#father sorry father sorry father sorry father sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunboki · 2 days ago

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⎯ for eternity longer. ⟡ featuring christopher bahng

🍼 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. pregnancy! au, dad! channie au, overall so so fluffy, comfort, slighttt angst if you squint

WORD COUNT. 6.4k words ☆ 30 minute read

WARNINGS. worry about delivery complications, cursing (??), anxiety, implied intercourse, regards to gender

AUG'S NOTES. i think channie would be an amazing dad :) just a thought i decided to place to paper (in this case, digitally). thank you for waiting so patiently!! please enjoy <3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Christopher Bahng had intentions upon one day being a father, but when the news of a little one on the way becomes the forefront of a life he’d initially spent with one world, you, he’s quickly introduced to the second world he’ll come to adore, a baby.

or alternatively :

Blossoming beginnings, and the bump.

“Channie, baby,”

His name is whispered between sleepy breaths, brows knitted where your eyes attempt at focusing amidst a slumbering haze.

The meager vision granted from a candle paves view to your husband, currently resting his cheek against the soft bump of your belly, pressing the occasional kiss there.

“It’s so cute,” He mumbles, tracing shapes along the skin, eyes crinkling into the dimpled-smile you’ve come to adore.

“‘S late.”

Offering the remark, you smooth a thumb along his jaw, dipping down to trace his bottom lip and earning a small peck against the digit in reply, chocolate irises flickering up to your face with so much love you fear you’re melting.

“I know,” Chris whispers where his lips press to your thumb, voice muffled. “I’m sorry just—“

One chaste kiss to your belly later and he cracks a smile.

“Just love it.”

Another kiss, then another.

“Love you, love this. I’m so happy.”

You are my world, he professes wordlessly, and you scorn the heaviness of your eyes in shielding him from view, the inability for your vocal cords to utter those same three words as you drift back to sleep.

And this is my second world, Chris thinks to himself, fighting slumber to gaze at you just a moment longer, savor.

Because he couldn’t explain how lucky he is, and how beautiful you are, and how warm he feels, his head fuzzy and jumbled into mushy bliss.

A baby, and the thought alone makes him want to squeal.

Chris had yet to ever be hit by a tsunami (thank goodness for that), but he thinks he’s found an equivalent to the feeling.

That equivalent being a particular call while in the studio, an unsettlingly studious Han Jisung seated behind him on the couch while Changbin stands in the recording room, pointing out things in need of fine tuning.

So when you call, he’s led to believe it could be regarding dinner, maybe a date preposition away from his busied schedule.

Yet, upon hearing a sniffle, his eyes round to the size of saucers, index aptly missing where he’d click his mouse, drawing the attention of his fellow producers, their eyes narrowed in mild concern.

“Chris.. baby, I know this is so.. so sudden but,” Between your hiccups and his heart racing, he reruns everything that could’ve gone amiss. He knew you were running late when it came to your period thanks to the cycle-tracking app on his phone, but then again, usually it’d miraculously show up.

Maybe he’d said something? Forgotten something?

Birthday, anniversary, a family member passing?

His head fills with a plethora of possibilities, too many to pinpoint.

“Baby I,” You pause, and Chris rises up to slip to the corner of the room, shushing you gently.

“Hey, hey honey, ‘need you to take deep breaths, okay? It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. Tell me whenever you’re ready.” He consoles, shifting from foot to foot in a futile attempt at warding the nerves.

A sharp inhale and then-

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

It’s hard for you to even believe, and Chris swears his stomach jumped to his throat for a moment, making hurried eye contact with an evidently confused Han and Changbin from across the studio.

Pregnant.

Immediately abandoning his work, he grants the two a hurried nod they simply wave in response to, fervently racing from the building and somehow managing to avoid a ticket on his 20-mile-over-the-speed-limit drive home, rushing through the doorway to scoop you up into his arms and hold you close, let you cry as much as you need.

Hell, he’s not the one carrying the baby anyway. You’re the one in need of all the fretting.

As if he didn’t fret over you anyway.

Tender fingers ease back the strands of hair from your face, pressing kiss after kiss to your sniffling frame.

If you want to keep the baby, if you need time to think, time to be alone, he’s ready for that. All of it.

Though contraceptives were always in play when it came to the bedroom, it seemed some things would remain out of control.

“I’m.. hic.. I’m keeping it, okay?”

And he’s okay with that, okay with anything his beloved decides upon, thumbing the tears from your pretty face to place a slow kiss to your lips.

On this presumably routine Thursday of his, Chris finds out he’s going to be a Dad.

If there was an acute title to cover the months of your pregnancy, it would be: Ways Christopher Bahng Has Lost His Mind, A Saga.

Plus the bump, of course.

As for today, at a darling twelve weeks, Chris’s cup of coffee grows cold the longer he entertains a call from Jisung—currently being berated for failing to give them even the slightest clue what was going on until dropping the news.

..In which ensues a screaming Hyunjin in the background, Minho’s snide jokes, Changbin’s silent shock, and the evident awe of the surrounding members leering by the phone where the friend group went for drinks.

Minus the dad-to-be.

”So.. Daddy-O, how’s the father thing going for you?” Jisung offers after a moment, his snickering followed by Chris’s bemused scoff.

“A dream,” He replies, running a hand through curly brown strands wound into charming coils from earlier steam, having stepped from the shower moments ago.

It was true, every bit.

To think that you, his love he’s worried more about than anyone, spent countless nights awake thinking of has now granted him the greatest gift of a lifetime leaves him elated.

Trust, the first ultrasound he cried as if he was the baby.

Of course, failing to give their leader a second of reprieve, his remark earns a cacophony of swooning and cringing in response to the sappiness.

Nonetheless, since the announcement he’s organized an update in schedule. More work from home, more paychecks cashed into maternity magazines and things he learns with time in order to support your pregnancy, and tagging along to each and every checkup.

With you already sleeping and him returning late from the studio, the night is slow, quiet.

Well, after he hangs up.

”Hey sweetness, ‘sorry for waking you.”

Watching your face crinkle up as the bed dips beneath his weight, he reaches a hand forward, sweeping the hair from your face as your husband spoons you close to his back, exhaling a heavy sigh of relief.

Your smell, your warmth, touch.

He’s far too smitten to be healthy.

But then again, is there any remedy to adoration?

“Busy at the studio?” You murmur from your curled up spot, only just beginning to get used to sleeping on your side.

Of the many adjustments.

“Mm,” A nod nudges at your back, his fingertips—oh so careful as they roam—settling on your stomach, holding the skin with reverence you can’t help but hum in response to.

“I cannot believe you,” Begun with a bemused scoff, you earn your husbands grunt of confusion and yet another laugh on your end.

“There’s barely a bump and they’ve got you wrapped around their finger already.”

This, predictably, results in Chris’s boyish whine.

“‘S not my fault,” He groans like a petulant teenager, nosing at the nape of your neck.

“Just love you.”

His voice is a mere utterance amidst the fan overhead, and you have to crane to hear him.

“And I’m going to be learning to love someone else soon.”

A soft squeeze to your belly.

“How exciting.”

Twenty weeks, and your big journey comes in the form of grocery shopping, something you insisted upon doing alone (much to Chris’s fretting).

Although he tries his best in not being a mother hen, it’s beyond difficult without his instinctive worry butting in, so nervous for a reason he himself can’t even pinpoint.

Is he worried about you? Is he excited about the baby?

Endless questions swim in his mind, dappling a world he once knew as black and white into shades of pastel, with charming rubber duckies and pacifiers to boot.

It’s a new world, one full of unfamiliar things and little surprises along the way.

But he’s made his promise to lay off the stressing as much as he can, knowing you need time for you most of all before becoming new parents.

Crouched over the tiny home studio he’s procured, your husband arduously searches through files—sending the majority over to Jisung and Changbin for revisions back at the main studio.

From the corner or his vision does he see you and—

Ah.

There you stand, clad in a sweater of yours tucked into a long, flower-patterned skirt—just enough to show off the bump, and he swears he’s looking at you with heart-eyes.

Gorgeous.

If not more.

Yet another reason why Chris has lost his mind.

You’re more beautiful than anyone he's ever seen, and he doubts that factor will change for the rest of his life. Even when you’re emotional and begin growing insecure, when your feet hurt or when your cravings grow too volatile, he adores.

Too much sometimes he fears his heart will beat from his chest.

“Hi, sweetness.”

The words are a bit hoarse, spoken as if he were uttering the endearment through a tube.

“Hi, Channie.”

Shoot him.

Joking.

Kind of.

You’re too cute. He’s going to have a heart attack.

Looking like that, cupid has his job cut out for him.

“You headed out?”

Reaching for your bag does Chris rise from his chair, padding over to gather your face in his hands and press a slow kiss to your lips you soak up, your own hands winding into curly strands he groans in response to.

“Mm,” He begins after a moment, kiss after kiss pressed to your jaw, down your neck, by your earlobe his teeth nip at. “I’m getting déjà vu on how the baby got here, hm?”

Spurring your laughter and a light smack to his shoulder in response, his warm hands slip down to cradle your belly, a final touch followed by one last kiss before you’re off.

It’s much too easy to fall in love with this man over and over again.

Of many surprises throughout your pregnancy, Lee Minho knowing about babies happened to be yet another. That, and seeing him at the grocery store in the first place.

The baby food aisle is more than daunting, and while the determined part of you crooned about “making it yourself” and taking the time to mash up each and every carrot and apple slice, the sensible part knew the moment you were discharged from the hospital after delivery, there was no chance you’d take on such a task.

“This one’s good.”

Having been greeted with a small wave of his hand and quieted footsteps approaching close, the dancer peers into your cart, brows lifted in silent acquisition where he points to a brand of mashed banana purée.

How he knows this baby food is good is beyond you.

Then again, Minho has always been peculiar.

“Hm? Any other recommendations?” You ponder, deciding to entertain his conversation and gaining plenty of recommendations whilst roaming about in the process.

Though, that’s before a frivolous little boy comes blindly tottering along, his clumsy limbs aimed straight for you prior to Minho’s careful step shielding you, the panicked mother steering the toddler away with endless apologies.

About to thank him, he seems to beat you to it.

“Mm? Need to sit down?” Observant eyes flitting over your form, he places an assuring hand to the middle of your back you can’t help but feel appreciative of.

It’s not that Minho isn’t kind, he’s usually just.. more subtle about it. Putting extra food a member likes on their plate without them noticing, making sure everyone feels included during dinners.

So for him to be a bit more upfront about it is.. sweet.

Well, until a wry smile tugs at his lips in amusement.

“‘Think you can handle that? A toddler like that?”

And.. there’s the Minho you’re used to.

“I think..” The thought comes to you as you venture, his hand remaining where it lingers upon your sweater-clad back as you make for the checkout line.

“The baby will look more like Chris.”

This beckons a cocked brow, evident mischief on his face.

“What, balding at twenty-six?”

You were thinking cute, with Chris’s curls and big brown eyes but— yeah, that too apparently. Your husband would both burst out laughing and burst into tears if he were here, the mental image bringing a smile to your lips.

Nevertheless, you spend your time with the feline-like companion cracking not-so-funny jokes and snide but playful remarks, a silent “thank you” mouthed when he lifts the grocery bags from your hands to carry to the car.

“Say, what’re you doing over here anyway?”

“Mmh?” He perks up, fluffy bangs fringing beneath a bucket hat upon his head, the slow gust of an occasional breeze announcing Winter’s gradual departure, moseying on to Spring.

“Ah,” Bunny-like teeth peek from his upper lip when his lips part, hoisting a single bag of his own upward. “Food for the kitties.”

Of course.

The corner of your lips quirk into a grin.

Though, before you’re given the chance to slip into the front seat, he points again, regarding your bump this time.

“Should stop by sometime,” He starts, pausing before glancing down to your feet. “Or I can come to you two if you’re not up to it.”

There it is, the tiny shred of consideration you treasure, one so swift you may miss it if you aren’t listening closely that warms your heart effortlessly.

“The kitties would knead your belly,” Mumbled quieter than the rest, a giggle stirs from his chest, wishing you off after a few moments the same way he greeted you: a wave and a small, awkward, tight-lipped smile.

And on your ride home, you decide upon giving Chris a call.

“Do you think the baby will start balding early?”

A chaste silence and some crackling from the other side of the line and then-

“What.”

“‘M outside the studio, baby.”

“You’re what?”

A second “what”, after the balding question those few weeks ago.

Chris wants to think tricks are being played on him after having pleaded for you to stay home and wait to be pampered when he returns, but it seemed the leader—with his own stubborn tirade of seven—had forgotten his wife was equally as stubborn, and that if you were adamant on something, there’s no chance you’d budge.

And so, as the ultimate pushover(which he’ll admit himself) of a husband, he simply sighs, awaiting your precious, slightly-waddling figure making towards them from the elevator.

Ah, right.

The waddle.

Oh if it doesn’t make his heart soar.

You’re almost surreal, with your soft, rounded frame and sweet, sweet eyes making him simply want to keep you in a hug forever.

From beside him, Hyunjin starts into a sing-song cacophony of: “The Mrs.’s is here” in tandem with your entrance, resulting in Chris’s light smack to his friend’s shoulder and the reddening of his ears as he both tries (and fails) to focus on new tracks.

