#he called the man family and i'm here for it

[angellekookie]

Just a lil something to take the edge off...

(Coz it's sweet?)

I've been laughing all evening 🤣 😂 😭

First of all, Joonie reminded me of... well me. I loved this lil exchange. This is exactly my humour, 10/10

“Ah-” he paused, looking back at the baby boy. “I don’t think they sell those here,” he chuckled, throwing a sly glance your way. “But if you want, I can distract the mother, and you make a run for the exit with the baby.”

Honestly this just caught me off guard 😭 dang! Crack on the chest, in the chest. Whatever. Dang.😪

“The only man I wanted to start a family with turned out to be married!” You snap. The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharp and bitter. You could feel the heat rise to your chest as the frustration spilled over, the old wound reopening with an ache. Namjoon froze mid-motion, his hand still hovering over a bag of something. The silence that followed was heavy, and you immediately regretted it.

The way this had me cackling (I will repeat this word more than once it represents me accurately during the reading). I downright laughed, read it again, acted out the scene, and then proceeded to die cackling.

There is a thin line between being a genius and an idiot. Namjoon liked using that line as a jumping rope. He had been called both names, sometimes within the same day. One minute he’d be diving deep into philosophical discussions, and the next he was deemed a mumbling fool simply because you fluttered your eyelashes at him.

MC doesn't quite exactly understand what exactly she did to Joonie brain both time. Boy went through 47 shades off reckoning and she doesn't even know, she thinks it's casual. Casual! My boi probably has a ring in mind "just in case" and she doesn't even know. (I also cackled cause in all this baby just agreed ✨️so easily✨️ too, while trying not to freak the freak out.)

“Slow down,” he instructed, his voice low and measured, “Let me get this straight- you want me to consider being a sperm donor for your child?”

To

“Are you suggesting you what I think you’re suggesting? Because if you’re not my mind went to a very inappropriate place.” He asks, his tone light but serious.

I love when men simp, and yearn🥹🩷✨️ it's my weakness actually. That and the jump rope line wrapped around the funny part of my brain and so again- I couldn't stop cackling 🤣🤣

Trust this is a real life pic of me laughing every 3 lines

And now for the important ✨️plot scenes✨️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Firstly,

Second of all, mc girl, if you're not pregnant by now I think I actually am. One second I'm reading sumn funny and then all if a sudden Mr Kim Namjoon came and:

Excellent read 🙂‍↕️ love love love ✨️ and mc if you don't wake up to the feelings banging on your window 😀

Perfect plan -1-

Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: friends to lovers, friends with benefits? (But the benefit is a baby); crack, a smidge of angst, smut, fluff, happy ending. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings:  mentions of cheating and ‘being the other woman’ (past relationship), reader works at a hospital, Namjoon is just an absolute sweetheart in this, cursing, multiple sex scenes, dirty talking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, just a smidge of size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, intensive orgasms, Namjoon tells you to “Relax, woman” before eating you out, lovemaking, and a quick scene of pregananat sex. Word count: somewhere around 15k. Author's note: You know there is this idea travelling around that writers write what they need to hear? Apparently, I need Namjoon to tell me it’s okay if I don’t have it all figured out. Thank you @callmenoona25 for all your help once again. You’re the sweetest! ✨ ps. English not first language. Brain dumb sometimes. If you’re still reading this, leave a comment, drop a like, they’re literally the joy of my existence. part 2: here

Confetti was not just decoration; it was a phenomenon. It had a very special way of never truly being vacuumed up. No matter how many times you tried, the colorful bits- pink, blue and gold- always seem to wiggle away and hide comfortably into the far corners of the room as if they had a mind of their own. They would stay there, nestled in the shadows, only to flutter up again whenever you tried to sweep them away.

After the third failed attempt, you let out a frustrated sigh and abandoned the vacuum cleaner. You’d leave that task for the sober version of you tomorrow.

Instead, you started gathering the scattered napkins from the dining table, folding them mindlessly. Your gaze wandered to the half-burned candles that still sat on the table, the melted wax serving as a quiet witness to your little gathering.

29.

“Happy Birthday!” – those words never felt heavier, laden with unfulfilled dreams and the weight of another year gone by without much to show for it. Even the celebration, once full of light and laugher, had left behind just another mess to clean up. The year was over and you were left with the quiet aftermath.

You had always imagined this age differently, or at least, that’s what you told yourself every year. By now, you thought you’d have things figured out. You thought there’d be someone by your side, someone to share the joy of the life you had built.

Little baby prints all over the house. Raising a child, teaching them how to blow out birthday candles and clean up the mess afterwards.

You had always imagined being a mother by now. Maybe that’s what hurt the most- how the years seemed to slip by without any sign of the family you’ve dreamed of. The house full of laughter, a partner to help you navigate the messes and milestones.

But instead, you found yourself alone. Alone in a big beautiful house, holding a top position as an administrator at a private hospital. But alone.

You threw away the last of the napkins and pushed your way through the clutter on the dining table, your mind still heavy with the weight of the thought that had followed your around since the last of the guests had left. The candles sat atop the garbage pile when you walked towards the kitchen.

The house felt quieter now, almost too quiet, as if it was holding its breath since the celebration had ended.

When you entered the kitchen, the hum of the dishwasher broke the silence. You hadn’t expected to find anyone still here, but here he was- Namjoon, your friend, still loading dishes with the same quiet focus he’d had all evening.

You two met back in your last year at college, when you were both striving to become more than just another student. You butted heads a few times, competing for the opening position of Teacher Assistant, only for the teacher to completely compromise the project by offering the job to his very own son.

Either way, you walked away with a new friend. (The enemy of my enemy?)  You were drawn to his passion, his drive, and his unwavering belief in himself. Turned out the two of you also made a hell of a team when it came to it, because you managed to get the job done, despite the professor’s questionable decisions. You’d stayed late countless nights in the library, hashing out ideas, studying together, even venting your frustration in between textbooks. Namjoon had the uncanny ability to make even the most tedious projects feel worthwhile, and you couldn’t help but admire the way he could turn anything into an opportunity for growth. It was contagious, his unwavering belief that everything- every setback, every challenge, was just another chance to prove yourself.

You’d both laughed about it afterwards, the way the professor’s son had been handed the job without so much as a second though, while you and Namjoon had essentially worked the entire course in the shadows. But it didn’t matter in the end. What you had created, together, was far more valuable than the title ever could’ve given you.

The sound of glassware clinking together was oddly soothing, and for a moment you just watched him.

He was dressed in a casual cream turtleneck that beautifully highlighted his broad chest, paired with olive-green slacks. The golden framed glasses perched on his nose adding a little touch of elegance, perfectly tying the outfit together. He seemed relaxed, at large within the confines of your apartment.

“Still here?”

Namjoon glanced over his shoulder, flashing you a tired but warm smile, “You thought I’d leave you to clean all this on your own?”

You lean slightly against the counter, suddenly feeling restricted by the tight dress you wore, watching him work. It was such a kind gesture, but something about it made you feel even more isolated.

“I could’ve handled it,”

“I know you could,” he said, turning back to the sink, “But I wanted to help.”

There was something about him that made you feel seen, even in moments like these, when you didn’t want to be. Almost like he wasn’t just cleaning up your party mess; he was cleaning your life in some way too. The laughter had faded hours ago, and now it was just the two of you- no more distractions, no more Taehyung and Jungkook cracking jokes, no more celebrating. Just the quiet hum of the dishwasher and the soft clink of plates.  Just still life.

You sigh and pull out a chair to sit down at the small breakfast nook “I just feel like… I’m stuck, you know?”

The sparkling champagne made you tongue loose. Feeling vulnerable and raw, you quietly searched his eyes. “Like, I thought by now I’d have it all figured out- where I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to be doing. I just thought I’d have more… more something.”

Namjoon set the plate down with a soft clink and turned towards you, his gaze steady but gentle. He wiped his hands on a dish towel, and for the first time that evening, he let the silence hang between you, as if giving you space to let the words settle before responding.

“You know,” he began, his voice low, “I think everyone feels that way sometimes. That sense of… not being where you thought you’d be. But I also think you’re more than what you’re giving yourself credit for.” He paused, then leaned against the counter, meeting your eyes in that way he always did- like he was truly seeing you, not just the person in front of him, but the one beneath the surface.

You shrugged, a half-smile pulling at the corners of your lips, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I just-” You sighed. “I need to stop drinking.”

Namjoon studied you for a moment, his eyes softening as if weighing your words. He didn’t rush to fill the silence with advice or reassurances. Instead, he simply watched, letting the moment hang in the air, even as it thickened with unspoken words.

Finally, after a small eternity, he spoke.

“It’s okay not to have it all figured out.” He paused for a moment “Life isn’t a straight line. I know you like to plan every little detail of it, but sometimes, it’s just not how it works out. You can’t just arrive somewhere and expect it to be perfect.”

You wanted to laugh, to dismiss his words as is you didn’t know already. But something in the way he said it made it feel real. Like he wasn’t just offering empty comfort, but speaking form a place of understanding.

“And maybe you’re not where you thought you’d be. But that doesn’t mean you’re lost.” Namjoon set the tea towel down with quiet precision, then met your gaze once more, his smile faint but steady. “I think... maybe we’re all just figuring it out as we go. Some of us more than others.”

 You wanted to say something, wanted to argue, but the weight of his words settled over you, a gentle blanket you didn’t know you needed.

“C’mon, you’re tired. Let’s get you to bed.” The softness of his tone caught you off guard, tugging at something inside of you. His words didn’t come with expectations, didn’t demand anything from you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, you simply nodded, feeling a heaviness settle over you that was both familiar and strange. You stood up slowly, legs still a little unsteady from the alcohol, and made your way to the bedroom, Namjoon following quietly behind you.

You didn’t speak as you reached the doorway. There was nothing to say, not really. So instead, you turned around and wrapped yourself around his body, pulling him in a tight hug.

“Thank you Joonie.”

Namjoon chuckled, squeezing you tightly before whispering “Anytime love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fluorescent lights of the 7/11 hummed overhead, as you stood in the middle of an aisle, heart melting into a puddle as you cooed over a chubby-cheeked baby sprawled across a shopping card. All bundled up in a puppy themed onesie, the little one giggled as he reached for a colorful toy, and you couldn’t help but mimic his joyous sounds.

You watched with admiration as the mother, a confident woman in yoga pants (and a vomit-stained shirt), gently tickled the baby’s round face, eliciting a fit of giggles.

Namjoon, as usual, was talking as he dropped something into your shopping cart, not that you were paying him any attention. Not when the baby’s eyes caught your gaze, his smile widening as he cooed at you.

“God Joon, I want one too.”

Namjoon, ever the pragmatist, didn’t miss a beat. “Well, I can get you one, they’re on sale.”

His voice was light, casual, the way he spoke when he didn’t take your thoughts too seriously. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation.

“What are you talking about?”

“The crackers?” he said, glancing at you, his brow furrowed in confusion as he held a box of crackers in his hand, examining the label as though the fine print held some secret to the universe. “What are you talking about?”

You stared at him for a second, still caught up in the midst of your daydream, before laughing softly.

“The baby, Namjoon.”

“Ah-” he paused, looking back at the baby boy. “I don’t think they sell those here,” he chuckled, throwing a sly glance your way. “But if you want, I can distract the mother, and you make a run for the exit with the baby.”

You laughed at the absurdity of it, shooting him a playful glare, knowing where his teasing would lead.

“Don’t say that! You’ll get us kicked out." You scold with a playful grin.

Namjoon just shrugged, as if the thought didn’t bother him, the teasing glint in his eyes only making you smile wider. You pushed your cart towards the checkout line, the weight of it heavier now.

It’s been a few weeks since you had that moment of weakness, but the ache still lingered, quietly tucked away in the mundane day-to-day distractions. You’d buried the feelings under careful planning, an extra dose of work, and fleeting nights out with friends. But the longing never quite went away.

Instead, it had grown far beyond a mere ‘baby fever’. It was a full-blown malady by now.

Namjoon, however, was a constant, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. And tonight, it was no different, even in the middle of a basic errand run to 7/11. He was there, filling the space with his usual teasing and lighthearted energy, offering a sense of normalcy you didn’t even realize you missed.

“But seriously, I think you’d make a wonderful mother.” Behind you, Namjoon continued to toss items into the cart- bags of chips, cans of soda, candy bars- anything within his reach as he dropped one of the biggest compliments you’ve gotten in the past few years.

It hit you like a soft wave, unexpected, yet somehow exactly what you needed to hear. You paused, a bag of cereal halfway to your cart, processing his words. The motions of the store continued around you- people chatting, the hum of a checkout line in the distance, the baby’s giggles- but for a minute, they all slowed, and it was just the two of you in that fluorescent-lit aisle.

You turn slightly, trying to keep the heat from rising to your cheeks “You think so?”

Namjoon, oblivious to the shift in your mood, continued picking through the shelves, tossing things in your cart with an almost absentminded rhythm “I do.” He said, his voice easy and sincere as it always was with you

“You’re nurturing, you know? And patient. You make people feel safe, like they can just… be themselves around you.” He smiled “And you’re the mother of the friend group.”

He was focused on a big bottle of orange juice when he tacked on “You’d be amazing at it.”

The way he spoke made it sound so simple. But to you, it felt anything but simple. A rush of conflict swirled in your mind.

“Too bad my dating life is so stale,” you grumble, snapping him out of his obsession.

Your past experiences hadn’t been exactly pleasant. From really weird alpha-sigma-dudes trying to convince you that your worth as a woman has declined since you passed the age of 25, to insecure men that felt intimidated by your position in the working field, to just bad timing in general- it was all just… complicated.

The cherry on top was your last relationship. You felt the bitterness creep back into your chest as you thought about him- the doctor. The one who had lied to you for over two years. Even now, the memories felt like a stab straight to your ribs. Like a snake squeezing your heart into nothingness. You gave him everything, trusted him with your heart, only to have it shattered in the cruelest way. You could still remember the disbelief in your voice when you had to confront him.

“God, how did I miss that?” You murmured underneath your breath, your grip tightening around the cart handle.

Namjoon, who had been rifling through the cart, didn’t seem to notice the dark cloud that settled over you.

“Stale? Nah, you’re daring life’s just on pause.” He said, completely unaware of how much his words stung.

“The only man I wanted to start a family with turned out to be married!” You snap. The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharp and bitter. You could feel the heat rise to your chest as the frustration spilled over, the old wound reopening with an ache. Namjoon froze mid-motion, his hand still hovering over a bag of something. The silence that followed was heavy, and you immediately regretted it.

But Namjoon, ever the perceptive one, quickly managed to draw you back in.

“That dick?” he huffed “Its better you found out early on. I can’t bear the idea of you having asshole-babies.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Namjoon’s lighthearted response, despite the lasting burn. The absurdity of ‘asshole-babies’, paired with the sincerity of his tone, almost made the bitterness dissolve. The tension in your chest shifting slightly.

He dropped the bag back into your cart and met your eyes. “You deserve someone who treats you right, who sees all the amazing things you are. You don’t need to settle for anything less.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. It was comforting to hear him speak like that, as if he believed in you more than you sometimes believed in yourself.

“Thank you love,” you said softly, your smile genuine but still fragile.

He flashed a grin, nudging you with his elbow as he walked along you towards the checkout.

“Now, what the fuck did you buy? Why are there three bottles of ketchup here?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay! I have decided.” You announce suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone at the small table to you. The murmur of laughter and clicking of glasses fades into the background, and a bubble of anticipation surrounds your little booth.

The bar is buzzing with life; particularly crowded for a Thursday evening, yet, even among the crowded mess, Jungkook still somehow managed to secure a secluded little nook for your rag-tag group of four.

You glanced around the dimly lit room, where the flickering neon lights casted playful shadows along the walls- a slight twinge of courage envelops you as the warmth of the alcohol teases your senses, coloring your cheeks bright red.

Namjoon’s brow rises, and he takes a contemplative sip from his tall glass of beer, a thoughtful expression dancing across his face. In front of you, Jungkook and Aera are deep into their third glass, laughing at some inside joke only cringey couples would make, oblivious to the rising tension radiating from your suddenly bold proclamation.

“Decided?” Namjoon echoed, setting his glass down, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches you.

Aera and Jungkook both turn their attention to you as well. Jungkook leaned back in his seat, a mischievous glint in his eyes, while Aera wiped her lips with the back of her hand, ready for whatever random revelation you were about to drop.

“I’m going to have a baby by myself!”       

The words hung in the air for a long moment, as though the entire bar had suddenly gone still. Your proclamation floating quietly through the air before crashing and tumbling on the small table between you.

Namjoon blinked, his beer halfway to his mouth, while Aera and Jungkook both froze mid-laugh, their faces a reflection of disbelief and curiosity.

“What?” Jungkook was the first to speak, his voice completely drowning in confusion.

“I already set up a college saving’s account, and I got a head start on the nursery.” You reached for a napkin, just so your fingers have something to do. “The contractor is coming over this weekend to look at the room.” You looked up to gauge their reaction, but when no one spoke, you continued “I mean, I don’t even use the at-home office. It’s perfect.”

Leaning back into the seat, you plant your elbows on the table, the rough surface grounding you as the weight of your declaration settles heavy in the air.

“Wait, wait,” Aera says after regaining her composure, her eyes slightly narrowing with skepticism. “You’re seriously saying you want to become a single parent? Just like that?”

“She’s serious.” Namjoon cuts in, setting his now-empty beer glass down on the table.

He nursed that drink for the past hours only to finish it with one long sip?

 “Trust me, this isn’t a rushed decision. She’s been toying with the idea for months.” He mumbled, leaning back into the booth.

