she has, if she hasn’t gotten it herself, I don’t think she will agree. Third, she’s too far along. Japan doesn’t allow abortions at this stage unless her life is demonstrably at risk—and dragging her through the judicial system in her condition isn’t exactly ideal.”

Her voice rose as she leaned near the window, glaring at both of them. “We would either have to prove you two are deadbeats or claim assault by someone else—which you won’t be able to prove given the extreme amount of both your DNA involved. Or, we could reveal her unnatural pregnancy to the judicial system and, by extension, the public. Neither option ends well for her. Especially now that she’s already a meme, thanks to you two. Also, the twins will put up a fight, as you already saw.”

“If she agrees, can’t you do it without involving the court?” Gojo asked, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, his bravado nowhere in sight.

Shoko looked like she was holding back the urge to throw her stethoscope at him. “Do I look like a gynecologist to you? And even if I were, I wouldn’t specialize in tendril pregnancies; as I already said, no science or curse makes sense for them to ever happen. Any doctor who’d agree wouldn’t be able to do it without the higher-ups knowing.”

Nanami pleaded, “We can’t just let her die.”

“No shit,” Shoko hissed. “You think I’m twiddling my thumbs while she wastes away?”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders and continued. “I have a med school senior. She’s a practicing midwife with a curse technique that’s helped sorcerers with high-risk deliveries, strictly off the records. I’ll try to track her down, but don’t hold your breath. She’s not exactly easy to find, and even if I do find her, there’s no guarantee she’ll know anything about this.”

“How long until the option for abortion is off the table, not by law but medically?” Nanami asked again.

Shoko sighed; she was getting too old for these Halfwit Sorcerer Supremes . “I won’t know until her blood work comes back. Her hormone levels and vitals will give us a better timeline. For now, take her home. Keep her warm, fed, and calm. If that means leaving her alone so you two don’t stress her out, then do it. Call me if there’s even a hint of something wrong or if she doesn’t wake up by morning. I’ll work on contacting the midwife.”

She handed them the file with the ultrasound images, prescriptions, and a text with the video of the heartbeats and the twins moving—along with the unsettling tendrils—to their phones.

Reaching for her pack of cigarettes, she shook one loose. “And Gojo, you’re the reason I’ve quit smoking more times than I can count. Congrats on ruining another attempt.”

Gojo’s face fell. “I’m sorry for that, Shoko, but when will she wake up?”

What doctor can predict this? Did they think she was a god?!

She chose to take the high road this time and refrain from beating Gojo with a bedpan, even though the virtuous path felt overrated. “She’ll likely wake up in a few hours,” Shoko said, already lighting her cigarette. “Keep her warm, and maybe invest in a foot massager—her ankles are swelling. And for the love of God, don’t argue in front of her.”

She exhaled a plume of smoke and waved them off. “Go. Get her out of my office before I chain smoke the whole pack.”

//

Ijichi adjusted his glasses, juggling his clipboard and the endless stream of stress-induced thoughts racing through his head. The courtyard was quiet for once—no sorcerers, no chaos.

Until Gojo Satoru appeared out of buttfuck nowhere, holding a woman in his arms.

"Hey, champ," Gojo said casually, as if he weren’t carrying a heavily pregnant, unconscious woman. "Hold this for me."

Ijichi barely had time to stammer out a "Wha—" before Gojo dumped you into his arms. The clipboard clattered to the ground as he instinctively caught you, nearly dropping you when he realized who you were. He kept up with the business news, so it was easy for him to recognize the CEO of the company whose shares he’d buy.

"Wait—wait, Gojo-san, is this—? Why is she—?"

"Careful," Gojo interrupted, stretching his arms above his head as if he’d just finished a yoga class. "If you drop her, I’ll have to drop you. And you’re not as soft." He finished massaging his left shoulder, a casual gesture that belied the weight of the situation. Honestly, Gojo had no problem carrying you; he could hold you for hours without breaking a sweat. Ijichi, on the other hand, seemed to manage just fine with your heavily pregnant and limp body, but it was clear he couldn’t do it as effortlessly or for as long as Gojo could.

Ijichi’s brain short-circuited. "I—I need to inform Yaga-sensei about this! You’re not allowed on campus! And—and Nanami-san is suspended with you!" He looked around, realizing Nanami wasn’t with Gojo.

Gojo leaned down, eyes glinting ominously. "Do you really wanna tattle right now, Ijichi? While you’re holding my very unconscious wife?"

"Your wife!" Ijichi almost dropped you again.

"Yeah, surprise! We’ve been married for years. Both me and Nanami. And—oh!—as you can see, she’s carrying our kids. Plural. Twins." Gojo said it all with the tone of someone announcing the weather, completely unbothered.

Ijichi froze. "Nanami-san is... also... married to her?"

"Yup." Gojo grinned, leaning in just enough to make Ijichi uncomfortable. "You didn’t know? Thought you were supposed to be good at details." Ijichi, bless his anxiety-ridden heart, didn’t use social media like Shoko much, nor did he have time to watch TV.

"But why is she unconscious?" Ijichi asked, panic rising in his voice.

Gojo’s grin didn’t waver. "Don’t worry about it."

"But—"

"I said don’t worry about it, Ijichi!" Gojo’s tone turned cold, and for a moment, Ijichi swore the air around him dropped ten degrees.

Before he could spiral any further, the low rumble of an engine broke through the tension. Ijichi turned to see Nanami pulling up in a Jujutsu Tech car, looking calm as ever, despite the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be here either.

Nanami stepped out of the car and opened the backseat door, his expression unreadable. Ijichi felt his pulse quicken—a mix of fear and… something else . He pushed that thought deep down where it belonged.

"Everything’s ready," Nanami said simply, his eyes flicking to Ijichi and narrowing slightly in silent greeting.

Gojo immediately took you back, cradling you to his chest. "Thanks for the babysitting, Iji. You’re a real pal."

Ijichi opened his mouth to protest, but the words got stuck in his throat when Gojo paused and gave him a long, considering look.

"Oh, and by the way..." Gojo’s voice dropped, his smile turning sharp. "Whatever you’re thinking about Nanami. Stop. Now!"

"I—I don’t know what you mean!" Ijichi stammered, his face burning.

"Sure you don’t," Gojo said, winking before sliding into the backseat, laying you carefully.

Nanami adjusted your legs inside the car and, once satisfied, closed the door. He then gave Ijichi a brief nod—neutral, professional, and utterly devastating —before sliding into the driver’s seat. The car pulled away, leaving Ijichi standing in the courtyard, clutching his clipboard and holding his sanity together with duct tape and a prayer.

As the car disappeared into the distance, the realization hit him.

Gojo had dumped you on him just to keep him from calling Yaga.

"I hate my job," Ijichi muttered, staring at the horizon like it owed him an apology.

//

Gojo now sat in the back seat, cradling your unconscious body. You were wrapped in his thick jacket and a blanket they’d swiped from Jujutsu Tech, as though he were afraid you’d vanish again. His six eyes scanned your face every few seconds, hyper-focused on your shallow breathing, his expression grim as if he were trying to will you back to consciousness with sheer willpower.

Your ring was back on your finger, curtsy of Nanami, who did not trust Ijichi or anyone to drive his pregnant and unconscious wife, so he generously had Gojo distract Ijichi while he hijacked—er, borrowed—a Jujutsu Tech car, now driving with the intensity of someone prepared to ratio the entire road. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, eyes darting to every car that dared come too close.

“If one more person cuts me off, I’m pulling over and filing a formal complaint!” He fumed.

“Breathe, Kento,” Gojo muttered, not looking up. “Her vitals haven’t changed. She’s fine for now.”

Nanami’s glare flashed in the rearview mirror. “If she’s fine, it’s despite us, not because of us.”

Gojo didn’t come up with a comeback; Nanami was right. Now, even as they tried to protect you, it felt like too little, too late.

They hadn’t made it more than five minutes down the road when a rusted-out pickup truck swerved dangerously close to their car. The driver—a sunburnt man in a baseball cap and sunglasses—leaned out the window to yell something unintelligible, laughing with his family like he was auditioning for a role in Trailer Park Boys .

Nanami’s eye twitched. “That’s it!”

He slammed the brakes, throwing Gojo and your unconscious body slightly forward, though Gojo immediately stabilized you with one arm. Nanami threw the car into park, blocking the truck’s path, and stepped out, stalking forward with the kind of intensity that could make a toddler cry.

The man squinted at Nanami’s approaching figure. “Hey, buddy, what’s your problem?” he hollered, clearly oblivious to the danger he was in.

“My problem?” Nanami repeated, his voice calm in a way that made Gojo wince. “My problem is you driving like an inebriated possum during rush hour.”

The man’s wife, sitting in the passenger seat, tugged on his arm. “Harold, don’t. He looks like he’s about to recite the Geneva Conventions at you.”

Ignoring her, Harold waved a dismissive hand. “I was just driving, man. Relax.”

Nanami’s cursed energy flared, the faint outline of ratio lines shimmering in the air. “Relax? My pregnant wife is in that car! Do you understand the basic principles of road etiquette? Turn signals exist for a reason! Speed limits are not suggestions! And—”

“Oh, no,” Gojo muttered, about to pull out his phone to record. “Baby and Shoko will wanna see this.”

As Nanami continued his tirade, Harold’s eyes drifted to the backseat of their car, where no woman was in sight but Gojo was sitting, half in shadow. The six eyes glinted faintly in the dim light, and Harold’s face paled.

“Harold, we need to leave,” his wife whispered, her eyes locked on Gojo. “This uppity blonde man must have run someone over, and now he’s haunted by the ghost of the man and hallucinating his pregnant wife, who probably died in the accident.”

Harold’s daughter peeked out from the back of the truck. “Momma, I think the ghost is smiling.”

Gojo waved at them cheerfully, his grin unsettlingly wide, completely oblivious to the family’s theories.

Harold didn’t wait for more. He slammed on the gas, the truck screeching back and away. Nanami watched it disappear with a look of pure disgust.

“Cowards,” he muttered, walking back to the car.

“Did you just ratio their family bonding?” Gojo asked, carding his fingers through your hair absentmindedly as Nanami climbed back in.

“Shut up,” Nanami snapped lowly, though he adjusted the car heater for you before pulling back onto the road, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement.