So now, in occupying the couch behind him with Han on one side and Felix on your other, you spend your time giggling over videos on the freckled blond’s phone, chowing down on a bag of potato chips placed between you and Han, entertaining light conversation with Changbin, and sharing those momentary glances with your husband.

Quiet looks, with his face drained from the workload not failing to light up where he meets your eyes, your own warming happily.

“Come home,” does your eyes speak.

“Just a little longer,” he replies without words.

As the day stretches it’s exhaustion, waning a warm hue into evening sunset, Chris pads over, slow and wary where your sleepy form props upon the couch, fuzzy-sock-clad feet elevated on a pillow courtesy of Hyunjin’s matter-a-fact scolding to lower the swelling.

“I’m letting the little one listen,” He whispers, this squeaky, cheery giggle leaving his lips where he places the headphones once in hand overtop your belly, the low hum of their newest, unreleased track faintly resounding against the skin you can’t help but grin at.

It’s a scary thing, you think for a moment.

And then, just happy.

So you’ll cling to that happiness, no matter how fleeting.

And a tiny nudge against the skin, a kick, tells you someone else is clinging to that happiness as well.

“Yah.. even if it’s almost spring, there’s still some breeze! Stay warm! Don’t try being a spring chicken!” Clicking his tongue in softened contempt, Han claps his hands resolutely, face scrunched up in conviction as the ever-adorable maknae, Jeongin, eases his jacket over your shoulders.

Resulting in the group’s ace’s squeal of affection and a harsh smack to Minho’s thigh, the older of the two fixes him with a glare Han fails to notice through his cooing, too busy admiring the bump peeking through the jacket.

It seems Chris isn’t the only one growing into a worried mess, and your trip home from the studio you press to take alone is filled with their hollering and well-wishes, the group having opted out for drinks knowing you’d be the odd one out with your mug of water relative to the bubbling of a beer, a matter you find heart-warming.

No less, you spend your night anticipating the arrival of a very sleepy Chris, busying yourself trying to follow a recipe without gagging at the most random of things.

Feebly managing through placing the tray in the oven, you deflate as a pair of long-awaited, warm arms come wrapping around you.

A mere lift from his hands, holding the weight of a nearly 30-week bump feels heavenly, and you simply groan, head lolling back against his shoulder, welcoming the kisses pressed to your cheek, neck.

Because as much as his own nerves are afire, Chris knows more than anything it’s pivotal for you to be taken care of as well. Making breakfast before heading out in the mornings, sending you little texts to remind you to stay hydrated.

Tiny things you hold close to your being, even if he isn’t aware.

Thank you, spoken amidst his subtle care.

I know, I love you, answered upon joining you in your nightly skincare.

“Ah? Really?”

Chatter after chatter fills the small bathroom, your spare bedroom already ransacked of its contents in making room for a nursery.

As for the conversation at hand, Chris fills you in on his dango pudding obsession while you busy yourself in applying moisturizer to his skin, a silly, matching headband to yours pulling back the hair from his face.

“Jisung got me hooked on it,” He grumbles, lashes fluttering down to fondly watch where you press a kiss to his lips before applying vaseline there, his fingers instinctively reaching for your pajamas like a clingy child.

You don’t mind.

“How’re you feeling?” He murmurs after a moment, head tipped quizzically, the slight knit of his brows in concern you wish to scowl at.

Sometimes it’s harder not swooning when it comes to your husband.

“You know me,” You start, scorning your ability to hear each thump of your heart in your chest within the quietness of the room. “I’m okay, yeah? The fatigue is just a pain, that’s all.”

His arms finding purchase on either side of the bathroom counter where he cages you in, you’re quickly reminded how this pregnancy came to be the longer you stare at his biceps, the veins littering upwards from his hands.

Not fair.

“You tell me, hm? If you need me to work from home more days, yeah? I will, you know that, honey.”

And of course he’s like some sort of forbidden fruit, so sweetly wholesome, sweet generally, when he looks so good.

Too good.

For a time again, not fair.

“Chris.”

Screw it. You’re pregnant, and rightfully hot and bothered.

A little thing about pregnancy that no one had bothered to let you in on? There’s never been a greater time in your life that you’ve felt this horny.

Plus, an okay from the doctor is an okay to you.

The other okay is his arms, and the utterly obscene things running through your head just looking at them as your hand finds his jaw to hold.

“I’d cry from how good you are to me if it weren’t for the fact I’m unbelievably worked up right now.”

Slowly do your arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him closer where a smile tugs at your lips, watching his own lips part in a shaky exhale, pupils dilating tenfold as your words sink in.

And it’s Chris’ turn in reminding himself how the pregnancy came to be.

“So let’s do something about it, hm?”

The press of his nose into your neck causes your lashes to flutter, cursing the streaks of sunlight peering through the blinds muddling already bleary vision. A warm grip beckons you closer snuggled against his bare chest, hands instinctively coming to soothe over your belly.

Habitual touch, comfort.

A dream, last night had been. As for now, you bathe in the afterglow, his scent enveloping you like an embrace you can’t bring yourself to pull away from.

“Think I’ll be a good dad?”

And then comes the quiet conversation. Soft and nearly inaudible, his breath tickling your shoulder.

“I know you will,” Comes your own reply, muffled against the pillow, a kiss pressing to your shoulder in appreciation.

“I just-“

He takes a breath, weighing the thought.

It’s a coarse silence, one you know not to interrupt. He considers his words like this, a characteristic you’ve come to adore over the years. The blinking fast, the hesitant humming.

“You know how much I look up to my Dad, and I worry I just- I won’t live up to tha—“

Now it’s your turn to step in, before he goes over his head and blames himself again and again for a matter never his responsibility. The selfless one, who you remind must take care of himself too.

Amid simple kisses or compliments scribbled on sticky notes, you find love between the lines.

“Chris. Chris, baby, listen to me. This baby loves you, I hope you know that. And I hope you know that I love you, and whatever happens next happens next.”

Inhaling slowly, you roll over to face your husband.

Covers drawn up to see only his eyes, it’s near foolish the smile you let on.

“You said it yourself, we’re in this together, okay? If we change, we change together. We move? We move together.”

His fervent nod, dearest eyes gleaming all watery make your heart clench.

“This is our first time being parents, you can’t expect to be perfect, yeah? All we can do is try,”

Careful hands come to cup his face, kissing his lips through the fabric of the bedsheets.

“And you’re trying so hard, so thank you. I don’t feel like I praise you enough for all that you do for me, hm?”

He’s quiet before soft, heart wrenching sniffles are heard, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and grumbling to himself like a toddler.

“I feel like.. such an idiot.. crying when you’re the one carrying the baby.. hic.. Plus ‘s my.. my job to take care of you, yeah? ‘M your husband..”

Gently smoothing along his waterline in hushed reassurance does the man pull himself upward, slow to climb atop your form, littering your face in feverish pecks you can’t help but laugh at while the heels of your palms gently push at his jaw in playful aversion.

“I’m gonna make some breakfast,” He noses at your chin, the only sound between the both of you slow breaths and the occasional sniffle, the heat of his skin burning through you like wildfire.

Chris has become a warm blanket for your cold winter, even more so during the pregnancy.

“And you are going to eat eggs.”

In which earns your groan, regarding the food scornfully for its rude manner of sparking nausea. Of the many things nauseating you these days. Volatile in manner.

“‘S good for the baby. ‘Just a bite.”

Another groan, swatting lightly at his shoulder in retaliation.

Prior to an ingenious idea breaching the forefront of your mind.

A tiny detail you’d been holding in, with your lack of fondness for an extravagant baby shower or a gender reveal, you’d planned a morning-in to be the perfect timing for an announcement.

Now coming to be this morning.

Because while Chris had been running to the car, you’d been in the thick of a sonogram all those weeks back, a dirty little secret having been told that the nurse swore to keep quiet.

“Chris.”

Eyebrows lifting in gentle curiosity, you want to hate the way your mischievous streak is melting, the stubbornness fading into your own glossy eyes and trembling lips, and a whole rush of distress and concern washes overtop the man above you like a bucket of ice cold water.

“It’s a girl.”

A sharp gasp, a choked sniffle.

“We’re having a baby girl.”

To say Chris cried like a baby for an additional time that morning would be a mass understatement.

Cried and cried and cried endlessly, before calling his parents first and crying more, then Hannah, then the guys.

Face all puffy and happy, you spent your day waltzing around the kitchen to the low buzz of the radio seated upon the far corner of your counter, sharing kisses he can’t seem to get enough of and too much smiling it made your cheeks ache.

Currently thirty-six weeks and perilously close to the awaited due date, the faint clatter in your periphery earns a startled huff of air, once-napping eyes flickering open, lids heavy from past slumbering.

A common occurrence, the constant sleeping, fatigue overboard. Although morning sickness has graciously subsided, the sleepiness is endless in her torrents.

As for now, each slow lull of the rocking chair the guys had assembled a few minutes prior continues her magic in beckoning you sleepy and sleepier.

“Shh dumbass— you’re gonna wake her up!”

And… beckons whisper-screaming from the group who had insisted upon helping set up the nursery.

“Don’t curse in front of the baby!”

Han and Felix’s grumbled argument is returned with a scolding “Shh!” from Seungmin, inducing yet another—however brisk—silence, the faint hint of a chortle from your husband falling upon near deafened ears while drifting in and out of consciousness.

Nonetheless, the group continues to build, having now moved onto assembling furniture after the room’s paint had been finished. A mellow pink, not too muted nor saturated, highlighted when the room grows aglow with drifting rays of sunlight.

Hitched just to the right of the window, the crib’s being assembled, Changbin arduously working to follow directions, Minho taking a break on one of the couch cushions with a popsicle lodged between his lips.

Surprising, considering the slow shift in temperature. Autumn makes its entrance, summer waving a goodbye hand in the now-shorter days and a subtle breeze detected in early mornings.

A September baby, it seems.

“Corner guards? Do we have corner guards?”

An ever organized (and rather caffeine-frenzied) Hyunjin reviews the list once more, having spent his night prior holed up in the studio for recording, obstinate in participating in the nursery despite the ushers to get some sleep instead.

“I have to be here, it’s my duty as an Uncle”, were his exact words, haughtily prancing about as if some entitled interior designer.

And yet he brought alive an enthusiasm like no other. So the guys let him stay without dragging him back home.

In the distance, a low strum of a guitar echoes, Seungmin’s soulful cadence recognizable amidst any crowd.

A lullaby for the baby, but you had yet to know of that just yet.

“Alright… curtains.. ‘gotcha…” Felix mumbles after taking a break from the crib-squabble between Han, his brows furrowed in concentration where Jeongin aids in lifting the canopy portion planning to hang above the crib, Chris organizing the small things.

A baby mobile with stars and little planets, a crescent moon rug.

And a tiny feature you take note of while awakening more and more, the little stars painted on the ceiling, like this miniature galaxy.

It’s so…Chris.

It’s perfect.

The thought makes your lips tug upward, a certain fondness blossoming there.

His world, he’d called the baby.

Fitting, isn’t it?

One week to the due date with the autumn equinox around the corner, your days slip together in a melody of fluffy jackets and fuzzy socks, warm cider Chris ushers instead of coffee—“for the baby”, he says, but begrudgingly fixes you a menial cup after the cocked brow you fix him with.

A baby-bag is packed up for the awaited day of your delivery, and this journey of yours drawing to a close leads to an even more frazzled husband of yours.

Constantly peeking in on you, his lips parted without a question needing to be asked until the bathroom door is slammed in his face after peering in worriedly for a fourth time, earning a squeaky: “sorry!” in reply.

You love him, yes, but not enough to allow a spectator during your bowel movements.

The gesture is appreciated, trust.

Nevertheless, with a now-evident waddle you despise that Chris utterly fawns over, you head to the downtown bakery, motivated by your relentless craving for a cinnamon roll and the feeble determination in battling the dropping temperatures, Seoul’s seasonal shifts as intermittent as your mood swings.

“Two?” You mumble, index extended to the steaming cinnamon rolls in thought, currently using the coat-clad Chris behind you as support, his warm hands steadying your hips, gentle thumbs tracing circles along your sides over his jacket you’d donned.

Nodding into your hair, the man weighs his chin atop your head, granting the kind older woman working the register a small smile, her eyes flickering to the prominent bump fondly prior to fetching the highly-anticipated cinnamon rolls and inquiring how many weeks you were.

“Thirty-nine weeks,” Came the reply, giggling like children on the way home, cheeks flushed pink from bitter winds, sniffling in with each bite of the napkin-held pastry.

“Yah! I should’ve said I wasn’t pregnant and acted all offended, shoot!”

The words followed by a feigned tantrum, Chris has to hold in his laughter, snorting futilely.

“You’re cruel, y’know that?” Scoffing his exasperation does your husband continue to crack even crueler jokes than that of yours on the walk home, acting as an anchor to your aching bones and tirelessly pained back until the sink of the couch cushions beneath your frame serve as the perfect solace.

It’d been the blueprint for an ideal night in. Cinnamon roll long-since digested, a to-die-for massage provided by your husband, and the expectation of doing purely nothing for the remainder of your night.

