#he has also probably announced to the room how big his husbands dick is too unfortunately for everyone

[lbhslefttiddie]

sqq slutty drunk

[foxymoxynoona]

A Beautiful Beyond

NOTE: This is a short story sequel to A Sea of Indigo, which you can read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25881670/chapters/62890984

Summary: Years have passed since Jungkook came to Marigold, years since you kissed beneath the stars and confessed your love and bound yourself together. But now a new challenger has entered the ring, one which threatens to unbalance everything: your first baby! Good luck, kids.

Pitbull Hybrid Jeon Jungkook x Human Reader(Y/N) Words: 14,339

CW: not much, childbirth, domestic fluff, pregnancy, new parents, reference to prior miscarriage

Read on ao3 or below cut: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33741412

Jungkook sat in a scratchy chair in the far corner of the ballroom, next to a wide round table with his things on it. Correction, your things. Your conference bag, packed to the brim with pamphlets, samples of lotions and special shampoos and bandages and protein snacks, branded pens and water bottles and lollipops. Your messenger bag which he had carried all day, overstuffed with your own journals, loose notes, two books, phone charger, ginger candies, comfier flat shoes, socks, and enough snacks to constitute two meals, with a water bottle dangling from the strap by a carabiner. A stack of magazines and trade journals and news articles you’d collected from booths introducing health treatments, medical technologies, or new mental health services formed a stack beside the bags.  

Jungkook stretched in his chair and scratched his scalp and blinked around the room as if he’d just woken from a nap. He hadn’t, he would never fall asleep while you were wandering a crowded place like this and might need his help at any moment. But it was boring. So fucking boring. Though not the first conference he had traveled with you for, this particular time, his patience for a three days full of lectures and networking and chatty lunches was thin.

He watched you lean against a tall table, talking with two other women, both nurses who worked at other hybrid sanctuaries in Asia. So many people you knew had descended on Tokyo for this international conference. You had begged and pleaded to go after Jungkook said he didn’t think it was a good idea. You had sighed and fluttered your eyelashes and draped yourself around him and knit your fingers together and then kissed along his jaw and sucked on his ears. He flushed now, letting out an impatient huff at how impossible it was to say no to you when you did that. 

But he had his reasons! You turned and laughed at something one of the nurses said, your hand resting on top of the large round swell of your belly. He noticed the way you alternated leaning against the table and swaying, meaning either your hips or your feet were hurting. Your lower back must be too from standing all day; he saw your back arch outwards for a moment as you tried to stretch. You had cried just the other day because you couldn’t actually stretch your back the way you wanted, but if he pressed his knuckles along your spine it felt good. You needed that right now, he sensed it. He was always trying to sense the things you needed, watching you closely, trying to take care of you because he’d done this to you after all. He thought you still hadn’t been quite sure about a baby but you were doing this for him. 

And also for a nurse you were remarkably bad at taking care of yourself.

He decided without seeing them that you ankles were swollen enough and he needed to drag you out of there, so he gathered all your things and marched over, only to shy away from the pairs of eyes that all immediately shifted to him.

“Y/N, let’s go rest,” he mumbled at your shoulder.

“Just a few more minutes.”

“You said that two hours ago…”

“I know,” you said, turning and pressing your hand to his chest. “I’m sorry, I know you’re bored. Just a few more minutes, I swear.”

He sighed. But you smiled at him. And from here your ankles didn’t look too bad yet.

“Drink more water,” he said, handing you the water bottle you’d set on the table. He hauled your things back to the round table and dumped them down but didn’t sit this time. Instead he remained standing, so you could have the reminder that you had said you would go soon. 

He crossed his arms.

He paced. 

He leaned against the back of a chair when a few minutes bled into more. Two more people had joined you. And now he was getting hungry too, which he knew meant you were probably hungry too and too busy talking work stuff to realize it. Time to use his own powers of persuasion.

Once again he grabbed your bags up and approached, this time pressing up close against you back. You mindlessly lifted your fingers over your shoulder to touch his neck, a soft gesture that meant hi, I see you. He loved that gesture. He loved you, his infuriating woman who didn’t pay attention to your own limits.

“Y/N,” he whined quietly at the back of your head. The impatient huffs and whimpers were quiet, though probably not so quiet your colleagues couldn’t hear. He didn’t care right now. They’d think your whiny pup was dragging you away and though he hated that, it was the price he’d pay to get you upstairs to your room so you could put your feet up.

“Ok ok,” you said. To you colleagues, you explained, “My husband is telling me it’s time to go. I’ve dragged him around for three days now and I think we’ve hit the limit.”

“You need to rest,” he defended. My husband. The label flustered him as five pairs of eyes looked at him. He could read the surprise and curiosity on their faces. Husband? A hybrid? Nurse Y/N actually married a hybrid?

No, not actually. It wasn’t legal in Korea --or in most places, for that matter. But you had still had a ceremony last year when your grandparents had visited Marigold in the spring, donning traditional Korean clothing and standing underneath an arch on the dock Jungkook had built years ago. It was small and simple. His parents had come up for it too, to finally meet your grandparents. You had actually been calling him your husband to people for at least a year by that point, making a point of it after several unsurprising and hurtful assumptions about the nature of your relationship from outsiders. So you’d had your meaningful little ceremony, and he’d been more affected by it than he anticipated; he had not expected to be so touched when you legally changed your last name as your application for Korean citizenship was accepted, just one more way to connect you in a country that wouldn’t legally allow it.

You turned towards him, your belly pressing into his side as the others around the circle shook his hand and tried to hide any shock from their faces. Not only were you “married” to a hybrid, but of course they’d now wonder about that baby in your belly.

“Yes, it’s mine,” he said, though no one had asked. He knew they were wondering and he wanted them to know.

You immediately laughed and patted his chest, “Yes, it is, and you’re trying to make me take it easy, I know. So we’d better go. It’s been nice seeing you all; you’ve got my contact info. We fly home tomorrow but let’s keep in touch!” Your pat embarrassed him, or rather made him embarrassed by his own possessiveness of your. Human husbands probably didn’t announce that the baby in their (not legally) wife was theirs. But people didn’t doubt a human husband the way they would a hybrid not-real husband.

Your room was on a higher floor in the hotel. The silence of the elevator turned the noise of the conference into a tingly buzz still lingering in Jungkook’s ears, but by the time he closed the door of the hotel room, he could relax into the comfort of silence. Years ago, it had been the shift from a crowded arena during a fight to the quieter victor’s suite, where he’d get patched up, maybe given a girl to fuck, and then tossed into the kennels to collapse with the other exhausted survivors. Words couldn’t describe how much he preferred this routine: lining up your shoes by the door, listening to you putter around in the bathroom, then dragging you down onto the bed and pulling you feet into his lap. They were damp.

“You-- you don’t have to… do that,” you tried to protest, despite obviously just rinsing them off, either hopeful or accepting he was going to do this. Also part of the ritual. All it took was one good press of thumbs up the arch of your feet to make you moan and give up the fight. What you liked the most though was just the squeezing of your heels. He squeezed so hard he expected it to hurt but you just whined and sighed. The noises always went right to his dick. It didn’t take much from you to get him going and seeing you laid back against the pillows, belly rounded with his pup, feet twitching in his grip… well, it was enough. 

He wanted to rub your feet longer, but now his gaze kept sliding up to your belly until he couldn’t resist any longer. His hands followed, one flattening and tracing the curve.

“Baby is good,” you told him, answering his unasked question. He grinned as he stretched out beside you but a little lower, so his hand could continue to press. “Here,” you took his hand and pressed it low, where he could feel it, the irregular thump against his hand.

“Foot?” he asked.

“I sure hope so,” you snickered, “Or that baby is coming out with biceps as big as yours.” You squeezed his arm and he let you, amused at the way you so casually caressed each other's bodies. He kept his hand there, letting his son kick his palm.

“He’s strong,” he mused, only to flinch and quickly cover, “Do you think the baby will sleep now?”

“No, it slept the whole conference. I felt like I was stroking its head while we were down there,” you said, a contented smile on your face. He let out a sigh of relief that you hadn’t noticed his slip. 

Jungkook was certain you were carrying his son. It wasn’t that he preferred a son, but that was certainly going to be easier, seeing as he was a boy. He didn’t necessarily hope the baby was much like himself but he knew what it was like to be a little boy, and that had soothed some of his worries about fatherhood. Bitna was the only girl he’d grown up with and she wasn’t a very normal girl, so he’d be lost with a daughter. But he’d just sensed early on that the baby was a boy, and so hadn’t minded when you suggested not learning the baby’s sex until it was born because what did it matter?

It didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t, Jungkook had assured you when he’d first started insisting it was a boy and you had broken down in tears. He’d never forget you sobbing with disappointment in him, “Are you really one of those traditionalist men who only cares about a son?” No! No, he wasn’t! He just happened to think a son would be easier and happened to believe this baby was a son! To soothe you, he’d enthusiastically agreed not to find out the baby’s sex, agreeing it didn’t matter, secretly knowing he was going to be right.

And it didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t, Jungkook had reminded himself when the technicians didn’t disclose the baby’s sex. It wasn’t that he’d maybe wanted to know to reassure himself he wasn’t having a daughter, (moot, since his gut said it was a boy) but because he was just desperate to know anything at all. 

He stroked the spot on your belly the baby had been kicking. There was another hard kick that made you grunt, followed by a louder grunt.

“Oof, it’s moving.”

Jungkook dragged your flowy shirt up, watching the ridge of the baby’s back he could see as it shuffled and twisted inside. You could always feel when the baby moved like that. You could feel when the baby got hiccups or was sleeping. You could feel when the baby got startled by a loud sound around you or when it grew still listening to the soothing music Jungkook played at home every day while he painted. He knew you also had the aches and pains and cramps and heartburn and swollen ankles and back aches. 

But you got to experience this, the baby was already so real to you that he’d catch you mumbling to it sometimes, or tapping your fingers against your belly when the baby’s head or butt pressed against it in silent communication, or rocking in the glider you bought on recommendation from Taehyung and Yejin --who had just had their third and, according to Yejin, absolute final. 

Jungkook was on the outside of it. He went to almost every doctor’s appointment, trading shifts at the restaurant where he still worked to clear his schedule. He painted the nursery, he built the furniture, he took the best damn care of you he could. But he still had to wait to meet the baby in a way you didn’t, and he just wanted to know something about this baby, who was going to change your lives “in ways you can’t even imagine yet,” according to his mother. All he had to go on so far was that he thought the baby was a boy.

But he kept that to himself, tracing his finger over the bulge of a head or a butt pressed just above your belly button. Your fingers wound into his hair, scratching his scalp, sending goosebumps shooting across his arms. When he glanced at your face though, your eyes were closed, your expression peaceful for a brief moment.

“You’re tired, jagi,” he murmured and kissed your belly. 

“I won’t admit it.”

“Admit it,” he teased.

“Never.”

You didn’t even complain enough to him, he didn’t think. He wouldn’t have minded. Listening to you narrate every minor ache and pain could have given him a greater window into your experience. Listening was the part he could do.

“You don’t stop for anything,” he said. “But now you have to. We came to the conference. Now we’ll go home and you promised.”

“I know, I promised. We’ll go home and I’ll take it easy.”

He heard the extra something in your voice and knew not to push further. The sadness crept in, like it sometimes still did, even though this baby was healthy and growing well. The timing of the wedding and name change had also been an emotional reset. After two years of trying before you actually got pregnant, only for the first pregnancy to end in an early miscarriage, you’d both whispered doubts to each other in the dark whether a child could actually be in your future. Now you had a healthy growing baby in your belly but still there had been minor disagreements when you thought he coddled or he thought you pushed yourself too far. Would he have packed you up in bubble wrap for the whole pregnancy if he could, like you’d accused him of? Well… maybe.

But this you had agreed on. This conference was the last thing you would leave Marigold for. Now you would go home and be gentle with yourself and let him pamper you until the time came that Jungkook could finally meet his son.

You were still scratching his scalp as he murmured, “I love you.” It still felt bold to say it sometimes, but he was determined to say it every day. This baby would take being loved for granted, it would hear about it so much. No matter what happened, this baby would always know it had a father who loved him.

“I love you too,” you returned, rolling onto your side towards him.

“Yes, and I love you too,” Jungkook conceded.

“You didn’t mean me?” you pouted, a smile in your voice.

“I love you both,” Jungkook said and kissed you before settling on the pillows, your belly cradled between you.

Damn, he was ready to go home. This conference had been really fucking boring.

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

You sat on the living room sofa in the main house, staring at the ground, sulking. They’d called Jungkook. They might as well have called your dad, for all the gravity the call was made with and for all the pleading not to and for all the dread you had about the consequences. Jungkook was going to be unhappy with you. 

Sure enough, you could recognize his steps as the front door swung open, and his serious stare met you a moment later. You tried to return his stare, but then closed your eyes and slumped backwards on the couch, clasping your hands on top of your stomach. He sat beside you on the couch.

“She completely fainted,” Jimin tattled, appearing with a second cool cloth to drape across your forehead. The one Dale had given you was already around you neck, making you shirt uncomfortably wet. Eunju had lifted your feet onto the coffee table and brought you juice and crackers. 

“Hit the ground?” Jungkook asked, eyes wide with concern but brow somehow still lowered. 

You were the one to quickly say, “No, I barely fainted and Namjoon caught me--”

“I caught her,” Namjoon agreed, striding in. He set a glass of ice water on the table as well. “She smelled a little strange--”

“Probably just a sugar crash,” you quickly clarified. “Nothing more serious. You always smell people when they sugar crash. I just went a little too long before lunch. I was just about to stop and eat--”

“You said that like an hour ago, babe,” Maya called. Everyone was circling, bustling in and out of the room. You hated the coddling. You hated the attention. You hated that they had called Jungkook for something this trivial --you were a nurse! You knew it was just a small dizzy spell! 

Jungkook just studied your face for a moment, taking in all the information from these fucking snitches, before touching your shoulder and asking, “You want to rest here? Or should I take you home?”

“Take me home,” you quickly answered. “These mother hens are driving me crazy. I’m fine!”

“Well when our nurse is still working at thirty-eight weeks pregnant and faints, we get a little antsy,” Jimin scoffed. “Complain all you want!”

“How do you even remember the weeks? Do you have my due date penciled in--”

“We all do! It’s right on the calendar in the kitchen! When that baby comes and you stay home to recover, we can all finally let out a sigh of relief,” Maya teased. She stopped behind the couch and pressed her hands to your shoulders. 

“I’m pregnant, not made of rice paper. Women run marathons pregnant.”

“Not this woman,” Dale beamed at you. “So sorry you aren’t Superwoman this time, must be hard for your ego. Now Let Jungkook take you home, get some rest. And Y/N… You don’t have to wait until you’re literally pushing a baby out of your body. Take time off as soon as you need it.”

“I don’t. I just went a little too hard, that’s all,” you grumbled. You held your hand out for Jungkook to take, not amused when he adjusted the damp towels so they would come along for the ride. He helped you to the front door, and held you steady while you stepped into your flats --the big comfortable ugly ones that were the only thing that fit your larger feet right now. Once you were on the porch, he considered asking to carry you down, you could see the thought on his face. But apparently the scowl on your face worked, and he just helped you down and into the car.

It was a quiet ride home, though fortunately not a long one. You could smell the paint from the nursery, making it obvious how he’d spent his afternoon; as soon as you were deposited on the sofa, he ran to open the nursery windows and shut the door so it could air out without letting all the heat out of the house. He disappeared into the kitchen next, returning with an assortment of snacks to display before you on the coffee table a moment later. He brought you a blanket and a pillow and then pulled you feet onto his lap to roll the compression socks down.

“Don’t,” you complained because it felt like too much right now. He was being too sweet and he hadn’t scolded you yet, but you knew it was coming. you could see it on his face, held down by his furrowed eyebrows. “Just… say it and get it over with.”

“If you aren’t going to take care for your own sake, at least do it for the baby.”

You closed your eyes and looked away. That hurt more than you had expected. You felt a painful bubble in your chest at the words.

“I’m not endangering the baby,” you mumbled, gaze shifting to your hands in your lap. “I hate that you think that. You already think I’m a bad mother.”

“Huh?” The shift in his voice was immediate. “I don’t think that. I just meant…” He trailed off; you could feel his careful study. But the painful lump in your throat lingered and you knew if you looked at him you might cry.

“I’m not being reckless. My health is good. I’m taking breaks. I’m just not ready to stop working yet and sit around twiddling my thumbs--”

“You have to slow down.”

“If I slow down any more I’ll just be a potted plant!” you argued. “I didn’t forget to eat, I just wasn’t hungry yet because the heartburn has ruined my appetite. That’s normal! There’s no space for my stomach with the baby in there and it hasn’t dropped yet so--”

“So little meals, you said. You need snacks. You need to stop and rest.”

“I eat snacks but it just happened. I was just dizzy; I probably stood up too fast but everything is fine and I need you to stop acting like I’m just being selfish.”

“You should stop working and stay home and rest.”

“These are my last weeks to get to be Nurse Y/N before I’m just Mom,” you snapped. “Don’t take that away from me. I’m fine. Please trust that I love this baby too and I am not doing anything to endanger it. I knew you’d overreact; they shouldn’t have bothered calling you--”

“Y/N.”

You both lapsed into silence, staring in opposite directions. You were trying not to cry but the exhaustion and the frustration were building. 

“The only thing I can do to help the baby right now is take care of you,” he finally said. “You have to let me do that.”

“I am. But you have to trust me when I say I’m fine.”

“Fainting isn’t fine.”

“They exaggerated because they’re worried.” His sigh revealed what he thought of that answer. “I’m fine. I’ll eat more frequent small snacks and be fine. Please, just… please.” You didn’t know specifically what you were asking for. More trust. Less scolding. More compassion. Less guilt. 

Less guilt was really the thing you needed most. You had been prepared for the physical changes --more or less, anyway. As a nurse, you had taken care of plenty of pregnant women. Sure, going through them was a step beyond but still, you could identify symptoms and normal changes and causes for concern like a textbook. That was comforting.

What you had not been prepared for was the guilt. The fears. The mental and emotional worries that plagued your dreams and your waking both. The bigger you got, the more the world revolved around the baby growing in your belly, but you couldn’t help the small voice in your head crying but what about me? Don’t I still matter? You had made plenty of adjustments and sacrifices as needed to make sure the baby was happy and healthy and growing in there --you’d eliminated certain foods and coffees, just to be safe; you went to bed on time; you napped; you didn’t go visit your grandparents because of the risk of Zika; and so on and so on. Yes, you felt sad about those sacrifices sometimes. Wasn’t that allowed? Or did that mean you were already a terrible mother? You had plenty of people ask why you were still working this late in your pregnancy but it was because you could! You were healthy! The pregnancy was going well this time! And soon you would be home with the new baby for at least six months, maybe longer, and what would that even look like for you? You had been miserable when not working before. Who would you be when you were nothing but this baby’s mother for a while, possibly a long while? Could you be happy like that? Were you already failing for being worried about such selfish things, for still thinking about a career and a life that didn’t revolve solely around your child? Was it because Jungkook had wanted to have a baby more than you had? Were you doomed to be an unloving, terrible mother from the start because he was the one who’d wanted this first, and this was just proof of that? But you did want this baby! You had agreed to this, to the heartbreak of trying again after that first loss, because you wanted this too! Couldn’t you want both?

“Y/N,” he said, hand sliding across your back. You turned into his shoulder and finally couldn’t withhold the tears any longer. They streamed onto his shirt, soaking the fabric as you sobbed. He held you, but the position was awkward with your belly taking up so much space in between. He wound up dragging you onto his lap, tangling your bodies together the way puppies did, piling on each other to comfort or be comforted.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry. I know everything is harder for you right now. I can’t make anything easier. I’m just trying to take care of you. You work so hard all the time and I just want you to know that it’s ok for growing a baby to be enough.”

It wasn’t like him to stream out words like that; he must feel really bad and that soothed you too, reminding you that he didn’t know what the fuck they were doing either. 

“I don’t think I’m very good at being pregnant,” you admitted, pressing your face to his neck. 

“You are growing a healthy baby so you are very good at being pregnant. You are just not good at slowing down.”

“I don’t want to slow down,” you argued. “I listen to my body; I stop when I have to. But when I feel fine… Everything is changing and I’m trying not to complain or fuss but--”

“Complain to me, jagi! I’m your mate!”

“Yeah, but…”

He pressed his nose to your temple, rubbing, then nipped your nose and said gently, “I want to hear. I want to know. I don’t know anything. I can learn from you.”

“I don’t know anything either, Jungkook. I mean, I know about gestation and healthy baby size and pregnancy food needs. But I don’t know how to… how to become a mother, at least not a good one.”

“You’re a good mother already.”

“I’m not. I can’t be. I love this baby and I want this baby but everyone is saying I need to stop working, stop going places, stop doing things. Everything needs to be about the baby. So am I supposed to just stop existing except as a mother? I don’t know how to blend those things! And I want to work, I need to work, because I’m good at it but I’m not good at a having a baby like this and then at least if I fail as a mother, maybe I can make the baby proud as a nurse.”

This said, you leaned heavily against his shoulder again, a hollow ache where the words were no longer bricked up inside you.