//

When they arrived, Nanami parked with the precision of a driving instructor, then quickly jumped out to open the passenger door. Gojo scooped you up, wrapping you snugly in a blanket.

Inside the penthouse building, Gojo carried you into the elevator, pulling you closer for warmth. Nanami followed closely behind, pressing the button and crossing his arms as he scrutinized Gojo’s every move.

“You’re holding her wrong,” Nanami said, his tone disapproving.

Gojo glanced down at you, then back at Nanami. “I’m literally the strongest. I think I can handle holding my unconscious wife.”

“MY WIFE’S head isn’t supported properly,” Nanami countered, stepping closer. “If you drop her—”

Gojo scoffed. “Drop her? Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Someone incompetent,” Nanami replied coolly, reaching out. “Give her to me.”

Gojo shifted back, holding you tighter. “No!”

“You’re holding her like a sack of rice,” Nanami pressed, his voice rising. “Just hand her over!”

“Over my dead body. Try me, Kento!”

Nanami’s hand stopped just short of Gojo, an invisible barrier humming between them. He scowled. “Lower it!”

“No way. Look how comfortable she looks with me.”

“She’s unconscious!”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open on the fifth floor instead of the penthouse. An elderly woman stood there, clutching a bag of birdseed like it was a grenade. Nanami recognized her immediately: Keiko Yamada, the retired CEO and founder of Yamada Arms, the most infamous weapons manufacturer in Japan.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene: two men clearly arguing, the blonde mid-rant, the white-haired one beaming-unhinged, and a heavily pregnant woman swaddled like a mummy in a blanket.

“Oh my God!” She screeched, clutching the bag like a shield she wasn’t scared to use as a weapon. “You’ve killed her!”

“Ma’am, it’s not what it looks like,” Nanami began, stepping forward with his hands raised.

“No, you both were going to dispose of her body!” She yelled, pointing an accusatory finger.

“Ma’am, she’s alive. She just fainted—”

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, you corporate goon!” Keiko cut him off, her voice sharp enough to slice titanium. “This looks like a murder cover-up! I didn’t build an arms empire just to live next to lunatics who can’t even hide a body properly!”

From behind her, her husband Gerald—a retired oil tycoon—peered over her shoulder. “Keiko, aren’t these two from the weird throuple from the top floor penthouse?”

She turned on him like a hawk spotting prey. “And? That doesn’t make this any less suspicious, Gerald!” Her finger jabbed toward Gojo. “Why is that one smiling like he’s auditioning for a toothpaste ad? He’s clearly a psychopath!”

“Hi, Keiko-san!” Gojo chirped, unfazed. “Nice evening for bird feeding, huh?”

“Stay back, you freak!” she yelped, clutching her chest as if he’d personally threatened her life. “Gerald, call the police before they silence me forever!”

Before Nanami could offer another explanation, more neighbors began to gather, drawn by the commotion.

From the doorway of 5B, a venture capitalist with a permanent scowl muttered, “What now? Another polycule cult meeting?”

“No, it’s a crime scene!” Keiko snapped.

In 5C, an eccentric novelist known for writing conspiracy thrillers poked her head out. “Finally! Something juicy! Who’s the victim? Is it ritualistic? I need deets for my next book!”

Across the hall, an up-and-coming YouTuber joined the crowd, sipping an energy drink. “Hey, can someone livestream this? I’ll donate half my ad revenue to charity.”

As the elevator doors began to close, Nanami swiftly slapped the “Open” button. “Ma’am, she’s our wife. She fainted because she’s pregnant. Here’s the medical prescription.” He presented the document from Shoko like a peace offering, holding it out with a sense of urgency.

Keiko squinted at the paper, then huffed dismissively. “I don’t have my glasses, but this still feels forged.”

“Oh no, she just has bad handwriting—our doctor,” Gojo chimed in.

“You are not helping!” Nanami hissed at him, then turned back to Keiko, who was already halfway through dialing the police. “She’s our wife!” He pulled the blanket down from your face, revealing you more clearly.

“Oh,” Keiko said, her voice softening as recognition dawned. “It is her. The one who sometimes feeds the birds with me. Gerald, she’s the one who bought out the building and renovated the multilevel gardens.”

Gerald leaned closer, nodding sagely. “Oh yeah, she’s the one who’s always respectful and driven.”

Keiko’s expression shifted again, her voice rising in alarm. “Oh god, you both killed the richest person in the building! Philanthropic trillionaires aren’t supposed to die like this!”

“Just look at her breathing!” Nanami pointed to your rising and falling stomach, desperation creeping into his voice.

Keiko’s demeanor changed instantly. She adjusted her cardigan, suddenly the picture of decorum. “Well, you two still look like fools. She’s pregnant with your baby! Show some responsibility!”

“Twins, and thank you, ma’am,” Nanami replied, his tone clipped but firm. “We’ll take your advice into consideration.”

Behind her, the neighbors whispered among themselves; their curiosity piqued.

“Not only ours, but Norway’s judicial system is also garbage if they got out on bail so fast.”

“There’s no bail in Norway. I think one of their relatives proved she was married to them,” someone clarified.

“Whatever, I still think the taller one is definitely a sociopath. A month ago, he was trying to eat the ice cream cone from its bottom,” one muttered, casting a wary glance at Gojo.

“They’re probably stealing their wife’s money under the guise of household expenses. I mean, look at the blonde—glasses, calm, no drama? Suspicious. Nobody’s that chill unless they’re hiding something big,” another chimed in, their tone dripping with the kind of skepticism you reserve for MLM pitches and influencers selling miracle teas.

As the elevator doors began to close again, Keiko jabbed her foot in and stepped inside with Gerald, unwilling to miss her birdfeeding schedule.

As the crowd of neighbors dispersed, their murmurs fading into the background, Gojo’s attention remained solely on you. He hummed a soft tune, a melody that seemed to wrap around the moment like a warm embrace. With a gentle shift, he cradled you in one arm, his gaze tender as he brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face. His fingers lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, a silent promise of something.

Nanami’s expression was a mix of concern and admiration. He watched Gojo with a quiet intensity, his heart swelling at the sight of his partner’s gentle care. As Gojo’s fingers grazed your skin, Nanami felt a rush of warmth flood through him.

With a soft sigh, Nanami stepped closer and gently readjusted the blanket over you again, ensuring you were cocooned in warmth. The way he did it was almost reverent.

As he tucked the blanket in, he caught a glimpse of two tiny feet kicking playfully beneath the fabric before they disappeared again. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a mix of joy and protectiveness swelling within him. In that moment, he felt the weight of the world lift just a little, thinking of what could have been but couldn’t be.

Nanami’s eyes flicked to Gojo, who, by the looks of it, seemed to be thinking the same thing. In that brief exchange, a silent understanding passed between them. It was a look that spoke of late-night conversations, whispered dreams, and the promise of a future together.

For a fleeting second, the world outside faded away. It was just the three of you, bound together by love that was fierce yet tender, at least for the husbands it was.

The doors opened for retirees to get off, but before they could leave, Keiko turned sharply toward Nanami. “One more thing! Tell your smiling menace to stop putting up weird messages in the elevator!”

Gojo’s grin widened. “I thought they were motivational!”

“Motivational?!?” She snapped, incredulous. “Day 3’s message literally said, ‘We’ve embraced chaos; why haven’t you?’ You’re lucky I haven’t reported you to the H.O.A!”

After the elderly couple exited on the eleventh floor garden, the elevator doors finally closed, and the ride continued in silence. Nanami rubbed his temples, muttering about moving to a less populated building. Meanwhile, Gojo hummed cheerfully, still cradling you like a trophy he’d won in an argument.

“Told you I’m better at carrying her,” Gojo said, his tone teasing.

Nanami didn’t reply, but the vein in his forehead throbbed visibly as the elevator dinged again, signaling their arrival at the penthouse.

“Next time, you’re carrying the file,” Nanami muttered, stepping out first.

“Sure thing, Kento,” Gojo replied brightly. “And I’ll carry her again too.”

Nanami grumbled under his breath about Gojo’s “circus act,” exasperation evident in his voice.

“I’m telling her you were mean to me,” Gojo called after him.

Nanami sighed, running his thumb over the front door lock to open it.

Inside the penthouse was quiet and oppressive, with the echoes of their mistakes embedded in the walls. The two men moved like shadows—quiet, efficient, and desperately overcompensating. Shoko’s earlier words before they left echoed like a divine decree: “ Do better. ”

Gojo laid you down on the custom-engineered NASA mattress like you were made of glass, his hands trembling despite the ridiculous confidence he usually radiated. The Hermès blanket was pulled to your shoulders with a reverence that bordered on absurdity. He whispered, “Left side, like Shoko said,” as though you’d wake up to applaud him.

Nanami adjusted the smart thermostat with military dad precision. “22.5°C. Optimal conditions for recovery,” he muttered, half to himself. His eyes darted to you, scanning for signs of discomfort, and then back to the thermostat like it held the answers to the exam he didn’t prepare for.

"Gojo adjusted the blanket. Then readjusted it. Then checked if it was symmetrical. It wasn’t.

Then he obsessively rotated the $10,000 glass of Evian. “Hydration is key,” he mumbled, quoting Shoko’s notes.

“Stop touching the glass,” Nanami snapped.

You didn’t even drink Evian.

//

Twenty minutes in, Nanami was pacing, his phone screen glowing with articles from some Rich People Pregnancies app. He squinted at a section titled High-Risk Multiples: What Not to Do.

“Her ankles,” he barked suddenly.

Gojo blinked. “What about them?”

“Elevate them.”

“They’re already elevated. Anti-gravity pillow. State-of-the-art.”

“Higher,” Nanami insisted, pulling out aloe and cucumber-infused orthopedic pillows from his closet.

Gojo frowned but complied, propping your legs higher with the focus of a Jenga champion.

“Shoko said hydration’s more important." Gojo then proceeded to stick a platinum straw near your lips.

“She’s unconscious. Stop hydrating her like she’s a plant.”

“Hydrated plants thrive.”

You were unconscious. Gojo was undeterred.

//

An hour later, Gojo adjusted the thermostat by 0.1°C. Nanami glared but said nothing. This was war.  

Then Nanami’s phone dinged. He read the text from Shoko aloud:

Shoko: “Unless her feet are blue or she’s not breathing, stop texting me.”