Until the blueprint went awry upon brushing your teeth.

Curse that damn toothbrush.

Kidding.

“Channie.”

Between Chris, Channie, and terms of endearment, your husband could be an ex-convict with so many names.

Yet he responds to every and all, and at this very moment you’re more grateful than ever for that.

This time, his peeking-in is greatly appreciated.

“I either peed myself or my water just broke.”

It was meant to hopefully lighten the atmosphere, but your efforts prove feeble watching the color drain from his face, white as a sheet.

And just like that, the journey came to its close, in a finale neither of you were expecting, but one your husband confronted head on, trying his hardest in keeping both himself and you calm while loading up all the prepared things.

Baby bag, your printed out birth-plan discussed all those weeks ago while sharing a bath, extra clothes, nursing bras, all the required cards, and a billion other things Chris doesn’t even bother to search for in helping you into the car, reminding himself he could ask someone else to drop by or pick it up after.

Right now, you would remain his sole focus.

That, and the little one who’s decided to make her grand entrance a week from his birthday.

An early present, it seems.

Everything’s too fast, too hurried. The beeping of machinery, hurrying nurses in their scrubs, the nauseating scent of antiseptic overwhelming the hospital.

You and the baby, you and the baby, you and the baby.

Those four words run rampant in his mind, like some sadistic form of tunnel vision.

Luckily swift in their efforts, you’d been wheeled off to the nicest room available, your husband blind to the price of anything at the moment where he follows you back, guiding each sharp gasp while you work through hellish contractions, squeezing his hand like a vice he vows to never let go of.

Though initially as smooth as a delivery could go, the process is seemingly endless, and Chris curses the exhaustion wracking his frame after the eighth hour stretches on, menial complications requiring moments longer to the already strain-inducing process.

And of course, to the words he’d never heard you utter before.

“You FUCKER!”

In which earns your jittery-husbands wobbly smile, smoothing strands of hair where they stick to a sweaty forehead, whispering praises on autopilot.

At this rate, he can’t even tell who you’re referring to, but that thought lies in the very back of his mind.

“When I- shit- get out of here I expect to be- FUCK!— worshiped- ‘cause this hurts like a bitch!”

This earns the midwives equally exhausted smiles, working tirelessly with each push.

By the ninth hour, you shakily assure him to go get a drink, take a walk, a matter he curses beneath his breath yet follows through with no less, legs like jelly, hand aching from your crushing-hold where your husband slumps into the chair opposite to the vending machine, caught in a weary daze.

Then a hand finds itself on his shoulder he has to stave back the reflex to flinch from, and an out-of-breath Minho stands there—unfamiliar in the utter seriousness of his expression, the lack of teasing usually exhibited—alternatively familiar faces of his friends jogging after the second eldest.

His first surprise of the night.

Of two, but the second surprise had yet to occur.

“We took the closest taxi,” Jisung manages, out of breath. “You.. You said there was complicat-“

Like a deer in headlights, the shrill wail of a baby rings out, gathering his full attention in split seconds.

And somehow, he knows that’s his.

Yours, together.

Chris’s second surprise.

His heart stops.

In all his life, Christopher Bahng doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so pretty.

With seven curious faces peeping in from the doorway behind him, he takes slow steps in approaching you, ethereal with your breathlessly proud smile and the tiny, swaddled thing to your frame, comfy and cozy in their mother’s scent.

Pink blankets.

And although he already knew it was a girl, the way he chokes up without a word being spoken earns both yours and the nurse’s laughter, tainting his ears a reddened shade of embarrassment.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmurs, wiping tenderly at tear streaks littering those darling cheeks of yours. “So, so proud.”

An angel, he swears, pressing a long, slow kiss to your lips, then a small peck to your forehead. It appears the wailing fit had subsided, and as for now, this precious little one curls up to your chest.

His baby.

A sob wracks his chest, and in the distance a giggle (likely Minho) is faintly audible that Chris doesn’t even bother scolding, each and every feeling imaginable snuffed to nothing when those eyes pinch open.

Chocolate brown, just like her daddy’s. That perfect, so, so perfect honeyed hue.

Precious.

“She’s.. hic.. so beautiful..”

It’s downright pitiful the manner he cries, like a child, trembling hands reaching for her after your whispered assent, assurance, cradling the baby to his chest.

And remarkably enough, she smiles.

This gummy, delighted smile.

Right then and there, the gravity of the moment punctures his chest, and a silent vow is made that with everything in his being, he will protect her. His daughter.

“Your Daddy loves you.”

Barely heard yet understood all the same, an oh so careful kiss is pressed to those unruly curls, unbelievable in their resemblance to her father’s.

A splitting image, with your charming nose and his puffy lips.

You were right. That time at the grocery store.

Oh to adore.

His second world, who he’ll clap for all cheerfully upon her first steps, her first words, all of it. Through the good and the bad times and everything in between.

His second world, with a father who already loves her, unconditionally.

And who knows he will for the rest of his life.

Ensuring you’re cared for those four days before discharge, Chris spends his time easing you through each painful endeavor, helping you through the saddened and elated moments, those private moments where all you wish for is to be held.

He holds you, for as long as you need.

Despite the challenges and hardships to come, the man can’t help but think of just how beautiful you are. With your stretch marks, the baby weight, the things you hate, the things he loves. Reflecting how hard you worked, bringing this precious baby girl into the world.

It’s impossible for you to be anything but breathtaking.

His wife, he mumbles into your hair, a habit of his, whilst swaying you from side to side in slow rhythm, the little one fast asleep in her bassinet.

The first night home with the baby, Minho’s already taken to the kitchen, preparing dinner regardless of your sleepy beckoning for him to head home where you stand by the doorway, awakened by the unusual silence where your little girl’s normal squeals would be ricocheting off the walls.

It seems the Uncles are already smitten.

Fuzzy sock-clad feet thump to your next destination: the nursery.

And there lies your greatest loves, with Chris’s steps weighing side to side just as he’d always do when dancing with you, a bottle in hand held to her lips where she sleepily suckles, a smile of adoration tugging at his lips opposing the circles beneath his eyes.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so enamored before.

And just as that evening in building the nursery, Seungmin’s quietly composed lullaby drifts from the speaker on the changing table, its lyrics like that of the sweetest hymn.

‘My little girl, will you ever know how much I love you?’

‘As much as the stars in the sky, and the grains of sand on the beach.’

‘You are my universe, and I shall love you.’

‘Love, love, love.’

‘For eternity longer.’

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @manuosorioh @captainchrisstan @bowsnbang @sh1ny4lex @alisonyus @certifiedchangbinlover

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prlssprfctn · 2 days ago

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AU, where Jason returns to Gotham, but in between of his evil mastermind plans and managing the criminal empire, he starts working in this anonymous psychological hotline services.

And gets a call from Bruce-fucking-Wayne.

Well. It is not like Bruce announces that he is Bruce Wayne — it is anonymous, after all — but Jason knows his father's voice, alright?

'I don't need a physiological help,' his father tells him the minute he picks up the phone.

Jason... Snorts.

'Of course,' he nods, making his voice nicer. 'How can I help you?'

Bruce pauses, his breath hitching for a second; almost as if he recognized Jason's voice.

'My... my son thinks I need it, but I am fine,' Bruce insists. 'Still... I want to, well, fulfil a promise I gave... for once.'

Jason rolls his eyes, a familiar irritation flaring up in green flames before his eyes. He wonders who is this lucky son that gets to have such a diligent, responsible father - Dickhead? Tim? Damian?

'I see,' he breathes out, trying to follow a protocol of the calls. 'I am sure he will appreciate your loyalty. Will you tell him about it?'

'If he appears,' something screeches in the background, and if Jason closes his eyes, he can easily imagine Bruce leaning back on the armchair, in the Batcave. 'I... He only ever appears in my dreams, my boy.'

Jason freezes.

'Excuse me?'

'I... He is dead, my son.'

Had someone else died? Jason frowns, reaching for his phone, typing anxiously Nightwing and Robin in the search bar, trying to see if there is something serious happened; because he can't be talking about the second Robin, can he-

'I am sorry,' he blurts out, eyes drifting back to notes on the table, with some common phrases that can be used in this situation. 'I... Do you want to talk about, sir?'

Bruce is silent for a while. Jason thinks he is about to drop the call, but then, he sighs heavily on the line:

'His name was Jason. And he was the brightest boy.'

Jason mutes the microphone. He thinks he is going to vomit.

#someone write a fic please #don't ask me what is it #red robin #jason todd #dcu comics #dc universe #dcu #batman #batfamily #bruce wayne #batfam

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r1kixss · 1 day ago

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Sister fucker

warnings: p in v, cursing, jay is readers brother and rikis bsf

Having jay as your brother was so hard because he was too overprotective.

Going out at night? No, someone will attack you. Guy wanting to take you out? No, Jay doesn't trust him.

Jeez. You love your big brother so much, but he can fuck off honestly. Even your own father doesn't care as much as him.

You were glad Jay didn't know you were dating his best friend Riki. He would absolutely crash out and kill him first then lock you in your room and never let you out. He stated so many times how uncomfortable and awkward it'll be for him if one of his friends dated you. You didn't care, Riki was a sweet boy and you loved him.

It's been five months since you two were dating and it was going so great, as long as Jay doesn't find out. You weren't ready to tell your brother yet.

Jay and your parents weren't home... so Riki came over. You knew your parents are on a date and Jay is somewhere out so the house was definitely free for a while.

Obviously, you and your boyfriend were fucking like bunnies. Who wouldn't?

You moaned as your boyfriend thrusted into you, his large hands on your waist. He was enjoying himself so much he didn't even care about being a cool nonchalant guy anymore. He moaned like a bitch, eyes rolling back as you squeezed on his dick.

"Fuck- stop squeezing..." He begged, abs tensing to stop himself from cumming too fast. You whimpered out a small "sorry", trying to relax.

Both of you didn't hear the door downstairs opening and slamming shut, since your room was closed. Skin slapping and moaning filled your room continuously, you were shaking at this point because of how good it felt.

Jay was flabbergasted when he walked upstairs, hearing male and female moans. At first he thought it was his parents, neck flashing red from embarrassment.

Then he realized it was coming from your room and he almost died. God, that was so embarrassing.

He went to his room and closed the door, going to the bathroom to take a long shower and ignore the VERY loud sounds.

You were having a great time on the other hand. Getting dicked down to the point your eyes were rolling back and pussy squeezing on your boyfriends dick so hard he needed to pause for a second to not cum prematurely.

When he started rubbing your clit you were completely gone. You were cumming and trembling, clenching on his cock and he orgasmed right after you.

He collapsed on you, cuddling to you in exhaustion. Both of you were tired and limp, breathing slowly to calm down.

After a while he mustered up the strength to sit up and clean up everything. Then, you both got dressed and got out of your room to go to the kitchen.

You stood frozen in front of the kitchen when you saw your big brother there. Oh shit.

He turned around and saw Riki. He expected anyone, a random guy, not his best friend. He just stared at the boy in shock, then at you, then back at him, then at his messy hair and your red cheeks.

"Oh I'm gonna kill you mother fucker!" Jay yelled, charging at Riki. Your boyfriend screamed, running upstairs.

"Sister fucker!" He corrected your big brother, laughing even though he doesn't know if he'll survive today. Riki locked himself in your room and Jay pounded at the door angrily.

Let's say, both boys were sulking at each other for a while, but Jay accepted you two dating after some talking.

Not even a month later he was happily taking couple pictures for you two for Rikis Instagram.

Hi hi hello!! y'all this is pretty short but that's all i can shit out😔 i don't wanna neglect y'all so.....

#enhypen #nishimura riki #enhypen riki #enhypen smut #niki smut #riki #riki smut #enhypen nishimura riki #enhypen niki #jay #jay enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen jongseong #jay park enhypen #park jongseong

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blue-bird1967 · 13 hours ago

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today i’m offering you pre/Stanford Sam sketches🤲🏽🌸 tomorrow? who knows (my naruto brainrot is back I’m afraid………)

#sam winchester #supernatural #stanford sam winchester #samjess #spn #supernatural art #i can’t explain i just wanna cup his cheeks and say I’m so sorry kid😔#second sketch is sam arguing with john AGAIN #I thought it would be cool to draw him desperate and angry about his father #no self insert i promice #or not)0))#:')

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gunthermunch · 17 hours ago

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Make a mercy out of me.

[Transcript and a little something under the cut]

Bluma: why is a place were memories happen so… creepy? ?: it’s not, you’re just scared of the dark Bluma: that doesn’t stop it from being super sketchy ?: we are here because you wanted answers, might as well face a fear or two. ?: and ou can just talk to me, y’know? We are literally standing on a concept and I am basically nonexistent. Bluma: I guess… Bluma: I’ve been a little worried. Things feel so strange at home Bluma: our Christmas tree is still there and dad doesn’t want it out for some reason. Mom’s pregnant again, Garry is there, and I haven’t seen uncle Wolfgang in so long… even though he promised. ?: I’m afraid I can’t tell you the why’s and how’s of it all, Bluma. ?: Yet! there are many things going on always, our life can completely change every day in every possible way. ?: this place is where change happen ?: an idea is born, and then stories, and then they become memories. ?: some of them fatal. some, beautiful. some just didn't happen. and some… didn't happen yet ?: don't look at those. Bluma: that's all still very creepy ?: but we both know you are quite the adventurous one, hm? Bluma: that's what my oma says ?: then there's nothing to worry about. Bluma: you sure? ?: of course. you're gonna be okay ?: And that christmas tree… i think your father is just waiting for a good memory to happen. be there for him. ?: and good luck Bluma wakes up and pull her stupid tooth out like an animal Bluma: yay! wicked tooth begone!