After a while, Jungkook sighed, “I don’t know anything about it either. You know a lot about babies and I don’t know anything. But I think we’re going to be a happy family. I know it. We’ll do our best and love each other and I think that’s enough. All I ever wanted was to know my parents loved me.”

“I don’t know if my parents loved me,” you admitted, “I guess they did. But I don’t think they liked me very much.”

“I think we’ll like our baby.”

“I think so too,” you readily agreed. “It’s just that… everything is about to change. I’m so excited to meet this baby but I’m so fucking scared of getting this baby out,” you admitted with a small laugh. “And then… then what?”

He let out a deep breath and admitted, “I didn’t know you were scared about it too.”

“Of course I’m scared about it. You are?”

“Yeah.”

“You just act so… confident about everything. You take such good care of me and you remember everything and you’ve worked so hard on the nursery. You wanted this baby so bad, you were ready. I mean, I want it too! It’s just that the closer we get, the more I worry, am I really ready? What if I lose myself? I just become someone’s mom, nothing more… what if that’s not enough for me?”

“You will always be more than that,” he corrected. “Our baby has a busy mother. That’s ok. We said that. When you want to go back to work, if we need someone home with the baby still, I can do it. Why does it have to be the mom who stays home?” You had said that, as you’d imagined the many different ways your future could look. You didn’t know if Jungkook had been serious about that, about his willingness to stay home. You didn’t think you could bear the guilt of leaving your baby home, failing as a mother like that --you were supposed to want to stay home, weren’t you? And maybe you would want that! And maybe he wouldn’t want to! You couldn’t say because you just didn’t know what to expect!

“How can you say you’re scared when you sound so certain about everything?” you sighed enviously.

“I know we will figure it out. I can do anything with you in my corner and I’m in your corner so… we’ll be good.”

“Really? A boxing reference?”

You felt his smile as he kissed your jaw and shifted on the couch so he could drag the blanket over you both.

“Yes,” he said. “I know more about boxing than about babies but I will work harder at this than anything in my life. Together we’ll make it work. Not everything will change.”

“Are you going to say we’ll still have each other?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. His fingers were softly stroking your jaw. “I worry about things too. You’ll love the baby and forget about me…”

“I won’t,” you gasped, leaning away and staring into his face. “You’re my love, my mate, my partner. The baby won’t replace you!” He did not actually look too worried about it though.

“A little bit in the beginning. Taehyung talks to me about it. But I know you love me and you need me and it’s like that for me and we are two strong people, we can handle a baby,” he grinned. “A baby is little. We can win.” It made you smile, even laugh a little.

“Yeah, what’s one small baby against us, huh?” You leaned back against his shoulder and clung to his faith in you as a mother, his confidence you could figure this out. You wanted to be as certain, but you were still scared. What if you were wildly inept? What if the baby didn’t like you, or you struggled to love it, or you grew bitter about the career sacrifices that would have to happen to make sure the child came first as it deserved? What if you didn’t like being home with it? What if --as you had once feared-- mothering just wasn’t a thing that came naturally to you? Anytime you had hinted at that fear with Yejin or Helene or your grandmother, they’d laughed: you are full of love; you don’t have to be exactly like any other mother, but you are going to be a wonderful mother to your own wonderful baby because you have been a healing mother to so many people already. 

“You’re going to be such a wonderful father, Jungkook. You are strong and soft and wonderful in all the right ways.”

“Everything I know I learned from you,” he prodded. 

“That’s not true, but thank you.” You kissed the warm side of his neck. “Now what can you tell me to make me feel better about the pain of childbirth?”

“You are the strongest woman I know--”

“No no, that doesn’t work.”

“Drugs,” he said. “Lots of drugs. Epidural, yeah? Yeah.”

“We’ll see, I don’t know… I just don’t know anything, Jungkook.”

“You know a lot, Y/N. You just care a lot too.”

“I do care a lot.”

“I know. So it’s ok.” He rubbed his nose against yours and nipped again, kissed down your cheek and nipped your jaw. It was crazy how used to this form of comfort you had become over the years; you craved it when you were stressed or upset. You let your head fall back so he could nip along your neck. The mental image came again, of Jungkook nuzzling and cuddling your baby like this, you draped around them. It was the thought that had finally changed your mind on having a baby, too, the certainty that Jungkook was going to be a very, very good father, and that you would do your best to keep up. 

You sighed, going limp in his arms, until he finally ran his nose up to your ear.

“Sleepy jagiya,” he murmured. 

“Mm-hm.”

“I’ll carry you to bed?”

“Mm-hm, ok,” you conceded, knowing he took great pride in still lifting you with the additional weight. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bedroom. “Wait, are you almost finished with the nursery? I want to see.”

“Later. Rest first. The nursery will still be there.”

“But you’re working so hard on it--”

“You are working even harder,” he argued. “Now you need to rest.”

“Do you think that tone will work with our child?”

“I sure hope so.”

“Me too,” you laughed, and let it work with you now, especially since he let you pull him down to the bed to nap with him. Tangled in his arms and legs, you felt better. Almost like you could do this, at least if you had him by your side, and all your friends who had overreacted today because they cared. Maybe, if you tried really hard, this could all be enough for the baby.

“Everyone just wants to be loved,” you whispered to yourself.

“You overflow with love,” Jungkook whispered back. “It’s not a concern.” He sounded so serious about it, so certain. It was the last reassurance you needed to curl up on your side, pillow stuffed between your knees to cushion your joints, and fall asleep.

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

Damn. Damn he had been an idiot. Jungkook sat in the chair beside your  hospital bed, the plastic tub with your baby inside boxing him in, and stared at the wall. 

Damn, he had gotten everything so very wrong.

He was in shock. He knew that. He remembered the feeling of getting dragged from a fire and tossed into a cold pool, the way your skin tingled and your lungs burned and your eyes ached to close for a while, the way you were sweaty and cold at the same time. 

Had it all really happened? Really?

He glanced at the bassinet and couldn’t believe it was a real baby inside. He ought to be holding it but it was asleep and he didn’t want to disturb it, even though you had begged him to hold it while you slept, afraid it would feel cold and lonely. Your faith in him had been astonishing; seeing how much strength you took from him was incredible and he felt completely insufficient for it. What good had he been? No good, not good for a single fucking thing!

Sure, he’d held your arm as you paced through your contractions. He’d held your hips and pushed into your lower back as you had used the baby crib he’d built to help you sway through the worst of the pain. It had made him sick to see you in pain but he’d bitten that back and done his best to walk you through every survival method he knew.

Sure, he’d maintained his calm as he drove you to the hospital, and held your hand through checking in, and only snapped a little when the nurses were taking too long getting you into a room. He’d been calm and thorough about attending to your every need, desperate to do anything when it seemed like his options to help you were limited. This is normal, the nurse had assured you. Just a few hours and then you’ll have your baby.

But the hours dragged on. And on. And on. Your pain broke him, froze him, re-animated him. The nurses didn’t like him, he knew that, because he didn’t have any patience for their glacial pace when you needed something. He didn’t like how they could be chatting and laughing and happy while checking your’s and the baby’s vitals, not when you would curl forward, trying to escape the contractions. Pain was inescapable, and having to watch you go through it… it was too much. He had not been prepared for how terrible it would be. He’d been so focused on the baby and taking care of you throughout your pregnancy that he hadn’t worried enough about this part. He’d trusted too much the idea that women did this all the time. It had left him unprepared for the gut-wrenching agony of watching you suffer.

And then things got worse. The baby wasn’t moving. Your water had broken too long ago and you were starting to get a fever and the baby was being stubborn. Oh no, he’s going to be like me, Jungkook had fretted, long past rational thought at this point. He’d stood dumbly by as the nurses and doctor and you had discussed, as they’d tried to ask him his opinion, as he’d only nodded and motioned to whatever you said without understanding what was happening because internally he was panicking and this time you couldn’t soothe him through it.

Sure, he’d walked behind the gurney as they’d carted you down to surgery. He’d put on the gown and mask and papery hat and stood by your head, where the nurses nudged him. He’d held your hand, unable to look away from the exhaustion and fear on your face as they raised a curtain to perform the surgery out of your view. Surgery. Real surgery. He’d seen into your body as the doctors lifted a baby out of you.  You had cried as the baby screamed and he just stared, too slow and unresponsive to even cut the cord. He had expected to immediately recognize the baby’s scream, but it was just a noise, not even a very concerning one at the moment. He’d watched you nuzzle the baby under your chin, a swollen, red, angry baby that looked nothing like he’d imagined other than the dark hair like his own. He’d even touched your face to reassure you, pulled your gown back into place where it had been knocked around in the chaos; but even that had been wrong, you’d been trying to unsnap it so you could hold the baby against the warm skin of your chest. You already knew what to do with your upset child. The baby had drawn his attention less than the long line of stitches being sewn into your lower belly; you would have a big scar, a reminder of what he’d watched you endure.

Things were blurry after that. You were drugged in a way that scared him, but your attention was so focused on the baby that his fear didn’t matter right now much anyway. You were taken to a recovery room, the baby was looked at, everyone was said to be healthy and fine. Jungkook had called some people, his parents, your grandparents, Jimin. He hadn’t been able to tell them much except that everything was apparently fine, confused when they asked if he was all right and if you had named the baby yet.

The baby twitched in its cubby. He peeked down, but the baby settled back to sleep so he didn’t touch it. When he leaned back in his chair, he read the card on the side again: Baby Girl Jeon, DOB 2-24.

A girl! Even the baby had turned out different than his expectations for what “becoming parents” would go like. A girl…

He stared at the wall and wished he could fall asleep but knew it wouldn’t come. He felt like he’d been through the worst fight of his career. He felt like he’d been through a war. In reality, he felt nothing, just sat there shocked about it all and wondering how he could be so useless and how his expectations had been so fucking wrong.

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

He must have drifted off again without realizing it, because noise in the room woke him. He was embarrassed to find he’d failed even as a guard; two nurses were helping you sit up while a third finished changing the baby’s tiny diaper. This kept happening. He was trying his best to stay awake, so he could be on hand to get anything you needed --ice, water, applejuice, more blankets, more pillows, move the pillows, turn on the TV, turn off the TV. The pain from your incision definitely was worse the next day, and they took your catheter out but you needed help walking to the bathroom. You were slow and fragile-seeming and it terrified him, and so he wanted to be always on hand to help you.

But once again he’d fallen asleep in that uncomfortable chair, tricked into it by his own tired brain. 

Quickly he sat up, leaning close on the edge of the bed, but you didn’t seem upset with him about sleeping. You scratched his jaw and smiled at him, then held your arms out as the nurse lowered the baby into them. Whatever pain or lingering trauma you must have from giving birth in that manner, you seemed utterly distracted from it whenever the baby was near.

“Isn’t she perfect?” you whispered. He watched you stroke the baby’s downy black ears, still paperthin and folded up, just barely poking out of the shock of dark hair. The baby looked up at you with dark eyes beneath a heavy brow; very much like the baby pictures Jungkook’s mother had texted you to compare earlier this morning. He worried the baby might have his nose too, and how would that look on a little girl? 

“Well I think she is,” you cooed, making him realize he hadn’t answered yet.

“She’s small,” he said. No, that wasn’t good enough. “She…”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Huh?”

“I know you wanted a boy,” you said. He didn’t have to see your face to hear the threat of tears.

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m not disappointed. I’m just… surprised.” He leaned down on the bed beside you, watching the baby, trying to feel that connection he had hoped would come immediately. Even seeing his own image reflected back at him in tiny ways didn’t make him look at this infant and know anything more about it than he had when it was still tucked away in your stomach. Logically he knew the baby would grow and get more personality and someday be walking and talking like Taehyung’s kids but… He realized you were watching him stare at the baby, so he added, “I don’t know anything about little girls.”

“You don’t know what a little boy would have been like either,” you argued, the same argument you’d had while pregnant. “A girl could still like cars and fighting and--”

“I don’t want anyone to like fighting.”

“--And a boy might have liked dolls and tea parties.”

“I know that,” he insisted. “It’s not important, Y/N. I’m not disappointed.”

“You can’t be disappointed. She’s perfect.” You hooked your finger into a tiny fist. The baby smacked its lips and wriggled in its blanket, curling closer to your chest and nodding off. Apparently eating and a diaper change had been too much excitement and worn it out. 

“I’m not disappointed,” he insisted again. “Are you?”

“No. What? Why would I be disappointed?”

“Ears. Tail.”

“Yes, my daughter is a hybrid, so? So is my mate”

Jungkook nodded but secretly didn’t believe you. You were drugged and tired and not thinking about it because you couldn’t actually be that oblivious. With a human mother, the baby would qualify for human citizenship, but with hybrid features, it would face the same barriers Jungkook did. Even though you had spent your life working with hybrids, you could still move fluidly between the worlds. You didn’t understand. He had hoped his child would be spared this; some mixed children didn’t even have the ears of their hybrid parent, apparently the most dominant of hybrid features. He had hoped his child would just be a boy copy of you. That would have been the best, easiest future. This child… he just didn’t know how he was possibly supposed to protect it. He’d barely managed to protect you for the last nine months.

“I know I don’t know what it’s like to be a hybrid,” you said, once again making Jungkook suspect you had secret mind-reading abilities. “And I wouldn’t wish any struggles on my own child. But I’ve spent my life trying to make this world a better place for hybrids, and now I’ll keep fighting that fight to make it a better place for our daughter. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe and happy and healthy. She’s beautiful and I wouldn’t change a thing about her, certainly not to make her look less like my handsome mate.”

He pressed his face to your arm, only to be stunned when you added, “Please don’t scent me though until you’re willing to scent her too.”

“What?”

“You haven’t yet.”

“She’s so small,” he defended.

“Ok. But usually hybrids scent their babies right away--”

“You aren’t a hybrid, don’t lecture me.”

You went silent. He cringed. You nodded and he could feel the weight of your swallow, the way you bit back tears.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to your arm. But you had said not to scent you, so he didn’t. He should scent the baby instead but he’d said the truth. It was so small. A boy baby would have been bigger, right? Sturdier? The boy baby he’d seen in his head was bigger.

He wasn’t soothed by your answer, “I know.” It felt like there was a but in there. But… you aren’t being the partner I need. But… you aren’t being a good father. But… you don’t belong here in this human hospital. But… it’s your fault I had to go through all this pain. But… it’s your fault our baby has dog ears and a dog tail and will never look just like every other little girl. 

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. It was lame, a lame attempt to still be useful to you.

“My stitches are hurting pretty bad,” you admitted. “Can you ask the nurse when I can have more pain medicine?” 

That he could do. He rose swiftly and headed for the door, but paused and looked back. He watched you stroke the little head one more time and kiss it, then gently tug a yellow hat down over the tiny head. He heard your sniffle from the door. You thought he hated the baby. He didn’t hate it! He just didn’t know it!

Fuck. He was failing. He’d been a father for less than forty-eight hours and already he was failing.

In his panic, he forgot about the medication. He blanked on it completely, he got distracted by his own frustrations, and he left the hospital to go for a jog to clear his mind. He’d come back a new man, he would! He psyched himself up about all the things he’d do better when he got back from his jog. He’d change diapers! He’d have the nurse show him again how to swaddle! He’d start writing down your medication times so he could keep it up when you went home and there wasn’t another nurse there doing it for you-- fuck, your medication!

He turned and jogged back to the hospital, determined for a better round two.

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

The hospital had not let you stay long. Three days didn’t feel like long enough, and Jungkook had tried to argue with the doctor about it, but you already knew the lines the doctor responded with. You were healthy and your sutures were healing nicely. The baby was healthy and even eating nicely. You were a nurse, living in a sanctuary with other medical staff nearby. Jungkook was even suddenly being more helpful! He hadn’t scented you daughter yet, but he was changing diapers now, doing his best to swaddle the baby in a blanket, and even watched over her closely when you slept. You would wake that final day and night to see him staring down at the baby, or even reaching out a finger to touch her little cheek, and while it wasn’t scenting, it looked more like acceptance.

So there was no reason to stay longer in the hospital other than your own fear over the reality that you and Jungkook were actually parents now, parents with a baby to take care of, with the added complication that you were recovering from more of a surgery than you had expected. Of course you had known there was a risk of Cesarean. You had wanted to avoid it, to avoid the additional healing process. But by the time the doctor decided it was time, you’d had no fight left in you and had known it was the right call, for your baby’s safety and your own. 

But it didn’t mean you were ready to look at the steri-strips and long scar any more than you had to right now. Your saggy tummy, your painfully swollen breasts and aching nipples and the constant sense you were peeing yourself, none of mattered right now because your body had worked hard and deserved some love and patience. The birth already felt like a dream, except for that damn incision. Besides, you had a beautiful baby who needed you right now.

All of you. Mi-Cha never didn’t need you. If Mi-cha wasn’t on you in some way, she was screaming. Awake? Needs to be held against your heart or tucked under your chin. Asleep? Needs to be held against your heart or tucked under your chin. She might allow you to lay down in bed with her and sleep with Mi-Cha curled up in your armpit, but you were terrified of rolling over and crushing her, which meant Jungkook had to sit there and supervise. 

Poor Jungkook. Poor yourself too, sure, you were exhausted beyond all exhaustion, but at least there was something sweet about the baby clinging so desperately to you. Jungkook tried to be present and helpful and give you a break and it only ever led to screaming, and those little newborn shrieks inevitably led to you bursting into your own frantic tears. Every time he offered to take the baby so you could try to sleep, you could see him bracing himself for the unfailing shrieks. You certainly couldn’t fall asleep like that, but you could shower or quickly eat something or at least change your clothes. Maybe your hygiene wasn’t the best but hey, newborn babies loved the scent of their mama, right?

It was no way to live though. It couldn’t last. After only three days of this, you were nearing a breakdown and you knew it and couldn’t see an end in sight. Jungkook’s parents wouldn’t be here until the end of the following week and they wouldn’t be wizards with a baby. Maya and Ana had both come by, called by you to check the baby and make sure you weren’t missing something wrong because you felt incompetent over how much your daughter cried. It wasn’t like Mi-Cha always just stopped immediately crying as soon as you held her, once she got going about your betrayal for setting her down, or because you failed to anticipate whatever she wanted but couldn’t communicate yet. She was fussy and demanding and beautiful but you felt like your little family was already failing. 

So on day three, it was back to the pediatrician for a second visit for another verification that nothing was wrong. Nope. Mi-Cha was gaining weight at a good clip. She responded properly to stimuli and didn’t react to any presses on her tummy or head or tail. Gas was suggested and you were given drops to coax into her and told to keep trying, sometimes babies just took time to settle into a routine. 

But at home it continued. Jungkook offered to help less, knowing it didn’t do any good, and probably because he was exhausted having his own child scream at him and reject him. It was particularly problematic since you were more convinced by the day that Jungkook hated the baby anyway. It wasn’t a boy. It looked like him. It had puppy ears and a tail and just wasn’t what he meant when he said he wanted a baby. Frankly, his rejection hurt you too, after you worked so long and hard to make this baby. It drove a wedge between you. It had only been four days but it felt like a week had passed and you couldn’t help but feel like your lives had been ruined.

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

“Mi-Cha,” you sang, badly because you were exhausted and had no energy or mental stamina to carry a tune. “Mi-cha, Mi-cha, sweetest lovely Mi-Cha, take a little nap so your mommy can do it too.” You cradled the baby in the crook of your elbow as you tried to unwrap a granola bar because heaven forbid you put Mi-Cha down for a moment. Your hands were shaking at your daughter’s angry shouts regardless, but you thought if you could just eat something you would get a second wind. Or, well, a fiftieth wind. A hundredth wind?

Jungkook watched you from the doorway, reading all of these things, but not sure how to help. His feelings of helplessness had only grown since coming home, watching you get dragged further under the demands of a newborn. You were both exhausted, but he knew you were carrying more of the weight right now and he didn’t know what to do. Belatedly, he realized he could at least open the fucking granola bar for you and dove forward. But Mi-Cha was already angry she’d been held wrong for too long, so by the time he handed the granola bar over, you were crying quietly beneath Mi-Cha’s wail. He held the granola bar up, trying to give you an encouraging smile and knowing he failed.

At that moment, your phone buzzed itself off the kitchen counter and landed perfectly on his foot. He cursed and grabbed it. His mother. Well, he could at least take care of that. He showed you the caller ID and wasn’t surprised by the way your expression sank. But he quickly grabbed the phone away and left the room, answering, making clear to you he would deal with it. His mother had been calling daily, trying to be helpful but adding stress already, even though she and Appa weren’t coming to visit until the end of next week.

“Eomeoni, hello,” he greeted, making sure she could hear the baby in the background before he closed himself into the bedroom. 

“Mi-Cha has strong lungs,” she mused.

“She has strong everything,” he sighed. “Strong lungs, strong demands, strong complaints.”

He could hear the amusement in her voice as she said, “Yes, yes, a new baby is difficult. You were hard for us, too, so hard. It takes me back. You sounded just like that. Do all babies sound like it? I don’t think so, I think I know she’s mine by her cry.” He slumped on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes. It was sweet that his parents were so excited about Mi-Cha. While he felt like there would always be a pebble in the shoe of their relationship, their instant love and adoration for the granddaughter they hadn’t even met yet had felt like a new layer of healing over old wounds. But right now, his mother’s sympathy didn’t solve the problem and he was so tired he could barely follow her.