“Yeah,” you nod confidently “The kindergarten right down the block from me has an afternoon group. So, after the baby turns three, I can start working again. And until then I should live comfortably with my savings.”

“Noona you can’t!” Jungkook looks terrorized by the thought, the alcohol just as evident on his face as it was on yours. “So what? You’ll just start fucking every Dick, Harry and Joe in town until you get knocked up?”

Under normal circumstances, the youngling would be much more careful with his words around you, but now, with the buzz going on in his head, his desperation seemed to have taken over. His eyes quickly shifting from you to his Hyung, as if pleading Namjoon to back him up.

 The atmosphere shifts as Jungkook's words slice through your carefully crafted confidence. Laughter begins to bubble back to life around you, but your own heart has started to race, confusion and boldness swirling together like a cocktail in your stomach. You stare at Jungkook.

“You know that’s not how it works.” You reply, your tone steadier than you feel. An involuntary smile creeps back onto your lips. “It’s not that simple, and I’m not looking for casual hookups. God only knows what messed up genetics those dudes have. And I run a risk of an STD.” You shake your head. “No Kookie, I have a plan.”

You take a deep breath, allowing the faint buzz of the bar to seep into your consciousness again, grounding you while your amusement at Jungkook’s pure shock begins to surface again.

“Besides, the plan isn’t just a plan; it’s a well-thought-out strategy.” You try to encourage him, but he just blinks up at you like a hurt little puppy. “I scheduled an appointment at a fertility clinic.”

“And if the plan fails? What if you’re not ready for the challenges of parenting? It’s not just about the nursery or the savings. Have you thought about the reality of it?”

Deep down, you know that Aera just wants to help, however, her questions rub you slightly the wrong way.

“Of course I have!” You assert, a tad defensively but with sincerity woven into your voice. “I’ve done my research, Aera. What it takes. What I need. There are all sorts of resources out there for single parents. It’s not like I’ll be doing this entirely alone. I have you guys, and I know I can reach out to others too if it gets too tough.”

Jungkook ran an exasperated hand down his face, grasping at straws as he mumbled, “What about your love life? This is such a huge commitment, and you’re just going to push that aside for... A child?”

You appreciate the concern, but something in you quakes at the thought of your future being dictated solely by the prospect of a romantic relationship.

“My love life is already complicated. I don’t want to put my dreams on hold for a partner that might not even come.”

“Namjoon! Say something!” Jungkook pleaded, but the gentle giant just kept on silently studying you.

“Congratulations.” Was the only thing that left his lips after a long moment, making you beam up at him as if you’d just received a gold start on a test.

“See?” you said, your smile widening as you glanced back and forth between them. “Namjoon gets it! Life’s too short to wait around for the perfect moment!”

Aera finally shook her head, a soft smile gracing her lips despite the concern in her eyes. “It’s just, we can’t help but worry for you. What if it’s harder than you think? What if you regret this choice down the line?”

You reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “That’s the thing Aera. I’m not doing this on a whim. I’ve mapped it out. I’m prepared. I believe I can give my child the love and support they need.” You smile, glancing between Jungkook and Namjoon.

“Fine.” Jungkook relented, leaning back in his seat with a resigned sigh, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I guess if you’re really set on this… just promise you won’t forget about me when you become Super Mom or something.”

Aera rolled her eyes playfully, yet her smile remained as she leaned against his chest “As if you’d let her forget. You’d probably be the most dramatic babysitter ever.”

A ripple of laughter echoed among the three of you, the tension momentarily lifting, only Namjoon just kept on staring at the bottom of his empty beer glass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook took no mercy on Namjoon as they walked down the street. After making sure you and Aera safely got an uber home, the little drunken monster unleashed.

“Hyung! You can’t let her do this!”

Namjoon gave a soft chuckle, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was still processing everything himself; the weight of the conversation hanging heavily on him. Jungkook, who was practically bouncing on his feet with a mix of frustration and concern, shot him an incredulous look.

“You can’t just sit back and let her make such a huge decision by herself!” Jungkook insisted, his voice rising “She’s literally planning to have a baby alone, Hyung!”

“Kookie, she’s a full-grown woman.” Namjoon began slowly, rubbing a hand over his face “And she’s not doing this impulsively. She’s been thinking about it for months.” He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully “She’s not the kind of person to just… act on a whim. She has a plan. And I think, maybe, that’s what she needs right now.” He exhaled a deep breath, looking up at the street lights overhead, his mind running through the conversations he’d had with you.

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, a look of disbelief plastered on his face.

“And what about you?”

Namjoon stopped walking, his steps halting mid-stride as the question hit him like a stone wall. For a brief moment, there was nothing but the distant hum of a passing car and the quiet rustling of leaved in the evening air. He turned towards Jungkook; his eyes wide with uncertainty.

“What about me?” Namjoon asked, his voice low, the question more to himself that to Jungkook at first.

“Are we really doing this now?” Jungkook groaned “You love her. C’mon, catch up.”

Namjoon stood still, eyebrows meeting his hairline. He had always kept his feelings hidden, buried under layers of friendship and mutual understanding, the steady belief that he was just someone who needed to be there for you- no strings attached.

But now? Jungkook’s question churned him harder than he expected.

Namjoon blinked, unsure whether to laugh it off or tell him off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kookie.”

Jungkook didn’t let up. “Hyung, I’m serious. I see the way you look at her! The way you act around her! You’re not fooling anyone!”

“Yes, because she’s my friend!” Namjoon tried to protest, but Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“You don’t look at me like that!”

Namjoon’s chest tightened, his throat a little dry as he tried to force some clarity into his emotions.

“Kookie. You’re drunk, you need to sleep it off.”

Jungkook shook his head, as if he were trying to clear out the haze of alcohol clouding his mind. But the intensity of his words didn’t waver. “I’m not drunk enough to miss what’s right in front of me.” His voice softened a little “I’m just saying… maybe it’s time to stop pretending?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Namjoon repeated, but his voice wavered slightly, betraying him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday movie nights have been a staple in your relationship. Something you both held sacred since the beginning. Only under the most extreme circumstances had either of you ever canceled.  

Lately, though, you seemed to call it off more often than not. Ever since you started your weekly appointments at the clinic, Namjoon noticed he was seeing less and less of you.

But tonight, you were adamant to keep the tradition alive. The opening credits of Deadpool 3 were already up on the screen, waiting for someone to press play, while Namjoon busied himself hauling all the blankets to the couch. A spread of your favorite snacks sat neatly on the coffee table. The only thing missing was... you.

In your bedroom, you sat at in the middle of your bed, the laptop balanced on your lap as you repeatedly refreshed your email inbox.

“You ready?” Namjoon called out from the living room.

“Yeah, just a sec!” You refresh again, your face lighting up when the awaited email appeared.

Namjoon watches your reaction and laughs, “Let me guess. It’s going to be more than a second now?”

“I just got the donor list. Want to help me choose?”

Namjoon’s laughter fades, replaced by a look of concern that make your heart race. He shifts from one foot to the other, trying to gauge your enthusiasm.

“Choose?” he repeats hesitantly, “Like, pick a donor?”

“Yeah,” you respond, excitement bubbling over as you quickly type away on the computer. “You’re my friend. I want your input. It feels right.”

He bites his lip, unsure of how to process this new layer to your already documented decision. “You really want me involved in this?”

“Of course! I trust you. Plus, it’s a big step. I could use a little support.” You give him a little sheepish smile, almost hiding your face behind the screen.

Namjoon nods slowly, the weight of your request settling in. “Okay… I’m here for you.” You beam up at him, quickly patting the space next to you “Just-how do we do this?” Namjoon settled down, his eyes quickly scanning the screen.

“There’s a list of profiles with backgrounds, interests and even photos. We can look through it together.” You pause, letting him read over the page.

“This guy seems interesting.” you say pointing to a profile that catches your eye “He’s into poetry, works as a dentist and seems really kind…” but your voice dies down “Ah, but his hair line is receding.”

Namjoon leans closer. “What about this smiley one?” he asks, highlighting a profile with a striking smile.

“Nah, he has a bit of an overbite.” You move the mouse away, “I want to minimize the chances of the kid needing braces.”

Namjoon chuckles, watching you scroll through the list “Oh look! A Redhead!”

“Can I be honest?” you glance up at him, smiling once you caught his gaze “I’m not really into gingers.” You whisper, earning yourself a lighthearted laugh from him. His dimples deepen, and his eyes nearly disappear with mirth.

“You’re such a stereotype.” He teases.

You finish scrolling through the profiles. Each one eliciting more critiques than compliments.

“Too many tattoos.”

“Too much facial hair.”

A crooked nose, a weird eye color, a weird mole. Too short; too tall. That one yodels for fun. You could go on~

After a few more profiles you reached the end. “Ugh, none of these guys are right. It’s like a never-ending list of disappointments.” You groan, closing the laptop and falling back on the mattress.

Namjoon sighs dramatically, taking the laptop from your grasp and setting it on the bedside table, leaning back on the bed. “Maybe you should add a ‘no weirdo’s filter’.”

“Seriously! What’s wrong with some of these guys?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

This was already the third trial, and you still hadn’t chosen a single profile. Deep down, you knew the things you got so fixated on were merely superficial flaws, but they felt monumental when it came to deciding your future. Even with your careful planning, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were running an undeniable risk.

That is not even considering the fact that the insemination might not even work in the first place. But that only added more chances and statistics to your plan, making your head spin. So, you consciously avoided that rabbit hole.

Namjoon chuckles softly, rolling on his side to face you. For a moment he said nothing, quietly studying your frustration.

“Listen,” he finally broke the silence, his eyes reflecting a gentle resignation “I know you don’t need it; but you have my full support. Whatever- or whoever- you pick.” His smile was so sincere that it made your heart skip over a beat, and in that moment, a new, bold idea took root in your mind.

You allowed yourself a moment to admire your friend- his perfectly symmetric face, kind eyes and adorable dimples. Your gaze drifted lower, taking in his chiseled jawline, elegant neck and the contours of his collarbones, all perfectly complementing his broad shoulders and newly toned muscles.

Suddenly, that unconventional idea that popped in your mind began to feel more enticing. After all, you knew him- the little quirks, the strengths, the pet peeves. You’d met his parents’ countless times. It could actually work out. And you were confident enough in your relationship to give it a shot.

You let out a soft sigh, your heart racing as you considered the next step in your journey. Turning to face him, you bit your lip as you hesitate before speaking.

“Namjoon… can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He propped himself up on one elbow, concern flickering across his face.

You took a deep breath, gathering your ideas. “I’ve been thinking about this process, and-” You swallowed hard “It’s a big commitment. I want to make sure everything it perfect, you know?”

 He is so understanding, watching you quietly and nodding along to your ramblings.

“So, I was wondering if you’d be willing to get tested.” You rushed the words out, your gaze darting to the ceiling, avoiding his eyes.

Namjoon’s brows furrowed in confusion “Get tested? Like... for what?”

You swallowed again, trying to keep your voice steady. “For compatibility. I’d like to know the donor’s genetics, and it would really help to have your input on it. It you’re comfortable, of course.”

A heavy silence filled the room. You could feel the tension in the air as Namjoon processed your request, your heart racing louder with each passing second of his contemplative silence.

“Wait.” He finally snapped, his voice low and measured “You want me to get tested as a potential donor?”

Your palms felt clammy as you looked back at him, offering him a shy nod “Yes?”

“That’s not what I meant-” He stopped his own idea in its tracks “Won’t it make things weird between us?”

“No! Just think about it! I know you; I know your family history. I like your face. And we don’t have to tell anyone. And you can choose how much you want to be involved in the baby’s life. Like I said, I want to be a single parent.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he listened to you ramble on and on about your idea. His brows furrowed deeper, knitting together as he tried to process your words. After a few long moments of constant talking, he held up a hand, stopping your frantic speech.

“Slow down,” he instructed, his voice low and measured, “Let me get this straight- you want me to consider being a sperm donor for your child?”

You nodded eagerly, stomach twisting with emotion and heart picking up in double time. “Yes! I know it’s a lot to ask, but I trust you. We’re best friends, and it would be nice to have a personal connection to the kid’s other parent.”

He turned away from you, deep in thought running a hand through his hair in agitation. “I-I don’t know.” His throat made a weird noise “This is a lot to process.”

Suddenly feeling uncertain, you bit your lip hard. “I know, I know. And it’s totally fine if you say no. We never have to speak of this again.” You shift slightly, feeling heat rise to your neck. “I just though since we’re so close…” You mumble, losing your idea for a moment, before quickly picking it up again "It's not like we'd be raising the kid together! Just, you know...biologically related. As friends."

Namjoon sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, I need some time to think about this, okay? It's not a decision I can make lightly."

"Of course," you replied quickly, not wanting to pressure him. "Take all the time you need. I'm sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere."

He offered a small, reassuring smile. “It’s all right. I’m just surprised. That’s all. I’ll let you know once I’ve had a chance to really consider it.’

You nodded, feeling a mix of hope and anxiety swirling in your gut. “Thank you, Joonie. Just for thinking about it.”

He reached out, giving your hand a comforting squeeze “I’ll always be here for you.”

You returned the gesture, heart full of affection for your best friend. “I know, thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joon 🎍: Just got the tests back. Damn. Don’t even know what half these things are. Busy-bee🐝: If you bring them over, I’ll translate. 😊 Joon 🎍: Yeah. Omw rn. Did you have dinner yet? Busy-bee🐝: Nooo, can we please have Bibimbap? Joon 🎍: Anything you want, love.

Namjoon arrived a short while later, carrying a takeout bag that wafted delicious aromas through the kitchen. He set it down on the table with familiarity, fetching plates and utensils as you carefully looked over the medical results.

“Bibimbap, just as you ordered.” He said, grinning. He looked at you, his expression shifting to one of concern as he noticed the serious look on your face “Is everything okay?”

You glanced up from the papers, forcing a smile “Just trying to wrap my head around all of this.”

He slid into the chair across from you, pulling the take-out container and placing it in front of you. “Take a break from the serious stuff for a moment. Food first. Medicine later.”

You chuckle softly and opened the container, the colorful array of veggies and rice making your stomach growl. “You’re right. Can’t think on an empty stomach.”

As you began to eat, Namjoon began to rifle through the papers. “So, what’s this one?” He picked up a paper, squinting at the dense text. “I swear, some of these graphs look like they belong in a science-fiction novel.”

You giggled, nodding along “I know, right? Let me see… This one is about genetic markers for health risks, and this one,” you pointed to the colorful one “It’s about traits related to personality and intelligence.”

Namjoon let out a long-intrigued sound, “What does it say about me?”

You chuckle, trying to suppress a smile “Well, it’s not like one of those personality tests you find in a girly magazine. But it says our baby might have higher chances of being a visual learner, with higher openness to experiences.” You take a big bite, quietly chewing over the fact that you just called it ‘our baby’ – as in, you and Namjoon. Mashed together.

“Openness to experience? That’s code for ‘adventurous’ right? I think I prefer the term ‘spontaneous’.” Namjoon feigned offence, looking over the papers as if trying to confirm your diagnosis.

 “It’s another way to say you’ll jump at any wild idea.” You tease him, mouth half-full. “But it’s a good quality! You’re creative, fun and adaptable.”

He leaned in closer, curiosity piqued “And what about intelligence? Am I a genius?”

You flipped the paper around, scanning for the relevant section. “Looks like you score high on analytical thinking and problem-solving. So, I guess, in the right context, you could definitely call yourself a genius,”

“Can I add that to my cv?” he joked, before turning serious again “But does any of this affect your choice? Does it change anything for you?”

You took a moment, pondering his question as you quietly chewed your food. “I guess it just adds another layer to think about. I want the baby to have a good mix of traits, you know? If I choose a donor who has strengths like yours, it could make an indent in my favor.”

Namjoon’s expression softened, silently watching you scan the results, before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Whatever you decide, love.”

You smiled, feeling reassured as you grabbed the next paper “Thanks, love. Now, let’s see how your swimmers are doing!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a thin line between being a genius and an idiot. Namjoon liked using that line as a jumping rope. He had been called both names, sometimes within the same day. One minute he’d be diving deep into philosophical discussions, and the next he was deemed a mumbling fool simply because you fluttered your eyelashes at him.

He knows he is brilliant. His academic achievements and professional life were testament to that. A whole company depending on his decision. Yet here he was, getting grilled for the past hour by Seokjin and Taehyung for being the biggest dumbass that walked this dying earth.

“What do you mean you just agreed to be her sperm donor?” Seokjin blurted; his disbelief palpable as he leaned against Namjoon’s desk.

Namjoon just shrugged, trying to keep his cool. “It’s not as simple as that. We’ve talked about it, and I think it could work out.”

Taehyung leaned in; eyes wide with mock horror “You really jumped into this without thinking it through? Are you insane?”

“I thought about it plenty!” Namjoon retorted, frustration creeping in. “I trust her! We’re best friends. This isn’t some random decision.”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk “Best friend or not, you’ll be tied to her and that kid for life!  You’d practically be family!”

"Guys, I get it," he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. "I've thought about this a lot, and I really believe this is the right thing to do."

Taehyung shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. "You're not thinking straight, Namjoon. This is a huge decision, and you're not even considering the long-term implications."

"I am considering them!" Namjoon insisted. "I know that by agreeing to be her donor, I'm getting myself involved with her and the kid for life. But that's exactly what I want. I want to be there for them and support them in any way I can."

Seokjin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Namjoon, you're a brilliant guy. You've always been one of the smartest people I know. But sometimes, I worry that you're so focused on doing the right thing that you don't stop to consider whether it's the smart thing."

Namjoon opened his mouth to protest, but Taehyung cut him off. "He's right, Namjoon! This isn't just a textbook case. This is real life, and there are real emotions involved. You can't just apply your weird logic to everything and expect it to work out."