OKAY!!!!! THIS WAS MY 10K SPECIAL I AM SOOSOSOSOSOO GRATEFUL FOR ALL OF YOU. and im sorry i havent posted for like half a year. life is, like we just stated, unpredictable. so yeah! my goal is to get inmersed into posting again, because i miss munch and i miss my characters and my memories and i miss you. was this too obvious of a self insert? anyways. maybe it was. see you soon!

#ts4 #YEAH!!!#btw yes he was waiting for wg to show up for christmas which he didnt #but he still waits #ts4 story #gunther munch #but not really #bluma vatore #jojo the cat #10k special #munch extras

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siri-ike · 2 hours ago

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Swiftly as with any heist, Damian wrapped a thin cloth around the spirit and held it close to his chest. He was certain it understood how he felt. It had demonstrated as much on numerous occasions. Damian was sure he was right seeing the blob give no hints of a struggle.

Mother showed signs of suspicion during the plain trip. Damian probably could have let a little more distance between him and his bag. But it purred so delicately. He didn't wanna let that go.

"What do you have in there, Damian?" Mother asked, her sweet tone underlined with suspicion.

"Nothing, Mother." He loosened his grip on his bag.

"It's a long flight. Would you not like to put your bag away?"

"I would- how long is it?" He redirected, a scheme brewing in his mind.

"About 13 hours, dear."

"So that's over ten thousand kilometers." Damian grimaced, trying to show discomfort. Playing to Mothers empathy was always a risk. But Damian knew what to look for. His odds were better whenever they were alone, when it's quiet, when she's relaxed, and when he had reason to look small. Everything was lining up in his favor. "Am I ever going to see you again?" And the last step: play to her ego. Make her feel like the center of your world.

But.

"You better not show this sort of weakness in front of your father." Her tone was flat, cold. Shortly, her expression softened. "How about a game to pass the time?"

He must have misjudged. "Sorry, Mother. I'll be more careful." He got up to put the bag behind the seats and walked over to the seat by the table opposite Mother.

For almost 13 hours, they played tafl, checkers, weiqi, mancala, senet, and ludus.

Grandfather says patience is a product of age. He could at least try to wait it out.

● ● ●

This is ridiculous! This time could have been much better spent at home, training. Instead, his sword was all the way in the storage compartment. And he was stuck sitting still FOR. THIR. TEEN. HOURS.

Finally, they made it to the ground. Damian grabbed his bag and got ready to leave in the middle of their game.

When the door opened at last, Damian did not see his father. All he saw was a harbor. "Mother?"

"There's a boat waiting for us, my love." Warm and reassuring.

More waiting‽ Why the theatrics? Can't they just meet him in the batcave? He was patient for 13 hours, and now she wants more from him!

The boat ride was only a few minutes long, and after that, Father found them rather quickly. Then, ofcource Mother had to flirt. Though from what he heard, Father clearly was not interested.

Finally, she opened the curtain he stood behind, and it was his turn. He stepped out and beheld the man standing before him. The best indicator of how he would look in the future. Damian had seen pictures and heard stories, but this was so much more real. Damian was in awe thinking about what could be. What he could be. The range of skills he would now learn from the mysterious Batman.

"Don't be so surprised, Father. I thought you would be taller."

Of course, he couldn't let him know that.

Not much happened in between meeting Father and Damian being shown to his room. Nothing he cared about anyway. At last, it was just him and the spirit. He placed his bag on the bed with care. He reached inside and... where is it? No, no, no. He emptied the bag onto his bed. Weapons, a spare outfit, Ghraybeh and kahk, but no blob.

It wouldn't have left him, would it?

No.

Someone must have taken it.

The Blob

Dpxdc Prompt #20

Danny is a blob ghost now and he's fine with that.

Turns out all blob ghosts are just regular ghosts who have expended to much energy and turn into balls of pure ectoplasm and emotion to recharge.

It's honestly a much needed and much appreciated vacation from all of his responsibilities.

He doesn't understand why he's getting so many worship-fear-cowed emotions from these people, but he's a blob right now, he doesn't have to care.

There's one boy that constantly projects awed-love-infatuated towards him. Danny likes him a lot more than all of the other guys.

In the mean time, Ra's Al Ghul has just found what he believes to be the conscious personification of the Lazarus Pits and there is no way he is going to let any of his assassins offend it. If only he didn't have to worry about his grandson being so enamored with the being as well.

Grandfather never let Damian have any pets.

"Distractions," he would say, "Unnecessary attachments."

Damian disagreed, but he was smart enough not to voice his belief. The Demon Head's word is law and he bows to nobody.

Or at least... nobody until the little blob of sentient Lazarus Water.

Grandfather says that it must be the pits personified and therefore needed to be treated with respect so there would be no chance of them being taken away.

Damian has no problem following this rule, he finds the little blob cute, like the pet Damian would never get to have. When nobody's watching he pets the blob, tells it stories about his day, and stays silent as it does happy little purrs.

In the hell that is Nanba Parbat, the blob is a bright spot in Damian's days.

So obviously when he leaves to meet his Father and claim his right as heir to the Cowl he slips the blob into his go-bag. No one will notice, the blob normally floats around as it wishes, sometimes going missing for hours.

By the time Grandfather realizes the blob has been away too long for it to have been without intervention it will have been too late. No one will suspect that Damian took the blob with him.

At least, that's what Damian tells himself to justify taking the little guy with him. He is comforted by the low hum in his bag, the blob is happy, if no one else.

#damian wayne #robin #danny phantom #blob #cute #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 days ago

Note

Hii 👋 i really love your works i would eat it if i can, especially freelance inventor, will you ever countinue writing it? (Sorry if it sound rude, English is not my first language)

"So what's the deal with them?" Steph dares to ask when Bruce and Mr. Fenton finish passing out the souvenirs the inventor brought back. She wasn't sure why she was included in the gift giving, as she never even met the man before, but she now had a bowl from Irland tucked in her purse.

She's heard about Mr. Fenton through Tim and a bit from Jason. Both boys practically worshiped the ground the man stepped on. She understood that, on some level, they owed him their lives.

Jason, after being rescued from the Joker and Tim after Mr.Fenton found him on the rooftops all those years ago. She won't lie. How they spoke about Mr.Fenton painted a completely different image in her mind.

She expected someone regal, with a cold, calculating glance, who could figure out what she was expecting with a mere glance. Someone that she wouldn't be surprised if he was found tucked away in a pure white lab, working with glowing chemicals. She knows that they never claim Mr.Fenton was terrifying, but she had personally witnessed Dick threaten to tell Bruce to the man.

If he could make Batman cower by his mere mention, Steph had been expecting someone closer to what an evil version of Alfred would be.

Instead, she got a man in faded jeans, beat-up boots, and gentleness that hurt her teeth with how sweetly he smiled. If Bruce was a Bat, then Mr.Fenton could be a flower.

Gentle. Pretty. Unassuming.

Steph had logically known Mr. Fenton was a civilian. But she thought that he would be a scary one, at the least. Maybe someone in the justice system, a personal fighter like a boxer or hell, someone good with firearms.

"Hmm?" Damian glances up from his painting. Steph noticed that he has been doing a lot lately. Leaving his room to paint around the manor. She hasn't known the boy for long.

Steph had only recently forgiven Bruce for the whole Robin stunt he pulled (making her think she was his partner only to be used as bait for Tim, burned), and she wasn't around when Bruce's bio kid was found. Based on the stories Tim, Jason, and Dick shared, though, she thought he was a little more bloodthirsty.

He is more prone to violence after his upbringing, but he seemed to be shimmering down the last few weeks. Damian had apparently been given a talking to by Mr.Fenton, who took him out of the manor into the city for some "undercover training."

Steph hadn't been in Gotham then. She was busy helping a few teen titans with a mission that had her traveling to the other side of the world. But apparently, whatever harsh training Mr.Fenton had forced Damian to undergo had brought back peace to Wayne Manor.

Or as close as it could be.

He still referred to himself as the actual blood son.

"Bruce and Mr. Fenton," she repeated, nodding to where the pair could be seen conversing in the hallway. However, it looked more like Mr.Fenton was the only one talking. Bruce was too busy staring at him like he was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "They seem really close, but in a weird way."

Damain's intense green eyes snap at her. She raises a brow, unwilling to let the brat see he made her flinch. "Do you have a problem with Father getting close to another man?"

It takes her a few seconds to understand why he sounds so guarded before she gasps. "It's not the gay thing! I don't care if their gay!"

"I should hope not. You come into our home and eat our food, Brown." The boy clicks his tongue distastefully. Steph has never seen someone look down their nose at someone two heads taller than them, but Damian proved it could happen. "I would not allow for homophobia to enter these halls. It is not within the rules of social justice."

"Social justice?" She repeats a little surprise that Damian was speaking to her without an insult so far. The only time the brat had bothered to talk to anyone besides Bruce had been to insult them. At least in the two months, she had seen him wander after her Teen Titians mission.

"Danny has pointed out that Father's civilian reputation is tied heavily with social justice. It would not due for his heir to cause trouble in his affairs." Damian places his paintbrush back on his canvas, sneaking glances at the window.

Curious, Steph creeps closer to take a peak and finds herself memorized by the water painting he is working on. It's Bruce and Mr.Fenton. In the painting, Bruce is staring lovingly at Mr.Fenton, who seems to be in the middle of laughing. Though neither have arms- Damian is working on those- it doesn't detract from their loving expressions.

"If it is not due to their gender, what do you find weird about Father and Danny?"

Steph considers the question before slowly getting closer, wanting to oversee the young boy splash some white into Mr.Fenton's eyes, making them appear glowing. "It's just.....weird how Bruce likes someone so normal. No training. No big fancy money. No ties to the capes. Just a man who's really good at science."

Damain shoots her a complicated glance over his shoulders before he slowly replies. "Yes. An average Joe, as you Americans would say. That is Danny."

"Right? Isn't it weird? And besides the fact Bruce is so obvious with his crush, Mr. Feton has no idea. But he can pull apart a toaster in ten minutes to curl Babs hair for her dance? Don't you think it's odd?"

Damian hums. "A true master does not need to show who they are until the blade is at their opponent's neck. But I will admit that Danny's appearance can be rather deceiving."

"Damian.....do you know something?"

The boy's face turned more complicated before returning his attention to his painting. He taps his paintbrush against his palate before he mutters. "I knew only Danny did not treat me like a rabid animal. He took me to the zoo. I haven't been outside the manor since his last visit and grew wary of these walls."

His words hit Steph like a brick. Her first instinct is to explain why it was essential to keep him here, but then she thinks more about it, and her teeth slam shut.

Crude, has she been acting like Bruce? Had she really allowed him to convince her that a child should be locked up like it was nothing? Then again, Damian isn't a prisoner here.

Even if he was, she helped break him out.

"Say, kid, you want to come with Tim and me to the mall this afternoon? I think they have an art store."

Damian twists around to stare in utter shock. For all his training, he really is just a kid because Steph can see the genuine yearning in his eyes as he tries to casually cover up his reaction with a regal shoulder shrug. "I suppose I will have time for more undercover training."

Strange, Steph thinks while texting Tim about Damian joining them. Mr. Fenton hasn't even spoken to me that long, and he already changed how I viewed Damian. Is this why Bruce is into a civilian?

#dcxdpdabbles #Freelance inventor #dc x dp crossover #Part 5.5 #Steph's pov #Damian knows about Danny #But thinks it's impolite to say #Steph can't explain all the tension between Bruce or Danny #Danny's effect on the family is ripples

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neovillains · 24 hours ago

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DEATHBED | PART TWO

( HE'S NO DEADBEAT : NANAMI KENTO ) nanami believed he raised his son well, only for him to turn into a deadbeat right in front of his eyes. don't worry, he'll make it up to you. | watch time: 3.8k words.

── gilf!nanami & fem-bodied!reader, she/her pronouns, single mother!reader, adopted grandfather!nanami, deadbeat!yuuji itadori, high age gap, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, multiple (2) orgasms, creampie, pussyjob, etc.

note. i am going so feral over my own series. like,,, i want to gnaw on the skin of gilf nanami so bad !

“I just don’t understand,” Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he throws his head back in the stress of all this. “You told me a couple of months ago that you love the girl. Now, you’re going back on your word the moment the child’s born? This is not the man I raised you to be.”

“Yeah, well,” Yuuji mumbles on the other line. “I’m sorry for disappointing you, but I just— I don’t think I’m cut out to be a father. I didn’t— I didn’t—”

“You didn’t realize how much responsibility it would be?” Nanami finishes for him. “How old are you again? I thought we were over this conversation the moment you left for college.”