Gojo snatched the phone, typing back, “What about her breathing? It sounds shallow.”

The reply was instant: “It’s called sleeping, Gojo. She’s fine.”

//

Sometime later, Gojo was now massaging your ankles with La Mer Concentrate Body Oil, watching a prenatal massage video on YouTube, and following it’s instructions diligently.

The doorbell rang, and Gojo was at the door before the sound finished echoing. The delivery woman shrieked as he appeared, albino hair and unhinged Cerulean eyes glowing under the dim hallway light. He took the packages—a deluxe foot massager, an industrial-grade humidifier, a bunch of prenatal supplements and snacks—and disappeared before she could process his existence.

“Look at this beauty,” he said, holding up the foot massager like it was the Ark of the Covenant. “Wi-Fi and AI enabled. Video calls. Top-of-the-line.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow. “You bought a foot massager she can Zoom from?”

“She’s a trillionaire. Standards.”

Because for some reason you’d need to call Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento via your foot massager while having your feet inside the said machine.

Not that you were complaining. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

Meanwhile, Shoko sat in her office, rubbing her temples. Her phone buzzed with another text from Nanami—the third in as many minutes while Gojo kept spam calling her.

She groaned, opening the message.

Nanami: “Is it normal for her fingers to swell too? And can I... massage them?”

She groaned, typing back a quick response: “Yes, massage is fine. Stop texting me.”

As she hit send, Shoko decided to stop answering their calls, but Gojo was relentless. He appeared in her office door, holding up a monogrammed foot spa.

“Shoko, this one or the one with LAN?”

Shoko didn’t even look up. “Leave, or I’ll prescribe myself cyanide.”

He grinned, backing out of the room. “Love you too, Shoko!”

The door slammed behind him. Shoko lit a cigarette, muttering, “She’s carrying twins, and I’m the one who needs prenatal care.”

Suddenly, a box of nicotine gum in various flavors flew through her window, narrowly missing her head and landing with an unceremonious thud on her desk. She ducked instinctively, the cigarette nearly falling from her lips.

"Shoko!" Voice rang out from somewhere unseen. "I wasn’t sure which flavor you’d like, so I got them all. Some are kind my wife—your idol—liked when she quit. Even got the nasty sugar-free ones!" Gojo's unmistakable laugh echoed as he sprinted away, knowing full well Shoko would beat his ass if she caught him.

Shoko exhaled sharply, glaring at the absurdly oversized box, which looked like it belonged in a warehouse, not her desk. A whole six-month survival pack. She grabbed the cigarette, put it out with a forceful twist, and tore the box open. Rows of neon-colored packets stared back at her.

Before she could yell out the window, Gojo’s head popped in through another one. "Do you prefer mint or cinnamon? Personally, I’m a mango kinda guy."

She whipped her stapler at him, missing by inches as he teleported away with a ballerina spin, and—was that glitter? 

Yes. He left behind a trail of glitter that floated down like snow.

Shoko pinched the bridge of her nose. "This man is going to be a father," she muttered.

Her eyes fell back to the gum. She unwrapped two pieces, popped them in her mouth, and chewed like it was Gojo’s neck between her teeth.

//

Hours passed in a blur of obsessive adjustments and whispered arguments. Nanami cursed as he spilled truffle-oil-infused electrolyte water on the $15,000 humidifier. Gojo muttered about cortisol levels and prenatal massage techniques, kneeling at your feet and fiddling with the massager.

“She made a noise,” Gojo said suddenly, freezing.

“Call Shoko.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, she will beat me.”

Nanami dialed anyway. Shoko picked up, growling, “If she’s not actively dying, I swear—”

“She breathed weird,” Nanami said.

“Is it shallow?”

“No.”

“Is she wheezing?”

“No,” Nanami admitted.

She wished she was a special grade just to be able to knock these two out for one night's sleep. Or maybe she could just give Yuki-san a call.

Shoko sighed. “Unless the noise was ‘I’m dying,’ leave me alone.”

The line went dead.

“I will leave you behind if she catches upto us,” Gojo feared for Shoko’s wrath.

//

At ten pm, Gojo watched the grainy ultrasound video on his phone. “You ever think about how we got here?”

Nanami didn’t look up. “Every day.”

Gojo sighed, his gaze drifting to your face. “She was pregnant, and we didn’t even notice.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. “Not noticing won’t kill her right now. Incompetence might.”

Gojo didn’t respond, but his grip on your hand tightened.

In the silence, the foot massager hummed, and for once, neither of them had anything clever to say.

//

Around midnight, Nanami’s phone dinged.

Shoko created a group chat: Weird Twins & Their Weirder Fathers

Shoko added Nanami Kento

Shoko added Gojo Satoru

Shoko: Hormones are wild. Fetuses are fine. 15 days until termination’s off the table.

Gojo renamed the chat: We Are Your Daddies! <3

Shoko: Focus on keeping her calm when she wakes up, she’s very stressed. And for God’s sake, have her eat something; she’s slightly malnourished.

Nanami: Suggestions?

Gojo: Whatcha guys talkin about? ( ͡°👅 ͡°) What’s ‘malnourished’? Wait, I’ll google it.

Shoko: Figure it out. That’s your job, isn’t it?

Gojo: Don’t ignore me!!! (╯ ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)╯┻━┻

Nanami: Typing…

Shoko: Stop texting me or I’ll block you both!

Gojo: She’s got a point!

Gojo: We love you, Shoko! <3

Nanami set the phone down, glaring at Gojo with a deadpan expression.

Gojo rolled his eyes, muttering, “And you’re boring.”

//

Sometime later, the banished chaos duo, sat on either side of you, staring at your unconscious form like guilty dogs caught chewing up the couch.

Gojo broke the silence first, leaning forward to whisper, "She’s gonna be pissed when she wakes up."

Nanami didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the faint rise and fall of your chest. His normally pristine shirt was rumpled, the first two buttons undone like he’d given up halfway through pretending he had it together.

They hadn’t even noticed you were pregnant. Not until you left—six weeks after you'd vanished from their lives, and after you’d spent months dropping hints that would’ve been obvious to anyone who wasn’t terminally stupid or busy screwing the other terminally stupid.

---

You were sitting across from Gojo and Nanami in a low-lit café. It was your third meeting—people might say a “date,” but they still didn’t know your last name, let alone what you did for a living. The anonymity suited you. Jeans, a jacket, and plain tee didn’t scream “CEO.”

Nanami stirred his coffee. “You’re remarkably vague about yourself.”

Gojo grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “Adds to the mystery. Bet you’re secretly a ninja.” His English had dramatically improved; like it was never awful.

You shrugged. “Something like that.”

The dream shifted. You were walking through your office—a sprawling high-rise with glass walls and panoramic city views. Your team buzzed around you, discussing quarterly earnings, new launches, and global partnerships.

“Boss, the board’s waiting,” someone called.

“On my way,” you replied, stepping into the elevator.

The doors opened into a massive event hall. The product launch was underway—your company’s newest gaming console, sleek and revolutionary. The logo of your labor of love flashed across the screen, and the tagline hit like a mic drop: Built for legends, by legends .

At the end of the hall, two familiar faces stared back at you.

Nanami looked stunned, his tie slightly askew. Gojo’s jaw dropped.

“You?” he blurted. “You’re the CEO of—”

“Surprise,” you said, hoping to disappear.

The dream twisted into a nightmare.

The hall dissolved into a shadowy void. Nanami and Gojo loomed over you, their faces distorted. Their voices, once warm, turned cold and accusing.

“You lied to us,” Nanami growled, his hand reaching for you.

Gojo’s laugh was sharp, echoing like a knife scraping glass. “How could you keep this from us? From me? I know all, sweetheart.”

Their figures stretched, unnatural. Their eyes glowed, and their hands clawed toward your stomach.

“They need to die,” Nanami said, his voice like gravel.

“You can’t keep them from us,” Gojo hissed.

You turned to run, but the floor shifted, turning into a sticky, pulsating mass that clung to your feet.

“No!” you screamed, clutching your belly.

In the penthouse, your body twitched violently on the bed. Your hands clenched the blanket, and your breathing hitched. Gojo, sitting beside you, froze.

“She’s muttering,” Nanami said, pacing at the foot of the bed. “What’s she saying?”

Gojo leaned closer, his hand brushing your sweat-dampened forehead. Your lips moved, barely audible.

"Scare... ‘ovf you...”

Gojo’s chest tightened. “She’s dreaming.”

Nanami frowned. “Can we wake her?”

"No, it could trigger shock.”

Gojo slipped an arm around you, being careful not to disturb the IV line that Nanami had arranged for your nourishment with a neighboring doctor, just as Shoko had instructed. The line was securely placed in your wrist. He pulled you close, his hand resting gently on your back. “It’s okay,” he murmured softly. “You’re okay.”

Your muttering stopped, but your trembling didn’t. Gojo pressed his lips to your temple, his voice low and breaking. “I’m sorry. For everything. For leaving. For not seeing it sooner.”

Nanami stood by, his jaw tight, guilt etched into every line of his face.

Your breathing slowed, but your skin turned pale, almost translucent. Dark veins spidered up your arms, pulsing faintly.

“Nanami,” Gojo said, his voice trembling.

“I see it.”

Nanami grabbed his phone, dialing Shoko. The line rang.

“Come on,” he muttered, redialing.

Gojo tightened his hold on you, his six eyes glowing faintly as he scanned your body. “This isn’t normal.”

Nanami’s frustration was etched into his frantic dialing.

The veins spread, and your lips parted in a soft, pained cry.

Gojo’s eyes widened.

The room seemed to darken, the air growing thick. The sound of your heartbeat echoed unnaturally loud in the room.

“Please, baby… stay with me,” Gojo whispered, his voice breaking. His grip on you tightened as though sheer willpower could keep you tethered to him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The chaos ebbed as suddenly as it had come. The dark veins receded into your skin like shadows retreating from light. A faint, almost imperceptible movement against your belly broke the stillness—the twins, kicking softly.

Gojo froze. His hand, resting on your stomach, felt it—life, fragile and undeniable. His breath hitched. He glanced at Nanami, whose jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. Neither man spoke, but the shared look said everything: they would not lose you for the twins .