Namjoon sighed, feeling a pang of frustration. He knew his friends were just trying to protect him, but he couldn’t help but feel like they were overcomplicating things.

"Maybe you're right," he said after a moment. "Maybe I am an idiot for doing this. But it's a risk I'm willing to take. I trust her, and I want to be there for her. That's all that matters to me."

Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged a look, but eventually, they both nodded.

"Alright," Seokjin said. "We'll support you, no matter what. But you’re still an idiot.”

Namjoon sighed; resignation evident on his features at he turned his attention back to his computer.

“You could’ve asked her on a date and get to the baby making naturally.” Seokjin added.

“She doesn’t want a relationship.”

“Well, you can skip straight to the baby making!” Taehyung exclaimed, but Namjoon just rolled his eyes.

 “It’s not that simple, Tae...”

 Unbeknownst to Namjoon, on the other side of town, you and Sumi, your good friend and co-worker, were engaged in a strikingly similar conversation.

“So, I asked him to donate a sample.” You fidgeted with your fingers under the table, unable to meet her eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you voiced your actions. “Any thoughts?”

Sumi studies you for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. You felt the intensity of her gaze as she tries to gauge your sincerity. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Yes, and prayers,” she said softly “You need them.” She gives you that incredulous look that only the head nurses seem to master.

You blink, stunned by her response. You expected something different, something along the lines of excitement or curiosity, instead, her reaction was surprisingly tame.

“Why didn’t you just bang him?” She asks, her tone casual, no hint of professionalism in her demeanor.

Your eyes widen in shock “Ayy! Don’t say that!”

“I mean, you can cut out the clinical middle man this way,” she continued “And god knows you need to get laid.”

Your face grew hot. “That’s not the point...” you mumble.

Sumi raised an eyebrow. “Then what is the point, exactly?” She leaned back in her chair, bubble tea clasped in her hands and a smirk playing on her lips. “The baby gets made either way. This is just more fun.” She giggled “You know, Jimin told me that Namjoon used to have quite a reputation with women back in his day.”

You shift in your seat, avoiding Sumi’s probing gaze as you gathered your thoughts. The conversation has taken a turn you hadn’t anticipated, and you were struggling to find the right words.

“The point is, I want to do this the right way.” you say, aimlessly spinning the straw in your drink. “I want to give this child the best possible start in life, and that means doing things properly.”

Sumi considers your words for a moment, before nodding in understanding “I get that,” she says. “But you don’t have to be so serious all the time. You can still have fun and enjoy the process.”

You can’t help but snicker as she emphasizes the words “You sound just like Jimin,” you say, referencing her boyfriend. “He’s always telling me to lighten up and enjoy myself.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.” Sumi says with a grin. “And just so we’re clear, sex is the ‘proper way’ that normal humans use to make babies.”

You roll your eyes, “I know that.”

“Good. At least I don’t need to explain how that works.” She smirks “And I’m sure Namjoon would be more than happy to oblige.”

Suddenly, a very vivid image appears in your mind. Namjoon, hovering over you, his breath washing over your face as your hips collide together. You feel a shiver run down your spine, butterflies emerging in your stomach and quickly push the thought away.

“Make the poor guy feel more involved in the process. You’re treating him like milking cow right now.”

“God, don’t say that!” You cry out, shaking your head to clear the image from your mind. Namjoon was a gentleman, and you were grateful for his help. But the thought of asking him to sleep with you too made you uncomfortable. How would that conversation go?

Hey Joonie, since you’re already getting me pregnant, why not just fuck me?

Sumi laughed, "Well, it's an option. And sometimes, the most unconventional methods can lead to the most beautiful outcomes."

You couldn't argue with that. After all, you were about to become a single mother, and that was certainly not the conventional route.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you look across the table at her. She was watching you with a knowing smile, one that suggested she could see right through your nervous façade.

“And just think of it this way, all that money you save from all the clinic appointments can go towards buying cute baby clothes.”

That was the weakest argument yet, but still, you found yourself actually entertaining that idea.

“Do you really think he’ll agree?” as the words leave your mouth a pang of guilt strikes you. Namjoon has been nothing but kind and generous so far, and here you were, letting your horny thoughts take over. You respect and value your friendship more than the need to ‘make things fun’. You can’t do anything to jeopardize that.

“Trust me babe,” Sumi sounds so casual in her conviction. She’s right thought- sometimes, the unconventional ways do lead to the most favorable outcomes. And you can’t deny the spark that ignites in your chest whenever you think about Namjoon.

And this way, you can have more control over the situation. The amount, the frequency. The position….

After all, all the pregnancy and fertility books you’d read recommended that a deep connection is important when it comes to getting pregnant.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, fidgeting with your fingers again. “I mean, it’s not like I can just ask him to sleep with me.”

Sumi chuckles and takes a sip of her bubble tea. "Why not? You're two consenting adults, and you both want the same thing. It's not like you're asking him to marry you or anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes at her flippant attitude. "Yeah, I know, but it's not that simple. Namjoon is a good friend, and I don't want to ruin that. Plus, I don't know if I'm ready for something so...intimate with him."

Sumi raises an eyebrow. "Intimate? Girl, you're already asking him to donate his sperm. How much more intimate can you get?"

You take a deep shaky breath, trying to lower your blood pressure as you absorbed her words. She has a point- you hate it, but she has a point.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.” you finally say, meeting her gaze. Sumi just smirks at you, clearly pleased with that response.

“That’s all I can ask for.” She says, taking another sip from her bubble tea. “And remember, there’s no rush. Take your time and do whatever feels right.”

You nodded, feeling the heaviness in your chest swirl. You knew this was a big decision, and you don’t want to take any part of it lightly. But you also can’t ignore the possibilities that lay ahead.

As the conversation turns to other topics, your thoughts wandered back to Namjoon. You imagined his kind smile, his gentle nature, and his unwavering support. And you can help but let your mind fantasize.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Busy-bee🐝: Need to ask you smth. Joon 🎍: If it’s about the sample, I’m omw to drop it off at the clinic now. Busy-bee🐝: NoooOooOoo Busy-bee🐝: Stop! Busy-bee🐝: Pls don’t. Joon 🎍: Did you change your mind? Busy-bee🐝: No. Not quite. Joon 🎍: Quite? What happened? What do I do now? Busy-bee🐝: Can you just come over? Joon 🎍: Sure? But just so you know. I have a jar of sperm with me. Busy-bee🐝: Yyuckkk Joon 🎍: Don’t worry. It’s sealed. Busy-bee🐝: Still gross, lol. Just hurry. Need to talk.

While you waited for him to arrive, your heart pounded in your chest. You paced around your apartment in your pajamas, desperately searching for something- anything to clean or organize. The conversation with Sumi replayed in your mind, her words echoing as you contemplated your options thoroughly.  

You couldn’t possibly complicate things with Namjoon, could you?

A soft knock on the door breaks you out of your reverie. And with a deep breath, you open it to find Namjoon standing there, casual and charming, in a green hoodie and ripped jeans, the familiar warm smile lighting up his face.

“Hey,” he says, stepping inside “What’s up? You sounded urgent.”

“Um, yeah…” you close the door behind him and gestured for him to sit on the couch. “I wanted to talk about the… um, sample?”

He raises an eyebrow “Didn’t you just say not to take it to the clinic?”

You wince sightly, still grappling with how to express what you really wanted to say. “Well, I was thinking…maybe we can talk about the process?”

Namjoon settles down, giving you his full attention, confusion clearly evident on his face “What’s on your mind?”

“Sumi mentioned that-” You stop, allowing yourself a second to gather your fraying thoughts, “Well, since we’re both consenting adults…I thought it would be more medically apt to try this with a more ‘hand-on’ approach.”

He nodded, listening closely as he rubbed his chin. A cliché lightbulb suddenly going off in his mind and Namjoon’s eyes widened as he took you in.

“Are you suggesting you what I think you’re suggesting? Because if you’re not my mind went to a very inappropriate place.” He asks, his tone light but serious.

You stammer, nodding slowly as heat flooded your face and neck. “I mean, it’s just an idea. We’re both single…” you trail off, staring at a painting on the wall, “I know it’s unconventional, but I just want to make sure everything’s… right.”

He leans back, quietly considering your words, “It’s definitely a bigger step. Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”

As he leaned back on the couch, he spread his legs wider, getting comfortable and invertedly drawing your attention to his well-toned thighs, making your mouth go dry.

“Honestly,” you force yourself to look him in the eye. “I don’t know. But I like the idea of us being more connected during the- that. It feels… outlined better?” you sighed exasperated with your own brain for not cooperating.  “But I don’t want it to ruin our friendship. You mean a lot more to me.”

“You mean a lot to me too, and don’t worry,” he says, “I promise the friendship will remain intact.” He paused for a moment, “And I also agreed once, so yeah, I’m here for you whatever you decide.”

A quiet moment passes as you let his words sink in. His expression was earnest, and the sincerity in his voice offered a reassuring warmth. It was comforting to know that, no matter what weird direction you decide to go in, Namjoon would still treat you like a priority. You let out a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Really? You’d be okay with that?”

“Of course,” Namjoon replied, “If your plan needs me here five times a week, then I’ll be here.”

A deep red blush creeps up your neck to settle on your cheeks, as your mind quietly conjures up the scenario where five nights in a row, Namjoon comes over and bends you over every surface in your apartment.

You smiled, a wave of excitement washing over you, but beneath that smile, your mind raced and your heart fluttered. This was a significant decision, and you needed to approach it strategically!

“The plan requires we lay down some ground rules first,” you say, shifting your tone to a more analytical one, “We need to define what this would look like for both of us. Like boundaries, approach and what we’re comfortable with.”

As you sit down next to him, your heart still pounds in your chest. “Okay, so, here’s what I was thinking,” you begin after a drawn-out breath, “We should approach this like a partnership, with communication and mutual respect. We’ll need to set some rules and make sure we’re both comfortable.”

“That makes sense. I want you to feel safe throughout this process. What kind of boundaries did you have in mind?”

 “Well, for starters, we should only do this when we’re sober and well-rested. And we should check in with each other beforehand to make sure we’re on the same page.” You scratch at the back of your neck, looking away for a second.

“That’s a good start.”

“And it’s about the baby making.” You add.

“We already established that.” Namjoon nods, a serious look on his face.

“Are you comfortable with a more casual approach or do you think we should be more clinical about it?”

“Casual. Definitely.” Namjoon shakes his head at the idea of doing it in a sterile white room, a shiver running down his spine. But he quickly composes himself and in turn asks you, “What about after? Do we tell people about this, or keep it to ourselves?”

You took a moment to chew on your bottom lip, considering the implications, even though you’ve thought about this before.

“We should keep it to ourselves for the moment being. Even if almost everyone knows you donated, they don’t need to know…” you trail off again, the blush deepening “How.”

Namjoon nods in understanding, “I can respect that. I don’t want any unnecessary drama.” He gave you a reassuring smile.

You take another deep breath, and allow the sense of relief that comes with his smile wash away any lingering discomfort.

“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’re doing.

Namjoon reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm here for you, no matter what. And I want you to know that I'm not doing this out of a sense of obligation. I genuinely care about you and want to help you achieve your dream of becoming a mother."

Your heart swells with emotion at his words. "Thank you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "That means more to me than you could ever know."

You sit there for a moment, hands intertwined in silence. The weight of your decision quietly sinking in around you.

“I think the next thing we need to set is a schedule,” you say, ruining the moment. “It’s important we’re consistent about this, for the best possible outcome.”

“How often do you think we should try?”

“The research suggests that every other day is a good-enough frequency. But we can see how it works out and adjust afterwards.”

“Every other day. Got it.” He confirms, then asks the only important question of the night:

“When do we start?”

Your heart stops right in its tracks, even as you distract yourself by suddenly reaching to grab your phone, “Let me look at my cycle.” You mumble, opening the fertility tracking app you’d been using.

As you scroll through the app, you felt Namjoon’s presence loom closer, curiosity evident of his face. “How does that work exactly?”

“Do you need me to explain a period to you?” You tease, small smile breaking you from your serious poise.

“No. I just-” Namjoon took a deep breath, nervousness lingering on the edge of his voice as he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m just thinking out loud here, but why wait?”

An audible gasp leaves you lips when you look up at him.

The air between you crackles with electricity, and you suddenly realize just how close you were. In that moment you could almost feel the weight of your actions begin to unravel.

You lock eyes, the tension thickening as you ponder his suggestion. Taking a shaky breath, your heart thunders, and you struggle to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

"Are you sure?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "I mean-"

Namjoon nods, leaning closer to you, his voice steady "I'm sure."

You bite your bottom lip, your mind racing as you try to decide whether or not to take the leap. You've always been a planner, someone who likes to have everything mapped out in advance, but for once in your life, you find yourself wanting to throw caution out the window.

It couldn’t possibly hurt; in fact, it might prove to be beneficial. You’d get the awkward stage over with quickly, instead of letting it simmer while waiting for your fertile window.

Why let nervousness and anticipation settle in when he’s right here, sitting on your couch looking absolutely delectable?

You quickly go over your mental check-list, feeling grateful that you showered and shaved just before he arrived. Your Pj’s are cute, and while your underwear isn’t the sexiest, it’s decent- either way, this isn’t about passion; it’s practical.

You were almost done chewing your lip off when you feel his thumb gently touch your chin, stopping you.

“Only if you want.”

“I can’t remember if I made my bed this morning.” You whisper sheepishly, pulling him out of his serious demeanor. His heartfelt laughter weaving through the tension that hung between you.

“That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m here,” You giggle, shaking your head and throwing your phone somewhere on the couch. “Let’s do this.”

Namjoon’s smile broadens as he stands up, extending his hand to you. You almost hesitate for just a moment before placing your hand in his, letting him  pull you up from the couch and in his arms. Heat radiates off his body as he leans in, his hand gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, closing your eyes as his breath lingers just above your lips.

Then, he kisses you.

At first, it’s gentle, his lips barely brushing over yours, a subtle invitation for you to take the lead. His lips taste faintly like mint from Chapstick, soft and warm, and soon the kiss deepens with a surge of passion. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, feeling the heat between you build. Namjoon’s hands glide to your back, exploring you with a leisurely touch that sends waves of excitement through you.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck, and you tilt your head back, moaning softly when he gently nibbles on your ear.

“You’re adorable.” He whispers, his hands moving to the front of your shirt to cup your breasts. You gasp as he teases your nipples through your shirt, and with a flicker of courage, your hands slip under his hoodie, feeling the hard lines of his abs under your fingertips.

Namjoon smirks at you as you tug his hoodie upward, but he helps you pull it off, revealing his bare chest and you run your fingers over his toned muscles, feeling his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“Joonie, you’re so jacked.” You say with an airy laugh, feeling a surge of confidence pulse through you. “God, I need you.” Taking his hands in yours, you guide him towards the bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

Walking ahead, you can feel a wave of self-consciousness wash over you, even as you remind yourself that this is just Namjoon—the man who always chooses his words carefully and who’s always there for you. But any hesitation melts away when you reach the bedroom. You push the door open, and with renewed vigor, you quickly shed your shirt and bra, moving on to your pants.

Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of you standing there in just your underwear. Though he fights to remain respectful, the hunger in his gaze is unmistakable when you bend down to throw your clothes in the corner of the room.

When you face him again, his lips capture yours, silencing whatever you were about to say. His tongue delves into your mouth, teasing and exploring, and you respond eagerly, his touch sending a thrill of excitement through you.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He murmurs, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down your neck and shoulders. You arch into his touch, your eagerness growing with every lingering touch.

When his mouth finally finds your breasts, he captures one in his mouth and starts teasing it with the lightest graze of his teeth. A sharp gasp escapes you, a rush of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

Your hands fumble with the button of his jeans, desperate to feel him against you. But struggling to push his jeans down, Namjoon steps back just enough to help you, letting you slide them off with ease.

Taking a moment, you stop to gawk at his arousal straining against his boxers. Damn, you had a feeling he was equipped. He just carried that air about him.   But nothing could have prepared you for how massive he actually was. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, sends a new wave of heat through your body, and you find yourself biting your lip in eager anticipation.

You can’t help but stare, taking in his impressive size. He truly is a giant, with broad shoulders, a muscular chest, and an impressive cock. You can’t wait to feel him against you, inside of you, filling you up all the way.

But Namjoon has other ideas. He kneels in front of you, his hands moving to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling you closer. He plants a series of soft kisses along your stomach and thighs, each one sending waves of electricity coursing through you.

“Can I take these off?” he asks against your thigh, playfully snapping the elastic of your panties. And unable to speak, you nod.

With a quick tug, Namjoon hooks his fingers around the elastic and pulls, leaving you completely bare before him. You gasp as the cold air brushes against your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he looks up at you, his gaze intense and full of determination.

You take a moment to savor the image before you: Namjoon kneeling, his eyes dark with desire, radiating an intensity that makes it seem like he could devour you whole. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, and without hesitation, he places one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh while his fingers move to your folds. A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine as he finds your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles against it.

“So wet.” He breaths against you, sending shivers through your body. He glances up at you one last time, seeking your permission with his gaze.

“Namjoon, wait,” you say, gently pushing him away. “This isn’t how we make a baby.”

God, the hold he had over you was intoxicating, making it nearly impossible to refocus and regain your composure.

He chuckles, the hunger in his eyes still smoldering. “No, but this is going to make you feel really, really good.” He replied, his voice a low rumble, hands still holding you steady by the hips.

“I know. But this isn’t about feeling good.” You insist, your hand dropping from his hair and your leg from his shoulder.

Namjoon almost looks disappointed as you step away from him, but then he nods, understanding the importance of your goal.