“Why are you giving me so much shit?” Yuuji groans, voice getting more agitated the more his adopted father continues to chastise him. “(Y/N) and I had already had a discussion about things and I would financially provide for the child. That should be enough.”

“That should be enough?” Nanami scoffed, baffled by the words of the pink-haired fool on the other line. He could tell that Yuuji was still naive and idiotic to think that money would be the only thing that you needed to provide for a child all on your own. “What about doctor appointments? Emergencies at school and (Y/N) having to call off work to get them— did you consider instances like that? One person isn’t supposed to juggle the job of two.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine,” Yuuji hums. “You’ve done it with me—”

Nanami couldn’t take anymore of it, pulling the phone from his ears and immediately clicking on the red button to end the call. With a sigh, he brings himself out of the kitchen and towards the leather recliner that’s starting to fade. The burnt umber starting to dull in its color and having more of an orange hue to it. Relaxing in the seat as he leans back, he shuts his eyes. Over the years, he’s finally gotten a chance to relax. Slaving away in an office for hours and hours nearly everyday and coming home to provide for a young Yuuji, it’s brought a toll on his body. Gradually letting himself go, his stomach has grown a bit more pudge to it and the blond of his hair has completely dissipated to white.

When Yuuji had found you, bringing you home to meet his father, he was happy for his son. You were such a sweet person who managed to handle Yuuji’s outgoing nature. You were someone who could provide him stability, something that Yuuji was in dire need of. However, Nanami should’ve seen this coming when the two of you had been together for ten years and he never mentioned the idea of dropping down to one knee.

“Fuck,” Nanami curses as he rubs circles into the temples of his forehead. He thought that at some point Yuuji would get it. That he’s no longer a child and has responsibilities to tend to. But instead, he’s still running from adulthood instead of embracing it, coming to terms with it, and stop solely feeding into his inner child. Though it could be a gruesome thing, aging did have its perks. It was sad to see that his son didn’t seem to find that within you and his son.

He wondered how you were doing. How you truly were doing. Reaching for his phone, he had never called you so periodically before. However, when he heard that you were pregnant, he wanted to be a present grandfather. But when he heard how Yuuji had broken your heart after so many years together, he felt ashamed to have ties with the younger lad.

Last contacted: Two Weeks Ago.

With a heavy sigh, he presses the call button and waits. He’s expecting you to decline the call but after four rings, your voice— soft— sounds from the other line. “Hello? Nanami?”

“Hello, (Y/N). How’ve you been?”

—

You’re a very eclectic person. That’s what Nanami has learned about you from over the years. When you and Yuuji moved in together, you had taken over all aspects of interior design, having a more maximalist approach to things as countertops were littered with drinkets and pieces that were so vibrant and full of color. He couldn’t tell what your style was— bohemian chic with a mixture of rustic and historical? You mismatched a lot of things, but they always seemed to be coordinated in some sort of way. In the end, your home was an organized chaos that he’s come to admire.

However, as he sits down on your couch, half of those decoratives and staples to your home are gone. Packed away in boxes as you’re ready to raise a child. Conversations between the two of you were short and brief, that light in your eye that he’s so accustomed to is starting to blow out and he can’t help but feel guilty for the role he has to play in this.

“How’ve you been holding up, (Y/N)?” He asks out of the blue. “And be truthful with me. Don’t worry about me relaying the message back to Yuuji because I’m not— if that’s what you’re worried about.”

For the first time in the two hours he’s been here, you chuckle. The newborn laying on your chest as you rock your little boy to sleep, you shake your head as the corner of your lips rise. “I’m not worried about that, trust me. I’m just trying to think about that as much as possible, to be honest. It’s been a rough couple of days. With postpartum and everything, it’s taking a toll on me while I’m trying to keep it together.”

“Has he been sleeping well?” Nanami gestures to the baby. “If you need any help with him, you know I’ll be here as much as I possibly can.”

“You know,” you hum. “He’s really not that bad. I don’t want to jinx it, but he’s been good at night. The days, too. He’s been easy so far.”

“Probably because he can detect what you’re going through,” he lets out the comment absentmindedly before clearing his throat. “It’s good that he’s not giving you much trouble though. All you need is easy right now.”

By the fourth hour, Nanami removed himself from your home. Seeing him out, you were about to shut the door when he stopped abruptly. “And I mean it, (Y/N). Call me if you ever need help. Don’t try to do everything on your own. I’ll be there for you as much as I possibly can.”

Your eyes glisten with tears as you nod. “Thanks, Nanami. I really appreciate that.”

—

Nanami had taken the initiative to do what Yuuji couldn’t. Making regular visits to you to spend time with you and help with the baby as much as he can. Months passed by and gradually you were forgetting about Yuuji. Even with Nanami in your presence, you no longer cared about the guy you had been with for ten years as the older man seemed to be filling this void inside of you as you didn’t feel alone. And when Yuuji would call, you’d always keep conversation short as your voice gained a bit more pep and you were able to get more decent amounts of sleep.

There was something stirring inside of you when Nanami was around. It was like he made the sun shine brighter.

Was this right— to be on the verge of developing plausible feelings for your son’s grandfather, your ex’s father? Adopted father, your brain corrected. Nonetheless, Nanami raised Yuuji as if he was his own. Were you just trying to fill that hollow void inside of you that was yearning for connection?

You loved Yuuji. He was childish and didn’t want to hold any responsibility, oftentimes making you do the brunt of things. Truthfully, you shouldn’t have stayed so long. But, you loved him. His childishness made you smile, his want for fun made the days go faster. However, you ended up getting the short end of the stick because of his ways. But still, you loved Yuuji.

Nanami was a tie to Yuuji. And whatever that was going on in your mind was still tied down to Yuuji.

The pipe was running for far too long that it called for Nanami’s attention. Stepping inside of the kitchen, he stands behind you and reaches to turn off the pipe. He looks down at you when you jump, your back hitting into his chest. Making eye contact, you smile sheepishly as he looks down at you in concern. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t ask if there’s something wrong, he knows that something is. And in the whirlwind of your mind, you blurt, “I think it’s best if you go now.”

The immediate switch up is perplexing, catching Nanami off guard as he instinctively takes a step back. “Huh— did I do something wrong?”

“No, but— but I think it’s best if you stop your little visits,” you continue on, turning your back away from him as you grab the sponge, squirting soap on it.

“(Y/N), talk to me.”

“I don’t think I want to talk anymore.”

“I don’t care if you don’t want to talk anymore, you’re going to,” he pulls at your wrist, dragging you away from the sink. “Tell me what’s with the abrupt decisions?”

“I—I—” you groan in frustration, flinging yourself against Nanami as you pull him in for a kiss. It lasts for only a second before he’s pushing you off of him, trying to collect his thoughts and understand what just happened. Your face heats up feeling like a complete fool.

“I’m so sorry. I just— This is why you need to—” However, before you can even finish your sentence, he’s pulling you back into his embrace. The warmth of his body makes you melt as you taste his lips, fingers scrunching in the baby blue t-shirt hanging off his body. The tension from inside of you is relieved as your hand goes to drape around his neck as you let out the slightest of moans. It’s then that he pulls away, a string of saliva following.

Nanami’s brown eyes stare into you, no longer filled with the youth of his younger days like how you’ve seen in his photo albums. However, you can see how they brighten up with you in his hold. In a low and raspy voice, “If this was what you were scared about, I would’ve assured you a long time ago that you’re safe with me.”

He plants another wet and chaste kiss on your lips, adding, “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to take care of you for the rest of the years I have.”

With your son fast asleep, the two of you become so enamoured in each other’s lust that reality slips past. Nanami’s veiny hands grip onto your hips with purpose and pull you closer into him. From the time he’s been spending with you, you’ve made him realize how much he’s missed out on companionship. How he had been so occupied with work and providing for Yuuji that he never took the chance to really connect with anyone. Aside from the occasional women and a few sporadic dates, his life was one of loneliness. Your lips are soft and full of life, transporting him back to his late twenties— blond hair and unblemished skin, green-tinted spectacles that hid his beautiful coffee-toned eyes. He was stressed out then, but imagine if he had found someone like you back then? Closer in age and held the same stupor that would make him realize his mistakes much sooner, he wouldn’t have ended up in the predicament he is in now. Kissing on a girl that’s nearly half his age, the mother of his grandson. He should feel ashamed of himself— disgusted— but his body craves this. Craves you.

You manage to guide him to your bedroom without his knowing, his mind so preoccupied that the moment you gently shut the door, he’s disoriented. The two of you have moved so seamlessly in the heat of things that it makes this all too real. But still, even when you’re sitting on the edge of the bed and he’s climbing over your body, he can’t stop himself. Lust-blown eyes that gaze into yours, he breathes heavily. “You’d willingly love an old man like me?”

“Yes,” you breathe with a faint nod. “Need someone to take care of me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Nanami breathes. “You’d let an old man use this beautiful body of yours— ruin it with his old cock?”

You go to cup his face, eyes gleaming when you say, “You could never do that, Kento.”

He grounds his erection into your covered heat, pressing his lips down on yours before haughtily saying, “Oh, but I want to.”

And your eyes say it all, giving him permission as you feel the fire that ignites in between your legs. Arousal continues to build up as Nanami’s breathing gets heavier. Aging lines that protrude the skin, cheeks sucked and exhausted eyes that reflect those many years of labor. You remember the words of your ex telling you about him, speaking so highly of his father and how he worked endlessly. Yuuji always said that his father needed a break, and finally does it feel like he is. Spending leisure time buried inside of your pussy.

Nanami knows he has to be careful not to strain the bones inside of his body, knowing that one bad ache can be detrimental. However, he’s eager— way too eager to have a taste. Traversing down your body, he stops himself at the hem of your shorts. One leg on the floor with the other knee pressing into the mattress of the bed, he grabs at the elastic of it and slowly drags it down. Your hips rise up from the sheets as your thighs press together before he’s flinging the two garments down to the ground. Your body was slowly getting back to what you used to recognize it for. After going through labor, your stomach had felt like it became a deflated balloon, gaining more and more stretch marks than you originally had. When you took Nanami up on his offer to help you, he encouraged you to get out of the house as much as you can. It had helped, but you were still coming to terms with the new you.

However, with every gentle touch that Nanami places on your body, it feels like nothing has changed. The way he caresses your waist, gently tugging you down to his lips. Hands pushing at the hem of your shirt and making it rise as your stomach is exposed. The gentle kiss to your left inner thigh and the soft rub to your stomach is a simple gesture that makes sparks fly. He spreads your legs slowly, but his eyes glued on yours as his hands come to travel higher up. He’s so close to you, his breath dancing over your pussy as he mumbles, moreso to himself than to you, “God, so beautiful.”

Simple gestures and simple words that give you enough validation as you say his name, Kento. Your legs tense up before relaxing, your body beginning to jitter the more he gets so transfixed with it. It’s only for the palm of his hand to stop and relax you before spreading you open even further. “Don’t get shy on me now, love. I’ll take care of you, just like you need to be.”

The first kiss to your lips is short, a simple taste test to your nectar— you’re the finest honey he’s ever tasted. Your arousal has him addicted, pressing his nose into your clit as he inhales your scent. Intoxicating and tantalizing, he finds himself getting lost in a matter of seconds. Your body shudders, making your spine arch with the way his tongue presses down into your warmth. One hand digging into your sheets while the next knots inside of his hair, pulling at the thinning strands of his scalp. However, he couldn’t care less as he finds himself impeccably lost. Your short tugs has him moaning, a sign of encouragement for you to continue those savoury sounds as his hand goes in search for the next to guide it where it belongs.

With both of your hands tangled in what used to be blond, your legs trap him inside your heat as his arms wrap around your waist. There’s an ache settling inside of his legs, but he keeps himself still as his pink tongue prods at your folds. You’re a mewling mess as your eyes are shut and basking in this bliss. Your breathing becomes heavy as you can only think of the man making you feel so good. You gnaw on your bottom lip in hopes to ground yourself as his tongue swirls against your labia, nose nuzzling into your clit as he presses the muscle deeper and deeper within you.

Wet sounds start to seep within the air as Nanami’s not caught up for breath once as you’ve got each other locked in each other’s hold. His moans are deep and from the soul, his arms tightening around your waist as he can feel it before you can. That coil deep within your body, shortly undoing and bringing you to the brink. Arousal dressing his taste buds, your juices continue to seep out as your back arches off the bed and your fingers get tighter. “K-Ken… Kento!”

“I know,” he pulls up for a first. “And I’ve got you.”

Nanami tips you over the edge, knocking you out of breath the moment he presses a finger to your clit. A high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth as you close your eyes shut and cry out in pleasure. “Kento, ohmigosh!”

You drag out a long-winded ‘oh,’ building up pride in the older man as a smirk graces his lips as he laps up your orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your upper body falls back into the sheets and your chin points to the ceiling. Your breath is ragged as you slowly fall from your high and feel the bed shuffle. A deep groan settles from off of his chest as Nanami has to take a moment to stretch out his limbs. He reaches to pull off his shirt and undo his pants, the tight-fitted boxer briefs resting on his lower half when your eyes start to flutter open once more. Chest rising and falling, you admire the chub of the man before you.