“... so every day after lunch your father would come home from work early and take you so I could sleep for a few hours, and then he’d do it again at midnight. It was odd hours but you just wouldn’t accept anything else; even as a new baby, you had an idea of how the house was going to go!” It was interesting to hear that, seeing as his own memories of childhood didn’t recall his parents being pushovers to his whims. 

But something else caught him, and he asked, “Did Appa have any special tricks? Mi-Cha won’t let go of Y/N. She wants nothing to do with me. I know a mother is the most important but--”

“Appa!” she called, her voice loud through the phone as she forgot to pull away. Jungkook flinched. “Appa! Talk to your son, he wants to know a father thing. I don’t know what you did to Gukka so he’d be quiet with you when he was a-- yes, talk to him.”

The phone changed hands and Jungkook rubbed his forehead as Appa greeted him, asked about the baby, asked about you, and only then said, “Yes, ok, what is the question?”

“Eomeoni says when I was baby, you would take me so she could sleep. Y/N needs to sleep but Mi-Cha just screams all the time. How did you do it?”

“Oh, well, I… I didn’t do anything remarkable,” he said, sounding confused by it. “You were a good baby. We’d just do our thing, father and son.” Jungkook physically cringed, it hurt his stomach; he realized he hadn’t eaten in a while either. He needed to make something better for you both to eat than granola bars and cold noodles. 

“I don’t have a son,” he said, sharper than he would have meant on a normal day.

“Yeah, we didn’t use our dongles!” Appa laughed, loud and easy and relaxed. “What’s different? You can tell me. I kept you and your eomma scented well enough. I’d bundle you up in a little sash against my chest, and off we’d go!”

“Go where?” Jungkook asked, brow lowering. 

“Oh, we just walked. We walked and walked, it was nice,” Appa said. “We watched the leaves change and we’d walk to get fresh bread or rice cakes from the shops. You’d cook with me or sometimes we’d watch TV together if it rained…”

That was the thing. That was the thing Jungkook hadn’t tried yet. He’d been waiting until things felt better, until he felt a connection with Mi-Cha, until he felt like she wanted him to be near her, but now Appa had him wondering if he’d gotten the most obvious thing wrong. 

“I have to go, Appa,” he abruptly said. “Thank you. Tell Eomma thank you.” He hung up before anything else could delay and hoped his parents would understand.

He hurried to the nursery, where he could hear you mumbling to Mi-Cha through the closed door. You looked over from the window where you swayed with Mi-Cha under your chin when he flung the door open, and it struck him again how tired his poor love looked. 

“Go sleep, jagiya,” he said, striding forward. You gave him a crooked smile, certain he was joking. But he was determined to give it a solid effort and pressed his face to your neck.

“Gukka--”

“Shh, jagiya, I’ll scent her in a moment. Let her smell me on you first,” he murmured, nipping his way along your neck, rubbing his nose and chin. Even just that eased the tension in his shoulders he’d started to grow used to again; touching you so closely soothed him, like he too was a needy little baby unwillingly separated from warm, soft, wonderful you. Maybe you felt the same; you sighed and lifted your chin, the saddest little whimper coming from you he’d ever heard. He wrapped his arms around you, embracing Mi-Cha in between, something that usually made her cry but right now she stayed silent.

Because he could, he kissed your chin and your nose and your mouth, a real kiss, the first real one since Mi-Cha had been born. 

“We’ll try this,” he murmured. “Maybe it will work.”

“What will work?”

“I’ll take better care of my girls,” he said. Vague, but you didn’t protest as he dragged his mouth down the other side of your neck, and along your shoulders, and then lower, to the soft little head cradled against your chest. 

“You too, Mi-Cha,” he said gently, brushing his nose as carefully as could be against the back of her head. She smelled like fresh laundry and newness and warmth and some extra thing that was uniquely her, though tied to himself and you. He could recognize this baby anywhere already, he knew that; he could pick her clothing out of a pile, no problem; he could find her no matter how far she wandered once she was mobile.

But now he added his scent directly to her, strong, so there’d be no question about the slight thread of relation. He pressed it to the back of her head and her little shoulder and her arm and leg and her back. You twisted her the other way and he worked his way back up, even peppered little kisses against her face and hair because she wasn’t crying about him being so close. He felt affection blossom in his chest. She wasn’t asleep, but she just lay there quietly under this, as if it was something she wasn’t sure of but understood had to happen. Her wispy hair stuck out funny around her little ears, which had already gained some shape but now looked more like little cat ears. They’d grow fast, he knew, and soon flop like his had in his baby pictures. And probably someday, maybe after puberty, they’d grow a little more, get some more shape to them, and no one would ever cut or tear them. No one would ever touch her little tail, which suddenly brushed against his hand.

“Was that a wag?!” you gasped, noticing it too. “It can’t be! That milestone isn’t until like a month.”

“I don’t know if it was that,” he admitted, but grinned because he’d instantly thought so too, just a little tap like that. “Still, it means she’s strong… Let me try…” Your eyes went wide. You both held your breaths as Jungkook lifted Mi-Cha out of your hold and instead tucked her under his own chin. 

“Shhhh. Hello, Mi-Cha,” he said quietly. He froze, worried the rumble of his voice in his chest would set her off, but she didn’t make a peep.

“She’s still awake,” you said. “But…”

“But she’s not crying.”

“It worked!” you squealed. You pressed your hand to Mi-Cha’s back, adding your own soothing, “There you go, sweet girl. Appa has you now. See? You’re safe and happy with Appa.”

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Go.”

“What?”

“Go sleep! I’ve got her.”

“Oh my god.” You stared at him, like this hadn’t even occurred to you. “Oh my god!” You pressed your hand to your mouth, then kissed them each on the cheek, then fled the room, shuffling as quickly as you could so recently after giving birth. It was almost enough to make him laugh; he could hear the weight with which you hit the bed in their bedroom, like you’d jumped onto it so nothing could pull you back. He hoped you hadn’t actually done that; your incision was still healing!

Mi-Cha stayed quiet beneath his chin. He could feel the tiniest flutter of her breath against his collarbone. But she was only wearing a diaper, freshly changed; you hadn’t dressed her yet and he worried Mi-Cha would be cold in these final days of February, even though the house was warm.

“Ok, princess pup,” he murmured, “You need clothes. Let’s see… let’s see…” He heard the tiniest chirp and bounced over to the small mirror so he could see her reflection. Her eyes were open, looking curiously around, like she was surprised by her own acceptance of this new situation. 

“Damn, you’re cute when you aren’t screaming,” he grinned because damn, he looked pretty cool holding a baby like this. 

It was tricky picking out new clothes for her without risking his grip on her. He wound up sliding her down to nestle in the crook of his arm, and while she refused to let you hold her like this, she deemed it acceptable with Jungkook. The drawers in the closet were full of baby things in all soft hues, though a few fun outfits in darker colors, mostly his friends poking fun of his own fashion style. He picked a cozy green knit sleeper and talked to her as he dressed her, since he had to put her down. She fussed about it, so he moved quickly, tucking in her little feet and little hands, careful that her tail curled comfortably up the back. Eomma had already said she was looking forward to doing all the clothing alterations when she arrived, so Mi-Cha could proudly show off her little tail. 

“You look like a little green bean,” he admitted, lifting her quickly so he could shuffle a swaddle sack into place and tuck her into it. He started to pull a hat on but she fussed enough he left it off. But he still worried her head would get cold, so he found a bigger hat, one that dwarfed her little head when he pulled it down, but she accepted that. “So cozy, so cute,” he narrated, snuggling her back down into his arms. “We won’t go far today for our first adventure. Just to the kitchen to get some food and then back here. We can sit in the comfy chair and watch the flowers grow,” he suggested. “Eomma isn’t far, she’s just sleeping…”

Even after he had eaten carefully around her and returned to ease into the nursery chair, Mi-Cha still hadn’t cried. He worried she’d be getting hungry, but instead her eyelids started to droop as he settled down with her, draping a blanket over them both. She curled up against his chest, little mouth opening and closing a few times in the tiniest yawn. His heart briefly stopped when her little covered hand pressed against his chest and she closed her eyes and dozed right off.

“I see,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Mi-Cha. You surprised me in every way. But I made you wait while I sorted my shit out and that’s not right. I’m your appa, it’s my job to make sure you are loved and safe even when you surprise me.” He hunched over to kiss her little nose and stroked her cheek. She looked asleep, her breathing a bit heavier, but he still assured her, “You are loved and safe and I don’t know anything about you yet other than that you’re mine, and that’s enough for now.” He hesitated, then grinned, “And I think you are maybe stubborn too.”

Jungkook had nowhere else to be and nothing else to do that was more important than rocking his daughter, holding her close while she slept, and letting his mate finally get some sleep before you murdered someone.

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

You woke slowly from you nap and stretched, mindful of the C-section scar out of habit though several months after surgery you were feeling pretty good. Your shirt had hiked up while you slept and you glanced down at the smile on your lower belly --that was how Jungkook had described it between kisses along the curve of it a week or so ago and the comparison had lingered. Not that you’d had any doubt, but a new scar was nothing unattractive to Jungkook, once he’d had a few good visits with his therapist to work through the trauma of childbirth. You had not realized ahead of time how upsetting that would be for him, but it explained too the first rough few days in which he’d kept his distance from the small baby whose birth had caused your pain, blinding him briefly to the much greater joy Mi-Cha brought.

You felt bad not to have anticipated that. But how could you have predicted the pain, the fear, the exhilaration, the euphoric joy of holding your fresh little newborn against your chest? Even thinking about it now, as you often did, made your fingers itch to grab those little thighs, brush back the little fluff of hair, or stroke along your daughter’s tail like you’d formed a habit of. Tail! You had known of course that your daughter could have some level of hybrid chimera. You hadn’t expected it to be strange to you after how much time you’d spent with hybrids and that was the only thing you’d predicted correctly: it didn’t seem unusual to you at all. Every centimeter of that baby was beloved and precious and perfect. You spent hours going over every bit of your baby, relishing in every dimple, every downy patch of hair, every little blink and hiccup and murmur. 

Fears that you would have a baby and not know what to do with it? Absolutely the truth, you still couldn’t believe you had a baby, and it still felt like you were living hour to hour trying to keep Mi-Cha fed, bathed, and entertained.

Fear that you would have a baby and not love it? Absolutely unfounded. Even once the baby was an impossible being in your arms, no longer a series of flickers and thuds within your belly, you’d loved her. Even when that tiny baby had pushed you to the brink of collapse, when you and Jungkook had cried together in shared frustration, even when Mi-Cha had ruined not one but two of your shirts with diaper explosions, even then your love had been unshakeable. Maybe not your nerves or patience, but your love.

Now the quiet house was disorienting, even though you knew it was nothing to be worried about. Jungkook took her out for a walk just about every day at this time, so you could have a rest before Jungkook would head out to the restaurant for his evening shift if he had one. You didn’t know how long he’d be gone or when he’d return so you sent him a quick text letting him know you were awake. 

[JK<3]: on my way how’s mi-cha doing? I miss her [Y/N]: very funny

You cut up an apple and wandered outside so you could watch Jungkook arrive. Sometimes they biked and sometimes they drove in a cart if you were going along but today he’d walked. With your apple slices cupped in your hand, you stood on the wooden front porch and watched him come down the road, a flowery sunbrella shielding himself and the baby from the spring sunshine. He was flushed and sweaty from the walk by the time he stepped up and Mi-Cha’s head turned side to side from where Jungkook had her wedged in the front carrier; she could obviously sense you.

“My sweet baby,” you cooed, leaning down into view and stroking her hair where the headband with the big black bow didn’t cover it. The bow matched the little romper she had on, black and red polka dots with an all-black diaper cover. She looked like a little ladybug and it was definitely not what you had put her in but Jungkook, you had learned, found a lot of enjoyment in carefully choosing Mi-Cha’s outfits for their walks. He liked her in matchy-sets, whereas you really just put on whatever was clean and within reach --because it usually didn’t stay clean for long. She’d developed pretty bad acid reflux, which meant she spit up a lot and preferred to be upright and held, none of which her daddy minded at all. He’d proclaim “Time for a wardrobe change” every time he hauled her off to clean her up.

“Where were you too off to today?” you asked as Jungkook brushed past you to toss the diaper bag down just inside the door. You always smiled to see it, because Seokjin had tried to buy him a sleek black leather “dad-bag” that even you had expected him to love, and Jungkook had gone off about how dads didn’t need separate bags and who cared if this one had yellow and green pastel polka dots, and if anyone had a problem with it they could fucking fight him. 

“Mr. Moon,” he answered. You helped him untie and unbutton and untwist to pull Mi-Cha out of the carrier and took a moment to cradle Mi-Cha to your chest and kiss and nuzzle her face. Even though no scent really got applied, Mi-Cha loved it, and Jungkook had assured you there was a little of your smell that transferred. Mi-Cha gurgled and kneaded her fingers against your shirt, her little tail thump-thumping against your arm. 

“How’s he doing?” you finally answered. Jungkook gave you a look that said enough. His health had continued to deteriorate; Alya had earned her nursing license just in time to become his full-time caretaker. You knew the end was going to be incredibly difficult for Jungkook, who’d taken to Mr. Moon like a long-lost grandson so long ago. You were glad he still spent his afternoons there with Mi-Cha so often. 

The sudden kiss surprised you from the sad thought, and you leaned into it, smiling as his fingers brushed your arm.

“Hm,” you hummed. “Hello.” His bashful smile melted your heart as he made to turn away, but you leaned forward for one more kiss. You had been working on this lately, making a point of physical affection with each other. Mi-Cha had dominated both of your attentions for almost three months now and that wasn’t going to stop any time soon, but you both had admitted that you missed each other. So you had agreed to kiss more, touch more, without reason or explanation.  “I love you,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his jaw.

“I love you too,” came the reply, still music to your ears. Mi-Cha chirped and squeaked, and immediately both parents looked down at her. 

“It was a good walk,” Jungkook said, brushing Mi-Cha’s ear with his finger. “She smiles a lot at other people. I think she’ll be bright like you.”

“Bright,” you repeated. “Such a cute way to say that. But you’re forgetting how moody she gets when she doesn’t get what she wants, or if there’s too much noise, or--”

“Her ears are sensitive.”

“Ya, I know about her ears,” you teased. “Come on, you should drink some water. She’s probably about ready to eat too, unless she had a bottle.”

“She had a bottle,” he confirmed. 

“Ah, what a good girl you were for daddy today,” you cooed, swaying and bouncing her as you walked inside. “Are you going to be so good for mommy tonight?”

“I’m not working tonight.”

“Oh. I forgot--”

“That’s ok. I wrote it down.”

“I’m sure you did. The days sort of run together right now…”

He gave you a sympathetic touch on the shoulder, knowing how doubly exhausting that was, and assured you, “It’s ok. We’ll have a nice night in… unless you want to go out?” You had gone to dinner at Hoseok’s and his fiance’s place the night before though, and eaten an early dinner at the main house the night before that. It turned out, maternity leave was only as lonely and isolating as you let it be here. You had feared your social support would evaporate once Jungkook’s parents went home after two weeks but you only had to lift your phone or step out your door to find a Sanctuary’s worth of family eager to help.

Mi-Cha’s little mouth pressed against your collarbone, little tongue lapping at your skin. For most babies, that meant hunger, a rooting response meant as a gentle, early threat. But Mi-Cha liked to make things a little complicated by having a second behavior that was similar but not identical to rooting. Her little mouth latching onto something that was very clearly not a nipple for this adorable and maybe odd child meant she was sleepy. 

“Ah, she’s worn out,” Jungkook sighed, stepping close and touching her back as well as yours. “She was very busy at Mr. Moon’s…”

“Doing what? Is she finally painting?”

He snickered and corrected, “Looking, listening, fussing, holding onto pencils and paintbrushes we put in her hand.”

“Trying to make her a little protegee?” 

He looked serious as he answered, “No, no. We’ll see if she likes painting. She doesn’t have to like painting.” Mi-Cha sucked a little harder, then pulled off and let out a warning fuss.

“All right, sweet one,” you apologized. “Let’s check your diaper and then to sleep.”

“I just changed her, I think she’s fine,” Jungkook insisted, leaning down to sniff her diaper. It was more a gesture than anything though; he could always tell the second she was wet or poopy, even from across the house. At first you had envied him this immediate recognition, but there had been enough really bad diapers that had left Jungkook looking pretty green that now you thought your human sense of smell was maybe not such a bad thing. 

Together you went to the nursery. Despite Jungkook just spending the whole afternoon with Mi-Cha, you could sense his eagerness to still hold her. You felt the same way, desperate to keep that soft, warm little body close after your arms had been empty for that same time; you’d felt the emptiness even in sleep. Even now when you napped, you would sometimes startle awake, reaching for a baby you had dreamed was falling, only to realize no baby was there, and you wouldn’t have left Mi-Cha in a dangerous place to begin with.

So you motioned Jungkook to the glider, then curled up on his lap with Mi-Cha tucked in with you. The deep sigh from Jungkook left no secret how happy he was to have both his girls close. Both his girls. You melted every time you heard him say that. How silly of him to have doubted he could figure out a baby girl, as he’d admitted to you. Those fears hadn’t completely left him, but you knew and he tried to believe you that he’d figure out any other “daughter demands” just like he had changing a daughter’s diaper. He even had a little song he sang to Mi-Cha when he did it! Front to back, just like that; wipe wipe wipe, hush don’t gripe; clean the way, tummy to tail, and then put-a-new-diaper-on-quick-before-you-pee-on-me-again. 

Jungkook was right about one thing regarding Mi-Cha: her emotions were bright and loud and she didn’t hide them. She felt safe and comfortable and loved, you were certain that was why she was so forthright with her happiness, her impatience, and her tiny baby rage that sometimes poked out. Mostly though she was happy, and it showed in the steady little flick of that tail and the curve of her mouth into a sleepy smile as she chomped down on the pacifier Jungkook had finally been convinced would not doom her teeth for life before they’d even grown in. 

“She’s so perfect,” you sighed, an infinite refrain. “I think she’s even prettier now that we get to sleep sometimes.” Jungkook rocked you slowly and brushed his finger against Mi-Cha’s thigh, making her twitch and kick and curl closer to your chest, as if seeking protection. “Let her sleep,” you jokingly scolded.

“Ah, it’s boring when she sleeps, I think…”

“I know,” you admitted. “At least you got to see her all afternoon, I was just asleep and now she’s going to sleep.” Your low voices didn’t seem to bother your daughter at all; she was used to this, after all, being cradled by both her parents as she dozed off. Jungkook’s mother thought they were crazy to let the bedtime routine be so long and drawn out and maybe you’d regret it eventually, but right now, just holding her as she fell asleep was so perfect.

“You were up with her at four-thirty in the morning,” Jungkook pointed out. “After she was already up at one.”

“Yeah… someday when she’s all grown up, we should wake her up as much as she wakes us up.”

“She won’t think we’re as cute as we think she is,” Jungkook pointed out.

“That’s sort of the point of revenge.”

He chuckled and turned the glider slowly so you could see out the window, angled so Mi-Cha’s face stayed in the shadows. Sitting in this glider, watching the flowers erupt from their winter slumber during the early weeks home with Mi-Cha had been magical and surreal. You would never think of early spring the same way again. It would now always remind you of those early days of parenthood with Jungkook by your side. 

“I hope the flowers are still beautiful for her 100 Day celebration,” you mused. Jungkook’s parents would be back again next week and your grandparents were flying in to meet her for the very first time --later than they had hoped, after you grandfather had been too sick to travel after contracting some disease at the site of their latest sanctuary project. He’d pulled through fine but it had scared you; the party would be emotional for many reasons.

“Shhhh.”

“Huh?”

“You are stressed about it,” Jungkook observed. “I know. But it doesn’t matter. No one will notice the flowers because they will just notice Mi-Cha. And no one will care if the party isn’t perfect because it will be just because we’re together.”

“When did you get so wise?” you teased.

“I’m a father now, I’m supposed to be wise.” At your glare, he grinned, “I know you. I know you want to do things to show you care but she knows. I know. Everyone knows.”

“That’s rich coming from the man who gets her dressed for the runway just for a walk down the street,” you teased.

“She likes it,” he defended, carefully reaching around to gently pull the bow off their sleeping baby’s head so she could rest more comfortably. “I don’t like this one as much, I think it’s scratchy, but I think that’s why she likes it.”

“Do you think her ears are still dry?” you frowned, leaning in to look.

“I put the lotion on.”

“I know you did… maybe we should try an oil instead… they look good though. Maybe she just likes the bow,” you conceded. It amused you, thinking about Jungkook trying on different bows and hats and headbands for your infant daughter who couldn’t even sit up on her own. And then nodding as if she’d made her preference known. And then building an outfit around her choice. “You’re so cute, Jungkook.”

“I’m… whatever. I’m just-- it’s just whatever. I don’t mind bows, if that’s what she likes. Or whatever else she likes.”

“You’re not worried she’s going to be into fighting anymore?”

Jungkook tossed the bow over to the basket and answered, “Someday when the time is right, I’ll teach her just enough to make sure she never has to actually fight. Just enough to make someone stop if they’re bothering her. Just in case she’s like you and attracts trouble.”