“Right, I got carried away.”

“Here, just sit on the bed,” you instruct, offering a hand to help him up. Namjoon obeys, perching himself on the edge of the bed, his gaze locked onto you, tracking your every step as you approach. 

Removing his boxers, you’re awestruck once again by the sight of his pretty cock—big, veiny and heavy with a flushed pink tip, leaking precum. Namjoon reclines slightly, his hands resting behind his head, watching you straddle him. You spit into your hand, wrapping it around his hardness to pump him a few times before positioning him at your entrance, slowly sinking down on him.

You both let out a sigh of pleasure as he fills you completely. A soft whimper escapes you as you bottom out, and you bury your face in his shoulder as his hands move to your hips, his thumbs tracing gentle circles in a soothing rhythm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers in your hair.

“Yeah, give me a second,” you reply, taking a deep breath as you adjust to the stretch, his warmth filling you completely. After a moment, you straighten up, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. “It’s been a while.”

Namjoon nods, his gaze soft as he steadies you, guiding you into a rhythm. Rising and sinking back down, you gasp at the sensation of being this stuffed, bracing your hands on his chest for balance as you start to rock your hips, grinding against him.

At first, you move slowly, savoring the feeling, but soon your pace quickens, spurred by the intensity building in your lower stomach.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” Namjoon encourages, squeezing your hips to help you maintain your rhythm. Your quiet moans blending beautifully with the sound of skin meeting skin, filling the room with your shared pleasure.

Before long, your thighs start to burn, but the growing tension inside you keeps you bouncing on his cock. You were almost there; Namjoon could sense it too in the way your walls flutter around him. One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers deftly finding your clit and stroking it with perfect precision.

And once he feels you getting too tired to continue, Namjoon takes over, trusting up into you with powerful, steady strokes that meet your faltering movements. The intensity of his pace, mixed with his fingers that never slowed, push you right over the edge, sending you spiraling into bliss.

You cry out as waves of pleasure ripple through you, your orgasm shaking you to your core. Namjoon groans, feeling you clench around him as your body crashes against his chest. His hands grip your ass tightly, and his thrusts grow erratic as he chases his own release, his breathing ragged and soft whimpers escaping his lips. Each sound spurs another clench from you, drawing him even closer to the edge.

“Come on, baby,” you whisper in his ear, fingers gently massaging his scalp as you let him use your spent body however he pleases. “Just let go.”

With a loud, drawn-out moan, Namjoon buries himself deep inside you, and you feel his hot, sticky cum filling you completely. A cry escaped you, muffled against his shoulder as you sink your teeth into his soft skin, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Your body slowly relaxes, breaths still coming out in quick, shallow gasps.

Namjoon looks over at you, a satisfied smile softening his expression, and a deep, unexpected sense of connection settles over you, an intimacy unlike anything you’ve felt before. Leaning in, you kiss him slowly, silently thanking him for the experience

As you pull away, you roll to lie beside to him, your legs still intertwined. Staring up at the ceiling, a warm contentment fills you, grounding you in the quiet rhythm of his steady breathing.

“Thank you,”

 “Anything for you, love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6:30 AM- Your alarm rings.

You bolt upright, momentarily forgetting you were meant to wake up, letting out a little groan as you flop back onto the pillow.

“Why do you wake up so fucking early?”

The voice behind you startles you, and you remember with a rush that Namjoon ended up spending the night. His deep, early morning voice sends a flutter of butterflies through your stomach, memories of last night’s activities rushing back to you.

“Usually I do my yoga,” you mumble back, “and after that I shower and get ready for work.” You yawn, stretching all your limbs, before settling right back in his arms, snuggling closer.

“Why?”

“Because we can’t all afford to sleep till noon.” You tease.

Namjoon chuckles softly, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Fair point. But I could get used to sleeping in with you.”

You smile, your heart picking up at the thought. “Maybe I’ll let you join my morning routine someday.” You stay nestled in his arms for a few more moments, enjoying the comfort of his warmth. But soon, the call of nature interrupts your peaceful morning.

With a reluctant sigh, you wiggle out of his embrace. “I’ll be right back.” You say, glancing over your shoulder at him.

Namjoon nods, sleepy smile on his face as he watches your naked body, before he snaps himself out of it.

“Are you going to take a pregnancy test?”

You chuckle as you swing your legs off the bed and pad softly towards the bathroom. “It’s too early. That would be a waste of a test.”

The cold floor contrasts with the warmth you just left behind, and as you close the door, you can’t help but grin, thinking about how nice it is to have him there with you. 

You quickly go about your business, splashing some water on your face to wake yourself up. After a moment you finish up and head back to the bedroom. Namjoon is still lounging against the pillows, his eyes slightly glazed but filled with warmth.

“Back already?” he asks, sleepy smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” you walk over to your closet, rifling through your clothes as you decide what to wear. The soft morning light filtering through the windows, casing a warm glow over the room. Once you’re all done you walk over to him, leaning down to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“I’m heading out. I’ll leave the spare key in the kitchen for you.” You say, feeling a mix of excitement and reluctance to leave.

He smiles, his dimples showing up on his cheeks, “Thanks, I’ll take good care of it…”

You laugh lightly, leaning in again, this time kissing him.

“God, if anything, I hope out baby gets your dimples.” You confess, your heart swelling at the thought.

His expression softens, a hint of surprise lighting up his eyes. “That would be adorable.” He says, a smile spreading across his face, and this time he leans in to kiss you. So soft and sweet, almost convincing you to join him back in bed. You need to place a hand on his chest to pull away, a deep red blush spreading across your face.

“I’ll text you later.”

“It’s a plan.” He smiles, watching you walk away, taking the warmth in the room with you. When the bedroom clicks shut, he finally feels like he can breathe again.

He was a walking disaster. Books will be written about his sheer foolishness, how he willingly tosses aside logic and reason in your presence.

Yet, deep down, he recognized that beneath his eager exterior lay a selfish yearning- a desire for you, wholly and completely, all to himself.

But for as long as you would have him, even like this, with weirdly restricted intimacy, he would give you everything you ask for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the following months, you two manage to establish a working system. The spare key was Namjoon’s now, and he had a dedicated drawer in your closet for his things.

His toothbrush quietly chilling next to yours in the master bathroom.

Along the way, you uncovered a surprising list of things you never imagined you’d learn about your best friend;

Like the fact that he is a talker, loving the way you’d clench around him when he spills pure filth in your ear. He talks you through your climaxes, encouraging you to lose yourself, and cheering you on as if you were competing in a marathon each time.

He also had a habit of giving you all kinds of pet-names, sweet endearments that easily fell from his lips. “Sweetheart”, “Baby”, “Honey”, “Lovely”. However, your favorite was probably the time he accidentally called you a ‘busy bee’ in the middle of one of his ecstatic hazes. The unexpected nickname bringing a smile to your face, even as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure he unleashed within you.

He also had a thing for hickeys. Your breasts now fully decorated with blooming red love-marks, after you scolded him for leaving one right under your collar bone for the whole world to see.

For two weeks, you only wore turtlenecks because of him.

But what stood out the most was his seemingly endless stamina. If it wasn’t for your insistence to take it easy, he would very willingly fuck you until the early morning light.

Much like he was doing right now…

But it was Saturday. You decide you could afford to sleep in.

You could feel him right in your stomach, a ring of cum forming at the base of his cock as he kept on pounding into your abused pussy.

One of your legs over his shoulder, and the other one around his hip, pulling him closer as he kept on trusting into you. You tried your best to move with him, meeting his rapid movements, but you got lost in the pleasure when his finger flicked your clit. You almost scream reaching your climax for the nth time, your body shaking with the force of the release. Namjoon didn’t slow down though, instead picking up the pace as he chased his own orgasm.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growled “Not gonna stop til’ I fill you up with my cum. That’s what you want, right angel? Want to be stuffed full? Have it dripping out of you when I’m done?” he rendered you a completely useless, weakly moaning back at his filth.

“God, if you’re not pregnant after this.” He groans in your neck, making you shiver again.

The moon was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the room. Engulfing him completely in a silvery haze, and you couldn’t help but admire the beautiful man on top on you. His closed eyes, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, his lips parted in pure ecstasy. You almost couldn’t believe this was your best friend, the person who knew you better than anyone else in the world.

Namjoon reaches his own climax, and you clenched around him, milking every last drop eagerly.

 He collapses on top of you, your bodies slick with sweat, yet you just lay there, wrapped in his arms as the night quietly carried on.

This was the new normal, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After a little while, Namjoon pulls out, quickly grabbing a napkin from the nightstand to wipe away any excess cum before it stains your sheets. You winced at the touch, feeling sore in the best of ways.

“I’m sorry baby. I went a little hard.” He says after discarding the napkin, pulling you closer to him.

You lay there, spent and satisfied in his arms, a little chuckle escaping you at the absurdity of ‘little’ being the past four hours. “Rough day at work?” you ask, looking up, your fingers gently pushing the hair away from his forehead.

“You have no idea,” he huffs, glancing away “With the business trip coming up I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“You’re leaving on a trip?” you stand up straight, looking down at him, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Yeah baby, I told you I’m leaving on the 5th.” He replies, his voice twinged with exhaustion.

“That is this month?” You fumble out of the bed to grab your calendar from the desk, turning all the lights on and flipping through it.

Has it been two months already? How come you’re not pregnant already?

You quietly look over the pages, calculating exactly what day you should be getting your period on. And your heart raced when you realized;

Last week. This might be it. You might be pregnant already.

“Oh my god, Namjoon!” you giggle like a little girl, jumping and spinning around the room. “This might be it! I’m one week late!”

Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise, and he grabs your arm, pulling you back on the bed. The calendar flying away somewhere as he places his hand on your still-flat belly.

“Really?”

You nodded, a big smile completely taking over your face

“Yeah really.” You giggle “I mean, can’t know for sure, but I’m one week late.” You insist, almost kicking your legs with excitement.

No way you were going back to sleep after this. Instead, you jump back up, running around the room like a little tornado, gabbing your clothes and rushing to the bathroom to shower.

You needed to schedule a doctor’s appointment, go buy the last of the supplies, pick a color for the nursery and look up all the forms needed for maternity leave.

Namjoon sat in the silence of your bedroom, listening to the water from the shower run as you chaotically prepare and plan your future. The thought leaves him feeling a little empty, knowing he is not a part of that plan.

He wanted to invite you to join him for the business trip in Singapore, the plane tickets bookmarked and ready to be purchased. Even if he’d be busy working, the thought of having you nearby calmed his nerves about the whole ordeal. But now he hesitated, unsure if it was a good idea. With everything getting more complicated- especially the possible pregnancy- his feelings were tangled between simply wanting to support you and grappling with the deeper emotions he couldn’t ignore.

“Do you think you can handle building a crib?” you ask when you return form the bathroom.

 But only silence greeted you, with no sign of Namjoon left behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life had this way about it. One moment you’re riding high, and the next one you’re struggling to comprehend the fragility of human nature.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, yet it still stings when your plan doesn’t perfectly match reality.

You plan a future with a man, only to be confronted with the painful truth that you’ve been the second woman all along. Shaking you to your core and ruining any future relationships for you along the way.

You take the leap, decide to get pregnant, and for a moment, it feels like everything is finally falling into place. But then that red dark spot appears, shattering all your dreams and hard work.

You didn’t need the pregnancy test anymore- not when your period arrives unexpectedly at the hospital office. Yet, you still find yourself staring at the little stick resting on your desk while Sumi draws a blood sample.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asks, pressing a sterile swab to your arm before continuing. Her voice is gentle, but you can only hear the concern beneath it. You nod, though uncertainty lingers in your mind, and the weight of your reality feels heavier than ever.

You spend the rest of the day meticulously reviewing the hospital’s schedules, throwing yourself in the comforting security that the numbers and graphs provide. You check supplies, organize the timetables, and ensure that no section of the hospital is backed up. Each task grounds you, allowing you to focus on something tangible amid the chaos swirling in your mind. 

At around noon you get the message from the testing facility. Deep down, you already knew the blood work would come back negative, just like the test stick, but it still shattered the last glimmer of hope you had left.

You read the message again, trying to process the words, but they blur together as a wave of disappointment washed over you. The sterile walls of the hospital suddenly feel suffocating, and the rhythm of the bustling environment seems to fade into the background.

You take a deep breath, fighting back tears. Great. Now you were hormonal too.

You force yourself to push through the day, focusing on tasks, but the ache in your chest still lingers.

Joon 🎍: Are we still on for tonight? Baby-momma 🐝: Nah. Got my period. Joon 🎍: Shit. Are you okay? Baby-momma 🐝: Shit pretty much sums it up. Baby-momma 🐝: But I’ll be fine. Joon 🎍: Well, it’s Sunday. We could just watch a movie…. Haven’t done that in a while. Joon 🎍: I’ll even pick up your favorite greasy foods if you agree.

You smile at your phone, feeling the warmth spread through you despite the heaviness of the day. The idea of sharing a cozy movie night with him feels like a welcomed escape. You type back quickly, your heart lifting just a bit.

Baby-momma 🐝: That sounds nice. I could use a distraction✨ Joon 🎍: Great. I’ll be over after work.

 When the working day is finally over, you make your way home, quickly going through the motions. You shower, tidy up a bit, and set up the living room for the movie night, arranging blankets and laying out an array of snacks across the coffee table.

Namjoon said he’s be there by 7, but as the clock ticks closer to 9, you find yourself bored out of your mind. You glance at your phone for any updates, but there’s nothing. You try to distract yourself with a show, but your mind keeps wandering to what could delay him.

Just as you consider sending a text, you hear the key turning in the lock. The door swings open, and Namjoon steps inside, a smile breaking across his face.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Got caught up in a meeting.” He says, holding the bag of junk food.

You feel a rush of relief as he walks in the familiar warmth of his presence instantly lifting your spirits. “You made it just in time.” You say, gesturing to the setup.

He chuckles, placing the bag on the coffee table.  “I got you one of those abominable triple chocolate cakes you like.” He settles in besides you, unpacking the bag and you can’t help but smile up at him.

“God, I love you.” You grin digging in, completely unaware to what effect your words have on him. He pauses for a moment, a hint of surprise flickering across his face, before returning your smile with a warmth that sends your heart racing.

As you both dig into the food, Namjoon seems a bit more pensive than usual, his smile lingering as he watches you blissfully enjoy the cake. You almost moan out loud after the first bite, your face surprisingly similar to the one you have when you reach your climax.

After a moment he clears his throat, looking away as a deep shade of red takes over his ears.

“Hey, I was thinking,” he begins, glancing at you with a hint of hesitation. “You know that I have that business trip coming up.”

“Yeah,” you’re barely paying him any attention.

“I’d really love for you to join me.”

Your head snaps up, surprise lighting up your features. “Wait, really? You want me to come?”

He meets your gaze, his expression earnest. “Yeah, I think it would be great. I’ll be busy with meetings, but we can explore together in the evenings. It’ll be fun.”

You can’t help but smile, feeling a rush of excitement. “If I can get off work, sure. Just tell me when to book my tickets.”

Namjoon’s face lights up with relief and happiness. “Yeah, I’ll send you the details as soon as I can.”

You giggle, already daydreaming about the adventure ahead.

“Next week, no?”

“Yeah.” he replies, taking a big mouthful of his burger. You grin, excited at the thought that by that time you would also be done with your period.

“Ah! There’s a medical conference happening around that time too. It would be so cool if they aligned,” you say your excitement bubbling over.

Namjoon nods, his eyes lighting up. “That would be perfect! You could network while I’m in meetings.”

“Exactly! I’ll look into it!” you say, feeling the anticipation grow. The idea of a trip filled with both work and exploration feels like just the right remedy for your disappointment, reigniting a spark of hope.

The duality of man.

[misctf]

Safe Space Spray

Owen picked up his phone and dialed Jake's number as he drove along the winding country road leading to Jake's family cabin. The warm southern sun beat down through the windshield while classic rock played softly from the speakers. After a few rings, Jake answered.

“Well hey there partner!” Jake's cheerful voice came through the speaker. “How far ya'll out?”

“Not too much longer now,” Owen replied, his deep southern drawl rolling through each word, “I reckon 'bout thirty minutes tops. That fishing hole better be swimmin' with catfish like you said!”

“My mama didn’t raise no liar.” Jake replied, his hearty laugh echoing over the phone.

Owen smiled. This was gonna be the best fishin’ trip yet. As the call continued, Owen kept his eyes on the road ahead, the vast expanse of rural landscape stretching out before him. Suddenly, something caught his eye- a small figure standing beside a broken-down vehicle on the shoulder.

“Aw shucks, looks like some fella's car done gone and quit on 'im.” Owen muttered to himself as he slowed his truck, “Jake, I reckon I’ll be by later. I’m gonna see if I can lend a hand.”

Owen pulled his pickup truck over onto the gravelly shoulder behind the stranded vehicle. He removed his hat and ran a hand through his short brown hair and approached the man hunched over the open hood.

“Howdy there! Looks like you're havin' some trouble with your ride. Name's Owen, I'm pretty handy with fixin' things if you need a lendin' hand.” He called out in his friendly drawl.

The stranger, a slender young man with styled blonde hair, whirled around. His eyes widened in surprise and apprehension as he took in Owen's appearance. The twink's hands shook slightly as he reached into his pocket and aimed what looked like a small spray bottle directly at Owen.

“I-I don't want any trouble!” the blonde stammered, his voice high-pitched with anxiety.

Before Owen could react, the twink pressed down on the trigger, unleashing a fine mist across his handsome face and chest. Owen blinked and coughed, shaking his head slightly as droplets hit his face and clothes. It didn’t sting or burn. It felt like water.