He dropped the habit of working out in his early sixties the moment he realized the amount of strain it was putting on his body. And no longer did he care for it, not bothering to wake up in the early mornings or get ready in the evenings for it. Instead, he opted in for daily walks and called it a day. But even those had become a biweekly hobby. He was no longer sharp and strong as he used to be, but the remnants of it and the roundness of his body was more comforting than ever. Eyes lingering to the bulge inside of his undergarments, you ogled at the size of it, white hairs leading down to it. Inching towards you, he brought your attention to his face. Your glossy eyes no longer transfixed on the length hiding under the elastic cloth as he inched down to you. One hand cupping your face as he breathes heavily, giving you a once over.

“My son,” he starts before clearing his throat. “My son never knew how to handle a woman like you.”

It was gradual. You didn’t know when he had managed to slip free of his underwear. “Could’ve never taken care of a woman like you.”

You didn’t know when he managed to hike your legs up over his waist, his tip kissing at your clit and making you absentmindedly shudder. “That’s why you need me.”

It isn’t until you feel the press of his cock head inching inside of your heat that you’re taken out of your trance, your mouth falling open into an ‘O’ as a whimper leaves your lips. “Only I can take care of you. Be everything my son isn’t— a man.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a meek nod, feeling the intrusion of his cock seer through you.

“Yeah?” Nanami hums, pressing deeper and deeper into you until he’s fully sheathed. His breathing staggers a bit before regaining control. “I’m the only man you need. The only man that can give you what you need, hm?”

“Yes, Kento,” you whine and whimper, feeling how he pauses to get you acclimated. “I only need you. You’re perfect for me.”

One more chaste kiss before he’s pulling out of you, the head prodding at your entrance. A thought he’s unaware he’s said out loud, And you’re perfect for me.

His length is thick and stretches open your walls, making you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt with any of your past partners. His hips don’t move with that same motion he had in his younger years. No longer languid movements, but growing rougher in age. Each thrust is calculated and hard against your pussy. His deep groans and grunts make your mind spiral and your eyes constantly flutter as each sound spills from his mouth. At some point, he comes to hold your face and does nothing else. A small and simple gesture that makes you melt into him.

Your pussy, while used, sucks him up in a tight grip that doesn’t make him want to ever leave it. He finds himself stuck at the thought of leaving the sweetness that it is, your cunt a gift to him from heavens themself. Your hands wrap around his neck, nails digging into his fragile skin and sure to bruise as your legs tense up around him, his eyes flutter shut. “Gosh, it’s like your pussy was made for me to enjoy.”

And when he brings you to orgasm, you entrap him with your legs and call for his release as well. You milk of what he’s worth, letting him empty himself out into you without any concerns of the repercussions. You let out high-pitched mewls and moans when he rolls to the other side of the bed, having to take a moment to catch his breath. However, with your body running ablaze, a heat still sparked inside of you, you tiredly move yourself to hover over his frame and catch him off guard. “Wha— What are you doing?”

“I need more of you.” The tip of his cock still leaking his seed and your pussy dripping of your intermingled cum, you press your cunt against his length. Grinding yourself against his softening length in hopes to liven him up again, you watch as he chuckles exhaustedly. “A pretty thing like you will surely lead me to my deathbed.”

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nutsackx · 2 days ago

Text

POKÉMON X THE OUTSIDERS AU

info under images lol

if anyone reposts these like the cowboy or scientist au I’m deleting my whole account watch your bakc

I’m gonna preface this by saying I haven’t played or even really indulged in Pokémon for like… 7 years so forgive me if any of this is off or doesn’t make sense…

ANYWAY!!

Original gang is just the Curtis brothers. Ponyboy, after years of putting it off to put time into school, decides he’s finally ready to try being a Pokémon trainer (he’s a bit of a late bloomer, starting at 14 instead of ten…yikes). Usually, their father would’ve helped him on his journey….but he’s, dead, so.

Darry agrees to help him, eventually Soda gets dragged along too because he’s worried Pony and Darry fighting 24/7 will ruin the experience for Ponyboy. And, Soda, being a Pokémon ranger, has a lot more knowledge than even Darry about how to safely go about this.

First they come across Steve. Soda and him are already besties, of course. And they have kinda a rivalry going on where they are constantly tryin to one-up each other (all in good faith lmao). It’s not until Steve starts talking about how he started with Pokémon that Darry realizes just how different it was than when he was starting out. Steve agrees to come along, mainly saying he thinks Pony’s gonna get himself killed cus’ he SUCKS!!

After all the yada yada and defeating his first gym leader, Pony finds a dead Radicate and REFUSES to move on until they give the poor creature a proper burial. Since they’re already relatively close, Darry redirects the group to Lavender Town.

While inside Pokémon tower, they come across a decrepit, old, decaying black-belt class trainer (Mr.Miyagi ((yeah I put him in here, what are you gonna do about it?)),sorry for all the mean adjectives) who of course starts being an old man and going on and on about the boy he fosters there and how weird he’s acting lately (Darry refuses to interrupt because he RESPECTS HIS ELDERS!!!).

Mr.Miyagi admits that not being around people his age has probably messed with his development, practically calling the boy a hermit, and asks the guys to bring him along in exchange for a very strong Gengar (for Pony, ofc). Darry, upon hearing that the boy is a strong fighter and MUCH quieter then the rest of the freaks he’s dealing with, agrees.

They go from floor to floor looking for him, eventually finding a cloaked figure on some fuckass floor idk. It takes a minute but they’re like, damn, this hoe possessed! And they battle him, he’s hard to beat but they do it eventually, yada yada. Johnny then takes the hood off, apologizes profusely, and explains that he’s a channeler but not really good at his job yet. (also imagine him with the most fuckass stutter, like Shaky from rdr)

The guys inform him about their promise to Mr.Miyagi, Johnny’s upset for t-minus two minutes before he’s just like “whatever okay” and joins them. (Quickly becomes the favorite, ofc, because he can actually shut his damn mouth).

They move on to the next gym, yk how it goes…but yeah they come across a traveling circus. And you’ll NEVER GUESS WHO IS A CLOWN!!

So anyway, Clown-bit, we love him. They come across him, agree to fight so he’ll give them some food and pokeballs, and Pony beats his ASS.

They don’t really invite Two-Bit along (they think he’s annoying…who doesn’t?) but he just joins anyway. Imagine like constant clown puns. Also he and Johnny quickly take a liking to each other cus’ they’re both kinda outcasts of the group (Johnny’s known the guys for like, a week…and Two-bit Just showed up. Also, we need more Johnny and Two-Bit friend content so).

They keep going, Pony defeats a few more gym leaders, and takes notice that a lot of them seem to recognize someone on their team. When he askes, Johnny admits to being the son of one of the elite four. At first, Pony is thrilled by the info, until he pries a little more and realizes Johnny’s father was an abusive asshole and pretty much sent him away to Pokémon tower to force him into becoming a trainer. Yikes.

Anyway, on their journey they come across some UGLY blonde guy, like one of those biker trainer classes yk..? Anyway yeah it’s Dallas, shocker. He kinda just gets in their way and refuses to move until they ALL battle him. Obviously, they don’t wanna do that, a lot of work for some ugly freak (did I mention he’s ugly?).

They agree to let Ponyboy fight him, but he uh…loses. After a bit of back and forth Dallas agrees to let them go if they help him get to the Indigo Plateau in Kanto, so he can face off against the Elite Four there (his bike is old, cus yk…he’s poor.)

Darry at this point has an entire league of teenagers following him around, so he’s like what’s one more? And boom they move on.

I don’t have much planned out from here (this was all pulled from my ass anyway). Maybe the Shepards can be like…the Team Rocket of this AU?? And Soc’s are the gym leaders.

Also, Yeah Cherry and Marcia are both Kanto elite four cus I SAID SO!!! And uh…Johnny and Cherry are dating because it’s MY AU AND I DO WHAT I WANT!!!! She’s the breadwinner and that’s okay, we love her for it <3

twobit prolly falls in love with Marcia when he sees her but idk if she’d reciprocate with an actual clown. Mayeb Randy lowered her standards???

anyway. That is all. Might flesh this out more if the obsession grows, or it’ll die in a week like the Crazy Scientist stuff. Oh well!

EXPLANATION OF DESIGNS/MORE INFO—

Ponyboy

CLASS: Youngster

Ngl his design took very little time…..oops

his cap hides a really bad dye job, and he refuses to take it off

He chose squirtle as his starter, idrk why but squirtle just suits him. Maybe cus he almost drowned!!

Would’ve fought to the DEATH if he didn’t get squirtle. This boy knows what he wants

He has a little pokeball necklace that his mom got him as a joke, will kill someone for it

He deffo has a really nerdy messenger bag that he keeps all of his stuff in

He’s scared of his own Beedrill

He does NOT need those glasses. But he likes them becuase he thinks they make him look more professional (everyone can tell they’re blue light glasses)

Sodapop

CLASS: Pokémon Ranger

LOVES his job and therefore is almost always seen in uniform

he loves electric/steel type Pokémon cus they reminds him of cars, so his hair is usually sticking up because of static electricity

has a whistle, but Darrel stole it and tossed it into the forest VERY early into the journey

yellow is his favorite color cus I said so

Raichu is his PRIZED Pokémon

He’s kinda like Snow White the Pokémon love him

His Flareon and Johnny’s Espeon are best friends

Darrel

CLASS: Veteran

Wanted to be a football player, but couldn’t because that wouldn’t keep the family afloat, that’s why his outfit has the numbers on it.

Lot of scars, some from football and some from his days as a trainer

His outfit used to have sleeves, but he found them annoying and just shopped them off one day

Always keeps the spare pokeballs on him

In highschool he had his hair grown out, but chopped it after their folks died because his father was always trying to get him to cut it

I don’t really have a backstory for his necklace, buts it fire okay

Treats his Pokémon VERY well, if there was a trainer rating website he would be top 5

Picks his Pokémon based on size and strength

Two-Bit

CLASS: CLOWN

Obviously he’s a clown so, that explains the outfit

NEVER seen without the makeup, even when it rains or he’s sleeping…that stuff is ON THERE

He has false lashes on his waterline, and yes they’re pink

He is incapable of being quiet because of all the bells

The hat doesn’t come off. if it did his hair under there would be hella matted

All of Two’s Pokémon are just as annoying as he is, he hides earplugs in his shoes for people (they never take them)

FATASS can and will eat anything in sight

Mr.Mime is his favorite of all his Pokémon….they ate both annoying together and everyone hates them for it

Johnny

CLASS: Channeler

the scar on his eye is from his father 😬 from when he figured out Miyagi wasn’t actually training him to be the next member of the Elite Four…. the eye is blue because of some psychic shit idk

His outfit is from Miyagi entirely, the sleeves used to be connected, but he found it too annoying to fight in those so he tore them (Miyagi was secretly VERY unsettled)

If you look really closely he has purple eyeliner

Johnny refuses to cut his hair, so it’s usually in a braid to be out of his way, he lets it down sometimes

He has the little flower charm connected to his belt…what a cutie

His hood is actually up a LOT, most of the time his face is obscured

There’s flames on his sleeve….wonder why (not the reason you think okay. His father was a fire type trainer…JOHNNY LIVES IN THIS AU OKAY.)

also the metal things around his arm are like…incredibly heavy. Mr.Miyagi put them in originally so he could build muscle while doing everyday things, but Johnny insists on keeping the on forever.

Loves all of his Pokémon equally, and they love him back. Always has atleast one out of their Pokeball so he doesn’t get lonely….my baby

He doesn’t even like the color purple that much it’s just kinda his thing now

Pokémon FLOCK to this man

Dallas

CLASS: Biker

Tore the sleeves off of his jacket as well…they really like doing that

YELLOW teeth and GREASY hair he does not take care of himself

Really likes dog-looking Pokémon

Has an empty slot because one of his Pokémon just DIED LMAO (idk which one. Oh well)

Has rips in his jeans, does not plan on fixing it

Hand-carved his belt buckle. The ‘win’ in Winston is underlined. Ignore the fact that this idiot keeps fucking losing

The bandages are protecting nothing. He thinks it makes him look cool

Pokémon are revolted by him. Like, his own literally hate him.

Steve

Class: Hooligan

kind of an ass, but he looks cool

any cutscene of him he’s making sure his hair is still spiked trust

loves steel type Pokémon because…cars

his favorite color is green, making any green Pokémon his all time favorite

for being a little shit, he treats his Pokémon rather well

has studs ALL over his back, once leaned back on Soda and has never heard the end of the pain he caused

he has a tongue piercing….so….

when the gang is lacking resources, he and Dallas are the first to steal

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chaoticblogofmuses · 2 days ago

Note

Tetsuko: "I know he can be annoying at times, sorry about that. The Benizakura. A copy was made of my father's Benizakura. For use as an automated weapon on a warship. An artificial intelligence... They call it an electric soul. It exist as a parasite on the user, taking over their body. By collecting battle data, it learns and improves. It becomes a living thing. And in Edo... There is only one person who can control it. Please... Stop my brother." She bowed.