“I don’t!” you defended. He grinned and kissed you breathless. “Unless you mean that you’re trouble. I sure attracted you.”

“It’s not a very good joke…”

“You’re a turd.”

“Don’t let our daughter hear that,” he playfully growled. “She has sensitive ears.”

You laughed and pressed your nose to his, your arms full of your daughter who’d melted into a warm little pile of mush when she’d fallen asleep, your heart full of love for both of these people.

“Is it as good as you dreamed after all?” you asked.

Jungkook’s furrowed brow could be felt against yours as he insisted, “You’re the dreamer, not me. I never can dream as good as things with you will be. I can’t dream good enough. Everything in our lives is… beyond.”

“Yeah,” you agreed before stealing one more kiss. “Everything in our lives is beyond.”

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Enemies to Lovers

For Maribat March day 23 theme enemies to lovers

Master List

“Kent’s coming over.” Damian stated at breakfast, none of the other Wayne’s seemed phased by this, none but one. 

“Again?” At Damian’s nod she continued, “I’ll be in my room or the Batcave so don’t bring him there.” 

"He will also be bringing a friend over from that exchange program his school did with the one in London." Damian added, Marinette tensed a little bit but didn’t say anything else.

"Is Jon bringing a stranger over a good idea?" Tim asked.

"Tt, Kent said that he would make sure the boy wouldn't wander." Damian answered, after 9 years in the manor he still hadn't gotten rid of his tt habit. 

"I'll be in my room then, I don't want Jon or his friend bothering me." Marinette announced to no one's surprise.

“Marinette,” She turned to look at Dick, “Why don’t you like Jon? This has been going on for almost a year now. Surely you could give him another chance. Or at the very least his friend?” 

“Not interested.” And with that she finished her breakfast and went to go help Alfred with cleaning the dishes, like she did every morning. 

Damian watched his younger half blood sister go, frown evident on his face. Marinette Wayne had been living with them for over a year now. While she was now 16, her opinion of one Jonathan Kent still had not changed. 

After Bruce had a one night stand with her mother she had been born 9 months later, Sabine having no intention of telling Bruce. What she did not expect was that 15 years later she and her husband would be guilty of negligence and emotional abuse of Marinette and custody would be handed to her bio father. Aka Bruce Wayne. 

Marinette changed her last name to Wayne and left her life in Paris behind. There was not much left for her there anyways. But she had never told her new family why she was so insistent on leaving Paris behind. More specifically who she was leaving behind.

The Waynes had gotten used to her bubbly personality in the manor, so they were shocked that when they sent her off to Gotham Academy she was dubbed the ‘Ice Princess’ the next morning.

Turns out after what happened in Paris, she refused to open up to anyone. Most days she was found sketching in her sketchbook, always alone. She still got straight A’s and even participated in a few clubs but never made one friend. It was concerning, how much she resembled Damian in that sense.

One day after patrol, after Marinette headed off to bed they started discussing Marinette's social life. Tim had joked that since she's such a ray of sunshine around them that she should meet Jon. 

This idea was met with positive reactions, all of them agreeing that Jon would be a good influence for her. He was also her age so that was a plus. And he was Damian's first friend, perhaps he could be Marinette's.

That weekend they were proven wrong. Very wrong. Marinette refused to be in the same room as Jon, and when trying to gently push the boundaries she had set, she grew hostile. Something they had never seen from her for as long as they had known her. 

One of their first thoughts was that she was scared of Jon, since he was half Kryptontian. But that idea was quickly shut down after Jason brought up the time she roasted Superman to his face. And had no regrets. 

Then they figured it was because he was still a stranger to her. So they had him over more often. But after 2 months they realized that wasn’t the case either. Yet, none of them had the slightest clue why she was so against Jonathon Kent. 

Not even Jon knew. All Jon knew was that whenever he walked into the same room as Marinette she grew annoyed. He knew she disliked him but that wasn’t what he was confused about. What made him confused was that he could sense her fear. She was scared of him, and he had no idea why. 

He thought about telling the Batfamily, thought about telling Damian, but how would it go over that the latest addition to the Batclan was scared of him. Especially knowing how paranoid and protective they could be. So he just stuck to avoiding her at all costs, it wasn’t that big of a deal anyways. 

Marinette didn’t see Jon as an enemy per se she saw him as an enemy, but he was just someone she strongly disliked, she had her reasons. And while Jon definitely didn’t see Marinette as an enemy, the more she ignored him, and he would need to ignore her, started to grate on his nerves. If she was in a room that he was going to enter he would have to wait for her to leave and vice versa. It was getting tiring and he was starting to dislike her more and more to the point she almost became his enemy. 

Today would be no different except for one detail. That detail being a blonde haired, green eyed, sunshine child that reminded Jon of himself. While Adrien was a little too naive for his taste, they had gotten along great and he wanted to introduce him to Damian. 

Adrien had seemed intrigued by the idea of meeting a Wayne. Apparently his father used to be a businessman and despite the fact he was from France and only moved to London a year ago, he knew of how famous the Waynes are. 

Now here they were, in his dad’s car going to Wayne manor. 

“Okay, you remember what I told you right?” Jon questioned Adrien, he was making sure the boy was prepared and didn’t accidentally stumble upon the Batcave or anything relating the Waynes to the Bats.

“Yes I know, no wandering around the manor, it’s too big and I’ll get lost. No staring in awe at the Waynes, they’re not the celebrities the press makes them out to be. And if I see a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and looks to be a head shorter than me, I am to walk away immediately in the other direction and pretend I didn’t see her.” Adrien listed off. 

“Perfect!” Jon, exclaimed he was going to add more but his dad interrupted him. 

“Okay boys we’re here, I hope you have a good time Adrien.” 

“Thanks Mr. Kent, I will!” Adrien cheerfully replied as he followed Jon out of the car. Sometimes this boy reminded Jon too much of himself. 

“Master Jon, lovely to see you again. Is this your friend?” Alfred greeted them at the door.

“Yep! This is Adrien Graham de Vanily, Adrien this is Alfred, the Waynes butler but is more like a surrogate grandfather if anything.” Jon introduced. 

“Nice to meet you Mr. Alfred.” Adrien stuck out his hand to shake. 

“It is nice to meet you too Master Graham de Vanily, please just call me Alfred.”

“Then you can just call me Adrien, Alfred, my last name is such a mouthful.” 

“Of course Master Adrien, now will you two be staying for dinner?” 

“I don’t know, is it okay if we do?” Jon answered, secretly asking if she would be okay with it.

“It’ll be okay Master Jon. I will inform the others we will be having two guests stay with us for dinner.” Alfred led them inside, “Master Damian should be in the gaming room.” And with that he left. 

“Come on, Damian is probably setting up some games for us to play.” Jon grabbed Adrien’s hand and started dragging him down a hallway. 

Marinette could hear when Alfred had opened the door for Jon and his friend, she didn’t have super hearing but she had trained her ears for listening for certain things. Like the front door opening. 

After a few minutes Alfred had come to tell her the two would be staying for dinner. It wasn’t ideal but she could live with it, all she had to do was give Jon and his friend the cold shoulder for at most an hour. Nothing new to her.

Now a whole hour had passed and she was getting hungry. She still had another hour till dinner so a small snack would be fine. But leaving her room posed the risk of running into Jon or his friend, and she didn’t want to risk an interaction with either of them.

Both of them are with Damian right now. There are no bathrooms near her room or the kitchen. If she hurries it will only take her 10 minutes to get to the kitchen, grab the cookies she made earlier, and come back to her room. And since Damian was banned from the kitchen this week, and both of his new friends are stuck with him, they shouldn’t be anywhere near the kitchen. 

Of course when was the universe ever on her side. She was about to open the kitchen door when someone she thought she would never have to see again uttered her name, “Marinette?” 

She knew the voice. It was the same voice that told her to stay quiet all those years ago when a vicious liar ran her mouth. The same one that said he was on her side then abandoned her the second things got too tough for him. The same one that didn’t speak up whenever she tried to defend herself, instead saying not to rock the boat. And now the owner of that voice was in her home. 

She steeled her face into something cold and emotionless, despite the fear she felt in her stomach and turned to face him, “Agreste.”

“It’s Graham de Vanily now.” He corrected, both forgetting/not noticing the two other people there. 

“Pretty sure it’s Agreste, you know, just like your father.” She bit back, venom laced into every word. 

“He’s not my father, not anymore.” He replied, fists clenched at his sides, staring her straight in the eyes, confusing the other two boys.

“You sure, because you’re exactly like him, you know.” She raised an eyebrow and matched his gaze. 

“I am nothing like him.” Adrien took a threatening step forward and that’s when Damian immediately stepped in front of Marinette, wanting to protect his little sister from this person who just threatened her. Damian was about to ask something but was cut off when Marinette moved around him to face Adrien. 

“Really? Both of you put your own wants and desires above the well being of other people. Your father the people of Paris, and for you it was me.” Jon saw she was visibly shaking, from fear or anger he wasn’t sure. Both emotions were pretty strong for her, and when he focused on Adrien all the boy felt was guilt. 

“Look Mari I’m-” He was cut off by Marinette’s angry shout. 

“You would think that after all you put me through you would at least have the dignity to not call me by a nickname that friends are only allowed to call me. You know, people who actually care about me!” 

“Marinette, I’m sorry okay, that was really dumb of me!” Adrien shouted back. 

“Save it! You can pretend to regret your actions all you want, but people like you don’t change! That’s something you taught me!” Snack forgotten, Marinette ran back to her room and slammed the door. Locking it, she slid down the back of it and just cried. 

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do Graham de Vanily. How do you know my little sister? Why did she react to you like that? What did she mean by ‘all you put her though?’...” As Damian kept spitting out question after question Jon followed Marinette. Her cries were the only thing he could hear right then and there. 

As he made his way closer to her, the cries stopped, only tiny sniffles coming out. “What do you want Kent?” He could hear the shaking in her voice no matter how much she tried to cover it up. 

He sat down, his back resting on the closed door thinking about what he should say. “I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

“I find that hard to believe. You wanted answers didn’t you?” She hiccuped in between words.

“A little bit.” 

“Well once upon a time there was a teenage girl who wore rose colored glasses all the time. She saw the world in rainbows and sunshine, never knowing of the darkness. Then one day a lying fox came into her life, spreading her tall tales. The girl tried to warn her friends and family but they didn’t listen. The fox ripped off the girl’s glasses and forced her to see the world for what it really was. The girl’s love at the time came to her and told her to keep silent, after all the fox’s lies weren’t hurting anyone. It was then she noticed that the boy wore the same glasses she did, only his were much stronger than hers had ever been. But she loved him, so she believed him, that everything would turn out okay, that if it didn’t he would be by her side. 

Slowly those around the girl turned on her, despite her doing nothing wrong. The boy who she once loved left her the second things got tough, never letting her stand up for herself. Soon the lying fox had gotten to her parents, things escalated from there. Now the girl moved to live with her bio family and everything was fine for a time. But then a boy who saw the world in sunshine and rainbows came around, and she was reminded of her past all over again.” Marinette finished her tale, her hiccups had faded away. 

“You don’t like me because I remind you of Adrien?” He hesitantly asked. 

“You don’t just remind me of him. Every time I see you I see him. But you’re also different from him. I don’t know. When you’re all happy and optimistic you're like him, but you also know how to be serious, which is something he could never do. I don’t know how to explain it but I thought if I kept you away from it would be alright. I really messed up didn’t I?” Marinette tried to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. 

“Kind of. But if you want we can start over.” Jon suggested, he wouldn’t mind getting to know the Marinette Damian talked so fondly about, not that Damian would ever admit it. 

He heard the lock unlock and he stood up as the door opened. He turned around and there was Marinette, her eyes were a little red and she had tears stains on her cheeks but she looked much better than before. 

She stuck her hand out, “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Marinette Wayne.” She looked up to look in his eyes and wondered if they were always so blue. And oh god please say she didn’t start blushing!

“Nice to meet you Marinette. I’m Jonathan Kent, but you can call me Jon.” Jon took her hand and shook it, his eyes looked into hers and he couldn’t help but think they looked so beautiful when they weren’t glaring at him. Unfortunately, Damian’s scream broke them out of their daze.

“ANSWER ME!!!” 

“We better go help him.” Marinette pulled her hand back. 

“Yeah we probably should.” Jon replied but Marinette was already racing to where they left the boys. Jon ran to catch up with her, mentally berating himself for thinking his friend’s sister was cute. 

Marinette on the other hand was mentally berating herself for thinking that someone she used to dislike so much was now cute. Not to mention he’s her brother’s best friend. Well, Damian doesn’t have to know she thinks that.

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I’m back from the dead! As I said before in What If... (which you can find on my master list day 22) school sucks and has been burying my grave so I had to focus on that for a while. But I have this and What If... done and am planning on doing the other days I have not crossed off on my Master List. 

This took so long to write and I’m already planning a part 2. Anyways hope u enjoyed!

@maribatmarch-2k21 

[a-very-fond-farewell]

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 22/?

Drama AU [this is just an idea tho, no plot basically]: “Did you find a bitch in me?”

[JC-focus crackships galore baby! title is from a Marina Diamandis’s song (“Hermit the Frog) but that’s probably not important for the non-plot so... yeah]

*

“So... wait a minute.”

“Hit me.”

“I’m still confused.”

“About?”

“Wen Qing... why should I know about your ex’s exes?”

“Because he’s a bisexual menace and I don’t want him to ruin this for me.”

“Jiang Cheng is not going to sleep with me.”

“What do you know tho? He’s that powerful.”

“Babe, I’m a lesbian.”

“And he has dated everyone in our circle of friends and their significant others.”

“Big lesbian energy, you’re absolutely right.”

“Thank you. I taught him well.”

*

or the only au where there’s only drama and no plot and JC went from experimenting to actively turning people gay or straight just because.

[attn: in this au Jin GuangShan is not, I repeat, not a bitch and did not, in fact, have other kids aside from Jin ZiXuan bc I say so. don’t make me complicate this non-existent plot more, please]

[under the cut for more!]

ok. got it. JC knows he’s no saint. hell, he doesn’t even qualify as a decent human being, alright. he’s that socially abominable. but things have escalated to a point where he doesn’t even know what to do. maybe become a hermit, lock his dick and call it a day. yeah, that should do the trick. because he really doesn’t know when it all started... no. that’s a lie. total bullshit. it was Nie HuaiSang.

so, SO, he may have been 16. sweet bush child with no future nor name. a great big sister, a stupid big bro, an overachieving mother, a distant father, the usual. save for fucking Nie HuaiSang and his stash of porn. and JC was straight. and he just wanted to check if the link his high school friend sent him was a jumpscare or not. he closed the tab right after the first moan echoed in his room late at night, he forgot to put the jack in and his earphones were possibly all the way back in his backpack on the kitchen table. fuck his life. and also fuck HuaiSang for being into weirdly sensual artsy porn on top of that. fuck his life. fuck the replay button too.

coincidentally, HuaiSang was his first kiss, first head, first everything only one year later and JC still talks to the jerk to an extent, but not because he wants to, okay? they were experimenting, but JC was still straight. he wanted to do good on his first actual relationship with a woman, whatever that meant for him at the time. HuaiSang was okay with that, the lying bastard. JC may or may not have grown fond of him by the time their graduation came, but they never got around to talk about it because they were stupid and young.

also, HuaiSang’s brother had caught them once and JC had known there and then why his non-boyfriend had decided to cut things loose afterwards. that jock was scary as fuck.

.

then. THEN. university came and Wen Qing was the one reminding JC he was still very much as straight and unbendable as he could get. it took him three years to not yell at her in frustration and ask her out: the sexual tension between them fueled by rivalry over good grades and the scholarship program they both wanted to have access to for their masters.

she had been the one asking him out. JC was lying about having the balls to do it, obviously. the fact that she also discovered to be a lesbian while being with him could have burned less, all things considered, but JC knew he had made love to her and that was enough for him. letting her go had been the right thing to do and they still talk everyday and she loves his nephew and everything is fine.

JC is FINE.

it only took him the two remaining years of his masters to get over her, but. FINE.

.

he’s not gonna talk about her brother. it happened only once. okay maybe once that particular night, at a bar and they were drunk and Wen Ning was nothing like his sister and the boy always had a slight crush on him and he was the one suggesting it, okay?

Wen Ning was kind and gentle and kissed way better than his sister and maybe after two years JC could get over it and move on and they could still be a family after all and that last stall in the staff toilet had been where JC’s bottom cherry was popped and oh gods that felt so good...

“actually, Jiang Cheng, you’re lovely. but I think I’m actually really straight so... I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends?”

yeah. JC’s not gonna talk about fucking Wen Ning.

.

maybe the fact that his brother Wei Ying got married so soon was the reason why. it has to be.

JC hated, HATED Lan Zhan. he hated how much in love they were. how softly they moved around each other. how much he wanted some of that as well.

and since he was THAT petty he had to flirt with Lan Zhan’s brother (Lan Huan) because of it. the man was terrifyingly good looking and a gentleman. so much he didn’t want to give in to JC’s requests... because he already had a boyfriend.

JC knew nothing about said boyfriend aside from the fact that he was apparently a snake, whatever Wei Ying meant by that.

Lan Huan looked very intrigued, but he’s also very loyal and JC admired him for that. he didn’t want to have that conversation tho, the one where Lan Huan politely asked him to stop being so charming in his periphery, so JC decided to hide for a month or two and maybe extended that period of time and never show his face again while he’s at it.

Lan Zhan would have also had his head on a fucking plate if he dared touching his precious older brother so, there’s that as well.

.

so he dated a bunch of people after swiping them on apps left and right, got the hitch out of his system and felt miserable about it.

Nie HuaiSang came back into his life like, the day before JC started working for a new company and asked him out for a drink. HuaiSang was crushing for a man too young for HuaiSang’s comfort because he usually liked older men and this boy was fresh out of his bachelor and JC’s friend was well in his late twenties and didn’t have a job yet and...

JC shut him up with a kiss and they felt slightly less lonely afterwards, until they actually talked about their issues and decided to stop being messy and grow out of their bad habits.

JC still fells sick at the idea of being someone else’s “bad habit” though.

.

Wen Chao was a mistake.

Wen Chao’s girlfriend was a mistake.

Wen Chao’s brother was a mistake.

Their bloody uncle was a mistake.

Their father was an even more spectacular mistake.

JC has yet to find out how he survived the year of his thirtieth birthday, honestly. that shit had been wild as fuck.

.

YanLi and her husband offered JC to look after Jin Ling more often in order to make him feel some sense of safety, he knew that much. at the time, JC hated the fact that ZiXuan worried over him and that his own sister didn’t know how to help him either.

people at work had started to treat him differently as well, now that they knew how messy he was. he started getting treated for depression soon after being promoted to supervisor, his workaholic tendencies saving him from himself after years of sleeping around and drinking too much for his own good.

A-Su was YanLi’s friend from university and was kind enough to ask him out one day. she stayed with him for a year before apologizing to him, saying she wanted something more: a family, a future, something JC could have not given her anytime soon.

.

his brother and Lan Zhan adopted a boy and JC became an uncle for the second time. A-Yuan was difficult to look after, having survived stressful living conditions in his early childhood, so Wei Ying appreciated the extra hand when JC offered it to him and his husband.

looking after children forced him to be not so angry all the time and now Jin Ling had a cousin he could play with and was very glad his Jiujiu was feeling better.

.

when Lan Huan came back into his life, JC had forgotten about even attempting to win him over in his early twenties. it felt life a lifetime had passed.

they started as friends this time around, but JC felt nothing for him and he was okay with that. they were good uncles to A-Yuan and that was enough.

.

what really caught JC off guard was when Meng Yao stumbled upon him one day in midwinter, crashing on JC and sending his briefcase up in the air. the older man was apologetic and kind and gods forbid JC still needed some of that in his life. even if it was the other who had crashed into him, JC offered to buy him coffee since Meng Yao’s cup was now sadly rolling out frame on the snowy path.

to his utter astonishment, Meng Yao accepted.

JC took his time with him, willing to slow down and really get to know this new man who seemed so welcoming and easily approachable... yet so impossibly far and unreachable.

Meng Yao confessed cheating on his previous partner with his best friend five years prior and how he felt undeserving of another chance with someone as kind as JC. he revealed how therapy helped him work on his tendency of manipulating others and that this was the only reason why he wanted to be honest with JC and tell him the truth. so that the younger man could make up his mind if Meng Yao could be granted a chance with him.

this heartfelt confession startled JC in the beginning, especially bc Meng Yao seemed adamant about not sleeping with him for the foreseeable future, unless they talked it out some more.

on JC’s thirty-fourth birthday, one year after meeting Meng Yao, JC asks him to marry him during a pleasant dinner the older man has planned for him.

to his horror and absolute joy, A-Yao accepts.

JC didn’t mind not having been intimate with him until then, nor he would have minded if A-Yao never happened to change his mind on the matter. JC felt safe with him, even when he saw him reminiscing the past with grief painting his features behind his fake smile. JC knew he could give him happiness and so he asked him to meet the Jiangs for the first time to announce the good news.

all but Wei Ying and his husband have arrived the even JC brought A-Yao home, their car stuck in traffic. they start eating without them, with the couple’s permission. YanLi and ZiXuan didn’t bring A-Ling this time around, not willing to leave too soon and waste a chance to really get to know the new member of their family. JC’s father seemed pleased to meet with A-Yao, exchanging pleasantries and conversing about common interests...but JC’s mother is weirdly cold and distant that night.

once dinner came to a end, finally Wei Ying arrived, apologizing profusely for making the lot of them eat without them. however, nor he or his husband could take their eyes off of A-Yao...and neither could JC’s fiancé.