“The hell was that for?” Owen demanded, his brow furrowing in confusion and annoyance, “I ain't here to cause you no harm, bud. Just tryin' to help.”

“I-I'm sorry!” The twink squeaked, “Around here, you don't know what kind of people you'll run into.”

Owen sighed heavily, wiping his brow, “Listen here, I understand yer cautious. But I promise you, I mean no ill intent. Let me take a look at yer car, see if I can get 'er runnin' again.”

The blonde hesitated briefly before nodding, “Okay... I guess that would be okay. Thank you.” He stepped aside, allowing Owen access to the vehicle.

As Owen popped the hood, he furrowed his brow in concentration, his large hands working deftly under the hood. However, he found himself growing increasingly clumsy and uncoordinated, fumbling with tools he'd handled with ease a hundred times before.

“I swear...” he muttered, his words coming out slightly slurred, “This oughta be a cinch for me...”

He fumbled with the engine components, his large hands suddenly feeling clumsy and unfamiliar. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to focus. Just then, the twink appeared at his side, holding out a bottled water.

“Here, you must be thirsty after all this work.”

Without thinking, Owen took the bottle and chirped in an impossibly high, effeminate voice, “Thanks sis!”

Owen froze, his eyes widening as the words left his mouth. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he gripped the edge of the car hood for support. Shaking his head, he tried to push the strange moment from his mind.

“Uh, thanks kindly.” he mumbled, taking a long swig of water to cover his embarrassment.

He turned back to the engine, determined to finish the repair quickly so he could be on his way.

With renewed focus (and a touch more difficulty), Owen worked to diagnose and fix the issue. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped back as the engine roared to life.

“There ya go, as good as new!” He grinned at Paul, wiping his hands on a rag.

As Owen straightened up and turned to face Paul fully, he couldn't help but really notice the younger man for the first time. Paul's delicate features, stylish hair, and slim physique suddenly seemed incredibly appealing. Their eyes locked- Paul’s deep blue captivating Owen’s. Owen felt an unfamiliar flutter in his chest and his dick stir ever so slightly in his increasingly tighter jeans.

“You've been an absolute lifesaver.” Paul gushed, flashing Owen a dazzling smile. He stepped closer, the two now the same height. Owen could’ve sworn he had been taller, “If you ever find yourself in the city, call me. I'd love to thank you properly.” He slipped a piece of paper into Owen’s pocket with a playful wink.

Owen felt a flush creep up his neck at the suggestive tone. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure despite the odd sensations still tingling through his body.

“Ah, well, just doin' what any decent fella would do.”

Owen watched as Paul slid gracefully into his car, the movement highlighting the pert curve of his ass. He swallowed thickly, his heart pounding for reasons he couldn't quite explain. As Paul drove away, Owen looked down and saw the discarded can that Paul sprayed him with earlier.

“He must’ve forgotten it.” Owen frowned inspecting the strange bottle, “Safe Space Spray... what in the world...” He chuckled, “I reckon I’ll get it to ‘em when I see ‘em next.” He paused, “What the hell am I thinkin’. I ain’t seein’ him again...”

But he wasn’t sure he could even convince himself. He wanted to see him again... Owen shook his head and placed the can in his pocket before climbing back into his own truck. With a sigh, he reached for the ignition but recoiled at the sight of his hand.

“What in the...”

Owen stared at his hand in shock, noting the slight tremor and how it almost seemed to have lost some of its natural ruggedness. His callouses... gone. His nails... well-manicured. Alarmed, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and peeled out, speeding towards Jake's cabin with an urgency he couldn't explain. As he drove, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he noticed his hair looked shaggier, his facial features softening.

“What in tarnation is happenin' to me?” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. He tried to rationalize it, blaming stress or exhaustion, but he knew it was something more.

Just then, he squirmed in his seat as his ass inflated, his previously snug jeans straining against the growing mounds. And with each bump in the road, Owen stifled a moan as jolts of unfamiliar pleasure rushed through his groin.

“No, no, no... Oh my GAWD!” He whimpered, cringing at the loss of his rich Southern drawl- replaced now by words colored by a nasally, high-pitched timbre, “Like... this is totally not okay!”

Owen finally arrived at Jake's cabin, tires screeching as he parked haphazardly. He stumbled out of the truck, trying to balance himself given his now fat ass. He can hear Jake outside, gathering wood for a bonfire and he bites his tongue before sauntering towards the door.

“I-I have to get inside... hide this from Jake...” He whimpered, “How... why is this...?” His eyes widen, “The spray!” He squealed, “I need to like... totally wash this off!”

Owen practically sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. With trembling hands, he began tearing at his clothes, buttons flying as he stripped. He stood naked in front of the mirror, hardly recognizing the reflection staring back at him.

His once broad shoulders had narrowed, his pecs shrinking into perky little mounds with cute pink nipples. Below, his six-pack had melted away, leaving behind a smooth, hairless torso. And between his legs... Owen gasped, covering his mouth as he saw the nub that had once been his proud cock.

“Oh em gee...” He whined, “I'm like... a total twink now!” Tears pricked at his eyes as he reached for the shower knob with slender fingers. Steam billowed out as he stepped under the hot spray, hoping the water might somehow reverse these changes.

Owen lathered up a loofah, scrubbing at his skin vigorously. To his horror, he watched clumps of any remaining dark body hair rinse away down the drain, leaving behind silky smooth flesh. Scars and rough patches vanished, his complexion becoming flawlessly soft and clear.

“Eep!” He yelped as his hands brushed lower, encountering the plush globes of his ass. They seemed to swell and expand with every passing second, growing rounder and fuller until they were each easily a handful. Owen couldn't resist giving them a tentative squeeze, marveling at their suppleness- imagining another man playing with them.

A breathy moan escaped his increasingly plumper lips as he kneaded the doughy cheeks, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through his core- thoughts of muscular men squeezing his ass filled his head.

“Oh fuck yes.... I wonder...” Curiosity got the better of him as he inserted a digit inside his virgin hole. It stretched deliciously around the intrusion and Owen saw stars, his neglected cock weeping steadily. He pumped the finger faster, soon adding a second, then a third, “Oh.... Ohhhhhhh....” He moaned, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, “I'm... I'm gonna... cum!”

Owen let out a long moan as his entire body seized and his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave. He slumped to the shower’s floor, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over. After a few moments of basking in his post-orgasm bliss, the new twink slowly stood up and exited the shower. He walked over to his bed and collapsed- the day’s events exacting their toll on him.

“What the hell!?” Owen looked up- a shocked expression gracing his cute features.

“J-Jake! I... um...It’s me! It’s Owen!” Owen stammered, his voice pitching higher than normal. He made no attempt to cover himself, proud now to flaunt his assets. And besides, why had he never noticed how sexy Jake was before?

Jake's jaw dropped, his eyes bulging as he took in the shocking sight before him. There were few, if any similarities between him and his friend. But there were enough.

“Holy shit, Owen?! What happened to you?”

Owen's eyes lit up as a mischievous grin spread across his glossy lips, “Oh sweetie, you wouldn't believe the wild ride I've been on!” He giggled.

Reaching over to the pile of discarded clothes, he fished out the mysterious spray can. Jake looked at his friend, and then to the can, and then back up to his friend.

“Wha...”

Without warning, Owen pressed down on the trigger, unleashing another fine mist straight into Jake's stunned, handsome face...

[residentwordsofaffirmationdealer]

hi guys. i keep seeing posts about damian talking about how he's kill-happy, or is he the most likely to break bruce's no-kill rule and here's my comprehensive reply, as a damian scholar:

damian has already made the conclusion that killing is bad (and has adhered to that for over ten years). he does not kill anyone anymore. he is not a "feral demon/gremlin". his (current) morals are very similar to his allies + family but in total, i'd say most like cass & bruce.

he is a very complex character who is NOT a remorseless, violent killer but rather a child who was trained to be a warrior (and arguably a weapon as well). he DOES feel very intense remorse and guilt for his actions, and is also very genuinely compassionate and cares very deeply for other people and animals!!

main themes that are often emphasized in works centered around damian are redemption, acceptance (from his family & allies), atonement, and forgiveness. damian will work to redeem himself not because "bruce told him to do it" but because he knows it is the right thing to do!! anyway, not to understate bruce's role in making damian who he is, as of course damian does look up to bruce a lot, but ultimately, damian made his own choices about who he is and what he stands for.

i know he makes a lot of statements about killing and violence but it is a facade he puts up -- often times he will mock or ridicule dick (whom he has mockingly called the angel on his shoulder) because damian will say something like "i'm going to kill x person" and then dick will reprimand him but they both know damian would not have done it anyway -- in the 2016 nightwing, there's a scene where damian says he will kill dinesh, a robin impersonator, but when dinesh is killed, damian gets mad at his attacker, lunging at him while yelling "he was just a kid!"

also, i stated earlier how he is a lot like cassandra in terms of morals. this is because she, like batman, truly believes in redemption and seconds chances. i'd argue that one of "the batman's" defining value is his belief in redemption, not his obsession with vengeance. a fundamental part of his character is the belief in second chances. he will always be there to help the people of his city -- whether it be saving kids or defusing bombs or providing support for the rehabilitation of villains -- think of the BTAS scenes of two face saying "good old bruce, he was always there for me" or how many times bruce has supported harley quinn in her journey to redemption or in general how many times he's rescued the joker instead of let him die out or how many times bruce has forgiven jason. cass is also very obviously similar to bruce. in the batgirl (2000) series, there's an issue where she tries to "rescue" a man who was sentenced to death. she rescues him because she truly believed he was capable changing -- even if he was a murderer. she, too, was one but has learned and grown, but he'll never get that opportunity. similarly in shadow war (2022), damian has a similar crisis where brion markov (geoforce), pretending to be deathstroke, assassinates ra's al ghul. in the major confrontation scene, damian lunges at him, yelling "you killed my grandfather!" as they fight, brion compares himself to damian and tries to manipulate him into disliking the al ghul side of his family. brion says "i was also trained to be a weapon. but i did it out of love for my country. but you? what your mother and grandfather did to you. how they tried to kill you. and here you are defending them. seeking revenge? protecting killers?". damian's response to that is "it doesn't matter who they were. you killed people. your actions led to the death of others. people who never had a change to change." this is especially interesting because it shows his growth -- he understands that people will always have the chance to grow, and he wants to encourage that, not take lives -- it's also almost exactly the same conflict cass had like 20 years ago!!

also, its super interesting from the point where one of his major inecurities is people not thinking he's good enough -- and good as in pure/moral etc. he (for a long time) has hesitated to call himself a hero, and has had nightmares about dick thinking when damian died, he went to hell, and so on. all damian wants is to redeem himself and be accepted, and he's scared that the people he loves the most do not think he is capable of that, and he's especially scared that they think he belongs in hell. more than anything, he wants to prove himself to them, and he tries and he tries and he tries. he'll never stop trying, even when bruce tells him that he's selfish, uncompassionate, and untrustworthy. even when he's hurt that tim puts him on his hit list. even when he thinks dick is replacing him by having his a new kid.

in all, he, like cass and bruce, very strongly believes that everybody is capable of redemption and he worries that him killing maya's father (a supervillain) means that he took away any possibility for her dad to turn his life around. most importantly, as much as he believes in forgiveness for everybody else, he does not believe he deserves forgiveness -- he is not a heartless killer/feral demon child etc etc.

[starlight-and-whiskey]

Under Your Skin: Ch2

Prologue Ch1 Ao3

Never meaning to, you end up pregnant with Arthur Morgan's child. One child leads to a happiness you never thought you'd find, which in turn leads to a family Arthur never thought he deserved. Tags: @baizzhu, @chonkercatto, @heron-feathers, @not-minho, @multi-fandom3, @warmsideofthepillow03, @photo1030

When the two of you finally made your way back to camp, the first thing to hit you was the deafening quiet of it all.

Normally by this time in the evening, camp would be bustling. Everyone settling in for the evening to play cards or to drink by the fire, their chores finally done for the day. Instead, a low hush had fallen, accompanied by a slow turn of heads, a question held with bated breath.

Word had certainly travelled fast.

Under the weight of thick silence, Hosea made his way over slowly, pausing in front of Arthur.

"Son?" He asked quietly, a weathered hand laying gently on his arm.

With a metered breath, Arthur glanced to you then back to the older man, a gentle smile slowly tugging at his lips.

"I'm gonna be a father”, Arthur said softly through a lopsided smile.

Almost instantaneously, a warm, broad grin broke out on Hosea's face as he clasped Arthur's hand in a hearty shake, clapping a firm hand to his shoulder. 

"You sure are, my boy!"

A collective soft exhale rippled through the camp, the tension releasing in a smattering of warm, giddy smiles. Amongst dramatic cheers and barking laughs, broad hands clapped Arthur hard on the back, hands gave his shoulders a firm shake.

Arthur ducked his head with a sheepish grin, shoulders hunching and cheeks flushing under the sudden wave of attention.

“Ah, get off o’ me,” he bit out through a hearty chuckle and a grin wider than you'd seen in weeks, shoving away an overzealous Sean who seemed intent on attempting to half cuddle the man. Blue eyes bashfully flicked away from the gaggle of brutish men and found yours. Soft. Gentle. Proud. 

You didn’t notice Abigail at first as she sidled up beside you, not until her voice came soft against the whooping and hollering.

“This mean I’m forgiven?”

You turned, startled to find her standing close, her eyes glassy and her bottom lip caught cautiously between her teeth.

With tears welling in your eyes at the damn relief of it all, you instinctively reached for her, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” you whispered into her hair.

“It’s forgotten,” she murmured back, gripping you tightly.

When she finally pulled away, Abigail kept on hand on your arm, the other reaching up to brush falling tears away with gentle fingers.

“Hey,” she whispered through a broad grin, the apples of her cheeks rounding with glee. “You’re gonna have a baby.”

A sharp, disbelieving laugh burst from your lungs as you nodded quickly, sniffling hard to hold back the remaining tirade of tears that threatened to spill over. A trembling hand glanced over your belly, and you drew a shaking breath before looking back at her with a watery smile.  

"I’m gonna have a baby,” you repeated, smiling back at her and finally feeling the weight of those words.

Abigail laughed with you, pulling you back into a hug as the noise of celebration grew around you.

"Hey, quit hoggin' her!" Karen half yelled with a beaming grin, wrapping her arms around you as soon as Abigail let go.

"Now what in God’s name are you all just standing ‘round here for?" Dutch’s voice came booming across camp like a whip crack, stilling the revelry in an instant. Your body tensed. Arthur’s mouth went dry. For a moment, the years fell away, and Arthur felt like he was fourteen years old again, standing before a disapproving father. Heads turned and the camp held its breath as those steely eyes swept across the group, jaw set tight. Slowly, theatrically, a broad grin broke out on Dutch’s face as he opened his arms like a preacher at a pulpit. “This calls for a celebration!”, he bellowed, pointing a ringed finger. “Mr Pearson, don’t just stand there! Go and fetch some more whiskey!”

Smiles returned and a low whoop emanated from Sean, who made himself busy assisting Pearson in dragging crates from the wagon, never one to miss a good party.

“Mr Escuella!”, Dutch continued, waving at the newest recruit, “Reckon it’s time you put that guitar of yours to good use!”

Cheers erupted anew, laughter returning like it had been waiting just beneath the surface, only needing permission to come roaring back to life. The tension that had gripped your spine finally began to loosen its hold under the renewed laughter and cheers, the chinking of bottles and soft notes of music from a land you didn’t know melting away some of the fear you’d secreted away, sparking a ripple of relief through your limbs. The evening passed slowly in a flurry of congratulations – a hug from Hosea, Karen musing names, Mary-Beth hoping for a girl. One by one, the stars blinked open above it all, the moon casting its silvery glow against the inky black of a still, cloudless night.

“There’s the proud mama,” Dutch said with a broad smile, arms already open. Almost tenderly, he wrapped you in a tight embrace, squeezing once before easing back, a hand on your shoulder. “Congratulations, sweetheart.”

You blinked up at him, your voice quieter than you expected. “So… you ain’t mad?”

Dutch’s brow furrowed, then he laughed - really laughed - his whole face creasing at the corners.

“Mad?” he scoffed, as if the very idea offended him. “Why in God’s name would I be mad?”

You glanced down, half-smiling. “Another mouth to feed, y’know. What with everything we’re already up against…”

Dutch waved a hand through the air like he was swatting off the thought itself.

“You look at what we’ve built here,” he said wistfully, the firelight casting gold across his features as he cast an upturned palm around the camp. You followed the gesture, eyes landing on grinning faces. You saw Abigail cradling her baby boy, heard the warbling singing of Uncle, watched Grimshaw reluctantly dancing with Pearson as Strauss watched from the side-lines with a tight-lipped smile. “A family.”

Dutch dropped his gaze, splaying a hand over your flat stomach. “And that little one, they are only ever gonna know the taste of being free. Just like little Jack,” he grinned, like a prophet intent on leading this band of outcasts to salvation. “You let me worry about the mouths to feed.”

*

The night wore on until the fire had worn down and your cheeks ached from smiling. The laughter had quietened now, melting into low murmurs around smouldering embers, the chink of another empty bottle being tossed aside giving way to the occasional drunken slur of a half-remembered song. Bones aching, but chest light, you wandered to the edge of camp, seeking a moment of solitary peace. A few seconds just to think, to breathe. The stillness was short lived when you heard the muted murmur of Arthur’s voice behind Dutch’s tent. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, truly you hadn’t, but the low and steady cadence of whispered words made your ears prick.

“Never thought I’d be a father once, let alone twice,” Arthur said softly.

Twice? Arthur had never mentioned another child…

“Second chances are a wonderous thing”, came Dutch’s voice.