A/N: Not Ijichi having a crush on Nanami because honestly, same, Iji-cheese. 🤭 I'm Shoko in this chapter; Shoko is me. Remember, engagement is love, so let me know your thoughts, theories, and who you'd yeet first in the comments.

Next Chapter 11 (alt ending 2.2) - Snakes & Mirrors (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy @xx-tazzdevil-xx @unaaasz

Taglist Open.

[mittysins]

Satyr having an orgasmic birth?

What if Asper had a friend :)

ABSOLUTELY going to be revisting this. Meet Weevil! (They/She)

[gloomysoup]

i've realized it has been a HOT minute since i've contributed anything to tumblr, so i come bearing gifts! well, a gift. in the form of the intro to an omegaverse steddie fic i have absolutely talked ab on here once upon a time but am too lazy to search for the original post. ANYWAY, enjoy whatever the hell this is

----------

Eddie and Steve were not a thing. They absolutely, 100%, were not dating.

They drank, smoked, watched movies, fucked, spent the night. Eddie had gotten Steve through three heats. They spent all of their time together. Eddie had shirts that smelled like him in Steve’s nest. They were not dating.

So when Corroded Coffin was offered a deal and a fresh start in Chicago, it didn't matter that Eddie was taking it. It didn't. It absolutely, 100%, did not matter to Steve. When Eddie completely skipped town with barely a goodbye, it didn't matter. It didn't matter that the band packed up his van and left. They were not dating. It didn't matter. Eddie had made his decision, and Steve respected that. They had only been fooling around. Sure, it was exclusive. They didn't fuck around with anyone else, and they spent so much time together they might as well have been dating, but they weren't. It wasn't a thing. It didn't matter.

Until it did.

Until Steve was sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor with a test in front of him. A positive test.

edit:: lol i found it it's this one

[hajihiko]

Dude that actually really cool of an idea for Nagito to be getting scratched up as a part of paranormal activity

Honestly haven’t heard of that in ages haha /pos

the body parts are all ~symbolic~

[candywife333]

There is Never A Right Time

Summary:

Jungkook hadn’t thought about the woman he had left for a long time. He had gotten secretly married to her, his judgement clouded under the influence of alcohol,  and all it took was a shadow of distrust to make him abandon her. If the world questioned the sanctity of her character, then the world had to be right. Right? He hoped he was right at least. Because if he wasn’t , he had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life. As he continued to work as a top idol, artist, and entrepreneur time went by. He had other women but they never lasted long in his life. When he attended an award show with the rest of the members, he saw a girl there. Another artist. Definitely someone he knew he had never seen or heard of before. Who was she? Something about her was familiar. Maybe her eyes. And then it struck him, making him go as cold as a corpse. He had seen those same eyes somewhere else alright, in the mirror when he looked at his own reflection every morning.

DISCLAIMER: The character written in this fan fiction does not represent the real Jungkook’s personality or behavior. All of this is fiction. 

WARNING: Fic mentions noncon/rape (does not describe it explicitly in this part), please don’t read if this is a trigger. 

This series is slated to be a trilogy. Here is PART ONE, hope you guys enjoy. Also, I will be creating a permanent tag-list for all my chubby reader fics, please let me know in comments whoever would like to be a part of that. 

  PART 1

The lady stood in front of him and the other members. She exuded a powerful aura, regal and dignified. These qualities were rather an unusual combination for idols, especially Korean idols so he was a little starstruck. Something that was rather unusual for any member of BTS to feel. She couldn't have been more than 18 years old though based on her appearance. The girl must be mixed race because she had very unconventional features for an idol. She had dark thick curly black hair that trailed to her hips and her skin reminded him of strongly brewed milk tea. The even more startling features were her plush lips, a prominent straight nose graced by a diamond stud, and double lidded eyes fringed with what seemed to be thick eyelashes.

She was sporting an unusual outfit as well; a customized skirt and bra set that he only saw gypsies and belly dancers wear. A gold belt adorned her waist sitting lower on her hips with a diamond belly piercing highlighting her lithe , toned figure. He couldn't stop looking at her because strangely enough something about her was familiar.

He made eye contact with her accidentally and what he saw made his heart palpate against his chest. He had seen those same eyes every day of his life in his mirror. Her doe eyes were too similar to his own. They say that eyes are a mirror to the soul, but her eyes were a mirror to his own.

Who was she? He felt a stir of panic as their eyes met and she bowed down low. She was of average height, but her presence seemed to envelope the room since other well known artists,  idols, and staff greeted her politely. The stage director came near her bowing. To Jungkook’s surprise , she spoke in fluent Korean though she seemed to be a foreign artist.

The stage director and the girl were a few feet away from BTS when the stage director exclaimed , “How is your mother doing Cha-ya? She must be worried since you have only promoted up til now in the US, Thailand, and India. Are you having a comfortable time adjusting over here?”

The girl’s eyes lit up in glee as she responded with a little chuckle, “It has for sure been a different experience than the U.S. and India for sure. The stage is so organized and everything is so close by for promotions. I am enjoying it to the max. Mom told me to eat well and sleep 8 hours a day. You know how doctors are like. She’s constantly checking in on me to see if I am stressed out. Saiyan and Arang are also being such worrywarts since this is the first time I’ve been here.”

The stage director continued in mild surprise, “Are they your brothers? I thought you were an only child ?”

She guffawed in a cacophonous fashion which made several idols and artists look her way, in awe and confusion. Jungkook thought that she was a rather different type of artist. Very uninhibited by social norms. Clearly she had not been brought up in Korea.

“Director, we are actually triplets but both of them were born a few minutes ahead of me so they insist that they are my older brothers. We are very tight knit and they will be coming to visit soon. Saiyan is a pretty popular model right now and so he will be finishing his Engineering degree at Washington State and rush over here for Seoul fashion week. Arang on the other hand finished his MBA/Medicine dual degree, so he will be managing a chain of Health and Wellness Resorts over here. “

The director’s jaw slid open in an exclamation. He sputtered in disbelief, “ How are all of your siblings so well studied and managing jobs like that? You must be the only sibling purely in entertainment.” The girl deliberated for a second before responding, “Mom made sure we all had solid educations before pursuing these types of careers. She is always skeptical of fame, and she brought us up to be extremely disciplined, stable, and loyal individuals. I am actually finished with my course in Law (focus in international law) ,but currently all that is stalled for the time being because of my activities in entertainment.”

As Jungkook was hearing this conversation along with the other artists in the room who were curiously eavesdropping as well, the Director continued in awe, “Your mother seems to be an extremely strong lady. I knew she was a doctor  who seemed extremely rich and well off, but she must literally be a goddess to give birth to such high achieving kids. What about your father, what does he do?”

Cha-ya scoffed with a quizzical, somewhat bitter look, “He actually left her before we were even born. We found out who he was when we all finished college. Our mother made sure our upbringing was never lacking. We saw him a lot on the Korean and world news growing up but never knew that he was our dad. You know,  he is someone whose popularity never fades strangely enough. He sold his soul for fame, so it is to be expected perhaps.” The director looked so intrigued and invested as he prodded for more info, “ Who is he? Definitely we would know who he is? Is he a singer, actor, businessman in the industry over here?”

Cha-ya’s entire expression became rigid and mask-like as she replied in what seemed to be a disinterested tone, “ We do not consider him our dad, so neither my brothers, nor I would like to claim him. He was a sperm donor. That is the long and short of it. Who he is, is as irrelevant as what today’s weather forecast is. He betrayed my mother and trusted the world over her. She went through so much pain just to be by his side. And when she thought the pain would end, he left her. I have to be on stage, so if you will excuse me now Sir.”

She side stepped the director and went closer to the entrance of the main stage. Jungkook could feel the bile and vomit rising to his mouth. She had been pregnant when he had left her? He had three kids, that he never knew anything about? This grown beautiful artist was his daughter?And he had two more accomplished sons?  His parents had grandkids? And how the hell did she brith triplets?!! Wouldn’t her vagina tear ??????!!!

His world was crashing down on him as the rest of BTS stared at him with stark grief painted across their faces. They all remembered her name, it was unforgettable.

Before he could process anything, he heard the booming noise starting up on the stage. Wait, wait up a minute! This track was the most popular pop/ rock release of the year all over the US. He saw his daughter he never knew he had on stage in an elaborate headdress dancing with precision and fluidity on stage. She had no backing track, the other idols could tell. This was live. Only one artist sang with no backing track in all her performances this year in the US. She was on MTV and all other award shows, becoming sensational, l hitting all headlines for singing with no backing track usually acapella . Shadow, that was her romanized name, but in all Asian countries she went by Nee-Da.

She had risen to the top for the past 3 years for her herculanean work ethic , creative marketing/business acumen. She was known for her cutthroat ruthlessness in the music industry, mostly aided by the fact that her mother was known to own and manage the world’s most innovative new security system, Poison. He did not know what to be more shocked about at this point? How could he not have recognized her? Seeing her in real life was different from seeing her on stage with all the makeup and ornamentation on.

She was the pop-star of the era, a business mogul with a net worth of close to 300 million dollars at such a young age due to her clothing and makeup line. She was his daughter. How could this even be possible? Jungkook could feel his identity crisis coming. How did he birth the most iconic popstar of this generation, who as of now hated his guts? What scared him even more was the realization of who her mother was.

The lady he had left, the woman he could never forget even in his dreams was her mother. And her mother owned the world’s scariest personal security company, Poison. The company had revolutionized personal security by founding a bracelet and many other gadgets that created magnetic repellant force fields around individuals. It was notorious for being marketed only towards woman and could only be activated when the device recognized the XX chromosome, so the device would never protect men.

Basically, women all around the world who had these devices now had a programmable magnetic forcefield around them which shielded them from the outside world. Firearms, Tasers, and aggressors were all repelled by this technology. Women could safely walk out in the middle of the night as long as they had a device, which was continuously made affordable at its very inception by the reclusive owner of the company.

With this  technology ,the owner instantly became the most powerful business woman, icon, feminist, that the world knew. That is in fact all the world knew. That she was a woman. But nobody knew anything else about her, she was an elusive person who didn't show up to most media events. Her personal motto was that the products advocated for themselves. Her financial officers and other company higher ups showed up in the media, but she never did. Most people in the world didn't even know how this woman looked like, because of how reclusive she was.

All people knew was that she was Cha-ya’s mother and that she had two other kids.