“if you still have some dignity to spare, I suggest you leave this very moment,” said Lan Zhan, the most he has ever spoken in one breath in front of JC. to which, to JC’s astonishment, A-Yao answered by giving JC one last look and the saddest smile he had ever worn...before leaving the house and never look back.

.

confused, heartbroken, humiliated...JC didn’t know what to feel when Lan Zhan explained to the lot of them what Meng Yao had done to Lan Huan after eight years together. cheating on the kindest man alive with an old acquaintance of his that to that day remained unnamed bc Meng Yao refused to reveal their identity.

JC’s mother didn’t have to tell her son that she had known all along something was off about A-Yao: JC could feel it in the way she was looking at him, sitting next to him on the couch. she had a sixth sense for venomous people.

the following year, JC is pretty sure it passed in a blur. he remembers working less hard than what he was expected to do, been consequently and rightfully demoted in his company. others gossiped about him being so proud for nothing in the end, which aggravated his mood.

to his surprise, his mother was the one suggesting him to take a break somewhere nice. to clear his head for a month or two before deciding what to do with his life. Wei Ying booked him a trip to Taiwan the following day and in less than a week JC is on a plane to take a long vacation there.

.

one night, roughly a week after his arrival at the hotel, JC was staring blankly at the skyline in deep thought. he had done the tourist-y shit, eaten all the foods in the best restaurants, brought presents for his family. and now he was bored out of his mind. the same, old questions swirling in his mind: did A-Yao lie when he said he loved him? did he lie just so he could have a fresh start and forget about the past? did he leave bc he felt guilty for his past with Lan Huan? was he serious when he had accepted JC’s proposal?

that’s when Mo XuanYu came barging into his life like a hurricane.

the younger man, seven years his junior, spotted him from an adjacent balcony and proceeded to talk to him as if...trying to de-escalate a suicide attempt from his part.

“sir, please. I’m sure there’s more to life than this. I don’t know what happened to make you feel this way but...everything will be fine in the end. I promise you. I was there. It’s okay. please don’t jump over the balcony.”

JC had no intention of jumping, just to be clear, but something in his eyes must have caught the kid’s attention and...was that a steward uniform he was wearing? did he work for the hotel? JC was none the wiser but that was the first time someone had reassured him so wholeheartedly without even knowing him and it felt...weird.

he started tearing up and the younger man panicked, promising to keep him company all night if necessary, reaching out with a hand to touch JC and reassure him from the other side. JC grasped it gingerly in his own and let himself be coaxed back to the realm of the living by such gentle soul.

JC hated himself for sleeping with him not even a week after their encounter.

but it just felt so good to let himself be guided by hand to the most hidden and wonderful places. away from the tourist crowd, eating delicious food with someone smiling prettily at him. yet he hated himself more for thinking about someone else in bed with him, at least in the beginning.

Mo XuanYu seemed to know anyway, and even encouraged him to just do whatever he felt like with him. casual hookups didn’t have to be meaningful, the younger man had said, and it wasn’t even the first time someone used him as a rebound either. still, something ugly stirred in JC at that.

so he decided to stop thinking about himself for once and shoved every bad memory away. all to pour his affection into someone else and cater to his lover for the following month and a half. borrowed time of a stolen season, during which JC doted on the younger man and learned to listen.

some of the stories Mo XuanYu told him felt slightly familiar, almost as if they had a friend in common and didn’t know who it might have been. after his shift, the younger man would ask to eat with JC and share his frustrations, repaying him in kindness with sweet kisses and even sweeter smiles that felt a little bit too brittle in the morning, when he was bound to leave.

by the end of JC’s trip it was clear to him that he had grown fond of the other man, too much for his own good. but during a vacation, away from home, surrounded by new and exciting things...anyone would have worn a mask to forget their normal life, that reality they would have eventually been forced to come back to.

by the end of his vacation, JC had figured out who their common friend was and remembered how distant Nie HuaiSang had felt falling in love with Mo XuanYu. how sad the younger man’s emotional unavailability has made him feel.

and when they parted ways at the airport, JC kissed him goodbye and never saw him again. the memory of Mo XuanYu’s brittle smile engraved forever in the back of his mind.

.

back to work. back to his bad bitch persona. it felt good to focus on his job and nothing else for a year or two, keeping others at distance while bossing them from his office as he regained his boss’s trust. being promoted a second time gave him the confidence he needed to move on with his life and by his thirty-seventh birthday he could finally see a future for himself.

therapy was helping a great deal and even his siblings seemed to notice his progress, praising him for his willingness to seek help and his hard work.

A-Yuan and A-Ling included: the kids were growing up too fast, involving their uncle in their school projects and plans for mischief any chance they got to see him.

Lan Huan caught everyone by surprise one day in autumn by confirming YanLi and Wei Ying’s suspicions about his breakup with Nie MingJue, Nie HuaiSang’s older brother.

the older man didn’t tell them why he had stepped back from his engagement with the man, aside from saying that the both of them had found out something concerning about their past and common acquaintances. the discovery making them feel so disheartened to the point of braking their engagement of mutual accord.

JC felt bad for the man, knowing how much it hurt to lose someone so dear. not that they had had been able to discuss over the matter much, not even after A-Yao had left. it would have been awkward to talk about their common ex and his penchant for secrets and hurting other people’s feelings.

but they understood each other well enough and started talking more, out of their common interest in their nephews and their well-being.

.

five years later, JC was forty-two and content with his life. A-Ling was close to thirteen and A-Yuan quickly approaching fifteen. he could see them growing up and out of his reach, but their affection for him never wavered. until one day A-Yuan called him in the middle of the night, startling him awake.

apparently, his best friend JinGyi had called him for help after being beaten up by his foster mother and A-Yuan didn’t know what to do. calling his parents would have only alerted and worried Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, who were probably still asleep and hadn’t even noticed their son had sneaked out in the middle of the night.

panicked and worried, JC called Lan Huan instead and they left for the hospital. and something hurt at the sight of such a young boy lying still on a bed too big for him. something else clicked in JC’s brain at the sight but it would have taken him several months to realize what exactly.

furious and restless, Lan Huan spend months looking for the woman who had hurt the child, eventually destroying her in court until he pried a confession out of her. social services immediately alerted as JC inquired over the possibility of giving the child a permanent home himself.

not even a year later, JC was able to welcome the kid in their new house in the quietest part of town. it took a while for the boy to adjust, worrying over JC eventually changing his mind and letting him go. “who even adopts someone close to be of age?” JinGyi had asked, frustrated and certain JC would grow bored of him.

but JC was there to reassure him every step of the way, telling him family was forever and not something easily dismissible. he repeated it until the boy seemed satisfied and called him “dad” for the first time one inconspicuous evening at dinner. if JC cried on his pizza, well, nobody has to know.

.

Lan Huan was glad to listen to JC gushing over his son, more than supportive and borderline enthusiastic to listen to every little progress and new success.

JC knew this was enough, but he would lie saying he hadn’t felt loved by the other man. yet, he didn’t dare hope he could have another chance at happiness at almost fifty years old. Lan Huan himself close to fifty-five and well settled into his career as a lawyer...too much to consider a valuable partnership with someone like JC.

his therapist had bashed him for ages over such insecurity, but JC could only smile at him and shrug. many people didn’t find their happy ending and he still had JinGyi to look after. which seemed a good way to spend the rest of his life.

so it came as a surprise when, one evening, as JC overlooked at Lan Huan building a piece of furniture with JinGyi in their living room, he started crying with love and affection.

“why are you crying Jiang Cheng?”

“I’m happy.”

he really was.

he still is to this day.

*

[they don’t marry, but they do spend the rest of their life together anyway]

I need a break, this took days to make D:

[nayutai]

Baby Don’t Move

⇢ Pairing Yunho x Female OC | Office Worker AU

⇢ Word Count 6.010

⇢ Warnings Yunho has a filthy mouth and a huge dick, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, cursing (in general), aaaand I think that’s it

⇢ Summary Naima Yancey is ambitious and determined so her promotion at DevTech comes as no surprise to anyone. What should be a joyous moment for her is tainted. The promotion comes with a real office, more money, and a higher status, but it also comes with close proximity to the office golden boy Yunho. He gets under her skin in a way no one ever has, but she’s determined not to let this oversized menace ruin this opportunity for her. Turns out, Yunho would rather ruin her instead.

The muted ding of the elevator sounds much too joyful to Naima. Her transfer to the accounts receivable department should be marked by the sound of a death rattle or a dying elephant. A twinkling little ding only makes her even more pissed off. She glances down at the contents of the box nestled in her arms to see the brand new name plate she’d been given for her new office. 

Naima Yancey

Receivables Supervisor

The youngest supervisor in DevTech history according to HR. She guesses that anyone else in her position would be excited about the transfer she’s mentally griping about. It’s not every day that someone like her gets unexpectedly promoted to a supervisory position. Naima has only been with the company for three years and apparently she’d made the most of that time. She pauses next to a sea of cubicles to scan the numbers above the offices on either side of the employees rapidly typing away at their stations. Only a few of them even bother to give her a second glance and for that Naima is incredibly grateful. She finally spots her destination, hiking the cardboard box she’s unloaded her desk into a little higher on her hip. She takes half of a step and immediately regrets every life choice that led her to this point.

“Well look who we have here. Are you lost, Ravioli?” Naima grits her teeth at that god awful nickname, swallowing the scathing retort that’s burning her throat. The deep baritone voice sounding off somewhere over her left shoulder is the cause of every ounce of the work stress she carries in her shoulders like a boulder. 

Yunho Jeong. Beholder of an unfair amount of undeserved beauty and the victim in Naima’s most murderous dreams. 

“You were in the staff meeting when they announced my promotion, Yunho.” She deadpans. Her skin is starting to itch from the prolonged exposure to the man in front of her. The smirk that is practically permanently etched on his face does nothing but piss her even more. She wants to smack him until it disappears.

“I’m just messing with you, Ravioli. You know that. Welcome to Receivables.” He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he starts backing away. “Try not to fuck it up!” Naima can feel the thick cardboard of her box bending to the forceful clench of her fists. The weight of of nearly fifty pairs of eyes keeps the scathing remark she wants to make from bubbling up. 

Fucking Yunho. Naima hasn’t even been in Receivables for an hour and she’s already doubting if the extra money is worth the headache. Okay, who is she kidding? The extra money is definitely worth it. Getting ahead of her bills had felt like the pipe dream of a wistful millennial before it had become an unexpected reality just last week. No way she lets some oversized preteen bully ruin this for her.

Naima is almost done putting her things into her new desk when the sound of an office door loudly closing disturbs her concentration. She looks up to see the source of the noise is none other than Yunho himself. All of the offices on this floor conveniently have floor to ceiling windows next to the door which allows people directly across from each other to see into the other person’s office. Naima is absolutely horrified at the implications of this as Yunho stares her down with a satisfied smirk. It’s obvious now that he slammed his door on purpose to get her attention. 

“This is the worst day of my life.” Naima mumbles to herself as she does her best to ignore Yunho’s gaze burning into her forehead. 

IT arrives a few tense minutes later to set up her docking station and get her started on the training modules for her new job duties. She’s taking notes on how to perform certain functions in the billing system when she receives a chat notification from her work husband Knox Rivers back in her old department. 

KR: Hey wifey how’s the swanky new digs?

NY: My office is DIRECTLY across from Yunho’s office

NY: I can literally see every move he makes and he can see mine

KR: Dreamville? My treat

Naima immediately perks up at the mention of the bar down the street that has become a favorite amongst their group of friends. It’s going to take a lot to make her feel good about working in such close proximity with Satan’s hardest working demon, but a free round of drinks is a great start.

NY: I’ll meet you downstairs at 5:30

Naima nearly bursts into tears when she steps off of the elevator and spots Knox leaning seated in the lobby playing a game on his phone. She’s always thought that he looked like Thor with his long hair and athletic build and right now a superhero is exactly what she needs. A giggle bubbles up from Naima’s throat at the red stain that creeps down Knox’s throat when she sneaks up on him to kiss his cheek. 

“Come on, big guy. There’s a Blue Magic with my name on it and I intend to collect my due.” Naimah declares, clapping Knox on his broad shoulders. 

“Lead the way, my lady.” He holds the door open like the gentleman he is with a dramatic flourish. Naima’s heart twinges a little. She misses the days when talking to him in person required her to lean back in her chair as opposed to taking an elevator ride. 

A few other people from the office are already at Dreamville when Naima and Knox arrive. They’re quickly swept up in familiar gossip and more drinks than anyone has a right to consume on a Tuesday evening. She’s engaged in a dangerous game of darts with a new employee named Xavier when a horribly familiar voice rings out above all the noise in the bar. Her head whips in the direction the voice came from, but the dart flies from her fingers anyway nearly taking some poor girl’s eye out. She yells out an apology but apparently her almost victim has had a little too much to drink herself and simply waves her off.

“Nice aim, Ravioli. An inch to the left and you would’ve scored a perfect murder.” Yunho taunts. Naima crosses her arms across her chest in indignation. Her eyes watch him intently and therefore don’t miss the way his gaze drops to get a look at her cleavage. His jaw ticks and she wants nothing more than to comment on that but Xavier interrupts by extending his hand in Yunho’s direction as he introduces himself.

“Naima, you ready to leave? I was about to call an Uber.” Knox materializes out of nowhere, phone in hand and Naima’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when she sees that it’s nearing eleven. She hadn’t realized that they’d been there for so long.

“See you tomorrow, Ravioli. Later, Knox.” She’d almost forgotten that Yunho was still here. He winks at her before he turns to walk away and, despite the fact that he can no longer see her, Naima flips him off. 

Naima is still fuming nineteen minutes later when the Uber arrives. She successfully dodges Knox’s first few questions about why she’s so mad, but he eventually wears her down. She’d forgotten that Knox becomes a wannabe psychologist that likes to talk about people’s feelings after he’s had a few drinks.

“What do you have against him? You’re probably the only person at the whole company that doesn’t get along with him.” Naima rolls her eyes skyward. Yunho the golden boy is apparently loved by everyone and it makes her seethe even more. She wracks her brain for someone at the company that she can add to her side and thankfully comes up with a name.

“Fake news! Saia in purchasing called him a douche nozzle last week and I am inclined to agree.” Naima is quite pleased with herself as she settles back into the plush seating of the SUV. Her satisfaction is short lived.

“Saia doesn’t count.” Knox counters quickly. “Yunho dated her younger sister and it ended badly so that just leaves you.”

“The night before my first day at DevTech, my friends from back home came to town to celebrate and we went to this super fancy restaurant.” The red light at the intersection bathes them both in its glow which is ironic in Naima’s opinion. 

She regales Knox with the store of how her friend Keyanna had bought her a ravioli entree to go so that she could have her favorite food on her first day. Yunho had snuck up on her when she was in the break room, startling her to the point that she ended up dropping a ravioli on her white button up. Of course the evil bastard had laughed about it till he could barely stand. She’d had to walk around for the rest of the day with the sauce stain on her shirt and Yunho has called her Ravioli every day since then.

“That…” Knox pauses to piece his thoughts together. “okay, yeah, I can’t say I’d be too fond of him either after that.” He admits.

“See? He’s an asshole and I hope he steps on a lego every day for the rest of his miserable life.” Their Uber driver, who had remained silent aside from the quick hello when they’d gotten in her car, snorts at the curse Naima speaks into Yunho’s life. 

“You know he teases you because he probably wants to fuck you right? Men aren’t as evolved as people would like to believe.” Knox points out. Naima withdraws from him as if he just told her to go fuck herself.

“If he thinks that being an asshole will grant him access to my pearly gates then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought he was.” She and the driver exchange a high five when she chimes in with her agreement. Naima makes a mental note to make sure that Knox tips her good for being an intellectual.

A wave of exhaustion washes over Naima when their apartment complex comes into view.  Thoughts of a hot shower and her fluffy pillows makes the time required to drive to their part of the complex feel like an eternity. She bids the friendly Uber driver a safe and prosperous night before all but running towards her building with a wave to Knox tossed carelessly over her shoulder as he makes his way to the building directly across from hers.

“Morning, Killer.” Yunho is way too chipper this morning especially since Naima has already had to suffer through elevator chatter about how he won a drinking contest last night. It doesn’t help that now he’s bringing up her almost homicide.

“Don’t you have something else to do? Like your job?” Yunho pretends to recoil from her remark as he follows Naima to her office. She wishes she could just haul off and smack him but that wouldn’t bode well for her professional career.

He props himself up against the wall next to her office and it’s as she unlocking her door that she registers just how close he is to her. A small shift of her weight to her right foot would push her up against his chest. Her mind drifts back to what Knox had said last night. She side eyes him cautiously before turning fully to face him head on. If anyone were to ask, Naima would blame what she does next on residual alcohol still inhibiting her rational thought.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Yunho blinks several times in shock but he recovers quickly. He flips around to take stock of the people still filtering into the office to see if anyone is within ear shot and is seemingly satisfied by the lack of people around them.

“I never pegged you to have an exhibition kink, Ravioli.” She curses herself at the way the low timbre of his voice resonates deep in her gut. The greasy smile on his face however, makes her want to puke.

“My kinks are none of your business. I’m just trying to prove a point. Now answer the question.”

“I can only imagine what that point is, but yes, I would absolutely love to ravish you.” He leans in even closer so that she can smell the minty scent of his toothpaste when he whispers in her ear. His closeness doesn’t make her recoil in the way that she thought it would and the reasoning behind that is definitely not something she’s willing to explore.

The second she gets her laptop booted up she’s tapping out a message to Knox.

NY: Lunch on me today. We need to talk.

KR: I’m all yours at 12:30 

Naima is still pondering her conversation with Knox when she steps off of the elevator to go back to her office after lunch. He seems to think that the best way to get Yunho off her back is to fuck him. According to Knox and his personal knowledge of “guy logic”, that will get her out of Yunho’s system and his annoying behavior will cease. Naima isn’t so sure about that. She’s so far inside her own head that she doesn’t even hear someone calling her name until they tap her on her shoulder. Of course, it’s Yunho. Luck is just not on her side today.

“Ravioli, you should consider getting your ears checked. I called you four times.”

“And you should consider that maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” She replies. He makes himself comfortable in her office as she drops her purse into one of the desk drawers to jump back into her work. 

“Oh, don’t be that way, Ravioli. I thought we were past this animosity thing since you practically propositioned me in the hallway.” He looks so smug as he recalls her blunder from earlier. God he’s so infuriating. Naima adds this to her running list of why men should be removed from Earth. She says nothing, choosing to simply point towards her office door. Thankfully, he’s not too dense that he can’t take a hint and returns to his own office space.

She’s settled into a steady pace with her work when her computer pings with a message. The prospect of clearing out her dashboard and possibly being able to leave early is too sweet to break her stride. Two more subsequent pings from effectively breaks her concentration.

YJ: hey

YJ: you look so cute when you’re concentrating

YJ: don’t ignore me I’m sensitive 😭

She looks through the glass into Yunho’s office to see him already staring directly at her. His head being propped up on his hands suggests that he’s been doing it for a while. He blows a kiss in her which she returns with a middle finger. She raises her computer monitors so that he’s no longer able to see her face. 

Next order of business: buying blinds

Naima groans out loud when her computer pings with yet another message. At this rate she’s going to have to stay late to get everything done. She halfway expects the new message to be another annoying attempt at conversation from Yunho but thankfully this one is from someone that she actually doesn’t mind talking to.

KR: hey did you hear that Yaya bought a new house?

NY: yeah she just texted me that she’s having a bbq this weekend to celebrate the closing

KR: you going? 👀

NY: don’t ask me a stupid question like that of course I’m going

KR: lmao okay so we can split an uber then

KR: wanna leave at like 3?

NY: yeah that’s fine with me!

Naima is so happy for Saturday to finally roll around that she could cry. Yaya had told her a few things on the menu on Wednesday and her mouth has been watering ever since. Her husband is a chef at some fancy restaurant so she knows that this will be the best food she’s had in a while. 

Knox and Naima are both slack-jawed at the absolute grandeur of Yaya’s house as their Uber driver comes to a stop in the center of the horseshoe shaped driveway. She’d neglected to mention that her new house is actually a castle. Naima frowns when she spots Yunho’s flashy Mercedes amongst the cars already parked in the driveway, but she’s determined to have a good time despite his presence. They follow the sound of music and splashing to the backyard to see a majority of the DevTech staff in the backyard. They’re quick to strip down to their bathing suits to join in on the chicken fight in the pool.

Naima has just sent Alexis from marketing flying off of Xavier’s shoulders when Yaya announces that it’s time to eat. It’s a race to get out of the pool as everyone is hustling for a good spot in line. Naima is cursing the god awful heaviness that plagues her every time she steps out of a pool when she hears a low whistle from behind her. It’s Yunho and his eyes are trained directly on her ass. Big surprise there.