There was a pause - a gentle shifting of boots on dirt, the creak of leather.

“What if… Dutch, what if I screw it up again?”

Why hadn’t he mentioned another child?

You held your breath, listening more intently now despite the guilt at prying, your interest piqued.

“You won’t”, Dutch said firmly, followed by a soft sigh, his voice lowering. “Son, you didn’t.”

“I don’t think I could take that again. That... that kinda pain.”

“It ain't gonna be like before. They'll be with us. They'll be safe.”

There was a long silence for a moment, broken by a confession carried on a trembling whisper.

"Damnit... I’m just... Hell, Dutch…”, Arthur said. “I’m scared.”

You felt your heart crack right down the centre.

"Look at me son. You look at me and you listen good,” Dutch continued. “Everything is gonna be just fine."

You’d never known Arthur scared. Not really. Concerned, maybe. Angry, definitely.

Turned in on himself in sullen silence, or biting out sarcastic barbs through a lopsided smile when things went south. You’d known him wounded, bruised and bleeding and too proud to ask for help. But scared?

No. Never that. You weren’t sure there was anything on this earth that could scare Arthur. There was nothing that could take this man – so steady, unshakeable, dependable – and strip him down to his marrow.

Deep down you knew that was foolish, of course. All men got scared.

*

It must have been well past midnight when you heard the scrape of boots outside Arthur’s tent. You’d sat there, hunched on the edge of his cot for hours, just waiting. Thinking. You’d meant to go back to your tent, but your feet had moved unbidden until you were stood by his bed, surrounded by his meagre belongings – a photograph of his mother, a blooming flower in a glass jar, a shaving mirror with a crack in the corner and a piece missing.

The tent flap rustled, the broad frame of Arthur ducking inside, rubbing at tired eyes. He blinked at you in surprise, pausing for a second before closing the flap behind him, closing out the night.

“Thought you’d gone to bed,” he said softly, reading your face the way he read storm clouds and stars. “Something wrong?”

“I heard you,” you whispered through a thick throat. “You and Dutch. I didn’t mean to. I just…”

Arthur stood in the stillness. You could feel him thinking. He took a few slow steps forward, then eased himself down beside you on the cot, exhaling hard like something had come loose in his ribs. You turned your face just enough to see him in profile, and the weight behind his eyes was staggering.

“I shouldn’t have listened”, you stumbled, looking down at your hands. “I’m sorry.”

Arthur shook his head slowly, pushing out a long, steady breath. “No… no, it’s alright.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The words sat heavy on his tongue, sticking behind his teeth.

“I had a son,” Arthur nodded almost imperceptibly, glancing up at you with glossy eyes.

“You never said.”

“Ain’t much to say”, he shrugged. “He died. Long time ago.”

You sat in silence, hands clasped in your lap and eyes tracing Arthur’s worn features as he told you of a little boy, unplanned but loved. He told you of a girl, all of nineteen years old, who never asked him for a dime, never asked him to stay. He told you of visits he had with them, a few snatched days here and there where he would play with Isaac, and help Eliza fix that hole in the chicken coop. Your heart ached as he told you about that fateful afternoon, when he’d ridden up that well worn path and found only two small wooden crosses. A robbery gone wrong. A few measly dollars and a loaded gun. And just like that, in an instant, Arthur’s world had crumbled beneath him.

You stayed quiet, letting him talk. Letting him bleed out at his own pace.

“I never told nobody”, he murmured, scrubbing a broad palm roughly down his face. “Not really. Dutch knows. Hosea. I guess folk know, but...”

Silence fell, thick and heavy, as he trailed off. You reached for him then, slowly placing your hand over his. He glanced up at you again, a sad smile twitching at the corner of his lips before he turned his palm up, threading your fingers together with a squeeze and tapping your hand lightly against his thigh.

“I’m sorry”, you said softly.

He sniffed thickly, thumbing under his nose with a low, uneasy chuckle and a steady nod. “It was a long time ago.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you blinked at the rough hand clasping yours, tongue flicking out to graze your bottom lip, your own secrets bubbling between your ribs. Your free hand moved to gently cradle where a bump would soon form, carrying the precious cargo of Arthur's redemption. 

“I had a husband”, you said quietly against the still night air, eyes tracing the long shadows cast by a flickering oil lamp. A secret for a secret.

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, eyes meeting yours. “You never said”

“Ain’t much to say”, you echoed through a puff of breath that might have been a chuckle had the air not felt so solemn. “Nasty son of a bitch. A drunk. I never wanted to marry him, not really. But… you know how things are.”

Arthur nodded, squeezed your hand again.

“Used to beat me something awful when he got in those moods of his. Then this one night, he comes home. Drunk. Angry. Lost his money at cards as usual. And he makes to raise a hand to me. And… and I realised I weren’t takin’ that no more.”

The cogs in Arthur’s mind started turning, thinking back to that night Hosea had brought you into camp all those years. Brought you home. A defiant, wiry thing – all rough around the edges and so damn untrusting of any shred of kindness. Clothes torn and patched, hollow cheeked and nailbeds packed with mud. On the run, Hosea had said. Wanted for murder. It was never spoken of again after those first few days of curious mumblings, it was a question that never needed to be asked. You were an outlaw now, and you were one of them. The details were of no importance to a band of killers and thieves.

“So you killed him”, Arthur stated softly.

Biting your bottom lip, you nodded, letting your teeth scrape back over the soft, plump skin.

“So I killed him.”

When Arthur released your fingers, you searched his face for any trace of disgust or shame but found none. He simply looked at you with that steady gaze of his and looped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “Good.”

Laying your head against his broad shoulder, you felt a soft press of lips against your hair and the steady trace of calloused fingertips trailing patterns on your arm, the metered rise and fall of his breath. As minutes passed in silence, you tried to bite back the yawn that threatened to no avail, and pressed the back of your wrist to your lips.

“Ought’a get some rest”, Arthur murmured.

“Mm”, you hummed. “Yeah. I should get back.”

Arthur’s arm around you didn’t loosen. “You could stay here?”

He caught the quizzical look in your eyes and shrugged. “Wouldn’t exactly be the first time now, would it? Only wouldn’t have to sneak out at dawn this time.”

“Folk’ll…”

“What? Talk?” He chuckled. “Darlin’, you’re carrying my kid. Don’t reckon they’d much care no more.”

You huffed a laugh, suddenly realising how silly the notion of wagging tongues seemed. And besides, the prospect of spending a night wrapped in the warmth of Arthur’s steady arms seemed too good to pass up. You’d missed the weight of him beside you, the puff of his breath against the nape of your neck as a solid bare chest pressed against your spine. So, gladly, you toed off you boots and settled down on the cot, shuffling to make room for his hulking frame.

Arthur sighed softly as he laid down beside you and readjusted his grip, a hand brushing down your side to nestle in the divot of your waist. “Missed you bein’ here”, he said quietly. You hummed contently and let him brush back your hair.

“Are we out of our minds?”, you whispered against the dark

“What?”, he rumbled, the whiskers on his chin scratching lightly against your forehead.

“Doin’ this. Having a kid.”

“Probably,” he chuckled. “Don’t see as we got much choice about it, though.” A steady sigh feathered your hairline. “Just glad you ain’t mad at me no more.”

“I wasn’t mad at you.”

“Mm.”

“Just reckoned you wouldn’t want me no more.”

A calloused hand reached up through the dark, cupping your cheek.

“Baby or not”, he whispered, “Reckon I’d-a loved you either way.”

You froze, blinking at a man who had just confessed something before realising he was going to say it. Wide eyes searched the shadows of his face, an arched palm against his chest felt the steady thrumming of his heartbeat.

“You… you love me?”

Arthur gave a small shrug, barely noticeable, his voice low and rumbling. “That alright?”

You opened your mouth, closed it again, tongue wetting your bottom lip before glancing back at him with wet eyes and a hint of a tight-lipped smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

You nodded. 

He closed the distance between you, taking your chin between thumb and forefinger and tilting your face towards his.

"I love you", he drawled roughly, slowly, like a secret passed in the dark. 

[oneofstarkskids]

piercing blade

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: angst

notes: post aou! wanda and stark's daughter, wlw

your dad was a hero. that's all you'd ever seen him as. from the time you can remember, he'd done anything and everything to protect you. so you didn't understand how anyone could call him a monster.

of course, wanda maximoff had an entirely different experience with the man. it was his company and his livelihood that tore her entire world apart. ever since she was a little girl, she swore that if she ever got the chance to look him in the eyes...she would kill him.

but here she was. shaking his hand.

"my daughter can show you to your room," he said nonchalantly before strutting off down one of the long hallways of avenger's compound.

you reluctantly led her down the corridor. you weren't stupid. you were fully aware that this was the same girl who'd tried to destroy your family only days before.

nat was still shaking off the effects. bruce was nowhere to be found. tony's panic attacks were back. but it's fine, because you were all just supposed to forget about it and welcome her with open arms?

you hadn't said a single word. you didn't have to.

"i know what you must think of me," wanda broke the silence.

you scoffed, "trust me...you don't."

except that she did.

"you think i am here to hurt the people you love. you don't trust me," wanda said, coming to a stop.

you rolled your eyes, "figure that one out all by yourself?"

wanda eyes slanted ever so slightly, scrutinizing you. "i'm not here to destroy your life, but that doesn't mean i'm not able to."

you glared at the witch, "is that supposed to be a threat? there's security cameras in every corner of this hall. the second you laid your hands on me, the intelligence system would alert my father."

wandas eyes glowed momentarily, "do you really think they will protect you?"

"i'm not afraid of you," you said as you crossed your arms.

wanda nodded curtly, "you shouldn't be. if i wanted to hurt you, i would've done it the second i walked through the door."

that wasn't enough to calm your nerves.

"why should i trust you?" you asked.

wanda looked into your eyes with sincerity, "because i know what it's like to lose someone you love."

before you could react, her hand was on your arm. the simple brush of her fingers warped your mind until all you saw was a dark hospital room.

a beeping monitor.

a crying baby.

"she's beautiful," a woman's voice whispered hoarsely.

but within moments the baby was handed off to a nurse as the slow beep sped up.

faster.

and faster.

until...

constant ringing.

you snapped back to reality and shoved wanda away from you.

you hardly noticed the tears pouring down your face.

"don't mess with my head, witch!" you spat.

wanda didn't react, "i'm not showing you anything that wasn't already there."

you scoffed, "you know, you may not be a threat but you better stop pretending to be a hero."

the brunette glared and tilted her head, "a hero? like you? everything special about you came from your father. from a legacy that he didn't even create himself."

"my father changed the stark name and national warfare as we know it. not to mention he stopped an entire alien army with a missile," you defended. "but please, go on about his legacy."

silence cut through the air like a piercing blade.

wanda looked down, "i lost a lot because of him. but i'm here. trying to make up for the people who've been lost because of me."

you stood on alert. so very distrustful of the new recruit, but she continued, "i'm not going to argue with you, stark. hate me all you want. i can't change the past. but i hope to someday change your mind."

she walked into the door just a ways down the hall without another word, leaving you there frozen.

[shrooks]

This parallel in the EC is killing me. The first time I read the bit about Neil donating to charities for houseless kids in Baltimore, I thought it was more to do with his own relationship to his "hometown". But then I went back and read Dan's chapter and the parallel stuck with me. Baltimore being a place both Neil and Wymack lived, but not a home for either. Wymack, parentless and houseless vs Neil, suffocated by his father's cruelty and stuck in the Baltimore house. Both of them finding refuge and later family in Exy.

It makes me think of the scene from TRK when Wymack mentions being from DC, and Neil is startled by how they started in similar places and both ended up in SC.

"It's funny we both started there and now we're here." Imagine if Neil knew Wymack spent time in Baltimore as well.

Neil and Wymack's relationship is one of my favorite in the series, and this just adds another layer to it.

Wymack (and Andrew and Kevin) turned Neil's life around, offered him a contract and a team and a chance.

Wymack (and Robin) being the ones to ground Neil when the rest of the monsters graduate.

Wymack letting Neil keep the key to his apartment even when Neil moves into the dorms.

Wymack offering Neil security for his possessions and proceeding to do so the rest of the series without having to ask.

Wymack dropping everything to come get Neil from the airport. ("I didn't know who else to call")

Wymack holding Neil when he broke down after Christmas. ("Help me"/"Let me")

Wymack accepting Neil's half-confession and promise of "wait until May".

Wymack asking Neil what HE wants in Baltimore.

Wymack's "If anything, I should be thanking you" after learning Neil knew he was going to die and still tried to bring the Foxes together.

Just. Wymack and Neil, man.

(Also unkind reminder that the only time Neil cries post-Lola is when Wymack dies)

Wymack is literally the first adult we see in Neil's life that he learns to trust that he won't hurt him. He trusted Mary to keep him alive, but he knows Wymack won't hurt him. He's still skittish around Abby's softness and unsettled by Betsy and her profession, but Wymack is hard and strong and Neil learns to lean on that.

Big feelings about Neil and Wymack in the airport rn. The idea that Neil sees that Baltimore wasn't a sore spot for just him, and using the rest of HIS money towards something important to both him and Wymack. It's both an effort to better the place tied to so many bad memories for him AND an act of gratitude/love for Wymack. It's "this place fucked us both over but somehow we're both here" and "thank you for what you've done and what you've given me, this is what I can do for you" and "I'm doing this for me, but I'm only able to do this for me because of you, and I'm doing this for you too because of that".

David Wymack the man (father) that you are.

[number-fifty-five]

the apartment we won't share | CS55

a carlos sainz x fem!doctor! reader oneshot

summary : inspired by niki's the apartment we won't share, carlos and his partner navigate through their emotions as they part ways — their minds lingering on the things they've done and could have done.

warnings : slightest bit of angst and a sprinkle of hurt

word count : 927

a/n : i actually shed a tear writing this one it hurts so bad...i have a love-hate relationship with it and i wouldn't wish this experience upon my worst enemy. it's a oneshot so, i'll leave you with that ;)

all the best, ellie.

---------------------------------------------------------

the last box sat untouched in the hallway, flaps open like a gaping mouth that still had room to swallow the final pieces of what used to be them.

carlos leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her kneel in front of the kitchen cabinet — the cabinet where they used to argue about where mugs should go. she was pulling out the last few plates she claimed were hers, her movements mechanical, almost too quiet, as though sound might make it real. the sound of the plates clinking as she stacked them reverberated throughout the kitchen.

he hated the silence more. it was sharp and deafening. none of them knew which would break first — them, or the plates in her hand.

“you’re taking the white ones?” he asked, voice rough as if he’d been choking it down his throat.

she paused, blinking up at him. her hazel eyes looked tired — not the tired you fix with sleep, but the kind that buries itself in your bones. “yeah,” she answered. “they were mine when we first moved.”

“right,” he nodded. “right.”

the clock ticked like it had been waiting for them to notice the seconds they were wasting. the apartment that once was filled with late-night takeout and her humming while she studied on the couch, with his racing gear tossed in corners and promises whispered between flights — felt cold now. like it had already let go of them before they had let go of each other.

it hadn’t always been this way. there was a time they used to sit cross-legged on the floor, her in his sweater, him still in socks from a flight, planning a life that now would never happen.

they had plans.

“we’ll always have dinner together. no matter what. even if it's just ramen at midnight,” she’d once insisted, and he had pinky-promised it over chinese takeout.

they had a list of countries to visit on the off-season : greece, argentina, new zealand.

they talked about a dog. about moving somewhere quieter after his career. about maybe starting a family someday, when hospital shifts didn’t break her and jet lag didn’t swallow him whole.

none of it came.

instead, there were missed calls. cold food. messages left on read at the worst times. she slept through his races. he didn’t make it back before her night shifts. they became two ghosts in the same apartment.

until the night it cracked wide open.

“you’re never here,” she said, standing in the doorway of their bedroom, arms wrapped around herself. “and when you are, you’re… not with me.”

she never begged. he always promised that it wouldn’t be necessary because he would never give her a reason for it. and yet here she was, her voice breaking in desperation.

carlos exhaled. “i’m trying, joder. you think i don’t miss you too?”

“you missed my birthday, carlos.”

he flinched. “i was stuck in japan. i told you—”

“that’s the point. there’s always something. a race, an appearance, media, flights, engineers — there’s always a reason i'm not worth showing up for. come on, carlos? not even a text? or an attempt to call?”

“that’s not fair.”

she laughed bitterly. “isn’t it? we said we’d make it work.”

“and we did,” he snapped. “for as long as we could.”

silence.

she stared at him then, really looked at him — the man she’d memorized and loved and lost, all in the same body.

“we can’t keep doing this,” she whispered. “this slow dying of something that was once beautiful.”

and the worst part?

he didn’t disagree.

so they packed.

box by box.

memory by memory.

now she taped the final one and stood, brushing her hands on her jeans.

carlos stepped forward, hesitating.

“so… this is it.”

she nodded. “yeah.”

“i don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

“then don’t say anything,” she said. “not this time.”

but still, she lingered in the kitchen, her hand on the countertop they once sat at, legs tangled as they talked about cities and calendars and dreams. she looked at him, really looked.

“i hope one day we stop hurting when we think of each other,” she said.

he swallowed hard. “do you think we will?”

she didn’t answer right away.

“i don’t know. i hope so,” she finally said. “but hope is… tricky.”

then she picked up the box, carried it toward the door, and opened it slowly.

she paused, her back to him.