What Jungkook got to know that made him almost go into a stroke was the sheer fact that Cha-ya’s mom was his Y/N. The one whose heart he had broken years ago.

Y/N was a billionaire of gargantuan proportions, a net worth that made his look like chump change.  His daughter was the iconic popstar of the century, someone whose craze and popularity surpassed his own in his heyday. Which meant that his son Saiyan was the new model who had just walk in Paris Fashion Week as the face of Armani. The same one that Jimin’s daughter had raved about the other day. Which meant that his son Arang became the CEO of the exclusive wellness resort, Ellysium , a resort only catered to the richest of the richest. All this calculations overwhelmed Jungkook to the point that there was only one reasonable outcome. He fainted.

He woke up to the sound of his members whispering in anxious voices to one another. “Do you think he can handle this right now?” Jin asked Namjoon. “I have no clue bro, I mean he hasn't seen her in years and the last time he saw her, he treated her so badly that even I felt ridiculously hurt for her” Namjoon sighed in a rather morose tone of voice. Hoseok scoffed as he seethed,  “Do you think she will even acknowledge him after all he had done to her? Jungkook left her to face a whole media circus alone while he impregnated her when he was inebriated, mind you. Then, to top it all of with a cherry he not only remembered nothing of the process, but she found him shagging a whole different girl the next day. Do you think that you would forgive actions as heinous as those”?

Jungkook felt dizzy as he struggled to sit up on the sofa. Jimin rushed to him with a frown on his face and worry painting his eyes, “You doing okay Kookie? Are you alright staying here for the rest of the award show, or do you want to head back home?” Still dazed from his fall, Jungkook responded pensively, “No it’s alright. I just need to catch my bearings and I can be there for the rest of the show”. Before the rest of the members could stop him Yoongi spit out bitterly, “You say you are okay attending the show. But are you sure you really want to? Cha-ya’s mother will be in attendance, flying out to see her babygirl win an award. You sure you can handle that Jungkook”?

Jungkook felt his heart racing, panic overtaking his mind. How could he face her? He had wronged her in so many ways? How could he show his miserable face to her after the way he had ruined her life? Y/n was never even his girlfriend or fiancé at the time. But, he had compromised her in the worst way possible and then had not even remembered his mistake the day after. She had paid for his mistakes by bearing children and caring for them when he had not even known they existed. Even if he had known , it was questionable whether he could've done anything signifiant. He had been embroiled in multiple scandals and caught in alcohol addiction during that phase of his life. He was living wild and no way would he have been a sober, or healthy father to his kids.

With the help of a few assistants , the group slowly trudged towards the celebrity seating quadrant of the award show venue. Cha-ya was up on the stage receiving the award for Most Streamed Artist from the hands of a veteran Korean actress. As Jungkook watched his daughter---as strange as it felt to say those words, receive the award with a blinding smile on her face, he felt his chest hurt. What type of crime had he committed in his previous life that he didn't even get to see his girl grow up? She was beautiful, sharing so many of his features, his bulbous nose, doe-like eyes, and rounded face.

She resembled him more than she resembled her mother. And before anyone could even expect it Cha-ya spoke into the microphone, “I thank everyone at VEX entertainment for helping me get to where I am today. I would also like to thank my staff and all the people behind the scenes who have pushed me to this position. I hope to make all of you proud. None of this would be possible without all of you”. She took in a deep breath as she announced, “But, most importantly I have to thank my mother. She brought me up to be the strong woman that I am today. She worked so hard to give us everything and never left us lacking. We never felt the absence of a father because she is both to me and to my brothers. I would like to call her up on stage, so I can dedicate this award to her. Please mom, come up on stage”.

Everything was moving too fast around Jungkook as he breathed in shallow pants. He felt like he was breathing too fast and his brain was not functioning. He felt paralyzed. Stuck. But he couldn't even catch his breath when he saw the mother of his children sweep into the area where he and the members sat. He could barely recognize the bold woman he was looking at. She looked lethal, powerful, untouchable ---the direct opposite of what she had been, a warm approachable girl.

She was draped in a blood red shimmering sari crafted with gold thread, an ensemble exposing a massive fire breathing dragon tattoo overarching the entirety of what seemed to be her left hip barely reaching to her belly button . The dress was close to backless with just a red resolute thread holding the top sleeveless jacket in place. You could tell she worked out, but she had all the feminine curves befitting a woman, a rounded stomach hidden by the shadow of the sari covering her modestly. Her face was covered with black sunglasses and she adorned her wrists with plain gold bangles, her neck laced with a simple gold chain.

She walked onto the steps leading to the stage in blood red heels as the entire celebrity section of the audience got a view of her back and tattoo. The lady was arresting to look at--all the way down from her aura to her body to her attire.

Y/N walked up to her daughter with arms opened, hugging the girl on stage with all the warmth that you would expect a mother to have for her child. A smile as radiant as a sunrise obliterated Y/N’s face as she spoke into the mike, “I am so proud to be here today to see my baby girl receive this award. She has worked so hard and all her efforts have come to fruition today. Thank you for allowing me to be on stage to celebrate this award with her”.

Both mother and daughter walked off the stage hand in hand as one of the MC’s for the award show started to walk up the stage. Collective gasps rang through the aisles as people saw who the next MC was. It was Saiyan. He had donned a simple Black Armani suit which highlighted just how devastating he looked. He took after Y/N more as he had slightly more defined cheekbones and huge eyes fringed with thick dark lashes to make any woman envious. He hulked onto stage, towering over his mom and sister at a height of 6′3. He laughed and hugged both of them, kissing his mom on the forehead,  and strolled to the mike to present the next award.

Jungkook’s eyes felt like they were about to pop out his head and his head was about to fall off his body. All three of them were on stage looking like such a happy family, radiant and warm. He could tell how much love his kids had for their mother . Y/N kissed Saiyan back on his cheek and walked off stage with Cha-ya in hand, giggling with her. These were all the people who he should've had in his life for years, held closest to his heart, but his poorly made decisions or lack thereof had distanced him from his own flesh and blood. 

Blinded by agitation and grief, Jungkook rushed out of the aisles, surprising his members as he absconded backstage to catch hold of Y/N and Cha-ya. But they weren’t alone. Cha-ya and Y/N were inundated by so many stage staff and artists who wanted to welcome them. His gut clenched as he saw all the men eyeing Y/N like she was the tastiest meal they had seen in centuries. He heard Y/N respond graciously to one staff member, “Oh, thank you for loving my outfit. It was designed by an upcoming Thai/Indian designer. She really went over the top with the gold motifs.” 

Jungkook couldn't stop himself as he pushed people, shoving past them trying to get to Y/N and his daughter. Staff around him were startled as they saw him wading through the crowd to the center of the room, whispering in shock at his pushy nature. As soon as he got in front of them, he was finally able to process the magnitude of Y/N’s beauty. Y/N was shocked for a mere a second at his sudden appearance and to his great surprise, kissed Cha ya on the cheek walking away from him as she told her, “Baby, mommy will be in your changing room. I have to take care of something”. Cha ya nodded at her mother, her eyes glazing over with a coat of suspicion and bitterness. She bowed stiffly towards Jungkook , “Sunbae, nice to meet you. It is an honor to meet you”. Her eyes took up a hard glint as she saw the rest of BTS filter into the room. She faced them and bowed to all of them, speaking in a lackadaisical tone “It is an honor to meet all of you. I have grown up watching all of you”. Her face did not show interest in engaging with them and she looked at them with a rather disinterested attitude. 

“Well I should get going. My mother is waiting for me”, she said as she glided seamlessly out of the room towards her dressing room. 

Jungkook felt tears well up in his eyes and anxiety stain his mind as he could see how cold his daughter was being towards him, as though he were a stranger. She had greeted him as though he was just any person on the street, as though they didn't share blood. As though he meant nothing to her. Jimin and Namjoon closed in around him, steering him towards a secluded corner of the room as he started sobbing miserably as though he were not able to breath. His eyes were red, tears flowing down his eyes, wetting his cheeks as he understood the gravity of what sin he had truly committed. 

He wiped frantically at his eyes, pushing away from his members as he ran towards Chaya’s changing room. He heard Yoongi scream beyond him, “Jungkook you better get back here! Don’t do this Jungkook, You need to calm down!!” Jungkook could not be reasoned with as he darted towards the room that a surprised staff had pointed at. He arrived in front of the door, barely catching his breath as he knocked in a hurried manner, desperate to speak with the most important people in his life that he had alienated. 

Chaya opened the door in a pink satin robe, leaning against the door with a sigh, “I knew you wouldn't be patient. I told mom it was a bad idea for her to fly out. She did anyway knowing that she would have to contend with you.” She sneered as she bit out in a crisp manner, “Well, why don’t you come in Jungkook -sshi? Or will you stay outside and make a circus of our reputation? Funny how you are obsessed with keeping yours, but have no problem blemishing others. You couldn't stay away, could you? You managed to for so many years, but now you fail at what you claim to be best at. Not caring. How juvenile”. She snarked all this at him vindictively as she simultaneously opened the door, gesturing for him to come into the room. 

The rest of the members stood outside as she sardonically queried, “Well, would you all grant us some privacy? I am sure we will have Jungkook-ssi out of the room soon enough. It shouldn't be a very long conservation. There isn't much to say anyway.” Yoongi’s eye twitched as he glared in silence at the rude girl who was literally the unexpected niece of all of the members. 

She closed the door on their faces.

Inside the room, Y/N sat on the couch surveying Jungkook’s appearance with mild interest. “Why are you here Jungkook? Do you need to say something?”, she calmly asked.  Y/N’s mind whirled in turmoil even as she looked calm on the outside. Why was he in front of them all these years when he himself had shunned her at her weakest moment? Jungkook was hyperventilating as he asked in a cracked voice, “I am not going to ask you the Stu-pid question of whether these kids are mine or not. Because I know that they are all the same age and I can see it in their faces and their mannerisms. They are mine”. He took a deep breath as he felt the panic overtake him, “But why did you never tell me about them? Why did you take me away from their lives. You know how much my mother and father wanted grandkids. Out of everybody in the world, you knew it the best. Why did you deprive me and my parents of them?” 