Sakata Gintoki has been working under the Yorozuya alone for a good few weeks now ever since he threw his old partners into the river for ‘reasons’. Life was going good for me and then one day he hears rumors of a girl alone with corpses in a place called the sea kingdom who is nicknamed ‘The Witch Demon with Corpses’ interested in this he takes a boat to the sea kingdom to find this girl. (Let the Wadanohara Survive AU fun begin!)

The lone Witch was in the middle of a bunch of corpses and some that used to be her friends, she was just sitting there, not moving from the spot, the girl couldn't find any motivation to leave the place, she didn't know of the samurai that was on the way yet to change her life hopefully for the better.

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lunarlando · 1 day ago

Note

Hi I love ur girl dad lando fics sm they're adorable I was wondering if u could write smth where lando and readers girls invite their friends for a sleepover (like a crossover with carlos,charles, Oscar and max F's kids) cuz they're besties and reader and lando putting in lots of effort for the girls and making it a fun time for them and overall fluff and comedy pls xx

Hope u have a grt day and feel free to ignore this request if u don't want to write it xx 🫶🏼

so so sorry this took me so long to get around to, but thank you for your request! as a quick refresher since it's been ages since i've written for this little universe, we've got estelle and delilah norris, adrien leclerc, teo sainz, maeve and clara piastri, and some new additions—luca and lina fewtrell! hope you enjoy x

feel free to request more :)

“If someone told me I'd be in my thirties blowing up air mattresses for a bunch of children instead of going for a night out, I’d call them mental.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Here Lando is indeed, sitting in the middle of the living room floor, blowing up the third of eight child sized air mattresses for the girls’ sleepover tonight. Mattresses one and two have been cast off to the side, ready to go. You’re watching him moan and groan from the kitchen while you prep snacks and drinks for the kids.

Estelle and Delilah had begged you to have a sleepover with their friends this weekend, and with all of them actually in Monaco for once, how could you refuse?

“Y’know, you’re making terrible time on those mattresses,” You tease, turning towards the fridge to grab those little smoothie drinks the girls love. You’re all stocked up on their favorite foods, you’ve got their favorite movies queued on the television, and you’re pretty much prepared for anything a group of excited kids would want.

All you want is for everything to go well tonight, because your girls are your world.

You’re swept off your feet before you can throw another smart remark Lando’s way, drawn into his chest as his fingers dig into your sides, making you nearly shriek with laughter. You manage to push him away, but not before he’s rendered you breathless with his tickling.

“When are all the little rascals coming over?”

You slide your hands up his chest to link around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the curls at his nape. “Should be soon. Carlos is picking up Adrien on his way to bring Teo here, Lily and Oscar are dropping off the twins after gymnastics, and Pietra said she’ll be sending Max over with Luca and Lina pretty soon.”

“Pietra’s not coming round?”

“Pietra’s eight months pregnant on bed rest, my love. Have you forgotten, or has all that blowing made you lightheaded?”

Lando rolls his eyes, squeezing your hip. “Ha ha, very funny, you.”

“You love me.”

“Duh. Wouldn’t have let you rope me into this circus otherwise,” He teases.

“Don’t act like it hasn’t been your life’s dream to host a sleepover with eight kids hopped up on sugar and sweets.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

There’s an undertone there, something more serious in his words that makes you smile warmly.

Lando has always been a family guy. His loved ones are his world, and the little family you’ve been able to create with each other despite all the challenges is one of the few things that take precedence over racing. You still remember the day you told him you were pregnant with Estelle. How he’d gone completely misty eyed and nearly tackled you in a hug before you’d even finished uttering the words.

He’s told you before, getting to be a father, getting to have a family, it’s a gift he’d never be able to thank you enough for.

You pull him in closer to kiss him, taking advantage of the girls being busy in their room to have a little time alone to love on your husband.

“Daddy!!!” Estelle’s loud shriek has you both pulling away from each other in a snap. Lando deflates against you, groaning quietly.

“Yes, lovebug?” He calls, angling his head towards the direction of her voice.

“I can’t find my race car pajamas!”

“That’s ‘cause they’re in the laundry! You got ice cream on them last night, remember?”

You dig a sharp elbow into Lando’s side, eliciting a high pitched yelp and an incredulous look aimed your way. You raise a brow at your husband. “You gave them ice cream last night?”

“Shit. Erm, no, ‘course I didn’t,” He says unconvincingly, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t do that, would I? Definitely did not give them—”

“Daddy!” Estelle screeches again, the end of the word long and drawn out.

“Wow, would you listen to that? I reckon I should go see what I can do for that darling daughter of ours!” He’s wriggled himself free before you can blink, pressing the hastiest of pecks to the corner of your mouth quickly before speeding off to Estelle’s rescue (and away from the trouble he’d been about to get in).

You laugh and shake your head, because he's just the same as when you’d first had the privilege of loving him all those years ago. He was younger then, more boyish, maybe even a little naive, but that was who you fell in love with. In some ways, he's the same. In other ways, he's grown tenfold.

Either way, changed or not, you've loved him all this time and will continue to, even after you inevitably become old and grey together. It won't happen for a long time, but you're looking forward to growing old with Lando.

—

“My back is killing me,” He grumbles later in the night, as he pads gingerly across the room over to his side of the bed. It’s nearly midnight and all the kids had gone off to bed a few hours ago after a fully action packed evening, so now it’s your turn to wind down.

The days when you’d stumble home hand in hand, drunk and giggling in the wee hours of the morning are nothing but a distant memory. Now, you can barely stay up past twelve most nights. Right now, you’re both exhausted. But the kids had a blast, and that makes everything worth it.

You giggle at his over exaggerated steps. “C’mere, I’ll massage you.” That makes him perk up, smirking at you like the massage will lead to other things. “Don’t even think about it, mister. Try again another day when we’re not hosting all of our friends’ kids.”

“Am I able to get that rain check in writing, or…”

“Uncle Lando?” A small voice from the hallway draws both of your attention. Max’s son, Luca, is peering at the two of you, half shrouded in the darkness of the hallway.

“Luca! What’re you doing up, buddy?” Lando asks, beckoning him into the room. The boy pads in hesitantly, looking worried.

You pat the covers as a sign for him to take a seat and he does, rubbing at his shoulder the same way his dad always does when something is bothering him. Sometimes you can’t believe how similar Luca is to Max.

“I couldn’t—I can’t sleep,” He mumbles, little brows furrowed. “I miss my mum.”

“Oh, honey,” You soothe, scooting closer to put your hand over his smaller one. The seven year old’s bottom lip trembles a touch.

“You know, there was one time your dad and I had to stay in the same hotel room, and he couldn't sleep either because he missed your mum,” Lando mentions, voice light, like he's recalling something casual.

“You and dad had a sleepover?”

Lando looks very much like he wants to explain that no, he and Max, two grown men, did not have a sleepover, but at your subtle shake of the head, doesn't. He nods instead, patting the boy on the back. “Yeah, mate, we had a sleepover. Anyways, your dad just couldn’t fall asleep for hours, and d’you wanna know what eventually did help him?”

“What, Uncle Lando?”

“We gave your mum a call, and they talked for a bit, and afterwards, he was able to fall asleep right quick. Shall we do that? Give your parents a ring?”

Luca nods quickly, sniffling. Lando smiles warmly as he reaches over to swipe his phone off the bedside table. You watch as he shows the boy what to do instead of just ringing Max himself.

Suddenly you're hit with an overwhelming feeling of what Lando would be like if the two of you ever had a son. You’d had the conversation many times before, whether or not you wanted to have a third child. The timing had just never been right.

Raising two kids under two whilst Lando was away racing most of the time had been rough enough, but the girls were nearly eight now. And sure, his career is still going strong at the moment, but you've got years of experience under your belt now.

You wouldn't say no to another kid if Lando felt the same way, especially if it ended up being a boy. Make no mistake, you were a girl mom through and through, but the thought of having a little mini Lando running around with his big sisters made your heart swell.

“Mate, shouldn’t you be—Luca! Hey, big guy!” Max answers on the third ring, teasing demeanor morphing straight into parental as soon as he catches a glimpse of his son on the other side of the screen rather than Lando. “What’s up? You having fun with your friends?”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, is…” Luca hesitates, casting a nervous glance at Lando, who only nods encouragingly. It seems to help, because he turns his attention back, sounding much more firm when he speaks again. “Can I talk to mum?”

“Can you talk to mum? Of course you can! Let me go find her. You know your mum, always wandering around these days,” Max jokes, winking. Luca giggles quietly. He already looks like he's feeling much better. “Oi, P! There’s someone special who wants to talk to you.”

Luca chats with Pietra for a little bit, and you can tell just how much that little boy loves and adores his mother. He’s beaming happily when the call ends, a far cry from the timidness he’d come in with earlier.

“All good now, mate? You’ll try and get some sleep tonight?” Lando asks, clapping Luca on the shoulder gently.

“Yep! Thanks, Uncle Lando!” He runs off without another word after that.

“Well, I think we handled that pretty well, don’t you think?” Lando hums, tossing his phone back on the bedside table. “Hello? Darling?”

“What would you think about having another baby?” You blurt.

“Another—babe, what? Where is this coming from?” He splutters, looking utterly bewildered. His eyes go wide a split second later. “Wait, you’re not—are you?”

“No, no, I’m not—I just—fuck, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to ask so bluntly like that, I was trying to ease into the conversation.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s…yeah. Sorry, you just caught me off guard is all.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I didn’t know you were thinking about it. Last I recall we were on the same page about stopping at two. Did something change, or…?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about, y’know, what if we wind up having a boy? A mini Lando, running around with his big sisters one day?”

Lando opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut before inhaling a sharp breath and trying again. “I love our little family more than anything.”

“I do too.”

“Are we really ready to have three kids?”

“I think we are. We managed eight of them pretty well tonight.” You shrug, sliding a reassuring hand over Lando’s. “Plus, there’s more than enough love to go around, don’t you think?”

That seems to solidify the decision, because he brings your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “We got this. Let’s have another baby!”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #dad!lando norris #dad!lando norris x reader #dad!lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris x wife!reader #ln4 x reader #lando thoughts 💭

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burnforyou · 1 day ago

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FIGHT & MAKE UP - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! a fight with your boyfriend, luigi, ends up causing you to be bent over the bathroom sink.

!WARNINGS! fighting, accused cheating (no actual cheating), a bit of crying, he's a little insecure, reader is sensitive, make-up sex (kinda public)

if you don't like this, don't read it.

“hey, lu...“ you approach him sitting on a kitchen stool with caution, the wound from your argument still fresh.

“i don’t want to talk to you.” he states curtly.

“please, we won’t settle this unless we talk.” you beg.

“well, i wanted to talk to you this morning,”

your stomach drops in realization, your heart aching.

“but you weren’t here. so i stalked your location and went to where you were, and of course, i saw you with luke.” he snarls, his voice echoing in your kitchen.

“we were just talking? I… i wanted his advice. i wanted to talk to someone else about it, get another opinion.” you cautiously place a hand on his shoulder. he stiffens under your touch.

“it’s always him, isn’t it?” he turns his head to lock eyes with you. his eyes are wide with expectation.

“no,” you pace in the kitchen and rub your head, a headache stirring. you stop and look at him. “this is a big misunderstanding.”

“no, i’m not misunderstanding anything.” he gets up from the stool and stalks up to you. you have to tilt your head up to look in his eyes, now dark. “i’m telling you as i see it. to me it looks like every time we have an issue you go running back to him. literally anyone else, anyone else, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

he loses himself in the argument and you see it in his face. he’s lost the color in his eyes, replaced with a darkness you've never seen before.

“i’m sorry luigi, i wanted his opinion because he’s a man and i figured he would try and understand your side too, and i’d get unbiased advice from him.” your ramble on and on, struggling to get him to understand you.

“in what world would you get unbiased advice from him?" the adrenaline courses through his veins, "he probably begged you to break up with me, called me a loser, an evil man, the whole thing!”

“no, that’s not what happened,” tears begin welling up in your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. taking his accusations felt like walking on broken glass.

he grasps onto your shoulders with a force that almost makes you fall back.

“you can’t see it? that he just wants to get into your pants? he just wants to take you from me?” he growls in your face. his eyes search your face for any inkling of an answer.

“do you really think i’d leave you for him?” your voice comes out as sharp as a knife.

he opens his lips to reply, but closes them before saying anything. he doesn’t have anything to say to you.

he drops his hands to his sides after they left red marks on your skin.

“really, luigi? really?”

you start backing away from him. disappointment fills your heart.

“and since you care so much, he didn’t tell me to break up with you. actually, he told me i should apologize to you. but now, i don’t think you deserve my forgiveness.”

every stair creates a creaking noise as you storm up to your bedroom. once you meet the bed, you're out like a light.

you blink your eyes open, feeling a hand caressing your face softly. you're met with a stricken luigi looking down at you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"can we talk?" he proposes carefully.

you sit up and lean back on your hands.

“you talk and i’ll listen.”

he takes a deep breath and leans down beside the bed and brings a notebook up from the floor. he looks down at the notebook and up at you again.

“i wrote down what i wanted to say, um…” he stammers off.

a smile threatens to grace your lips. it’s hard to stay mad at him, with his big brown eyes and little apology script.