“i don’t hate you, carlos” she said. saying his name felt like a lump in her throat. “i never did.”

his voice came out broken. “i know.”

and with that, she stepped into the hallway, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

carlos didn’t move. the apartment buzzed with silence. empty shelves. a faint outline of where their photo frame used to hang. a wine stain on the carpet from a clumsy night full of laughter.

gone.

he walked over to check the remaining things they left. his eye caught a beige envelope lying on the shelf. he assumed it was hers — it was too neatly folded to be someone else’s. it seemed as though it was okay for the letter to either be found or not.

with a sigh, he tucked the paper in his back pocket and walked over to the light switch by the door, hand trembling.

he looked around one last time.

then he turned off the lights.

and in the darkness, all that remained were the echoes of everything they didn’t become.

[ishiniku]

Well dang, chapter 126 is... something, who could have guessed. sighs 

But I decided as my first post here to just give some opinion on this chapter, wanting to point some things I really got interested.

CHAPTER 126 SPOILERS + some thoughts on it as bonus

Well, thanks for the help unknown-cat, btw what do you mean "And I know what that feels like?" —It sounded so..."I've been through something similar, so I understand how she feels"...— I think we still have a lot to discover about what happened in this timeline.  

And wow, we found out how Sandclock works and it rules: 

You can't just say you're back from the future, and I believe you probably can't say anything related to the Sandclock, or perhaps nothing from the future too. Damn this thing is pulling the wool over your eyes Yashiro. 

You can come back as many time as you wish, but when you come back you only have one chance to change it, because you won't be able to come back again at that moment. You have a short time to change what you want, that is, until the last sand falls. 

Btw, hourglass is such a... Grrrrrr please Aidairo give me a human materialized form of the it to me so I can draw it getting beat up. Nothing good comes out with using it, the hourglass always makes you WANT to change the past, and when you think you got what you wanted, something terrible happens. 

Well it's like it says Nene,

"Again and again.''

Baby Tsukasa jumpscare for y'all...  gurl got possessed, i did know the moment he popped in my screen that Yashiro was doomed.

THIS IS SO SAD MAN. One of their mothers called in their phone...Who would be? I hope it's Kou's mother hah... And it could this be important? I don't know, I think it's more to emphasize that they are human, they have family, they have their own life, they have people caring about them...How nice...They died btw!! 😋 

Imagine your best friend dedicating her last moments trying to help you get out of your trance and giving you a warm, caring, tight hug as a goodbye? Wow Aoinene angst is so tasty!! Aida&iro why you two so good at creating doomed narratives?????

Nene smile at least now your body count is 5!! Please get the joke. (Not that I think you killed 5 people this easily with this little knife, not that I doubt the capabilities of possession, but like... Two normal people, one clockeepers and two exorcists? hardcore, I know octopusamane helped you.) 

..Entity... Good job at being disgusting, this is something this thing doesn't fail at all. (btw where is the trigger warning in this chapter Aida...)/srs

She came back to 103rd anniversary of Kamome Gakuen? She said she panicked, I believe this has led her to a completely random time, or maybe there is something important on this date...

YEAH HELP HER DAMN IT, ITS YOUR FAULT. It's shocking the world, it's heartbreaking, Akane is still alive. 

sorry, I promise I love him, I just have a slight hate-love relationship w/ all the characters of TBHK, frantic coughing  

Now why is Akane here? He is clearly very calm in the situation, "I finally found you" He knew this would happen, I imagine the other Akanes who died are from the their own timelines, but this one... Where is him from? "Our" timeline (can we pretty please call Hanako timeline as "Our") or the original timeline?! Don't know HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. But he was clearly saw the changes Yashiro tried to do, since he was looking for her, but probably when he was finally close to finding her, she used the hourglass. 

This chapter and the next ones to follow literally will give a BIG change/grow in Nene character and probably her relationships too, think about how traumatizing this experience was guys...I'm literally not complaining, just sad.

Plus, they are giving a lot of weight to the entity of the redhouse, the root of the problem; Of course, Tsukasa w/ entity was somehow violent, but this?!?? Guys?... This just proves the fact that Tsukasa somehow stabilized him by idk merging his soul with the monster??? How? Why? How many control does Tsukasa or the Entity has, its 50% or perhaps Tsukasa has more control? We still have many things to be answered. (Honestly I like the theory that Tsukasa merged with the Pit God by eating it, I just don't know how to explain how this would work.) 

One of the bloodiest chapters so far,I wonder if ever we're getting some chapter w/ more gore than this. And honestly Aida&Iro exceeded my expectations. 1000000000000/10. my reaction to the chapter is this image below.

[quesocheeso]

*heyyyy there, I say crawling slowly out of the darkness*

(This hyperfixation is gonna kill me.)

So. How about. And hear me out on this.

We give Xiaoxing an abnormal physical strength.

He still doesn't have any magic, but he makes up for it with physical abilities. It's on par with Wukong's and maybe even stronger. (That's how he survived the fight with possessed Wukong.)

Wukong and Macaque never knew that because they never tried to actually challenge him, they just saw him as a fragile little kid and taught him the basics of fighting and self-defense. He kept training on his own without his parents knowing to avoid their overprotective rules.

But then he goes to school and his parents, in an attempt to protect him, say that he is forbidden from using any magic to keep everyone safe.

A few bullies hear of this rule and try to pick on him. To everyone's surprised, he takes them down with brute force. So all the kids got scared of him, because if that's how strong he is without magic, then they'll be doomed if he gets mad and decides to use it.

Of course his parents got called to school after the accident but they were too happy and proud of him so he didn't get in any trouble.

Now here's the fun part:

Who is the only person who knows how strong Xiaoxing is?

His little brother, Xioalei.

He is a smart kid, he figured things out pretty early. So he gets very confused when he sees his parents treat his big brother like some weakling.

For example:

Some dangerous strong demon attacks Xiaoxing at 10 y.o, Xiaolei 5 y.o.:

Wukong:"Xiaoxing! Xiaolei! Are you okay?! Did he hurt you?!"

Macaque:"Look at me baby! Did he hit you anywhere!?"

Xiaoxing:"Nope, I'm good."

Xiaolei:"No, but I think that demon is dying." Baby Xiaolei points at a very badly injured demon.

Wukong:"HOW DARE HE. I'LL KILL HIM."

Macaque:"Don't yell! You'll scare the kids!"

Xiaolei:"That's what we're concerned about?"

Wukong:"Moon, take the kids home, I don't want them to see this."

Macaque:"Peaches. Make sure that fucker never comes back."

Xiaoxing:"ooooo, mama said a bad word, hehehe."

Xiaolei:"MOTHER. THAT MAN IS DEAD."

That was not the only time, whenever Xiaolei felt scared or in danger he'd run to his big brother for protection.

And now the cherry on top, when Xiaoxing finally got his magical power:

Macaque:"Maybe he isn't as weak as we thought..."

Wukong:"Yeh... maybe we should train him more..."

Xiaolei:"SERIOUSLY!? NOW!?!?!? I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU THIS FOR YEARS!!!!" *storms out the room cursing in spanish*

The kid loves his family but the way they avoid the truth about Xiaoxing's strength like some professional acrobats really gets on his nerves.

He has magic but whenever he fought with his big brother he'd get his ass kicked. Forget magic, that guy is a fucking monster.

Macaque to 7 y.o. Xiaolei :"I know you want to play with your brother but maybe you two shouldn't play so roughly together. If you wanna fight then ask your dad for a match. Just to avoid accidents, ok?"

Xiaolei:"Why are you telling this to me? Mother I had my ass served on a silver platter. You should be saying that to him!"

Macaque:"What did we say about using bad words?"

Xiaolei:"Wha-... sorry."

*I'm just throwing in a suggestion, I just think it would be very funny. Okay! That's it. Imma go back to the darkness.*

Loving all the asks you’re pulling anon and at this point I’m begging you to actually post them cause I just cackle at all of them and everyone should see them lmaooo

On another note, you kinda hit the nail on the head on this one my guy

Xiaoxing doesn’t have any magic abilities until season 3 BUT he does have super strength, which unluckily the monkeys didn’t clock it, although I wouldn’t write the monkeys as overbearing as they are here, they’re a lil less over protective, cautious yes but they don’t bar Xiaoxing from doing things or treat him like glass so there’s not a lot of resentment from the kid from that, not until MK walks in

Going back on the strength, fun fact, Xiaoxing plays on the baseball team on his school, and since the school he goes to pretty much helps students train their abilities, when his teachers realized that Xiaoxing had super strength they started training him via baseball, which circles back to one of my Season 3 posts where he likes to use his laser eyes, he mains them actually because as a fighter Xiaoxing would be a long distance one because his accuracy is top notch, next to none, so he trains this skill by throwing baseballs at high speeds that teachers keep track of, both in velocity and force

The reason why the monkeys don’t know about his strength is because it’s a recent thing, he didn’t always have it, I would say he started getting it around the time MK appeared first

Also fun fact: none of the kids have abilities, they all start getting them during season 3 (hmmmmmmm I wonder why?🤔🤔😁👍) (them being powerless actually helped stop heaven from taking action against them oof)

And yeah Xiaoxing would beat the hfil out of bullies before he gained super strength and that’s cause he’s just smart and uses their own abilities against them, being powerless taught him how to quickly evaluate others and effectively put them out with their own force, he teaches Xiaolei this when he enters school so now you have two “weak” monkeys who are considered the strongest in the school lmaoooo,, they effectively become tacticians per say cause of this

[runforthehillsbestie]

Sympathy For The Devil

Part 1 - we're gonna die

Pairing - Thomas Hewitt x Female reader

Read the story context here

He'd let you hitch a ride if you gave him a blowjob. An even trade, he said, reaching out the window of his pickup to brush a strand of your tangled hair out of your face. How he could even think of that when he saw a bloodied, limping girl with a black eye, you wouldn't know. But then again, you looked weak and vulnerable, and he didn't think to ask what had happened to you, or if that was your blood. His mistake.

You get in the truck.

He wastes no time, unbuckling his pants with one hand and driving with the other.

"You know what to do?" He asks, and you nod silently, running your sore tongue over your teeth.

You'd bitten it when your boyfriend punched you--now your ex by way of death. It's his blood that is soaked into your clothes, causing your shirt to stick to your skin.

"Well? Go ahead," the man says. "Earn your way. Suck me real good, and I'll even buy you dinner."

The thought of food makes your stomach rumble. Food, clothes, money. You hadn't thought of any of those things while you hauled your boyfriend's still-warm body to the river and let the rushing water drag him away. You can't go back home. Your father probably won't shoot you upon sight like vermin, but you're not entirely certain. No need to risk it. You paid a heavy price to get away from your family, and you're not about to go back now.

"C'mon," the man coaxes. "See, I even got it nice and hard for you."

"Keep your eyes on the road," you mutter, your voice coming out hoarse from all the screaming you did earlier.

"So you can speak! Will you look at that," he crows.

You lean down and take his shaft in your hand, angling it towards your mouth. The moment you slip the swollen head past your lips, he sighs contentedly.

"Yeah, that's it," he groans, rubbing your back before he lifts his hand to your hair.

You wince as he begins to tug, guiding you to take him deeper. You play along until his grunts and moans are loud enough to cover the clicking sound of the razor knife as you pull it out of the waistband of your shorts and extend the blade. It's tacky with your boyfriend's arterial blood. You hesitate.

How do I do this?

You learned quickly that it's harder to kill a person in real life than it is in the movies. Your boyfriend's screams echo in your mind, raising goosebumps on your arm. You palm the razor blade and wonder if maybe, you should leave this guy alone. After all, dinner would be nice...

"The fuck?" The man says, and you tuck the blade away and lift your head.

A massive tree has fallen on the fork in the road, blocking one side off. He doesn't seem to notice the way the trunk looks neatly sawed-off, as though someone used a chainsaw to cut it down.

"Shit, I'm going to have to call the long way through that fucking town," he groans, thumping the steering wheel.

"There's a town?" You perk up.

"It's abandoned," the man replies. "Nothin' out there but ghosts and wild animals." He wheels the pickup onto the dusty road and floors it.

You pass a rusty sign that says Welcome to the town of Fuller and whip by houses with broken, boarded-up windows and sagging porches. The late afternoon sun beams into your eyes as it begins to settle on the horizon.

"There's no need to go so fast," you tell him, but he only scoffs.

"Wouldn't want to be driving on this road in the dark. I've heard some stories. Hey, weren't you busy? Get back to it."

You shrug and lean down to revive his half-hard cock but before you can, something pops. The car skids, and the man curses and slams on the brakes. He pushes you away and yanks his pants closed.

"What the hell was that?" He says, jumping out of the truck.

It's a flat tire, you discover when you get out and join him.

He kicks the wheel angrily. "Now I got to change the damn thing. At least I have a spare." He pauses and gazes at you. "Hold on a minute, this is your fault, isn't it?"

You're not in the mood for games, so you level him with a hard stare. If he tries anything, you'll go for his throat.

"Those stories talk about hitchhikers that appear around these parts like some kind of bad omen. Plenty of travelers have gone missing after picking one of them up." He notices your hand lingering close to your hip. "What have you got there?"

"Nothing." You back away as he strides forward.

"Let me see," he demands, quickly escalating into shouting at you and threatening to leave you here.

You feel something black and ugly rising inside you, your lips curling into a sneer. He doesn't like that and lifts his hand to hit you. You put all your strength in your legs, ready to spring forward and bury the razor knife into his neck, when a gunshot goes off. He staggers backward, clutching at his shoulder, going pale with shock. He tumbles to the floor as blood pours over his fingers. A man appears on the side of the road, chuckling. That's when you notice the cop car tucked behind the bushes.

"Shame on you, raisin' your hand on a woman like that," he drawls and turns to you. "Sheriff Hoyt, at your service. You alright, Miss?"

You nod wordlessly. He has a sheriff's badge and a cream-colored hat resting over his bushy grey brows. His jaw works as he chews on something, spitting dark saliva against the ground as he saunters over to the man on the ground.

"Y-you shot me," the man stammers. "What the fuck, you shot me."

"And I'd say it serves you right! Think I didn't notice you blowin' through here going 80 in a 45, hmm?"

"Wha--" the man groans. "I'm bleeding."

"Put some pressure on it, wussy," Sheriff Hoyt says. "Both of you, in my car."

"But I need a hospital!" The man cries out.

"We'll get you fixed at the station." Sheriff Hoyt grunts. "Now get in, son, 'fore I put another hole in you. You too, Missy."

Your fingertips itch at the tempting thought of your razor blade tucked away in your shorts, but you eye the gun at his hip and decide now is not the time to be taking gambles. You get in the Sheriff's car, and he drives down the road. "M-my truck," the man says. "Someone'll come by to pick up that hunk of junk," Sheriff Hoyt says. There's nothing but the sound of the injured man's breathing and the squeak of the loose hinges of the doors. Sheriff Hoyt adjusts the review mirror, taking a long look at your chest. You haven't got a bra on, and the sticky shirt is abrasive against your nipples, making them perky.

"Aren't you a sight," he says. "Whose blood is that?"

"It's not mine." You cross your arms over your chest. "I thought this town was abandoned, Sheriff."

"Well, someone's gotta make sure the bikers and hooligans don't make a mess of this place," he says, spitting out the window.

In a few minutes, the Sheriff's car pulls up to a large farmhouse sitting amongst a graveyard of dusty cars and leaning barbed wire fences.

"This isn't the police station," the man mumbles, his speech slightly slurred, eyes hazy. "You said we were going to the station."

"Mae can fix you up good as any," Sheriff Hoyt says, getting out of the car with a grunt.

You watch as he comes around to the man's side and yanks open the door, leaning his hands on his knees as he leans down to look at the man. His eyes gleam with a sadistic cruelty you know far too well.

"Boy, you don't look too good," he says. "Let's get you inside. Tommy?! Come out here and help me bring in this poor sod."

Even though the man is almost delirious from blood loss, he can tell something is wrong. He begins to shake his head.

"Nuh-uh," he slurs. "I won't go in there."

Sheriff Hoyt plunges his thumb and pointer finger into the wound on his shoulder and swishes them wetly around. The man howls in agony. You push open your door and get out.

"There now, here's the bullet," Sheriff Hoyt is saying. "You'll be fine, quit your bawlin'."

The farmhouse is sitting on what was once a functioning farm, but now there's nothing but broken farming equipment and dry yellow grass. Your gut instincts have served you well so far, and you trust them. Right now? Everything in you is putting up warning flags and ringing alarm bells. You're in danger. It's instinct that causes you to start running, but you only make it a few feet before you bump into the biggest, burliest man you've ever seen. You catch a glimpse of black scruffy hair and dark eyes before something hits you hard on the head, and you slide bonelessly to the floor with spots in your vision.

"Tommy, you almost let her get away," a female voice is chiding. "One look at a pretty face and you lose your wits, don't you?"

You roll onto your back and find an old lady with a soft face and fluffy blond-grey hair peering down at you.

"Shhh," she says. "Go to sleep, hun."

It's not like you want to, but your head hurts and your eyes feel heavy, so you close them for just a moment. It feels like a few seconds pass before you open them again, but when you do, you're in a different location. A basement, maybe, because you can see stairs on the right that go up. Water drips persistently from a pipe nearby, and butcher knives and meat hooks hang from the rafters. Your shoulders are tight and burning with pain. You've been hung up by your wrists, the scratchy rope biting into your skin. Your toes are just a few inches off the ground. You hear the thump of footsteps and squeeze your eyes shut, pretending you're still passed out but peeking through your eyelashes.

It's the huge man you saw earlier, and he's got the pickup driver tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He has a mask that covers most of his face. It seems to be made of strips of leather with a hole in the middle, showing you a glimpse of his unsmiling mouth. You watch as he proceeds to tie the man's wrists together with a thick rope, tugging several times to make sure he's secure before he hangs him from one of the meat hooks just like you are. He screams as his shoulders take the brunt of his weight, and he seems to pass out again.