“Yellow is definitely your color, Ravioli.” He produces a large, fluffy towel seemingly out of nowhere, offering it to her. She’s hesitant to accept it but a quick glance towards the now empty table that had once held an assload of towels changes her mind.

“I think I would look just as good on you.” Yunho smiles as if he’s just hit her with the best pick up line known to man. He’s gotten quite brazen with his flirtatious attempts ever since he’d exposed his sexual intentions on Monday.

“You talk a big game but everyone knows that overly confident men are just…” Naimah trails off with a pointed look at the front of Yunho’s jeans as she takes a sip of her lemonade. “overcompensating.”

Yunho pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he considers the woman in front of him with amusement. He revels in the way she swallows nervously when he closes the gap between them. Every breath she takes causes her barely covered chest to graze against his but, to her credit, she doesn’t back away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but being this close to Yunho is making her blood run hot. She chooses to blame it on her primitive instincts and not actual attraction, but even she knows that’s a lie.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to speak on things you know nothing about, Ravioli?” She can’t decide what she’s more mad at, the nickname or the insinuation that this asshole just said she’s wrong. She’s not.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to lie?” She bristles. Yunho’s sarcastic little grin only grows in response to her anger. It’s like he gets off on making her want to wring his neck.

“Admit it, Ravioli. You want this just as much as I do.” Naima gasps when Yunho suddenly wraps an arm around her wait, jerking her to him. He leans down so that he’s speaking directly into her ear and in that moment, Naima knows she’s a goner. All these months of resisting him and he’s about to break her by whispering in her ear. She wants to scream bloody murder. “All you have to do is say the word and I’ll take you higher than you’ve ever been.”

“Prove it.” Naima feels like she’s put the final nail in her own coffin. Yunho has successfully worn her down. She can’t see his face, but she doesn’t have to to know that he’s smiling like he’s just won the lottery.

“Let’s go, Ravioli.” Naima expects Knox to be disappointed to see her leaving with Yunho when she waves at him to say bye, but instead he wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively. She makes a mental note to yell at him for that later.

The ride to Yunho’s apartment is entirely too short. Naima’s shoulders are wrought with tension as she follows him up the stairs. Part of her wants to turn and run, but a much larger part is telling her to stay to see this through. Yunho has spoken quite highly of his sexual prowess and she’s more curious than not on just how much of it is true.

Yunho is on her the second she toes off her shoes by the door. One of his large hands firmly holds her jaw in place while he ravages her mouth with his own. Naima clings to his shirt to both hold him to her and ground herself in the moment. She feels lightheaded but it’s not from lack of oxygen. He uses his grip on her jaw to pry her mouth open, furthering his claim on her. The hand not covering her jaw skims across the skin above her shorts before deftly undoing the button. Her lips chase his when Yunho pulls away but he avoids her advances.

“Your lips taste so sweet. I want to taste all of you.” Naima shivers at the roughness of his voice. His normal baritone is a lot to deal with but this is downright sinful. He roughly hauls her off her feet into his arms, causing a fresh wave of arousal to flood her panties. 

She busies herself with leaving marks along the column of his neck, loving the way she can feel his gruff moans vibrating against her lips. The smack of Yunho’s hand hitting the wall to steady himself when she grinds her hips against his startles her into.

“Jesus fuck, you’re killing me, baby girl.” Naima smiles mischievously, letting her lips linger on his skin. Something about the pet name he called her makes the heat simmering in her belly grow even hotter. He tosses her on his oversized bed once he collects himself enough to finally make it to his bedroom. She watches him curiously as he turns to dig around in his nightstand. His hand reappears with several foil packets in his grip which he promptly drops onto the mattress for later use. 

Clothes fly haphazardly as Yunho hastily strips them down till nothing but his boxers remain in place. He smirks when he notices Naima’s playful grin drop when she takes in the size of the bulge he’s sporting. His large hands grip her hips, flipping her onto her stomach and rustling her around to a more favorable position. Finally satisfied with the way her face is pressed into the expensive Egyptian cotton of his bed sheets, Yunho buries his face in her dripping cunt from behind. He groans at his first taste of her and her answering whine is nothing but appreciative at the way it vibrates against her.

Naima yelps when Yunho’s large palms suddenly land on her ass with a resounding smack. He soothes the sting with tender caresses against her flesh. His tongue never leaves her entrance as he continues to coax a seemingly endless stream of arousal from her. She has the sheets in a death grip, moving her hips as if to separate herself from Yunho’s lethal tongue but wherever she goes his face simply follows. The slurping sounds of him feasting on her are absolutely obscene but she’s way too far gone to be embarrassed. She doubts that she would be able to form a coherent sentence of protest even if she wasn’t. 

“You’re so fucking wet. I could drown in this pretty pussy.” Naima keens at his filthy words, squirming restlessly as the pleasure builds and builds within her. 

It’s no surprise when she tumbles over the edge with a strangled shout, but she’d expected for him to release her once he’d made her come. Much to her surprise, Yunho doesn’t seem to have any plans of stopping. He tongues her through her orgasm, sucking gently on her clit as he thrusts two fingers into her still spasming entrance. Her knees buckle immediately from the sharp pang of oversensitivity. Yunho pulls his fingers from her long enough to land another harsh smack to her ass while his other holds her hips in place. The discomfort bleeds into pleasure until she’s racing headfirst into a second orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Let go. Give it all to me.” Naima swears she’s on the verge of blacking out when Yunho finally releases her. She collapses against the mattress when he relinquishes his grip on her, trembling from head to toe. His chest is warm against the sweat-slicked skin of her back when he covers his body with his own. He leaves chaste kisses along her shoulder as he loops an arm around her torso.

“Don’t tap out on me now, love. There’s still more fun to be had.” Yunho grinds his cock against her ass, smiling against her skin when he feels her shudder in his hold.

He pulls himself up on his knees, dragging Naima’s tired frame with him. He makes quick work of removing his boxers and rolling on one of the condoms he’d grabbed earlier. She jerks when the head of his latex covered cock bumps against her sensitive clit as he covers himself in the slick still leaking from her cunt. Yunho watches the back of her head like a hawk as he slowly presses himself against her entrance. He swears quite creatively at the way her muscles lock down on him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Yunho!” Naima drops her head to rest on her arms, doing her best to relax. He reaches underneath her to rub circles into her clits and succeeds in pushing forwards a few more inches.

His breath catches in his throat when she pulls her hips before pushing back against him to sink down a little further on his thick length. They work together until he’s finally seated balls deep inside her. Yunho’s eyes roll back in his head at the tight squeeze of her perfect cunt. He’s been inside quite a few women in his day, but this feels almost like uncharted territory. He hisses when she flexes around him involuntarily, tightening even further though he didn’t think that was even possible.

“I’m going to wreck this pussy, baby.” He punctuates his statement by withdrawing till only the tip remains, pushing back in with a purposeful thrust of his hips. Naima nearly chokes on the pitiful whine that claws its way out of her throat. “You’re gonna feel me in here for days.”

To his credit, he tries to keep his pace even and not too fast. He really does. His fingers are probably bruising her skin from how tightly he’s gripping her hips but it’s the only thing keeping him grounded and sane at this point. 

“You call this wrecking me? I could’ve done this at home with my Rabbit.” Naima can admit that Yunho’s dick was a hard pill to swallow at first, but she’s thoroughly adjusted and in need of more. Judging by the way his hips still she’s about to get just what she was aiming for. She gasps when he grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her upright so that he can whisper in her ear.

“Didn’t I tell you to watch that pretty little mouth of yours?” He practically growls in her ear as he grinds against her cervix. The pain mixes with the pleasure in a way that’s starting to make her lightheaded. 

“No, you didn’t.” She responds breathily. Her fingernails dig into his thighs painfully but Yunho doesn’t care even a little bit.

“Well, I should’ve.” He shoves her back towards the mattress not giving her even a few seconds to get her bearings before he’s rearing back to slam back into her tight heat. 

She shouts his name, squirming in his iron grip but he shows her no mercy. The time for that has past. Yunho’s hips piston in out of her at a furious pace. His gaze is fixated on the way her pussy creams on his dick with every thrust. His chest rumbles in protest when manages to pull away from him enough for his cock to fall out of her.

“Don’t run from me, Naima. You wanted this dick and now you got it.” She keens at the sound of her real name coming out of his mouth. The way his husky tone wraps around the syllables should be illegal. He fists the sheets next to her head with one hand as he uses the other to reposition her hips to allow him to slide back inside. His legs straddle both of hers, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck her into the mattress.

Naima’s fingernails are leaving crescent shaped marks in Yunho’s wrists as she holds on for dear life. She’s never been so thoroughly fucked in all her life. He’s reaching spots inside her that she didn’t even know existed until now. She’s on the verge of tears when he slows his frantic pace. He lowers himself so that his larger frame dwarfs hers once more. His arms looped under hers to hold her close to him. Yunho resumes his movements, opting for a much more relaxed cadence. The purposeful grind of his hips is just as overwhelming if not more so after the intensity from before.

“This is my pussy now.�� Yunho grunts into her ear. He sucks marks into every inch of skin that his lips can reach. “No one will ever fuck you this good. Never fuck you this deep. You’re all mine.”

Naima bites down hard on a pillow that she must have grabbed at some point as she clenches around him hard. It dawns on her vaguely that Yunho hasn’t touched her clit once. She’s about to come from penetration alone. A feat she’s never been able to accomplish. The very Earth feels like it’s opened up beneath her when the orgasm that had been flirting with her senses finally washes over her. She feels him grow impossibly harder inside her as he reaches his own end. Black spots dance across her vision when the throbbing sensation of him filling the condom triggers a smaller, biting orgasm. 

She’s surprised that she manages to stay conscious if only barely. Her surprise only grows when she feels a warm towel gently wiping between her legs. Her shock reaches a fever pitch when Yunho’s fingers start working into her calf muscles. She chooses to stay silent out of fear that he might stop if caught being nice. 

“You done pretending to be asleep? Or did I actually fuck you stupid?” She can practically hear the smile in his voice as his fingers climb higher to her thighs. So much for peacefully enjoying this massage.

“I like you better when you don’t speak.” His amused laughter brings a smile to her own face despite her attempts to tamp it down. She shivers when he places a chaste kiss on the swell of her ass before going back to his ministrations on her legs. Knox is never going to let her hear the end of this once he finds out.

 She’s about to go insane. Naima’s stomach has growled twelve times in as many minutes and if she doesn’t eat something soon there will be fatal consequences. She checks her phone once more to check Knox’s location and nearly cries when it says that he’s arrived at DevTech. Just a few minutes stands between her and hot bacon, egg, and cheese croissant and an extra large caramel macchiato. 

The sight of Knox navigating the sea of cubicles with her breakfast in hand may as well be the second coming of Christ. She throws her arms around her neck the second he steps into her office. He pretends to be disgusted when she pecks him on his cheek repeatedly. Knox takes a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of her desk to talk before he goes back downstairs to work. Their conversation when Yunho suddenly burst through the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Naima is appalled at the way he’s just invited himself into her office without even having the decency to knock first.

“I should be asking you that. I asked you for the Murchison report fifteen minutes ago but I guess you were too busy with your little boy toy here to actually do your fucking job.” Knox stands, mouth fixed to defend her, but she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Knox, can you excuse us please?” Naima says sweetly. Her tone is sweet and even, but there’s a hard edge to it that tells Knox she’ll be able to handle Yunho’s temper tantrum just fine.

Naima wraps her sandwich up as she motions for Yunho to have a seat in the chair Knox has just vacated. She shrugs her shoulders when he refuses, crossing her modest office to lock the door and close the blinds she’d installed.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Jeong? Did you fall and hit your head? How dare you come to my office and insinuate that I’m not doing my job?.” He can tell that she’s working hard to keep from yelling at him but her words feel like a slap in the face either way. 

“Look, I just need the Murchison report so that I can finish some paper-” Naima doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. She has no patience for him and his bullshit.

“Cut the bullshit, Yunho. The Murchison report wouldn’t be useful for anything other than end of year reporting which we are eight months away from so what the fuck do you actually want from me?” She’s seething. DevTech has a super relaxed company culture but HR still wouldn’t take too kindly to her punching another employee in the throat.

“Why didn’t you text me back yesterday?” Naima is taken aback. She remembers receiving a few texts from him on Sunday — how he got her number she doesn’t know — but it wasn’t anything that she felt warranted a response. 

“Why would you want me to?” 

The more they talk, the more Naima realizes that they went into that bedroom with very different ideas of what was going to happen afterwards. She’d intended for it to be a one time thing for him to try and prove her wrong which he’d succeeded in doing. Nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, Yunho had other ideas that went far beyond the four walls of his bedroom. 

“This is new territory for me. I’ve never been jealous over women because I can get a new one in five minutes. I’ve never had a problem in that category.”

“Get to the point, Yunho.” She’s quickly growing bored of this conversation and she’s ready  for it to be over.

“The point is that I want to see where this goes. Are you down for that?”

“No, you’re an asshole.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s true, but I’m cute and I’ll eat you out till you cry so what’s it gonna be?” He looks so hopeful that part of Naima wants to reject him again just to mess with him, but she’s not totally heartless. She decides to make him a deal.

“I’ll give you one week and then we’ll go from there now about this eating out business…” She trails off, looking at him suggestively. 

“Come home with me after work and I’ll give you what you want and more.” The mischievous grin on his face promises another day of limping around and Naima is excited to say the least. 

“You’ve got a deal. Now get out of my office.” She deadpans as she starts to unwrap the breakfast sandwich she hadn’t been able to finish earlier. He catches her off guard when he swoops in to steal a kiss from her lips as his “parting gift”. 

“Later, Ravioli.” 

She touches her fingers to her lips as she watches him walk back to his own office through her open door. It’s going to be an interesting week.

[geeky-introvert]

Blue Rose . Ubbe x OC

Summary: An arranged marriage was made between a Saxon princess and Ubbe to gain land in England. She promised herself to be a good wife to the heathen and would do her best to please him, but when he ignores her and doesn’t even make an effort to spend time with her she doesn’t know what to think or how to feel about the marriage....One-Shot.

Word count: 2244

Warning: Angst, fluff, Ivar is a dick and Ubbe an idiot.

Tag list:  @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @rekdreams247​ @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen  @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt  @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish @igetcarriedawaywithyou  @laketaj24 @darlingp @tephi101 @youbloodymadgenius  @lordsexmachine @wonderlandofsu 

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please. 

When Roe was told she was to be married she had expected it to happen sooner or later, after all it was her duty to become a wife and a mother. But what she never expected for even a moment in her life was she was to be married to a Heathen, a son of Ragnar.

This news of course shocked her, and even felt a little scared after hearing all the horrible stories of what Heathens did across England. People called them devils sent by hell to punish others for their sins. But Rose knew she was better than that, to judge before seeing it with her own eyes wasn’t something she ever did.

So, putting on a brave face she accepted her fate, for the sake of her father’s kingdom, knowing he was only trying to do the right thing by giving the Heathens land they so desired as we’ve also heard it was Ragnar’s dream to farm. He was giving them a chance.

It was a few months before and during this time she even took up to learn the language of them, to make an impression perhaps and show her devotion to their culture.

Rose said her farewells to her family, mother, father, brothers and sisters. Many tears were shed but she promised they’ll meet again soon. The nuns gave her blessings over again, perhaps too many, for god to protect her soul and no matter what happens to be accepted into heaven when her time comes.

Then she set sail for the first time in her life, to a land unknown to her where she’ll live and be married to a son of Ragnar and prince of Kattegat. She didn’t even know what he looked like, all she was told was she was to marry Ragnar’s eldest from his second wife, Ubbe.

The trip took a few days before she heard the horns coming from the settlement. Her heart beat quickly, feeling nervous but put on a brave face as they docked. They were greeted by some of the guards and were led to the hall with her own Saxon guards following. Many eyes were on them but she tried not to be intimidated by them as she wore her cloak and hood, feeling the difference with the cold weather here then what she was used to.

Rose admitted she admired the difference here then her home. No large castles, only cabins and the large wooden hall just like the villages she’s visited sometimes. It was gorgeous. 

Once entering the hall she met with Queen Aslaug and right away respected her with a bow. She was kind to her, which she was grateful for and thanked my guards before they left to head back to England. She was taken into one of the back rooms then where she was right away to have a warm bath to wash away to sea salt from her body and given new clothes suited for the environment here. The thick furs and wool was something she wasn’t used to but she knew she would, unable to stop herself from nuzzling into them with a warm smile.

Her hair was braided like it never has been before and admired the beautiful work from the thralls looking at herself in the mirror liking how she looked. She was still herself but dressed so differently. Coming back out she saw four men now at the table eating with their mother who right away stood up giving her a soft smile.

“Come child.“ She says leading her towards the table with which she assumed were her sons. So she was to marry one of them, but who?

“Ubbe, this is Rose. She’s to be your wife.” Aslaug announces and her eyes met with the eldest of her sons.

He was very handsome she’ll silently admit, well, they all were, but to know her husband wasn’t some old, fat slob did make her better about this arrangement.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Ubbe.” She says in their language surprising them all.

Ubbe stood up and slowly comes around the table, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles with a warm and charming smile. “The pleasure is mine, Princess Rose.”

The moment between them seemed calm before it was interrupted.

“A Christian? Really mother?” Ivar asks with an amused giggle.

“This marriage it’ll gain our people lands from her father. After all it was Ragnar’s dream to farm in other lands, right?” She asks and soon her sons agreed.

Though she did feel a bit small noticing his brothers all staring at her, judging but also hungry eyes just from the stories she’s heard before. Doing her best she ignored this and focused on Ubbe, knowing he was the one going to be her husband.

Everything seemed like it will be perfect.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The wedding was set in three days time. Aslaug was very sweet and kind to her, making her feel welcome in such a strange new land, she was grateful for that. However she didn’t see much of Ubbe but she wasn’t too worried about this, knowing he was a prince and had other duties to do before their big day.

When the day came, she was dressed in such a strange way and one she enjoyed. Her mind was very open, welcoming all sorts of new things into her life.

There was no church, it was all outdoors and she honestly felt more free like this as she walked down towards Ubbe, dressed himself and waiting for her.

She offered him a warm smile and he returned a smile back before the ceremony went on. It was very different then her people’s ways, but she was willing to learn, to accept and to embrace this new life with their gods as well.

What probably scared her the most was when she had blood flicked onto her face from the goat that was sacrificed before, ways her people never believed in. But it seemed so natural for them and so she put on a brave face.

She wished her family was here to see her married off.

When they were announced husband and wife he then leans down, kissing her tenderly. It was warm and his beard tickled her but it was a good first kiss.

In that moment she felt everything was going to be alright. However, the moment they returned to the hall, that was when she realised that it wasn’t going to be so perfect.

The hall was filled with music, food and many drunks, everyone celebrating the feast while she sat at the large table by herself, Ubbe with his brothers blending in the crowd. They weren’t like princes where she came from, they liked to be part of the people.

But what bothered her was that Ubbe hasn’t even said much to her since they first met a few days ago, and now he wasn’t even making an effort to sit with her, hsi wife. She didn’t want to be bothered like this but she was and wanted to spend time with her new husband, get to know him and learn more.

Everything was still new though, she’ll wait for when he was ready.

Hearing his loud laughter caught her attention and she looked over to see him pretty happy with his brothers making her sigh and pick at her food. Not the kind of wedding she imagined, but guess nothing was ever perfect in life.

Give him time she told herself, he’ll warm up eventually.

As the night went on as he continued to stay away, not even asking her to dance with her. So she let Aslaug know she was going to retire and she went to tell Ubbe this. She was prepared, the night she’ll lose her virtue and she was ready for it. Perhaps after tonight he’ll become better.

The thralls helped her change into a nightdress and sat on the bed, waiting, and waiting, for what felt like an hour perhaps. The feast outside her room died down and she knew he wasn’t coming to bed her that night.

Rose felt sad, unwanted. Was she not what he wanted in a wife? Perhaps it was because she was a Christian, but that couldn’t be all. She didn’t know and she was too tired to even worry about it anymore. Laying down she pulled the furs over her and silently cried herself to sleep, hoping tomorrow was a better day.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It wasn’t a better day. In fact, the weeks that went by were no better.

Ubbe continued to ignore Rose, just casually giving her simple greetings but not spending any time with her or even sleeping in the same bed. She didn’t understand what she did wrong for him to behave like this. Even Aslaug looked concerned.

Rose would spend most of her days walking around Kattegat by herself with the furs wrapped around her before sitting by the shore and staring out in the water.

She missed her family so much and honestly after the weeks passed all she wanted was to go home and be hugged by her mother again. Quiet tears streamed down her cheek as she took in silence for a bit.

“You know you could swim back?” Ivar suddenly crawls over to her with that amused grin.

“Pardon?” She questions unsure what he meant.

“Swim back to England, it’s where you want to be after all.”

“But...I can’t swim that far, I’ll drown after exhaustion.”

“And?” He carelessly shrugs making her glare and turn her gaze back on the water. “No need to pout like that. Ubbe is no prince charming you Christians dream about, he’s a viking like your nightmares told throughout your people. You can’t change him.”

“Who said I wanted to change him?” Out of the brothers Ivar was her least favourite. “I just...all I want is to spend time for him at least once, is that too much to ask?”