“i’m sorry y/n. i didn’t mean to accuse you of cheating on me. it’s just.. my parents didn’t have the most, solid, relationship, as you know, and my father made me believe every woman would leave me. i’m really trying to break the pattern, to prove him wrong, to let you prove him wrong, but it’s really hard for me. but i am really trying for us, y/n."

"okay." you sigh.

"I don't mean to make excuses for my actions. I know what I said to you was wrong, and I'm sorry. for all of it, for the fight last night too."

you're weak. you're weak and you know it. you can't stay mad at him for anything. you climb into his arms and let him cradle you like a baby, his warmth engulfing you. "I'm sorry" you mutter weakly into his chest.

his thumb caresses the back of your head and he leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

"i know. l'm sorry too baby." his voice comes out soft, his tender touches holding you to him.

you gave luke a hesitant side hug, eyes locked on luigi. he gives you a lazy smile and winks.

"thanks for having me," luke politely shakes luigi's hand and you take note of their size difference. luigi looms over him, not just in height, but size too. luigi makes small talk with luke as he leads him to the rest of where the rest of his guests are sat.

when you finally get a moment where all the guests are distracted, you sneak off to the kitchen, where you know luigi is hiding away. you lean against the counter next to him.

“why did you invite luke to your birthday party?”

“i wanted to…" he turns to look at you with a coy smile and your heart flutters. "get on better terms with him.” he watches your shocked reaction with satisfaction.

“wow luigi. that’s really.. nice of you.”

his lips turn up into a slight smirk that you catch. a sneaky suspicion he’s lying arises.

"that's not the real reason, is it?"

he crosses his arms across his chest and his biceps bulge in his short sleeve shirt. you bite your lip.

"you want to know the truth?"

"um, yes?" you reply like it's the most obvious thing in the world. he grips onto the counter next to you and leans over you, forcing you to look up at him. he leans down right next to your ear, his breath making the hairs on your neck stand up.

"I wanted him to see that you belong to me," he nibbles on your earlobe, "firsthand."

"you're joking." you bite your lip. he retracts from your ear, his signature hung smile lighting up his face.

"nope!" he says, popping the 'p.'

"and I thought you were being mature." you shake your head and roll your eyes with faux annoyance, trying to pretend like his words don't make you inexplicably needy. he leans into your neck again and presses hard kisses on the soft skin where your ear meets your neck.

"you know you like it." he casually reads you like a book. his slight scruff scratches your neck just the way you like it. "you know you've wanted this all day, prancing around here in this short skirt."

"lu," you whimper, quiet so the party-goers won't hear.

it was risky, but the rush, the adrenaline, the fact that luke could walk in at any second, it made you weak in the knees and left you aching for more.

he comes up and leaves his forehead against yours, eyes dark with need, pupils completely dilated.

"bathroom?" your heart pounds in your chest.

you shake your head, going against your own wishes.

"they'll notice we're gone."

"not if we're quick enough." he smirks, grabbing your hand. "come on."

he leads you to the downstairs bathroom and closes the door quietly after you. he presses your hips against the cold counter top and roughly pulls down your panties from under your skirt.

he wastes no time getting down on his knees, holding your ass apart with his hands, and playing with your already wet pussy.

"you want this bad?" he slaps your ass and groans at your reaction, jolting forward with a small gasp and a red mark appearing. his eyes meet yours in the mirror and he pushes a finger in you, still watching your reaction carefully.

"i want it now," you whine and stick out your bottom lip.

"look at you, so desperate." he shakes his head, pulling his shorts down enough to pull his hard cock out. he lines the tip up with your pussy and pushes his hips right against your ass, filling you up in seconds. your mouth falls open but nothing comes out, your lips completely dry.

as he thrusts into you, his thighs meeting your ass make loud, obscene noises that slip through the door.

you try and look back at him over your shoulder, but he forces you to look into his eyes in the mirror, bent over and fucking you desperately. "i'm gonna make this quick." he whispers into your ear, "look at who's fucking you this good."

you open your eyes and meet his dark ones in the mirror. instantly, his hand finds your clit and rubs it, adding stimulation. a moan flies out of you uncontrollably and you bite your lip to silence yourself.

"don't," he groans, "be loud f'me." he moans as you pulse around him. he smiles at you, watching your head bob as he fucks you braindead.

"could luke ever fuck you this good?" he asked with a rasp.

you gasp and he watches you struggle in the mirror with pleasure. he brings his other arm around your throat, his bicep now pressed against your throat. you try and shake your head but he just squeezes you harder.

"say it.” he growls roughly.

his cock kisses your cervix with every harsh thrust. your eyes flutter shut and your lower stomach bulges, heat growing with every movement.

"n-no,” you stammer, face red and sweat dripping, “fuck!"

"say my name.” you hold onto his arm and try and pull the weight off your neck, but he prevails.

"Luigi, please!”

"there ya go, that's it." he moans and slows his pace, grinding into you.

"say who you belong to." he slaps your clit carefully and your legs begin to buckle beneath him, body convulsing with pleasure.

"you, luigi. I'm yours." you purr and arch your back into him more, watching his eyebrows come together in the mirror.

"I'm gonna cum,” you whine, digging your nails into his muscles.

"cum baby," he demands, "make 'em hear you cum with me.” your vision fades to black when luigi thrusts into you as deep as possible, your skin meeting his with a dirty slap one more time. you buck against him, throbbing around him while he fills you. he quickly slips out of you and pulls your panties back up before any of his cum could drip out, forcing you to spend the rest of the party with his cum dripping out of you.

MASTERLIST - PREV. WORK

!TAGS!

@legendaryclancy @strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify @cumdnmp @ga33y3 @zeervzn @marzipanlvr @seesaw-it @raekensluver @ddlydevotion @hujirose @babydollfacedangel @strawbxrryaxolotyl @bricapellan16 @darleneslane @uraharasfavoriteexperiment

#hey people #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fanfiction #my works #luigi x reader #luigi mangione smut #rpf #real person fiction #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x yn #request

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lovecoree · 3 days ago

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༄ SAD GIRL H. HYUNJIN !

PAIRING✰ — husband!hyunjin x blackwife!reader ft. Chan

synopsis: arguing with your husband and soon to be father of your child was not something you like to do, especially when your water breaks at the worst time.

genre: angst

warning: arguing, foul language, hyunjin is mean in the beginning :(, fluff ending!

this is an anonymous request <3! first angst post hope you like it !

“Fuck, you’re unbelievable right now.” Hyunjin shook his head feeling frustrated by the minute. He watched you with a heavy glare as you accused him of cheating. All because you seen his ex girlfriend constantly calling him and sending a bunch of text messages, every chance she gets. It angered you how Hyunjin wasn’t taking you seriously and made it seem like you’re the problem in this situation. “Are you serious right now? Why are you ok with your ex texting and calling you?!” Your voice grew louder as each word tumbled out of your mouth, remembering the exact moment you saw her name pop up ten minutes ago before the argument.

“Jesus y/n— she’s going through a hard time—”

“And I’m not?”

Your voice was starting to shake while tears welled up in your eyes at his excuse. Hyunjin words died down as he glanced down at your stomach, a little bit of it peeking out from the bottom of your white cozy sweater you wore. His eyes darting back up to you, your mind racing as you didn’t expect him to roll his eyes while running a hand through his dark long hair, a habit of his that he’ll never get rid of. “Y/n I get that you are pregnant, but the world is still spinning it doesn’t stop for you.” Hyunjin spoke with an irritated tone, words already spewing out and too late to regret what he had said. The first tear drop graced your face as you looked at him with disgust.

The husband you loved was defending the actions of his ex girlfriend and could care less about you, his pregnant wife.

“You’re an asshole, you know that? Are you seriously justifying her actions right now! Fuck, I know the world doesn’t stop spinning for me, but at least have a fucking brain to know that your ex shouldn’t be texting and calling you in the first place!” You cried out letting tears stream down your face, all the pent up anger and sadness spilling out all at once, the aching pain from your heart as you felt so many emotions at once. “I’m your wife and you’re belittling my feelings.” You sniffed, eyes filled with tears.

Hyunjin sighed heavily, feet moving towards the couch to grab his phone and keys. Looking at him with confusion, you watched him pass you without even a glance your way and heading straight to the door. “W-Where are you going?” Your voice broke down even more as Hyunjin looked your way. “I need some air, that’s all.” He said, but you knew he was basically telling you he had enough which only made you frustrated. Before you could even say something or stop him, he was already out the door. The sound of the front door slammed shut made you flinch.

You couldn’t help but cry even more, mind going crazy from overthinking. You and Hyunjin would have disagreements from time to time, but they were never serious and easily forgotten. This was the first argument that put you in the situation where you felt alone and seem crazy. Hyunjin made you feel like you were the problem and it slowly started getting to your head? Am I over reacting? Should I say sorry?

You are so stressed about the situation, your body started to tense up and your contractions started to kick in, but even more painful. “Shit!” You glanced down at your sweatpants seeing a wet spot forming. Your water broke and you didn’t know what to do but cry in pain. Your mind went back to Hyunjin, wishing y’all never argued and wanting him helping you through this painful situation. You slowly made your way to your bedroom, each step painful as you made your way to the nightstand to grab your phone. You quickly pressed Hyunjin’s number.

“Hyunjin please.”

You cried painfully holding on to your stomach feeling the baby kicking. The call went straight to voicemail for the third time, having no choice you called your best friend Chan who answered after the third ring. “Hey y/n—” “Chan I need your help!” Your screams made Chan worried as he frantically asked what’s going on. “It’s a long s-story— fuck! Please my water broke and Hyunjin’s not answering his phone, fuck Chan it hurts.” You cried into the phone as you crouched next to the bed still holding your stomach. “Ok ok y/n ima need you to breathe in and out for me, I’m on my way as fast as I can.” Chan was quick to leave the house and drive over to your place.

He arrived in less than ten minutes, he has a key to y’all apartment since you and Hyunjin trust only him that much. You hear footsteps approaching your room, you glanced up to see the door open and a panic Chan looking at you worried. He came closer to see you clutching your stomach, body glistening with a thin layer of sweat and you breathing how Chan told you to. “Hey, im here now let’s get you to a hospital.” Chan noticed your sweatpants were damped and was quick to cover your body with his jacket to properly shield you once he helped you up. He helped you along the way to his car and to the hospital.

Hyunjin arrived to the hospital once he received an angry call from Chan. He was out of breath as a ran towards the room the receptionist told him you were in. “Hyung…” Hyunjin breathed out, seeing Chan sitting outside your room. Chan eyes locked with Hyunjin and his face went cold. Chan was quick to stand up as Hyunjin cautiously approached the angry man. “Chan—” “The fuck is wrong with you, leaving her alone like that, especially when you’re in the wrong.” Hyunjin’s face dropped, feeling the guilt and shame while Chan shook his head, disappointed in his actions.

“I didn’t— fuck, I wasn’t—” Hyunjin stuttered feeling the first tear drop, feeling worse as he sobbed in the quiet hospital hallway. Chan sighed as a patted his friend’s back before bringing him into a tight hug. Chan was still mad at Hyunjin, but seeing him cry lets him know that he regretted what happened. “Stop crying and go apologize to your wife and see your child.” Chan said softly, backing away while Hyunjin wiped his tears before slowly opening the door.

The sight of you holding your new born child made hyunjin’s heart swell, wishing he was close to you during a difficult and precious time. You noticed him once he shut the door, your gaze going back to your baby not wanting to ruin such a precious moment for you. “Baby—”

“If you’re here to argue, I don’t want to hear it.” You mumbled softly not wanting to wake up your baby. Hyunjin frowned as he stepped closer, “No baby, I want to apologize.” Hyunjin voice came out soft and genuine, you looked him in the eyes to confirm that he was in fact sorry. Hyunjin sat down in the chair next to your bed, his eyes gazing at his baby, smile gracing his face.

“I want to apologize for my behavior, I shouldn’t have made you feel little in the situation that I was clearly wrong in. My ex means nothing to me I swear and I would never leave you or my child for her. I should have never even indulged into any sort of conversations with her, I made sure to block and delete her number. You mean so much to me and you’ve been through so much and I’m proud to have a beautiful strong wife like you.” Hyunjin’s words brought tears to not only his, but your eyes.

“Dammit Hyunjin, I’m supposed to be mad at you.” You smiled watching him laugh before coming close to place a soft kiss to your lips. “Thank you for apologizing, I’m just a little sad you wasn’t here to hear your baby’s first cry.” You pouted causing Hyunjin to frown a little. “I know..I know, I’m here now and I’m not leaving.” He promised glancing down at his baby.

“Can..can I hold…” His words died down looking at you. “Her..and of course you can hold her.” You chuckled lightly, lifting her up slowly towards him. He gently held his daughter in his arms, heart beaming with joy at the feeling. A smile gracing his face as he took in her facial features. “Gosh, she is beautiful just like her mother.” He complimented placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before doing the same to you, smiling as you grew shy at his affection.

“I love you both dearly.”

#black reader #black fem reader #fluff #black female oc #angst #kpop x black reader #black!oc #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #Hyunjin #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x black reader

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