In an infuriatingly placating tone, Y/N responded without a hitch in her voice, “Don’t you remember? You didn’t want anything to do with me because I had apparently betrayed our friendship by being a characterless bitch and luring you into fucking me when you were drunk. Can you not make a quick trip down memory lane? Or has it been too long for you to remember the lurid media details that tore me apart? You may have forgotten but I never will”. 

She took a sip of tea as she tapped her nails on her lap, “You wouldn't hear me out when I told you that we had both accidentally gotten married when were drunk. Even though I knew that you never wanted anything to do with me romantically, you still initiated intercourse even as I clearly told you no. I begged you to let go of me. But in your blind livid anger of finding the marriage certificate lying on the couch later that night, you didn't do what most men do. You didn't do the practical thing, which is to rage and get over it. You didn’t tear the certificate and put an end to it there. You decided that I deserved to pay, and you fucked me even as I begged you to not ruin me. But, then again,  why are you asking me all the gruesome details, when you were the perpetrator?”

As Jungkook clutched his head, bending it down in dismay and shame, she quietly drawled, “We could've simply dissolved the marriage. It was not done seriously. It was done in a compulsion, as both of us were under the influence. Influence that you forced down my throat if we are being truly accurate. But, why did you have to ruin my life even when you were in a sober state? What excuse do you have for that? Other than your ridiculously misplaced anger? So you forced me when you were sober, making me pay in the most pitiful manner.”

 She laughed bitterly, eyes bereft of emotion, retreating behind a mask of forced complacency , “You knew, out of everyone else, since you were my friend at the time, that I had never even done it before. But you still treated me more pathetically than a piece of trash on the sidewalk. You degraded me as you violated me, taunting me with the most hurtful epithets known to man. You stripped me of my dignity. Don’t you remember jungkook? Don’t you remember any of it ? If you do, why are you forcing me to re-live it? I had kids, and I moved on from that pathetic, trusting, giving version of myself. You taught me that I must always pay the price for being kind. I will never forget it”. 

The torture was too much to bear. Jungkook crumpled off the sofa, onto the floor as he started sobbing, remembering what he had done to her. He remembered how he had hurt her again and again. They had been extremely close friends at the time, and he had ruined their friendship by crossing the line when both of them were drunk. At the time he had loved another girl, one who showed him how disgusting humanity could be. Y/N had warned him against her multiple times when they were friends , but he stupidly enough had stuck onto that girl, having a toxic relationship with her. 

When that girl had walked in on Y/N and him, finding the marriage certificate splayed out on the couch, she had broke up with him. In that frenzy of indignation, he had committed the vilest mistake of his entire life. He had forced Y/N, someone with no sexual experience, to suffer. He had degraded her verbally as he had humiliated and forced her. He remembered it as if it were yesterday. He remembered it everytime he looked at his reflection. When the violation was done, she had walked away pitifully, stumbling away from his form as she quietly uttered, “I am sorry for taking away your chance at happiness. You have punished me in a way I can never forget. I will never forget what you have taught me about our friendship. Now I know how much our friendship meant to you. Don’t worry, you will never hear from me again ”. 

As cum and blood had streamed down legs, she had dragged herself out of his house, to go back to her lonely hotel room where she sobbed and cursed at her mother for giving birth to her.  She cursed at god for her sheer existence. She would never trust again. He had damaged her forever. 

An hour after she left his house, Jungkook had understood his grievous mistake and told his Hyungs the sin he had committed. They all stared at him in shock as Yoongi started beating him, “Is THIS what we taught you Jungkook? To be a rapist and a miserable excuse of a human being?!” Everyone else stared at him in shock. Namjoon went to Bang PD to ask him to contact their lawyer. What if Y/N launched a lawsuit against Jungkook and the group? 

To all their collective surprise, they received news from Y/N’s friend Myrna, a foreign communications director at HYBE, that she had left for the U.S., going back to her home country. She had stopped at a hospital before leaving and handed Myrna an NDA drafted by a lawyer, before leaving, stating that she would not reveal anything that had gone down that day. The NDA also stated that she would like to never be contacted again, and that HYBE would face heavy legal repercussions if they ever attempted to do so. A divorce application form had been filled out and left in a pamphlet as well. All Jungkook had to do to nullify the marriage was to sign off on it”. 

Jungkook lived through his memories once again as Y/N smoothed down her dress, “If you would like to get to know the kids, I will not stop you. In fact, I had reached out to your company regarding the kids when they were born. But, I never heard back from them since. I even personally tried contacting you and your members, but none of you ever responded. Regardless, bygones will be bygones. The past is in the past. Cha-ya, Saiyan, and Arang have been brought up to be kind, forgiving individuals. They are not ruthless like their dad. Though they are angry, rightfully so as of now, they will come around and try to get to know you eventually.”

“Now, I will leave the room and allow you to talk to Cha-ya and Saiyan if that is what you wish to do. Arang will be arriving in five minutes”. 

As she got up to leave the room, she felt a firm vascular hand wrap around her wrist. She looked back to see Jungkook on his knees, head down, whimpering “I don’t wish to just know my kids. I wish to know the wife I never had”. 

Y/N reached to remove his hand off her wrist, “You must not understand what the true definition of the words ‘too little, too late’ mean”. 

TAGLIST:

@sporadicarcadebanana , @darkuni63, @jessicalynn85

[tangledinink]

I’m a bit of a nerd about biology so I do have some potential ideas about how Donnie would know about the kiddos. While regular turtles will nest for all their eggs, fertile or not, donnie doesn’t seem to have that instinct. The unfertilized eggs to him seem to be similar to a human on their period. So when the eggs are fertilized, maybe he does have that nesting instinct. Like he subconsciously knows and gets a severe bout of anxiety about making sure to have a good safe nest for these eggs. There could also be some kind of mystic thing that can be done to confirm his suspicions.

waves arms. biology!

i think both leo and donnie do have some degree of a 'nesting instinct' when they're on their cycle even now, they just don't currently have the chance to answer it. but i guess when they're typically on their cycle it's akin to their instincts gently being like, 'hey, uhm, a little burrow might be nice...' but when there's actually a baby on board, it's more like 'DIG A FUCKING HOLE IN THE GROUND AND GET IN IT, N O W MOTHERFUCKER. WE NEED SOFT BLANKETS AND DARKNESS RIGHT THIS INS T AN T.'

which does probably come with a great deal of anxiety, restlessness, etc. there would also probably be more human-ish symptoms, such as not bleeding (or producing any unfertilized eggs) as expected, morning sickness, and other general hormone fuckiness. and i'm sure that between the forces of science and mystics combined, they could figure out some sort of ninja turtle pregnancy test.

[stromuprisahat]

TW RAPE MENTION AND NAZI IMAGERY

What I would have done with Fjerda instead of Helnik(scornful): we start on a smiling blond-haired blue-eyed family man, let's call him Alfred, who kissed his wife and children good morning and was the picture of classic paterfamilias at the breakfast table. He leaves to his 'lumber mill' management job. He gathers his workers, has morning prayers, and enters his office where he reviews paperwork on today's fresh 'logs'. He goes to the collection room, picks out a young blond Grisha for himself before telling his men what to do with the rest.

After the deed is done he continues working, observing a room of emaciated Fabrikators working on a tank. We see one guard nudge a skeletal young woman slumped over her table, declare her dead and carts her away to the incinerator. He comes home, kisses his wife and hugs his children and goes to sleep soundly.

The horrific is routine.

That's too obviously Nazi. Better to keep it in hints and put a lovely romance that will miraculously fix him.

Or outright describe drugging breeding factory, and pretend killing some of their staff and showing the victims to inhabitants of nearby town will earn a wave or righteous indignation for their sake and turn the population into Jew Grisha worshippers of Living Saints.

A girl who couldn’t be more than sixteen was being walked up and down the length of the corridor by a Springmaiden. Her feet were bare and she wore a light gray gown that stretched over her jutting belly. “I can’t,” she moaned. She looked unspeakably frail, the thrust of her stomach at odds with the sharp knobs and angles of her bones. “You can,” said the Springmaiden, her voice firm as she led the girl by her elbow. “She needs to eat,” said another of the women from the convent. “Skipped her breakfast.” The Springmaiden tsked. “You know you aren’t to do that.” “I’m not hungry,” panted the girl between heavy breaths. “We can either walk to help the baby come or I can sit you down for some semla. The sugar will give you energy during the birth.” The girl began to cry. “I don’t need sugar. You know what I need.” A tremor passed through Nina as understanding came. She recognized that desperation, that deep hunger that sank its teeth into you until all you were was wanting. She knew the need that turned everything you’d ever cared for—friends, food, love—to ash, until all you could remember of yourself was the desire for the drug. The wasted body, the dark hollows beneath her eyes—this girl was addicted to parem. And that meant she must be Grisha. Nina peered down the row of beds at the women and girls. The youngest looked to be about fifteen, the oldest might have been in her thirties, but the ravages of the drug made it hard to tell. Some cradled small bumps beneath their thin blankets, others hunched over high, protruding stomachs. A few might not have been pregnant—or might not have been showing yet.

King of Scars- Chapter 18

Just don't kill the guy behind all this no matter how many chances you'll get, because he's your new LI's daddy, and he DOES love his child (as long as he doesn't know they're Grisha too).

Save some mercy for my people my ass. Dying wish or not, it shouldn't extend to the likes of Jarl Brum.

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 26

Word Count: 4.8K

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack, as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

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There was no mistaking what had happened to Raina and her pack. Someone had been running them out of the town purposely, and they were taking innocent lives with them. But there was a theory Henry did not want to voice, yet he couldn't help it from popping into his head.  

Henry's family had not been known for taking the high road or playing fair. His father had a way of bending the truth to fit his narrative, and he definitely had people who would do anything they needed to do for Gerard's bigger plan to come to fruition. He had witnessed planted evidence, false testimonies, and even the occasional dead body that belonged to no one but the hunters. And he couldn't help but think that the bodies in Fort Kent were victims of Gerard Argent's plan.  

But why? What could his father possibly gain from hurting Raina and her pack?  

“Everyone!” Raina called as she reached the cabin where she and her pack were staying. “Please, gather round.”  

“Who is this guy, Rai?” A man asked, joining her side in a split second. “He smells like trouble.”  

“Calm down, Marcos. I know him, okay?”  

“Well, I know an Argent when I see one,” the man grumbled. “I don't trust his kind.”  