“I don’t really care for your problems, I’m simply telling you to swim home. Not like you’ll be missed, not even Ubbe will notice you gone.” With those harsh words said he then leaves her on the beach by herself again.

More tears streamed down her cheeks from his cruel words, each one hitting her harder and harder. What a horrible man.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Aslaug approached her sons as they all sparred together in an arena training for the next raid. She watches Ubbe, judging him before waving him over.

“Ubbe, I want a word with you.”

“What’s wrong, mother?” He asks panting softly.

“Why are you ignoring your wife?”

Now this got all their attention as Ubbe stared at her, looking confused.

“I’m not ignoring her…”

“Yes you are.” Ivar giggles going back to sharpening his dagger.

“What? No, I’m only giving her space, time to adjust.” He explains making Aslaug sigh.

“Son, you’re smarter than that. You’ve left her alone for weeks, you’ve hurt her.” She says coming closer to him. “Now, do the right thing and go talk to your wife.”

Rose grew more tired as she cried before eventually headed back to the hall. It wasn’t like there was much else for her to do. As she walks along the beach looking at the sand a shadow caught her attention making her look up. She was surprised to see Ubbe.

“Prince Ubbe…” She murmured softly bowing her head respectfully.

“Please, no need for that.” He says coming closer to her. “Just call me Ubbe.”

Looking up at him she nods at him.

“Have I hurt you?” His sudden question lingers through her.

“Why do you ask?” Of course she was hurt, was he that blind?

“My mother tells me that I have.”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that. Lying was pointless, and she was raised better than that, so she told him the truth with how she felt.

“Yes, you’ve hurt me.”

Her answer makes him sigh as if he had no idea. “I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was only giving you space, time to adjust to this life. I thought I was doing the right thing...guess I was wrong.”

“That’s it?” She questions through furrowed brows. “You’ve...been avoiding me to give me space? I thought...all this time I thought you hated this marriage, that you wanted nothing to do with me. Yes, for weeks I’ve been hurt, I thought you hated me....”

Her eyes again teared up and tried holding them back until she felt herself being held in his arms and against his chest, his soothing hushes filling her ears and warmth wrapping around her body as she leaned into his body, savouring it.

“I feel like an idiot.” He murmurs against her ear. “I’m sorry, Rose. You deserve much better than that. I promise, no more, I’m here for you now, whatever you like I’ll do.”

“Well…” She sniffles softly. “We never got to have our first dance.”

Looking down at her through his blue shining eyes he caresses her cheeks and gave her a charming smile. Yes, this was what she imagined. Her prince charming. Leaning down he gives her a kiss, just like on their wedding.

“Than let’s do that.”

Ubbe takes her back to the hall where he ordered music to be played before taking her hands and showing her some of their cultures dances. For the first time in weeks she felt herself smile. This was the life she could love, a life to savour with her husband.

Now she believed she could be very happy.

[zankivich]

Neighbors: Shawn x Plus-Size Reader Chapter 17

a/n I could literally go on and one and one about this chapter. What I was thinking, what I meant, what I wanted it to feel like. But I really just want to leave it all out here for you. If you have thoughts please come talk to me about them. I am literally bursting at the seams right now. I used a song for this chapter called Grow as We Go by Ben Platt. It is beautiful, please listen to it. I love you. K bye. 

Warnings: smut, love, feels, pizza, and space buns.

Y/n’s point of view*

You’re sitting on the couch between Stu and Bryan when your phone starts to ring.

Shawn:I just knocked on your old apartment door out of habit

Shawn: a forty-year old man lives there now. He had me go into his daughter’s room and sign a poster.

You can’t help but snort. Of course he went into the room. Idiot.

y/n: Shawn why would you enter that man’s home in the first place?

Shawn: He was nice! I felt bad for interrupting his day. Can we get back to the issue at hand which is that you’re no longer ten feet away from me?

y/n: and kind of homeless? Certainly a massive turn of events has occurred.

Shawn: Where are you? I’ve got the movie Us on my tv. We haven’t watched scary movies together in a long time.

Y/n: I’m at Stu and Bryan’s. Are you asking me on a date right now?

Shawn: Yes. Come overrrrrr. Please?

“Welp! I have to go.” You announced pushing yourself off the couch

“And just where are you going, young lady? It’s past your curfew!” Stu chuckled.

You flipped your friend off and quickly began ruffling through your suitcase for cuter underwear.

“Funny. Some random guy wants me to come over. As fun as you both are, I haven’t had dick in over six months.”

Bryan was confused.

“I thought she was giving things another go with Shawn.”

“She is, baby. Random guy is not random at all. She’s ditching us for her future husband. Try to keep up.” Stu explained patting his boyfriend on the arm in consolation.

You found the pale pink lacey number and quickly ran around changing your entire outfit to look less “woman sleeping on her friend’s couch” and more “comfy chic but you can totally bend me over in you want”.

“Isn’t the whole point of being in a relationship that you don’t have to do whatever it is you’re doing right now?”

You rolled your eyes again as you slipped into a pair of shorts that showed off your ass and a tank top that would provide a wonderful excuse to snuggle under a blanket.

“Perhaps you missed the part where we kind of broke up slash kinda didn’t but definitely did? This is surely the least I could offer him. And the least he can offer me...is his penis! Goodnight friends!”

You uber’d to Shawn’s which frankly was a little cocky on your part. There were nothing that said Shawn had to let you spend the night again, nothing that even said he had to have sex with you that night. Although you had both come to terms with everything and agreed to be together, you hadn’t exactly decided where you were starting. Was this an all the way back to the beginning sort of deal, or were you simply progressing from where you left off?

When he opens the door and pulls you in by your hips to kiss your lips like he hadn’t seen you in months, you think maybe things will lean in the direction you wanted them too. Here's a hoping.

“Well hello to you too.”

His eyes widened and he quickly stepped back.

“Was that wrong? I shouldn’t have done that right? Shit.”

You shake your head and close the door before the neighbors ask him to sign more things.

“You’re totally fine. That is a perfectly acceptable way to greet me.”

“Come on. My apartment missed you.”

The living room is set up a little differently than usual. Gone are Shawn’s video game consoles and in their place is an abundance of pillows and candles littered about. He made popcorn, and it doesn’t even smell burnt. He’s got your favorite blanket folded and waiting. It’s so weird. It kind of feels like a first date all over again. But also it just sort of feels like home.

“Have you seen the movie yet?” He asked as you adjusted yourselves into the cushions.

You shook your head softly. “No. I’ve heard good things though.”

“It’s pretty fucking terrifying. Might need you to hold me half way through.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

Your mind was on a very distinct path. A path of a woman who had begun showing signs of carpal tunnel from flipping her bean too much. So, when Shawn reminded you that you’d left one of your big t-shirts in his room if you wanted to “get comfortable”, you were sure that you were picking up all of the signals. You tugged at your shorts and settled your underwear in that really sexy, but totally non functional way above your hips and walked back out to the living room to get your man.

The moving is playing and the sun is still out and no one has died yet. Shawn smiled at you as you walk back into the room. It’s all the motivation you need to straddle him right there on the couch. When your lips touch, it’s exactly what you’ve been missing. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip, nipped softly at the skin with your teeth. His hands came up to rest on your lower back, and you pushed your hips down against his playfully. God you missed him.

So when his hands come up to where yours are gripping tightly in his hair the only thing that comes to mind is maybe he’ll flip you face down ass up. Not that he might push you away all together.

“Babe.” He whined reaching for the remote. “W--What about the movie?”

You peered back at M’baku’s face. Surely he was sexy as all hell, but like...you’d had other plans.

“Oh...did you really want to watch that?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yea? We haven’t seen each other in months. And the last time we did anything sexual you used me like a vibrator and then hung up on me.”

You sighed collapsing back on your heels. “Shawn, I thought we weren’t holding grudges against each other.”

“We’re not! Hey, look at me.” He mumbled sternly, grabbing your chin with his fingers. “I’m not holding a grudge. I just thought it might be good for us to ease into things. I missed you y/n. Like in your entirety, as a human being. I actually wanted to spend time with you.”

You groaned softly letting your forehead come to rest on his chest. Leave it to Shawn to somehow make not having sex with you sound like prose. Bastard.

“That sounds incredibly sweet. And lovely.”

He snorted. “But?”

“No. No buts. You’re right. We should...ease. If I wake up again humping my pillow, well those are just the consequences I’ll have to live with.”

“I’m sorry.” He chuckled, and kissed your forehead. “If it makes you feel any better, the amount of wet dreams I’ve had on tour is double anything I had when I was a teenager.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any better. It makes me horny. Let’s watch your movie, boy scout.”

You rolled off of him, exasperated and a bit frustrated, and let him put the movie back on. His eyes roamed over your face in what was probably concern, but you figured you should keep your eyes on the movie. No one said it would be easy to fall back into a relationship like theirs.

Eventually the movie completely captures both of you. You worm yourself around Shawn’s bicep and gasp a little when the jumpscares happen. It’s a hell of a movie. A movie rooted in something far greater than just its first glance. As a horror buff, you’re a bit taken aback at it all. And when it ends you spend the next hour just talking about what it all means. This is the natural part. When it’s just the two of you talking each other’s ear off, and the other having nothing else they’d rather listen to.

When Shawn starts to clean up from your night together it sort of seems like your cue to leave. You tug your shorts and shoes back on and flicker through the app to find your uber.

“Hey. Where are you going?” He asked stepping back into the living room from the kitchen.

“Oh I’m just getting my ride back home. Didn’t feel like trying to find a place to park.”

He frowned. “You’re not staying?”

“Did you...want me to stay?”

“W--Well yea. We haven’t cuddled in a long time. I sort of thought that was a given.”

“Well I thought so too and then there was the whole not wanting to touch me thing, so I figured I shouldn’t assume.”

He groaned helplessly and came to plop down on the couch beside you.

“Why would you say that? Of course I want to touch you. I”m just trying not to fuck this up again.”

You peered over at him, both of you a little frustrated and a lot confused. Apparently this was going to be a little more difficult than either of you gave credit for.

You reached slowly to climb into Shawn’s lap, eyeing him to make sure that it was okay. He reached for your hips and ran his fingers beneath your shirt. It made you tingle, but that’s not important.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, playing at his curls. “I guess I just...wasn’t sure how far back we were starting. I want to sleep in the same bed with you. I want to hold you again. And I missed my best friend too, dammit. I just also missed my boyfriend.”

He nodded. “You’re right. We didn’t really discuss it. It’s gonna take some time for us to get the hang of things. But...I don’t want to start all over. I love that I sleep the best when I’m wrapped around you. And I love hiding my face in your neck and in your hair. I’ve missed these things for months. I don’t want to miss them anymore. Can we please go to bed? We can talk more in the morning.”

“Okay. Can you kiss me first?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls you by the chin until your lips touch and it’s so much better than before. There’s hunger there, something that says you’ve tasted what it was like to be apart and you’re not interested in ever going back. His tongue teases you until you’re opening up, until he’s kissing you like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. Your heart picks up speed in your chest and your hips get a little tighter around his waist.  He teases as your thighs with his palms and then all of a sudden you’re flying through the air as your boyfriend lifts you with a grunt and take you to bed.

“What in the hell!” You gasp holding on for dear life.

You did not simply just get lifted. Especially not by your much thinner,much lighter boyfriend. Even more than that you had thought that you didn’t even want to be lifted. The thought of someone throwing their back out or struggling under your weight was all you needed to ruin the mood. But here he was. Surprising you as always.

“Baby we don’t have time. We gotta go to bed.” He grinned playfully.

“Well this is just ...unbelievably hot against my better judgement.” You whined hiding your face in his neck in fear that he might drop your ass any second. “You spend a lot of time lifting Camila to get this move down?”

“Not funny and not now!”

You snorted playfully. “Just seem to really enjoy dancing and wall humping all of a sudden. I thought i'd ask.”

He absolutely purposely lets you fall with a slightly too big of a bounce to the bed before climbing delightfully on top of you. When the weight of his hips roots you to bed, you knot your fingers in his sweats and try to tug him even closer. You didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much. Especially not when they’re frowning at you for taking the piss out of them.

“You were making fun of me.” He whined playfully.

You shook your head. “Oh no, I wasn’t. There’s nothing I loved more than being in the middle of Madrid only to see my man with his tities out hip grinding with Camilla Cabello. It was actually a highlight for me.”

“Your man, aye?” He grinned nose skimming the length of your neck.

“Of course that is what you got out of that.”

“Everything else was nonsense. It was a music video. I’ll have you know I can now do at least a basic salsa, and I’d love to take you out sometime.”

You snorted. “So you can drop my ass on the ground too?”

“Okay you officially paid way too close attention to me while you were away!”

But you only continued laughing.

***

When you wake up Shawn’s already awake. You were usually one to turn away in your sleep, but this time you’d managed to cradle into his chest. His fingers were in your hair, playing delicately with the strands. The sun peeked through his curtains and you were amazed even now at how beautiful his cheekbones were in the light. For a moment you just stare at each other. His eyes are that beautiful shade of hazel and his thumb grazes across your cheek like somehow you might be just as pretty as he is. Apparently you kinda were. When he kisses you, your toes feel weightless and your tummy flutters like crazy. You missed this.

He moves to roll you over, smoothly finding his way between your thighs. His fingers skim underneath your t-shirt and the whole time those lips are still on yours. When his hips start to move, and yours are canting against his you start to feel breathless. And needy. And a little desperate.

“Take your shirt off.” He mumbled softly leaning up on his knees to follow his own directive.

You blinked up at him. “But I thought…”

“Take it off, baby. I need you.”

Well. Yes. Yes to all of that.

You tugged at your own shirt haphazardly before tugging his sweats down his thighs. Your fingers wasted no time in reaching into his briefs to hold his hardening cock in your hand.

He groaned softly, head bowing at your touch. You were wet already. That literally was all it took. How stupid of you to think that you could ever do without this. God, you needed him.

“Fuck,” He sighed. “You have no idea how much I missed that.”

His thighs are firm and solid, muscles tensing on every upward stroke. You love watching him as you touch him, the way his face scrunches up in pleasure. It’s the furrowing of his brow. The way that he bites his lip. The way his hips press forward desperately for you as his tip gets red and rosey.

“Want you to do something for me.” You mumbled from beneath him.

He nods without question, always willing to please you.

“Anything, baby. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You blow softly on his head pressing a kiss to the open slit.

“Want you to fuck my face….And then I want you to make love to me.”

It’s a bit of a contradiction and you can see the shock on his face at your words, but you kind of need him fast and hard, and you kind of need him now. Doesn’t mean a bitch can’t be sentimental too.

“Holy fucking shit I missed you so much.” He whined breathlessly. “A--Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You tugged at the back of his thigh and nodded your head.

“Please, Shawn? Please?”

“God.” He whined reaching down to thumb at your jaw. “Fuck, okay. Okay.”

You shuffled back against the pillows so that your back was supported by the wall the bed lies against. Shawn straddled you, sweats still pooled around his knees  as he settled his fingers into your hair. He still looked at you so softly. His eyes were warm and homey and he held your jaw like it was something precious. It’s a complete juxtaposition to the groan that leaves his mouth when he pushes his hips slowly so that he fills your lips. And it’s so fucking hot.

“Your mouth is so warm, so wet. Baby, Jesus.”

You peer up at him so tall and red faced above you. He’s biting away at his lip and he’s trying not to hurt you and it’s all just a little too much. So you reach your fingers into your thong to play with your clit and move your head forward slow and steady until his balls rest on your chin. The response is incredible for both of you.

“Holy fucking shit!” He grunted fingers clenching your hair. “I can feel it. I can feel it in your throat. Oh my god.”

You gag slightly and pull back, his cock covered in spit with a trail still connected to your lips. You smile hopefully up at him as if to ask whether or not you’d done a good job and trail your fingers up his thighs to feel the muscles tense.

“Did I do good?” You whimpered kissing at the head.

His eyes are blown wide and it’s very clear that something new entirely is happening between the both of you, something that you hadn’t quite explored yet. And what a hell of a time to start messing around with sexual exploration after a six month pause on a relationship.

“You did so good. You suck me off better than anyone ever could, baby. You’re perfect.”

You practically purr at his words, fingers pressing a little harder against your sensitive nub.

“Can I suck it some more?”

“Fuck. Yes. Yes you can.”

Pleasing him is like the easiest and most rewarding thing on the planet. He’s so expressive with his face, so willing to give you all of the praise in the world, that he always seems to feel good. It doesn’t mean you can’t up the ante. Doesn’t mean you can’t force his fingers into your hair and moan around him until he’s pushing his hips shallowly against your mouth. It also doesn’t mean that he can’t always praise you more.

“Oh my god, y/n! Y--You’ve gotta let me know if I’m hurting you. Gotta tell me if I need to stop okay--ahhh fuck.”

You make sure to bob your neck and to watch him as he loses it above you. It’s the most sensual thing in the world to watch him in pleasure. The sweat on his brow. The redness in his cheeks and neck. The way his lips stay open just enough for his tongue to poke through when he slides deeper than he thought he could. It might have been a whim but it’s for sure the top five moments of watching him ever. So much so that your thighs starts to pulse and your fingers turn sloppy on your clit as an orgasm builds in your toes. And just as you’re sure you’re going to lose it, he pulls the fuck back. Bastard.

“Please I--I’m gonna cum if you keep going. Please baby let me be in you.” He whined.

He nearly trips getting out of his sweats, but when he’s between your thighs and his hard on is pressing betweens your folds, already slicking himself up with your juices, you fail to think about anything but him inside you.

“Put it in, Shawn please.” you mumbled sucking a mark into his clavicle.

He moaned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to eat you out first?”

“I’m literally pooling in my underwear right now. Just make love to me please.”

And who knew love could feel so fucking good. It is desperate and needy and sticky and so fucking replenishing that you are full to the brim of utter elation and a complete inability to breathe at the same time. He stretches you unbelievably well, his hands cupping your face while his tongue is in your mouth. You moan for him and he for you and you really are just so attentive to one another. Your legs and arms locked around him hips working against his as his pubic bone ruts against you. And you can’t help but run your fingers through his hair, to touch his biceps and his neck and his hips and his stomach. You wanted to re-familiarize yourself with his body, and with his heart. It helps that he’s gripping your cheeks and rubbing your thighs and grabbing at your stomach like every part of you matters to him, like every part is something that is precious and loveable.

“I missed you.” You whispered against his neck. “I missed you so much.”

His fingers grow tight again against your scalp and his hips stutter against yours.

“I love you, so much. Don’t ever fucking leave me again.”

You’re both so fucked for one another. And there’s something about this need to restore everything that was broken. Something about wanting to pull your heart out and offer it to the other person if it just meant that they would know you were all in. You were his in that way that meant you were still entirely your own person, but that you wanted to give him all of the love and the passion and the kindness and the serenity that you could offer another person. There’s something about fixing the pain with your lips, about finding any traces of anything other than love and making them that, infinitely. When he’s gasping against your lips and telling you that you’re the only thing he wants, that you’re everything, it can only heighten the pleasure.

Somehow your eyes become wet and your fingers turn to fists in his hair and your orgasm creeps up on you in the most overwhelming way.

“I’m gonna cum.” You cry back arching. “Oh my--Shawn!”

He attaches his lips to your neck and fist his fingers in the sheets as he somehow manages to fuck you through the most world shattering orgasm you think you’ve ever had. It is only made infinitely better when he cums with your name on his lips, and this warm feeling spreads within you as you literally take him for every drop that he’s got.

“Oh my god.” He mumbled. “You are a magical creature, do you know that?”

“Fuck off and you just made me cum my brains out.” You huffed thighs squeezing around him again for emphasis.

It makes him laugh a little bit, which only makes you happier.

“You’re so beautiful.” He hums kissing you again and again until you’re giggling up a storm.

“I love you.”

“I love you. Come here.”

You’re completely wrapped up in one another again when his phone starts to ring on the bed side table and there’s nothing you want less in the world then to let him go.

Shawn groaned. “It’s probably Andrew. Just give me a minute.”

You whine softly and make yourself busy with sucking another hickey into his chest, much to Shawn’s excitement and frustration and your delight.

“H--Hello?” He murmured making eye contact with you as you circled his nipple with your tongue. “Mhmmm.”

One second he looks like he might just hang up and dive back into the covers with you, and the next he’s scrambling to pull out like a frazzled virgin. Rude.

“Shit! Shit, I’m coming. I’m on my way right now. I swear! I’m so sorry.”

“Who died?!” You gasped as he left you cold and wet and quite frankly dripping on his expensive ass sheets.

He ran straight for the bathroom completely ignoring his very beautiful girlfriend in the bedroom.

“I’m late! Rehearsals started forty-five minutes ago and I’m late! I live ten minutes from the goddamn place. Andrew is going to have my ass.”

He runs back out to you and plops back on the bed with a warm washcloth to slip between your thighs.He slows down for a minute and grips lovingly at your knee. Your eyes meet as he cleans you and it’s maybe even more intense then whatever you’d done just moments prior.

“Hey I--I’m so sorry that I wasn’t more careful. I wasn’t thinking and I just...Should’ve been more responsible.”

You smiled up at him softly and gripped at his wrist between your legs.