While you ache all over, most of the pain is gathering low in your belly. You realize you've started your period, of all things. It's often irregular, causing you to spend a day or two in complete agony as it tends to come up on you fast. You can tell from the warmth in your panties that you're about to soak right through. You let out a soft groan as your muscles clench up, and the man spins around to look at you. You flinch as your eyes connect with his. There's a primal hunger in them, like the eyes of an animal.

He lumbers over to you, gripping something laughably tiny in his hand. It's your razor knife. He twists it one way, then the other, looking at the blood on it. He prods your ribs and stomach, looking for the cause of the blood on your shirt.

"It's not mine," you croak, swallowing to try and wet your sore, dry throat. "The blood, I mean."

Not that blood, anyway.

You feel a trickle of warmth down your thigh, and since he's looking at you, he notices as well. His calloused fingers scrape against your inner thigh as he smears at the blood. It's warm, of course, and fresh. He lifts your shirt just high enough to check your belly, but other than the bruise on your side from your ex-boyfriend's boot, there's nothing to see. His thick fingers fumble with the button on your shorts. Finally, he yanks them down and they slide down your calves and catch on your shoes. You can't see, but you know your white cotton panties are crimson at the crotch. You can't see much of his face thanks to his unruly hair and that strange mask, but he seems confused.

"I've got my period," you tell him.

He doesn't seem to care that you're talking to him, his chin lowered to his chest as he stares between your legs.

You try again. "I'm menstruating?"

He tugs your panties off, and you cringe, unable to do anything other than hang there, your shoulders begging for relief and a big ball of pain in your belly. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch him hunker down, putting his face way too close to your intimate parts. He's still holding your razor blade. You're almost relieved when he reaches out with his empty hand, though that changes to dismay when he drags his finger through your folds, coating it in blood. You jump and squeeze your legs together, letting out a shriek when he smacks you on the thigh, a clear sign that he wants you to keep them open.

Your thigh stings, and your whole body trembles as you let yourself go lax again. He's still confused about where exactly you're bleeding from because you're clearly not injured. His thick finger prods between your folds, and when he finds a spot that seems to open up, he promptly pushes his finger in. You cry out in shock more than anything. He has his finger up in your pussy. It's thick and rough, simultaneously scraping and stretching your walls. You whine at the intrusion.

"Supper's in a minute!" Sheriff Hoyt calls, and you hear his footsteps clunk down the stairs.

"Cleanin' up your dolls?" He asks as he comes in, pausing as his eyes fall on the sight of the man crouched in front of you with his finger pressed into you.

Your cheeks burn with humiliation, and you look away, gritting your teeth. He grins.

"Well, well, would you look at that! Looks like Tommy's learned something new, haven't you, Boy?"

Tommy pulls his hand back, staring at your blood, which winds down his palm in a trail of red. Sheriff Hoyt whistles when he sees it.

"What, did you just pop her cherry?"

"It's period blood," you hiss angrily.

"Oh, Tommy doesn't know about that stuff," Sheriff Hoyt says. "Now's a good time as any for a lesson, I reckon."

He ambles closer, sticking his thumbs through his belt loops. "Why don't you go ahead and try that, son? Have a taste."

"No!" You splutter, queasy at the thought.

Tommy lifts his finger to his mouth and you hear a wet sucking sound as it disappears into the hole in his mask. He grunts.

"Whatcha think?" Sheriff Hoyt says, his gaze glued between your legs. "Does that taste good?"

Tommy nods, and Sheriff Hoyt laughs. "There's plenty more, son. All for the takin'."

"No," you whine, squirming in place. "Nooo. Stop!"

Tommy's hands, large and warm, clasp around your thighs. You try to kick him, but he pulls you close with a yank, kneeling on the waterlogged floor. His breath blows between your legs, and you freeze at his noisy, ragged inhale.

"There we go," Sheriff Hoyt says, rubbing the bulge in his pants as he watches. "Lookie, he's a natural!"

You shriek when you feel the material of the mask against your skin and a wet tongue probing against your pussy. It's a horrible, terrible sensation, dragging both a painful cramp and the slightest bolt of pleasure out of you.

"Stop," you whimper as you dangle.

Tommy ignores you and presses closer, his muffled breathing noisy and hot as he laps at your folds. His hands dig into your thighs to the point of pain, dimpling your skin, and he squeezes, sampling their softness. The pain in your shoulders is so overwhelming that when Sheriff Hoyt tells you to rest your knees on Tommy's shoulders, you do it without hesitation, moaning in relief as your shoulders get a break. This brute can lick you all he wants if it means you get to stay perched right there. Sheriff Hoyt is watching Tommy closely.

"Hold your horses, son, we can't have you bricked up at the table."

Tommy doesn't stop, and you jump when you even feel a slight aggrieved nip, like he wants to continue.

"Don't bite me there," you gasp. "Please."

"Thomas Hewitt!" Sheriff Hoyt shouts. "You stop that right now."

Tommy freezes. Slowly, he scoots back. You're unprepared to bear your weight and squeak when you jangle back down. Tommy rises to his feet, towering over the Sheriff. His hands open and close in loose fists. He could probably snap the Sheriff in half if he wanted to, but the shorter man looks unconcerned.

"Gotta learn some self-control," Sheriff Hoyt grunts and gestures to the stairs. "Come on up now. That filly ain't going nowhere."

Together they disappear up the stairs, leaving you in the dark. A few minutes later, the man on the hook stirs, letting out a bone-deep sound of pain as he wakes up. He raises his head and spots you hanging a few feet away, bare on the bottom. Now, when he looks at you, the only thing in his eyes is terror.

"We're gonna die," he rasps. "We're going to fucking die."

Part 2 - whatever it takes (Coming Soon)

@runforthehillsbestie

[demonic0angel]

Okokokok

So

The painting au is very interesting and I'm wondering if you have anymore to say on it? I personally love the different sides to the paintings and i desperately want to know more about what happened to the previous people who had them. And by that i meant that i would love to know if there are recordings of their effects on people that come from accounts of their victim's.

Are there letters about Jazz's painting detailing her purchase/acquiring and the subsequent events afterwards? Are there videos of the portraits changing their images or of voices coming coming from them? Are there websites about them? Have people found them and needed to put what they know out there in the hopes of warning people about the collection?

Do their spirits leave their home at night? Are they able to roam the manor and do they wait for each other? Does Jazz leave her painting and walk the halls? Does she wait eagerly when the Bats find one of her family members and when they come home does her painting move?

How long has each painting been in this world? You said that when they were painted they were scattered throughout and had finally managed to be in the same world? How long has Jazz been waiting for the others? Or how long have they been waiting for her and Danny?

I would just love anymore of the Painting AU that you could provide! It's so fascinating and i want to know more :)

(So many good questions, so little space to write out an entire story for this AU!! 😭 this did, however, get very long.

CW: mentions of killing, suicide, and insanity)

"Wait," Bruce suddenly called out. They all turned to look at them from where they had been surrounding and admiring Dani's painting.

The struggle to get her painting and reunite her with Jazz had been difficult due to Vlad Master's interference. Thankfully, Jazz was aware of his secrets and Dani had no problem betraying her somewhat-father in order to get back to her actual family.

Jason frowned. "What is it?"

Bruce stared at Jazz, who tilted her head within her painting. "You've been lying to us."

They all froze. Jazz paused for only a short moment before she asked, "How so?"

Valerie and Dani both glared at him, before moving through the frames and entering Jazz's space, their bodies remaining in their usual mediums, creating a jarring contrast between the painting and their opposing selves.

"I looked into you and your... siblings and friends," Bruce said, his voice determined. "The oldest recollection of you paintings was Valerie. She first appeared almost 150 years ago in the home of a young girl, but after the house burned down, reports after her painting became scarce. Afterwards, you appeared, Jazz, in an underground tomb that was dug up and then robbed, where you then changed homes. Unlike the others, the reports of your painting were more popular. You drove three families to insanity, made fifteen people kill themselves, and sent forty people to the mental hospital. Everywhere you were housed, you caused chaos and killed a lot of people.

Jazz gave a bland smile. “Oh?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Yes. There was a letter from a man named Stephen Thomas detailing his observations of you. He reported his descent into madness after owning you, often citing hallucinations, sudden moments of paranoia, spontaneous bouts of scurvy, and after staying in a house with your painting for months, he finally killed his entire family, wrote the last page of his diary, and then threw himself off of the roof.”

Jazz looked away for a moment, before she said, “I see. I do recall a man named that.”

Jason growled and then snapped, “Bruce, back off! I thought we all promised to help her find her family again! She waited centuries for this moment! We can bring them all to her! They’re all here in this world!”

“Not if she’s lying to us!” Bruce shouted right back. “She lied! She and the others have killed countless people! Why on earth should we help her? We don’t kill! And we don’t help killers either!”

“I dunno,” Stephanie said with a glare. “I definitely remember you helping people who’ve killed before.”

Bruce twitched before he glared at her furiously. “Stephanie. If you speak up again, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” She sneered.

Bruce growled.

“Bruce,” Cass suddenly said warningly and Bruce turned his hard look on her, making her bristle as well. Now everyone was getting worked up and Jason started cursing, moving to stand in front of his sisters when Dick suddenly moved to stand in front of him too, blocking Bruce from seeing them.

Damian hid behind Tim and Tim had to speak up, watching as his siblings and Bruce were sizing each other up, looking positively ready to beat each other to a pulp.

“Guys,” Tim said, his voice strained. “Maybe we should all calm down—”

“Oh, shut up, Tim! If you don’t want to help Jazz and the others, you can just leave!” Jason snapped.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Dick said and Jason straightened up his spine, opening his mouth to probably shout something incredibly vicious, when Jazz spoke up.

“This is why we asked for your help,” she said, and everyone snapped to attention, staring at her with hard eyes.

Valerie and Dani were silent, sitting in the painting with her as they quietly sipped tea and ate cookies. Their eyes, however, held pity and exhaustion in them as they watched the outside world.

Jazz continued, “I have not lied. It’s true that my painting has caused… accidents, but as I recall, I have already told you that. I told you that owning me was unlucky. That by having my painting within your home, there was a chance you could suffer. By holding us here, you will be influenced by us.”

They all froze, staring at each other now and recognizing the uncharacteristic hostility and rage within them.

This was caused by the paintings.

“I, as well as the other paintings, have the ability to influence the emotions within you. Depending on how strong we are, we can cause devastating damage to the psyche and it only gets worse as time passes. However, it is an effect that we have to live with too. None of us want to kill, I promise you this. The longer we remain separated, the worse the deaths become. And only when the death toll becomes too high, do we leave this world and transfer to the next.

“There will never be an opportunity like this again, where we can unite again. Only by reuniting, can we ease Danny’s curse and cease these needless deaths.”

Jazz closed her eyes, solemn and melancholic. Everyone was silent, watching her. Her words were sincere and she seemed choked up, before tears began falling down her face. Jason jumped to help, but she was still within the painting, silently weeping. Dani quietly raised a hand to hold her shoulder for comfort.

“… so please. I beg of you. Please help me and the others unite, so we can end this painful cycle once and for all. Even if you don’t care for us… do it for the people that can be hurt. Do it for my family and friends who can’t help how they affect others.” She blinked away tears and Jazz looked at them all hopefully, a pained look in her eyes. “Please… please help us.”

[lostpiewrites]

a/n : so there were these two requests of Sugishita which basically asked for same thing so i decided to merge them into one post. And also a little reveal here , Sugishita is by far the only windbreaker member i have written about 3 solo fics for because people keep asking and you know me i can't say no. The irony is , he is my least fave character in windbreaker and 99% of the time i'm like "ok what do i write this time ?". I'm sorry this is late tho. 😓 (art credits unknown)

Falling In Love For The First Time ❤️‍🩹

Ft : Sugishita Kyotaro from windbreaker

The Crush Phase...

Everything started with you moving to Makochi just because house rents were cheaper there than anywhere around.

People were like family there so this made it easy for you to adjust to your new neighbourhood.

Especially useful for a people like you because you liked to help people whenever you can but people you have met so far have always used you for this.

He saw you first while both of you were walking through a street , in opposite directions.

You didn't look extravagant , ornamented etc... But you forced his attention on yourself with just a genuine smile.

It wasn't even directed at him , it was directed to a saleswoman who reduced the price by 30% for you.

He walked past , trying not to care. Ignoring the heat that was crawling up his neck.

You were just a random girl he saw on the street. What would you even have to do with him ?

But there you were , carving yourself into his memory like an ancient hieroglyph in just about 0.5 seconds.

Whenever he slept , he woke up hoping to see you. Sometimes he just stared up at the ceiling thinking about you ; then thinking about why he is thinking of you.

Whenever he wanted to eat out , his feet unconciously took him to a cafe or a restaurant nearby where he last saw you.

He made excuses to leave the school early just so he can stroll around and "accidentally" meet you again.

Did he know what was going on with him ? Nope. Did he notice that Furin was starting to catch on to what was going on with him ? Also nope.

Did he learn that Hiragi , Tsubaki and Umemiya placed big money on bets about how long will it take for him to confess ? Once again , nope.

He regularly stood like a statue with humpback on the rooftop of the school , listening to their teasings and lectures. At least once a day.

He was done with himself because of indecisiveness. He either should rip you off his mind or go befriend you. But in his eyes ,he was a coward who could do neither.

He was DELIGHTED to say the least when you came up to him at a cafe and make the first move by saying sth like :

"I see you here often , are you a regular here ? If so , you've got a good taste in coffeé."

He still felt like he failed as a guy but at least he was happy , now that he got to talk to you.

The lover(?) phase...

You have pestered him for months for him to introduce you to the Furin boys , his friends in general. When you first came to visit them at their own high school , you were awestruck by the beautiful graffities on the walls. You two climbed the stairs to the rooftop , everybody from 1st to 3rd grades were there. He expected you to be scared at first but you were like "OMG MORE PEOPLE THAN I EXPECTED ? HELL YEAH!" All of his classmates and close friends looked at him with shit eating grins and wiggly eyebrows. You take some of Umemiya's grown vegetables and cook them sth on the spot with the grill they use for special occasions or festivals. They start calling you sis-in-law. Because the way to a man's heart is through his stomach right ? As for Sugishita, he is just watching you doing whatever from a far. He doesn't know why he feels even more drawn to you now. You're kind , helpful , friendly. That's how you have been all the time he knew you. But why does he feel like he is at a point of no return ? Or like he wants to scream into a pillow ? You were doing sth so mundane like cooking but he saw you like you were doing art. He knew he couldn't get away from you for a loong while.

"Why do i want to strangle you for occupying my mind uselessly but also want to wrap you in a warm blanket and make you sleep over a bed made of clouds ?"

[invisiblegarters]

WHAT.

But also, the preview told me two things:

One, either uncle is way shadier than even I suspected or someone is mucking with Home's hospital records for reasons of their own.

Two, Home was like this:

about the thing with Peach without one drop of alcohol in his blood.

I love that the second he realized probably very shady uncle was listening he just started blubbering. Excellent.

[zuzu-draws]

Trolling aside, i think there is some great importance as to why Gege chose this specific manner of panelling for the Yuji-Sukuna confrontation in JJK 264. We can't help but think that Gege's trying to show us some sort of a parallel between Gojo and Sukuna in this situation.

In JJK, there's this interesting notion of one's decision to go "North" or "South" as explained by Nanami during Gojo's death Flashback:

And we all know, that chapter of Gojo's death is titled as "Go South", which highly implies that Gojo chose to stay as who he was, as opposed to starting as something completely anew.

Now the interesting point in the Yuuji-Sukuna confrontation is that apparently...

....the destination for the supposed train within Yuuji's domain...is "North".

Which means that Yuuji's taking Sukuna towards the North.......

They're heading towards the North.....do you guys understand what that means?? For BOTH of them??? Q C Q

[dimonds456]

Gonna say something controversial.

Ford Pines is a nuanced character who is neither good nor bad. Absolving him of his crimes is actively a detriment to his character and does a disservice to the storytelling of Gravity Falls, but defining him exclusively by his mistakes without taking the time to understand him is a purposefully bad faith take that actively makes your enjoyment of the show worse.

He is neither a good or bad person, because "good" people and "bad" people aren't real. There's just people. And people fuck up sometimes.

If no one fucked up and if no one held onto those fuckups sometimes out of sheer desperation, the world of fiction would be way more boring, unengaging, and dull.

Ford Pines is a mess and I don't want him to be sanitized or demonized. I just want him to be a mess.

Thank you

[ficsforeren]

aree you gonna write for sung jinwoooo???

GIRLLLL AT THIS POINT I MIGHT HAVE TO THE THIRST IS REAL 😭

i've read the manhwa four times by now it's crazy how addicting it is and he's just so SO COOL like he's cool in the anime but in the manhwa he's like HNNNNGGGGGGH

the part that makes me want to write for him so bad is the way he gets SO ANGRY whenever the person he cares about is hurt, like that man does NOT hesitate to kill ANYONE who lays a finger on them he's CRAZY protective especially when it comes to his baby sister which... makes me want to write... jinwoo x reader fic where we get to be his sister and... you know...

CAUSE LOOK AT THIS SHIT (SPOILER below the cut)

this man was in the middle of a dungeon raid when he felt something wrong was going on with his sister

he then left the raid, abandoning the other hunters who desperately needed his help for protection (he lent them his shadow soldiers but still) then he jumped on a fucking dragon and flew toward his sister

the first thing he did after he got there?? GIVING A GENTLE HEAD PAT

AND A HUG

and then he stroked her hair back and saw the bruise the monster left on her

and god he was PISSED

then he proceeded to beat these monsters with his OWN HANDS, no shadow soldiers, no daggers, just BARE HANDS AND CLAWS