“I know. And he is an Argent, but he's... he's a friend,” she smiled. “And he's gonna be staying with us.” 

Mumbles and arguments erupted across the camp. Over a dozen people gathered around the pair, their eyes focused solely on Henry. They all shouted their grievances toward their alpha, yelling their distrust and disgust for people like him. The last thing they wanted was an Argent in their midst, and he could understand that.  

“Alright, everyone. That's enough!” Raina exclaimed, her voice booming and echoing across the forest. “I understand your apprehension, and I hear your concerns. But Henry is nothing like his family, and he needs a place to stay.”  

“How do we know he's not here undercover?” Marcos continued. “He could be a plant for his family, and you just brought him straight to us.”  

“He's not like that, Marcos.”  

“How can you know? You haven't seen this guy in years.” 

“I know him.”  

“How well?”  

“I...”  

“We're not gonna get anywhere like this,” Henry interjected. “You can have my phone and dispose of it. You can double-check my car for a tracker; there isn't one. You can triple-search my things and throw out whatever you don't want here. But the only reason I am here is because something inside me led me here—led me to Raina. Now, you may hate everything about me, but I am only here for her. And if she wants me here, then I'm staying.”  

Raina and Henry's eyes met, and there was an unspoken agreement between them. Like many years before, their connection was undeniable. They didn't need words or even gestures to know what the other was thinking—even after so many years and so much distance. They just knew.  

“Henry is staying,” Raina stated, standing between him and her pack. “And if anyone has a problem with that, you can go ahead and take it up with me.”  

After that, the pack disbanded begrudgingly. No one trusted Henry, and he could understand why. But their alpha had given an order, and unless they wanted to find another pack, they needed to follow her rules. And it seemed like they all agreed. They were fine with staying for Raina's sake, but that didn't mean they had to be nice about it. There were dirty states, under-their-breath comments, and a tad of shunning.  

Still, Henry couldn’t care less that the only person who had talked to him in seven days had been Raina. When he’d deviated from the hunters, he had no idea what awaited him in the forests of Maine, but he’d be lying if he said he regretted it for a moment. He believed there would be a period of awkwardness and anger from the distance and misunderstandings—it was only logical given the way things had ended between them. Yet, no matter how long it took, he was willing to wait until she was ready to let him in once more.  

But Raina surprised him. Instead of pushing him away or simply being cordial, she welcomed him like no time had passed at all. For the first time in a very long time, Henry felt happy. All it took was a few seconds in her presence, and all the pain and hurt that had festered in his life for the past few years had instantly dissipated. Everything that had occurred had led him back to her, and he could never take it for granted. 

“Can't believe you're here,” Raina smiled as she sat on her bed. “I mean, if anyone told me this morning I'd be running into you, I'd probably laugh in their face.”  

“Well, I was supposed to be almost four hours away and most definitely not in this hidden cabin surrounded by wolves that want my head on a stick,” he grinned. “But I guess the universe does work in mysterious ways.”  

“Henry Argent,” she chuckled.  

“Raina Shetty,” he said as he sat beside her. “Is there a... a Mr. Shetty?”  

“Wow, you're just getting right into it,” she laughed loudly. “But no. There is no Mr. Shetty.”  

“Oh. Well, that's good to know.”  

“Yeah?” Raina grinned. “And what about you? Did Gerard finally arrange the newest Argent acquisition?”  

“I'm pretty sure he was trying to,” the man laughed dryly, scratching his neck as he felt warmth rise under his skin. “But I couldn't quite connect with her. There was always someone else in my mind.”  

Henry couldn't help but let his eyes roam across Raina's features. So much had changed, and nothing had changed at all at the same time. Her eyes were just as warm and inviting as they had been the day they had met; her smile was still gleaming and infectious; her body... Well, he had been lacking in the bedroom department, but that had never stopped his imagination from remembering his past. And now she was sitting beside him like no time had passed at all. She had welcomed him with open arms—albeit after a small defensive fight—and had offered him a place to stay when he had left it all behind to follow an unknown flutter in his heart.  

“What are you thinking about?” Raina asked, bumping his shoulder to break him out of thought. “You disappeared there for a second.”  

“I was just thinking about how much I want to kiss you right now,” he breathed. “And how I'm not sure I'm allowed to think about that.”  

“If we aren't, then I'd be failing, too,” she said, her gaze switching between his eyes and his lips. “Because that's all I've been thinking about s...”  

Raina's words died in her mouth as Henry cradled her cheek and crashed his lips to hers. They molded into each other like the gods had carved them specifically for one another. They fell into a perfect rhythm, finding the matching melody that united their song. They breathed life into each other, feeding a fire that had been dormant for years. It spread from their lips to the tips of their toes, drenching them in a yearning that had brought them to that moment.  

“Hey, Raina, I...” Marcos' voice filled the room before the sound of the door hinge alerted them he was there, startling the pair apart as he entered the room. “Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt.”  

“No, uh, it's fine,” Raina said, fixing her slightly tousled hair and crinkled shirt. “What's up?”  

For days, that was the way things went. Every moment Raina and Henry found to be alone, one person or another would interrupt or find a way to whisk her away. There was not a minute where he was able to do much other than share a few words with her and a couple of kisses before she was pulled from his grasp. It was a constant show of who had her ear and priority. Henry was an outsider, and they were all letting him know.  

Still, he tried his best to show them his intentions were nothing but good. He cleaned what needed to be cleaned, he cooked what needed to be cooked, he found what needed to be found. Henry tried everything he could to make it known that he wanted to be a part of them, and he was willing to wait however long it would take. Raina was there, and he wasn't planning on giving up on her ever again.  

Raina, on the other hand, had quickly started to grow tired of her pack's antics. She had prided herself in welcoming anyone who needed a home and guidance, no matter who they were—with the occasional exception, of course. Lost souls could find a place to rest their heads for the night or for the rest of their lives. It was the way her father had lived by, and it was the way she would, too. So, for her pack to reject the one man who had stolen her heart from the moment he had said hello to her.  

The last thing she had expected when a motion sensor was triggered on the outskirts of the property a week before was to find the very man she had lost close to a decade ago. When he had seemingly disappeared right before their senior year was set to start, she believed it would be the last time she ever set eyes on Henry Argent. Despite their predisposition to hating each other, they had pushed through their taught bigotry and found something stronger to unite them—love. It was that simple emotion that had kept her hoping rather than letting anger fester deep inside her, for it wasn’t his fault he was born into a hunter family, nor was it hers to be born a wolf.  

Henry had been the one who got away, and he had been for a long time. Since his vanishing, Raina hadn't been able to get him out of her mind, constantly reminded of the boy who had seen her at her very worst and had loved her even more. She couldn't imagine herself building another relationship like the one she had cultivated with the Argent boy—even if it had been her first, she had truly believed it would be her only. And when she had decided to desist from the idea of a happy-ever-after with him, he crashed right into her life once again.  

“I just don't understand why he's here,” Marcos grumbled as he chopped firewood. “No one just happens to stumble across their long-lost love like this. Much less a hunter like him.”  

“He is not like his family, Marcos,” she sighed in frustration. “If you give him a chance, you’ll see he’s an amazing person. You would have seen that if you and the whole pack hadn’t decided to avoid him and ostracize him the entire time. I trust him with my life. And if you trust me as your alpha and as your friend, you would too.” 

“That guy is a hunter, Raina!” the man exclaimed. “Not just that, he’s an Argent. How can you trust him after what his father did? You should hate him just as much as we do.” 

“Henry is not his father,” she responded through gritted teeth. “What Gerard did…” 

Suddenly, a voice started, and then it interjected. “What did he do?”  

“Henry, I…” 

“Tell me what he did, Raina,” he said. “What did my father do to you?”  

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Marcos spat. “You probably helped him do it.” 

“What is he talking about? Helped him do what?” 

Marcos took a step toward Henry, ignoring Raina’s deadly grip on his arm. “Your dear old dad killed Rahul and a few of our pack members,” he seethed. “A year after you all left, Gerard came back to finish a job he had started when you all left. Set fire to the house after dosing them with wolfsbane. Now, he didn’t get Raina that time, so I’m almost certain the killings at Fort Kent are just his excuse to send you to finish the job.” 

Dread washed over Henry as Marcos’ words sunk in. He had known his father to be cruel and violent, but he never thought Gerard would go that far. He had tried his absolute best to keep the Shetty’s identity a secret—even when his father had literally tried to beat information out of him. Everything he had done to protect Raina had been for nothing. And him being close to her again would only put her in even more danger than she already was.  

“I-I-I have to go,” he stammered as he rushed inside the cabin. His vision was blurred from the tears in his eyes, and he was sure that if he stopped walking, he’d drop. Raina’s voice followed him all the way to her room. “Don’t try to stop me, Rai. I have to go.” 

“What, why?” she inquired. “I can talk to the pack if that’s the problem. I know they’ve been hard to crack, but…” 

“I’m dangerous for you, Rai,” he sighed. “My dad killed yours. You should want me as far away from here as possible; you should despise me.” 

“Why would I hate you for what your father did? I would never punish you for your father’s sins.” 

“Maybe you should,” he mumbled defeatedly as he sat on the bed. “If I had never fallen for you, he would have never set his sights on your family.” 

“How can you say that, Henry?” Raina softly asked, taking his hand in hers. “You had nothing to do with your dad’s hatred. If anything, you tried to change his mind about wolves.” 

Henry struggled to find the words as tears fell down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking as the sobs took over his breathing. Guilt swam through his veins, squeezing his throat and chilling his bones. “It’s my fault he came back, Rai. It’s my fault your dad is dead,” he cried. “If I had just stayed home and done what he asked, your dad would still be alive.”  

“What're you talking about, Henry?”  

“After Maine, we settled in Washington, but I never felt at home there. My dad cut out every channel of contact that I had here, and as the days passed, I found it impossible to be away from you,” he started. “I held out during the school year, but once I graduated, I had no reason to stay there. A week after graduation, I tried to run away, and I truly underestimated my father's need for control. I only made it across Idaho before he found me, and I can tell you he was not happy about it.   “He forced me into his car and drove me back home,” Henry recalled with a shaky breath. “When we got there, he told my mom to take Chris and Kate out of the house before dragging me to the basement. I tried my hardest to remain quiet. The last thing I wanted was to set his sights on you and your family again, but I wasn't strong enough.”  

“What did he do to you, Henry?” Raina asked, her voice broken and horrified. “Tell me.”  

“He kept asking where I was going. Pushing and pushing to get the answer he wanted, but he quickly gathered I wasn't going to give an answer willingly,” he shuddered as he remembered that day. “When he grew frustrated, which didn't take long, he decided to use other methods—ones he would normally use on werewolves. He beat me until I was choking on blood, he shocked me until I couldn't stop twitching, and he waterboarded me until I couldn't stop coughing up water. I had a broken rib by the time I finally gave him what he wanted, and that's what sent him here.   “I told him I would never stop trying to get away from him to get to you,” Henry sniffled, his head dropping in shame. “He took me to his doctor after and made a deal with me—he would leave you and your family alone if I didn't try to find you again and became an exemplary hunter. And, well, I agreed because I thought it would keep you safe. But all I did was give him the perfect excuse to target you guys. If I had just kept quiet...”  

“If you had kept quiet, you'd be the one dead now, Henry,” Raina cried, cradling his cheek to force his eyes back to hers. “Your father would have never stopped hunting us, and he made sure to let my dad know before you left. None of this was your fault, Henry. We are simply the children of a war that doesn't belong to us. It would be easier to just hate you for what Gerard did to me and a lot of people in the pack, but you bear no guilt in this. And my heart can't do anything but love you.”  

“I don't deserve that, Rai. I don't deserve your love.”  

“Why not? Why can't you just accept that I love you, and I would never blame you for what your family does?” 

“Because I am my family, Raina,” he exclaimed. “I have hunted; I have killed. I became the man my father always wanted me to be, and it was all for nothing. I should have known he was lying.”  

“You were a kid, threatened by the one person who's supposed to love you unconditionally,” she cooed. “You had no reason not to believe him, and I’m grateful you did, Henry. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't.” 

“I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you.”  

“Henry, you deserve more love than I can give,” Raina said. “The universe has given us another chance to make this work, and we shouldn't ignore it because of mistakes committed by other people. Don't give up on us before we have given it our all.”  

“I don't want to, but what if Marcos is right?” he questioned. “What if it's my dad or someone working for him that did the slashings up in Fort Kent? That would mean he knows you're still here. And now that I've run away again, he’s gonna stop at nothing to find me.”  

“Then, let’s test out that theory,” she mused. “Stay here; be with me. Whatever happens after, we can deal with it. Just give us another chance, Henry.”  

“You have too much faith, Rai.”  

“And you don't have enough,” she chuckled. Raina decided then to test the waters. She placed a knee at either side of his legs, straddling his lap as she circled his neck with her arms. “You wouldn't be here if you didn't believe in us, even just a little bit.”  

“I will admit you make a really good point there,” he breathed shakily. “I just don't want to put you in danger... again.”  

“You do know I am an alpha with quite a big pack?” she grinned. “I can take care of myself, Henry.”  

“Of course,” he chuckled, letting his hands roam her back. “It won't stop me from worrying.”  

“Who said I wanted you to? I just want you to stay.”  

“I will,” he smiled. “They'll have to pry you off my dead, cold hands if they ever want to get me away from you.”  

“Kind of like the sound of that,” she teased. “Also like the sound of cementing this little promise.”  

“What did you have in mind?”  

“Well...” Raina placed a kiss on Henry's lips before kissing his cheek and then his jaw. “We could start with something like...”  

Before she could finish, a knock interrupted them. Someone from behind the door called for Raina, telling her she was needed. It pulled a sigh out of the pair before they slumped onto the bed in frustration. "We're gonna have to do something about that,” Henry muttered. “I haven't had more than a few minutes alone with you.”  

“Don't worry,” she smiled. “Things are gonna change around here.”  

And change they did. In the coming days, Henry grew on the pack. They started to see the difference between him and the rest of his family. He was helpful, he was useful, and he was staying. Slowly but surely, he became one of them. Especially as his relationship with Raina grew. 

A month and a half later, when they finally got the privacy they had wanted, Raina had fallen pregnant. After eight years of distance, they were set on the fast track, and they couldn't be happier about it. Everyone rallied around them, excited about the new life they were bringing to the pack. In their long trek of darkness, a baby was just the sign they needed that things were looking up.  

By Raina's eighth month of pregnancy, Henry decided it was the right time to get down on one knee. Nerves shot through him as he prepared for the day. He knew love lived between them, but only for the second time in his life; he was doing what he wanted to do and not what was expected of him. He had found happiness once more, and he didn't want to lose it.  

“You know she's gonna say yes,” Marcos chuckled as he snacked on a bag of chips. Surprisingly, the one who had hated him the most when he arrived had become his closest confidante. “I mean, she's already knocked up.”  

“Hey, that's my possible future wife you're talking about,” Henry said. “And I know she's gonna say yes—at least, I hope. But I can't help but feel nervous.”  

“Well, you are doing things kind of out of order,” Marcos shrugged. “You should have gotten married before your dad killed hers and then have kids.”  

“That's not funny.”  

“I think it's hilarious,” he laughed. “Almost as funny as it is that you're nervous.”  

“Nervous about what?” Raina asked as she walked into the room. “Is there anything to be nervous about?”  

“Oh, nothing really,” Henry chuckled awkwardly. “Just preparing for tonight's bonfire.”  

“And that makes you nervous?”  

“You know, Henry,” Marcos teased. “It'd be weird if he wasn't.”  

Marcos’ jokes aside, Henry was truly nervous. The ring burned a hole in his pocket for the rest of the day as they went about their normal chores. He couldn't handle the wait. Every fiber of his being yearned to ask the question, to fortify the commitment they had made to each other. Even if they were never legally wed while they remained hidden, he and everyone he now considered family would, and that was all that really mattered.  

That night, everyone gathered around the bonfire, thankful winter had broken and they were able to make fires without calling attention to themselves. There were drinks, food, and music—anyone who saw them would never know they were a pack terrified of being found by hunters. They were merely a group of people celebrating and enjoying each other's company, buzzing from a secret everyone knew except their alpha.  

“Everyone seems happy, huh?” Raina asked as she swayed to the music with Henry. “I just wish we could be in an actual house where we don't have to be on high alert.”  

“I'm sorry,” he sighed into her hair. “It's my family's fault we can't leave just yet.” 

“It's okay, sweetheart,” she chuckled. “I kind of like it here. And our baby will love the woods. She'll be one with the earth.” 

“She? She could be a boy, too.”  

“No, I can feel it,” Raina smiled. “She's a girl.”  

“We're having a girl then,” he laughed. “And she'll be just as beautiful as her mother.”  

“As long as she has her father's brain.”  

“I wouldn't mind that,” he said before turning her to face him as he got down on one knee. “I also wouldn't mind asking you something very important.”  

“What are you doing, Henry?” Raina beamed. “Is this really happening?”  

“Raina, meeting you changed my life forever,” he started. “The years I was forced to spend without you were the longest I've ever had to live, and now that I have you, I don't plan on letting you go. I would have never believed in soulmates or even love before I met you. You gave me a reason for living, a reason for fighting. So many things have tried to keep us apart, what we were born as being the biggest. But our love surpasses werewolves and hunters; it transcends everything life has tried to throw at us.   “Now, I know this is not the flashiest ring,” Henry said as he pulled the piece of jewelry from his pocket. “I don't have the money or the access to the outside world to get you the ring you deserve. But I worked on this with Julian, and I'm quite impressed with how it turned out. I found the sea glass by the river and then we took some silver spoons and...”  

“Henry, honey,” Raina laughed, interrupting, “you're rambling.”  

“Right, yeah,” the man chuckled before he continued. “What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to spend another day of my life away from you. It's you. It's always going to be you for as long as I live. So, Raina Shetty, love of my life, mother of my child, will you do me the absolute honor of becoming my wife?”  

“It's about time!” she exclaimed as she pulled Henry's arms. “Now, get up here so I can kiss you.”  

Everything was all right at that moment. It's as close to perfect as it could be. The baby was close to arriving, Henry and Raina were set to marry soon after the baby was born, and there were plans to move the pack to another state. Everything seemed to be falling into place close to a year after they had found each other again.  

But perfection didn't fit into the universe they lived in. When everything was going well, something had to disrupt the peace. It seemed it was the only way life knew to keep balance.  

A week of pure bliss had passed since their engagement, and Henry and Raina were excitedly waiting for their baby to be born. In just a couple of weeks their little family of two would quickly become three, and they were ecstatic. There was a corner of their room designated to whom they were calling baby girl Argent, complete with a wooden crib and a mobile of butterflies and crystals Henry had gotten when he felt safe enough to venture into the “real” world. Ten months had to be long enough for his family to stop looking for him.  

Or so he thought.  

“There's movement in perimeter four,” Marcos called out one day. “But the cameras don't seem to be picking anything up.”  

“Could be an animal,” Raina offered. “Still, someone should go check out what's happening there.”  

“I'll go,” Henry announced as he strapped his rifle to his back. “Might get us some fresh dinner for tonight.”  

“Be careful, Henry. We don't know it's an animal for sure.” 

“I'll be okay,” he smiled before kissing Raina's cheek. “Not the first time I've hunted before.”  

“Almost like it's in your blood,” Marcos teased.  

“Wasn't funny the first time,” Henry smirked. “Might just be funny the hundredth time.”  

Henry took off to the eastern side of the property, keeping in mind the traps the pack had set for outsiders. They had never caught an actual person anywhere near the place, but it did help when they were in need of fresh meat. Yet, as he neared the area where the motion sensor was tripped, a chilling wave rushed through him. Something didn't feel quite right. And if there was anything he had learned in the past year, it was to trust his instincts.  

Granted, he could never have guessed what he would face. Whoever had tripped the sensor had done it on purpose. There was no sign of movement anywhere near where the sensors were, which could only mean there was a person knowledgeable in hiding. That, coupled with Henry's bad feelings, could only mean one thing.  

“Come out,” he called out loudly. “I know it's you, so just come out.”  

The bushes rustled with movement, unveiling who was camouflaging themselves in the foliage. Anyone else would have been surprised, but not Henry. No. Henry was annoyed.  

“Hey there, Argent,” the person said as they took off their mask. “Didn't think you could hide forever.”  

Next ->

A/N: well, one more chapter and then back to present time for some much-needed Derek Hale If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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