“I appreciate the sentiment. That’s what the birth control is for. Just got a little swept up in the moment.”

“That’s certainly one way to describe what you do to me. God, I’m so late.”

And then he’s back up jumping in a blur of soap and shampoo and tugging on clothes with a vengeance while you proceed to just bask in your post-orgasm bonelessness.

He tugs on his boots and a scarf before climbing back into bed to kiss you goodbye. You hate to think that you could get used to mornings like this.

“Do you...do you wanna maybe come to the venue today? Just to hang out? No pressure.” He whispered nuzzling into your neck.

You sighed and pulled him a little closer. “Can I meet you there later? Think I should probably head back to Stu’s to change.”

“Yea, of course . . . You know you could bring some stuff over here too. If you wanted. Like in the meantime, or whatever.”

He’s all bashful and red cheeks, and it is absolutely insufferable how much you love him.

You giggle softly. “Or whatever, aye? You sure I wouldn’t be intruding on your bachelor pad lifestyle?”

“Not at all. I don’t want to move faster than you want to move. Just know I want you here always. And we can talk later when you come to the venue, okay? About everything we keep not talking about when we’re having sex.”

“K. Seems like the least you could do is kiss me goodbye.”

You tug as his scarf to feel his lips on yours for the umpteenth time that morning. It is truly a miracle you let him leave at all.

***

Shawn’s pov

He’s in a good mood. He’s in a great mood. Shit, he might be in the greatest mood of all time. There’s a skip in his step as he walks from the parking garage to the venue. He smiles at all of the employees he comes across, takes twenty pictures before he even makes it inside. The truth is, he’s kind of on top of the world.

Andrew is waiting for him when he finally gets to stage. The show at Roger’s was going to be a whole new level, and it required a little extra planning on their end, hence the time off to prepare for the show. The good news is he’s not in a place where the shows feel like a burden anymore. That had been his learning process while she was away. For a moment, he’d needed something to blame for the pain and the hurt that he was experiencing. At the time it had only made sense for the tour to take that blame. It wasn’t until he started writing just to write, and playing music in the hotel rooms that he was able to remember what music meant to him. It became cathartic again, became his therapy when it was two am and he wanted her so badly, but he knew that he couldn’t call. And then he started leaving it all out on the stage, and it started to hurt less. Was everything fixed? Certainly not. But he also wasn’t kicking and screaming at every show anymore either.

“I’m so sorry I’m late you guys! The time just really got away from me this morning.” He smiled happily as he started to remove his scarf and jacket.

His band begins to snicker and Andrew just simply let his head fall into his hands with a groan.

“What’s wrong? What I do?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “You look like a chew toy Shawn. I take it y/n is back in town?”

He touched sheepishly at his neck trying to cover up the hickey. Apparently there must have been many though because Zeubin was just giving him a sad shake of his head. Tough crowd.

“Woops. Well...she is. And everything is okay. We’re okay. I have never been happier, and my hands are itching to play. So shall we focus a little less on my love life and a little more on the show?”

He gets a guitar in his hands and it all just makes sense. He’s vibing with the band and they’re all feeding off each other’s energy. She’s on his mind the entire time. The taste of her lips. The look on her face when he filled her. The sound of his name as an acknowledgement of pleasure. Waking up that morning with her head on his chest and that damn nose whistle of her’s that he has missed so much. It’s the most incredible feeling in the world when it all aligns. When the art reflect his life and his life is a reflection of the art. It’s all that he had ever asked for. And it feels like maybe, just maybe he might get it right this time.

“Woooh! That was beautiful! Holy shit guys.”

Andrew gives him the nod of approval and Zeubin is just as ecstatic as he is. It’s all just sort of clicking in that magical way that music does sometimes. And it’s only the rehearsal.

They run another four songs before breaking. Andrew pulls him to another meeting about press releases for another song he’d written, so it’s not exactly a break for him. Until his phone starts to vibrate that is.

y/n: Would it be super corny to wear one of your merch sweatshirts? It’s chilly and I spent seventy-five dollars on it.

Shawn: You did not! You got it free and you know it.

Shawn: It would not be corny. It would actually make me incredibly happy.

y/n: But it’s still an expensive ass sweatshirt love.

y/n: well I guess that settles it. Think you could get away to meet me for lunch?

Shawn: I’ll figure it out. Hurry?

y/n: Yea okay. Be there soon.

“Did you hear anything I said in the last five minutes?” Andrew asked as he bowed his head again to read y/n’s response.

“Yes! Something about an insta live and some questions or something…?”

Andrew was not very impressed.

“Okay. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt because I think I have an idea of how you might be feeling right now. And honestly it’s just good to see you smile again. Go. Go be with her. And be back here ready to rehearse by one. Does that sound fair?”

He’s already out of his chair and running to hug the guy before he makes a dash for it.

“Thanks Andrew! I’ll be back at one, promise!”

He waits outside for her to pick him up and he’s absolutely fucking giddy inside. She’s got him wrapped around her finger, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come down. When she pulls up in front of the venue with sunglasses on and his face on her shirt and a smile so bright it makes his stomach flutter, it leaves him helpless. Helpless to do anything but jump right into her car and kiss her silly. He still can’t believe he went six months without her. How?

“Mmm, Hi.” She giggled.

He sighed gripping her cheek in his palm.

“I missed you.”

“It was only four hours, but I missed you too. I figured we could go somewhere I can get day drunk and have you drive me back when I get handsy.”

“That sounds fucking wonderful. Let’s do it.”

They hold hands and sing along to the radio. His fucking song comes on and she doesn’t dispise it some how despite it being a reflection of the darkest part of their relationship. This is the part that they’re good at. Loving and holding and touching and adoration. When they’re good, they’re the best. Because they both have so much love to give and only one person they want to give it to. So when you offer them lunch on a sunny September day when the leaves are falling and they’re together, it just feels like everything.

“You look really beautiful today.” She whispers to him over a fruity cocktail at barely twelve o’clock in the afternoon.

He feels his cheeks warm and his heart sore. He leaned on his arms and pressed forward to kiss her again.

“Thank you, honey. You look really beautiful too.”

“You’re right. We’re kind of a couple of catches.”

“True! So...we should probably talk right? About us?”

She nodded and reached for his hand to hold hers.

“Yea, of course. Do you--is there somewhere you wanted to start?”

He frowns a little and takes to drawing shapes into the back of her hand to still himself.

“I guess I’d want you to know that as soon as I’m done with the tour, I’m taking a year off. Non negotiable. And I would like...shit I would love if we could spend that year together. I’m ready to prioritize this part of my life with you, and I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.”

She snorted softly and smiled at him. “What the hell are you even gonna do for a year off. Follow me around for once?”

“Yes. I will sit in your office all day and bug the hell out of you. Maybe I can set up a studio in there and everything.”

“Oh absolutely! Can I ask you something though?”

“Of course. You can ask me anything.”

“One of the times that we spoke while I was away you said that...that I was the uh love of your life. I guess I was just wondering if you still felt that way?”

She’s nervous and flustered and twitchy and it is so incredibly adorable. How could she not be the love of his life sitting there looking like that.

“Did I ever tell you what my mum said when I brought you home for the first time?” He asked softly playing with her hands again.

She shook her head.

“‘Liyah told me that she thought you were the one for me immediately. Like after the first night. And I think I kept trying to ignore it because we hadn’t actually been together all that long but...being away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not even the physical proximity, but just the not talking, the what ifs. I don’t ever wanna go to bed again without knowing we’re together.” He tried to explain. “I just...I feel something different when I’m with you. And I’m tired of denying that because of something like time. I’m in love with you. And I think--I think you’re the one for me. I know it’s kinda scary to say and I’m not gonna like ask you to marry me next week but...I’m in this. With you. For however long you’ll have me.”

It makes her eyes a little dewy. And they’re making such intense eye contact that there might as well be nothing around them. Not people, not the restaurant, nothing. It’s just the two of them being honest with each other. And it feels incredible. To know that they had a really healthy relationship before, only to completely evolve and make themselves better. It was like a new level.

“I knew that I loved you in October.” She blurts out quietly.

He grinned a little. “October, aye? We met in August.”

“Yes, I’m aware Shawn.” She rolled her eyes. “I had a really bad day at work. Some asshole receptionist was talking shit in the kitchen about the, and I quote: ‘egotistical fat bitch on the top floor who thinks her shit don’t stink.’”

“What?! You never told me that!”

“Of course not. I’d met you in October, remember?” She snickered. “I just remember, I came home. And you were there. And you knew something was up without me having to say it. You invited me over for movies and cuddling. It was our first official sleepover aside from when we would fall asleep coincidently. You bought my favorite wine and got snacks. You made me feel like--like everything was gonna be okay. And I--I knew. I knew I’d fallen for your annoying ass.”

He smiled dopely at her. “Why do I have to be annoying? Why can’t I just be sweet and wonderful?”

“You are both of those things. Hence the annoyance. But I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes are wide and clear and so incredibly honest. It makes it all feel so much more real. Here they are loving each other and being open with that love. All of his worries and his insecurities were gone. He didn’t need them when she was looking at him that way, when she was loving him that way. And God did he not have all the love in the world to give her back.

Throughout lunch they keep pulling back layers, keep telling each other what they need. She’s willing to fly out once a month on weekends if he’s willing to let her work while she’s there. And he’s willing to not push her so hard about her stress levels if she’s willing to keep him updated when she’s struggling. He needs her to reach out so that he feels less like a burden for doing the same. He needs to know what’s going on in that head of hers. She needs him to find a way to be present for her from across the world. She needs the dumb selfies, and the wake up texts, and the random carepackages of a sweatshirt that smells like him. It’s not a foolproof plan, and they have to both be willing to acknowledge that there are going to be difficulties that come there way. But this is where they’re at. A strong united front. What a fucking concept.

By the time they finish lunch, her tongue is red from her strawberry daiquiri and she’s leaning her head on his shoulder as they wait for the valet to bring the car around. He’s definitely driving back.

“Are you sure you wanna hang around the venue all day? It could get boring. I can drive you back to my place, or Stu’s even.”

She frowns and presses her cold lips against his neck. “I haven’t heard you play in so long. I miss it.”

He wraps his arms around her waist and squeezes. It’s the kindest thing in the world she could have said to him. He has to hide his face in her hair because he just know he’s absolutely beaming.

“Okay.”

They’re so absorbed in each other that the valet has to clear his throat to get their attention. So forgive them for not noticing the fans across the street who catches him kissing her, or opening the door for her, or taking five whole minutes to drive off because she really is handsy when she’s day drunk. In the time that it takes for him to drive from one side of town to the other the pictures go up on twitter, some magazine makes a headline, and all of a sudden the world is in shock that Shawn Mendes and his ex have “rekindled their explosive romance”. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just driving back to work.

***

*y/n’s point of view*

Reconciliation feels good. It takes a lot to feel confident in your relationship, to be able to be emotionally vulnerable with someone. Relationships takes maturity, and they take being able to speak your mind and care about the thoughts of others at the same time. You also kind of need to like each other as people. For instance you can’t just fuck your way into happiness. Being sexually compatible without all the rest of the relationship on equal footing does you no good. However, once you’ve got that all down? There is simply no where to go but up…. to an incredible climax. Thrice.

“Holy fucking shit .” You gasp hoarsely as your body finally collapsed against the already destroyed sheets.

Shawn chuckled and pressed his sweaty curls into your neck as he kissed at one of the marks he left behind.

“I love when your voice goes all high on me. Let’s me know I’m doing it right.”

“Get off of me. You are driving me up a wall.” You groaned.

He flips off immediately as if he’d actually hurt you instead of you just being whiny and dramatic. But the second his body is gone, you’re at a toal lost and you simply need him to come back.

“Where are you going?”

His eyes widened. “You told me to get off.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean it. Come back!” You reach your arms out for him all grabby hands and smiles.

When he grabs your thighs and nestles himself back between your legs you feel at home again. Perfect.

“You are absolutely crazy.” He huffed against your lips. “And I love you for it.”

“I think I need you to fuck me like that at least two more times tonight.”

“And I think you are genuinely underestimating the turnover rate of my boners.”

“I believe in you. You’ll figure something out.”

His phone starts to ring again and you swear it’s like a round of deja vu.

“Well isn’t this a familiar tone! If that’s Andrew again to take you away from me, I’m rioting.”

Shawn snorted kissing your shoulder as he reached for his phone.

“I can just hear the headline now: Shawn Mende’s girlfriend pickets manager after interrupting midnight rendevoua.”

“Oooo I like that!”

“Yea, I’ll give you something else you’ll like in a minute.”

Ugh finally.

“Hey Andrew….Yea I’m at home. N--No, I haven’t left. Y/n and I have been in all night.”

“Yea we have!” You giggled.

He swatted playfully at you. “Hey, what’s up? What’s wrong? Oh for fuck’s sake, Andrew I don’t have time for this!”

You reached for the sheet to cover your body and tug your hair into a bun with the hair tie on your wrist as you watch your boyfriend do his little businessman with an empire thing. Hot.

“It was lunch okay? We went to lunch.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why is it every time you get it in trouble it seems to have something to do with me?”

“It has nothing to do with you. You are literally perfect and I am NOT going to apologize for kissing my girlfriend at her car, Andrew!”

You’re a bit nosey so you plop yourself on Shawn’s chest to listen in to the other side of the conversation.

“You were not kissing! You were inhaling each other! There are a few moms in your network that don’t want their children watching their idol playing tit grab in broad daylight against a fuck prius. The video goes on for five fucking minutes Shawn.”

You snorted. “How did you not notice someone filming us for five minutes. Isn’t that like your job?”

“Apparently I was a little absorbed in playing a good round of tit grab.”

“This is serious!” Andrew yelled. “You two are going to put me in an early grave you know that? Do you have any idea how hard it was navigating the press through your break up? The second rolling stone interview? The crying on stage? The hashtags on twitter?”

“Wait, what’s he talking about?”

“I’m not saying I want you to be unhappy here,” Andrew plowed on, unable to hear you. “You fuck as much as you want in doors. I don’t care. I’m simply asking for a little tact here people!”

“Okay. Everyone calm down! I will go live on Instagram and clear everything up. I will apologize that my privacy was invaded the first time I had lunch with my girlfriend in months. Is there anything else you needed from me tonight? Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You lift off of his chest as he hangs up the phone and bite your lip softly in nervousness. He moves a stray piece of hair that didn’t quite make it into the bun and kisses your bare shoulder.

“Sweetheart don’t shut down on me, please?” He whispered.

“Will you tell me?” You asked hesitantly. “What it was like while I was gone?”

He sighed. “Babe, it was a while ago, okay? That’s all in the past.”

“I--I wanna know. It’s important to me.”

He stares at you for a moment as if trying to sense how far you’re willing to push it. But you know you won’t give in. Honesty has to be the number one for them. That was their new leaf anyway. Honestly above all.

“Okay. I guess that Andrew was telling the truth. I--I struggled a lot. And the fans got a little worried, so they started this Make Shawn Feel Better campaign on twitter. And they started holding these little hearts up at the shows. The press got a hold of it so Rolling stone wanted to do an article. I thought I was feeling a little better so I let them come out. They fucked up again. Did this story about how I was depressed and full of myself and didn’t have anything to actually be sad about. It just became a thing for a little while.”

You have a feeling he’s leaving out the worst of it. And you can’t help but wonder if maybe Andrew would tell you the whole thing. But he’s sitting here in front of you right now with those kind, hazel doe eyes and presenting his heart on a silver platter like he always does, like he was always willing to do for you. And you remember that things are different now. You have to trust him just like he has to trust you. It’s the only way that this works.

“Hey.” He mumbled when you glanced guilty down at the sheets, his fingers moving to cup your cheek. “It was not your fault. The only reason I didn’t say anything is because I didn’t want you blaming yourself.  It was a shitty time, but I got to learn how to love music again because of it. I needed to remember how music could make me feel. Not the industry, not the money, not anything else but the music. It was worth it for me.  And I got you. That’s all that matters to me.”

You frown. “I know I just… I can’t help but feel like I was on a beach in the south of France having some self-discovery moment while you were hurting.”

He chuckled a little which only made you frown more, so he reached to kiss your forehead instead.

“I wasn’t exactly moping in my bedroom, honey. I was playing shows around the entire world for tens of thousands of people a night. Maybe rolling stone was right. I didn’t have much to be sad about.”

“Aye, fuck them! What you make some money and get a couple million fans so you don’t get to experience human emotion anymore? That’s bullshit. I wish I would’ve been there too, you keep letting those little bitches into your circle. Let them come over here and tell me what you do and don’t get to feel. I’ll give them something to feel. And another thing--”

He kisses you again until your breathless and your mind is a little foggy and you can’t feel anything but his lips on yours.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Thank you for always protecting me. Thank you for loving me in the exact same way I love you. It is...It means the world to me.”

Your cheeks burn a little bit and you tuck your face in his shoulder to kiss a hickey you’d left at some point.

“Well of course. We were made for each other weren’t we?”

“Yea. I guess we were.”

***

“Hey. Where are you right now?” He murmured.

You peered over at the lunch that Stu had invited you to. It had gone from, “let’s catch up” to “let’s sit and watch everyone else chat and have fun and talk about the good ole days of grindr”

“I’m in the middle of a lunch with every gay man this side of Lake Ontario. Don’t worry though, I’m gonna be there at six thirty at the gate to get in, just like you said.”

“Oh...Well yea that uh--that sounds great. I was actually gonna ask you. I got offered the chance to go skate at the uh the arena where the leafs play. Kind of a dream of mine. I wanted to know if maybe you’d wanna come with me.”

He sounded a little flustered, and when he was flustered you were flustered. It didn’t help that you HAD NO IDEA HOW TO SKATE.

“Why do you sound so nervous to ask me that?” You giggled, playing with the table cloth.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, you make me nervous.” He chuckled. “Will you go with me?”

“I’d love to. I really would...”

“But?”

“It’s just that I can’t skate.” You admitted softly.

“Can’t skate? Baby.” He snickered.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t laugh at me goddammit. I knew you would do this.”

“Hey, I’m not! I’m not. I swear. Look I’ll teach you. It’ll be cute and romantic. Just come with me? Please?”

“I don’t know...What if I fall?”

“I’ll pick you up again. I’ll always pick you up again.”

Well wasn’t that just sweet as fucking pie. Ugh.

“Fine. text me the details while I try and extract myself from this horrid lunch.”

“K. I love you.”

“Yea, I love you too.”

There had been a lot of firsts in your life since meeting shawn. First award show. First paparazzi. First selfie on the street. And none of them, absolutely none of them were as surprising to you at him getting your ass on an ice rink. When he told you they’d invited him to skate, you figure hat meant the rest of the team would be there too. Shawn never did anything without inviting everyone else along with him. Needless to say that when you show up and it’s just you two and apparently Josiah for all picture taking needs, you’re a little confused.

It only takes the two Maple Leafs jerseys with both of your names on them to poke at the idea that this wasn’t as random as he may have made it sound.

“You’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbled handing you the jersey with Mendes on, so that he could wear the one with your name on it instead. “But I had a dream the other night that we went ice skating. And we just had so much fun. So I might have called and made a special request but...now you’re standing here in front of me and I’m so unbelievably happy so… I don’t know; I think it was worth it.”

“That is not stupid.” you huffed and took his hands in yours. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I hope my whole inability to skate doesn’t bust your narrative.”

“I’m with you. That was the most important part.”

The skates themselves are scary. And you nearly break your ankles getting them on. Shawn takes pity and ties them for you. He lets his fingers skim over your leggings clad thighs. He dug in slightly where they bulged the most, at your hips. His nose skimmed against yours and when he kissed you it just all made sense. You felt like you were living fully in that moment, like you were exactly where you needed to be. In this wild ass big ass arena next to a block of ice with the man who made your heart go crazy. It felt like what you needed in that moment. What he needed. Maybe his dream had been on to something after all.

“Just hold my hand and I’ll lead you around the ice alright?”

“What if I fall like James Corden and when you pull me up all you see is James Corden and then you never want to have sex with me again because I looks like James Corden?”

Shawn expertly stopped himself on the ice and stared at you with exasperated eyes.

“Sweetheart. I can tell you with the utmost honesty, with all of my heart that nothing about your body reminds me of James Corden. Nothing. Nada. Now please? Shall we?”

You reach for his hands hesitantly and he guides you onto the ice. Your legs wobble immediately and you almost go down. But, he pulls you in chest to chest, hands falling to your hips.

“I got you. See? I got you.” He chuckled in your ear.

You whined softly. “This is horrible.”

He skates backwards, because of course he does, and hold your hands in his. It’s not that you necessarily get the hang of it at all. It’s more so that you stop trying and you just let him pull you around the rink. It’s kind of sweet actually. He asks you about your day and laughs when you make fun of Stu’s friends. He tells you about a fall he had this afternoon that took his breath away. He hit his knee so hard that he felt his balls retract into his body. And that frankly was just the funniest shit you’d ever heard in your life. So funny that you lose your balance and definitely take both of you down to the ice with a hard thud.

“Shit.” He groaned crawling on top of you. “I tell you a story about me falling, so you figure you’ll take us both down?”

You giggled uncontrollably. “It was an accident.”

“You know I told you that story for you to feel sorry for me? To be nice to me. Not laugh at me.” He smirked down at you. “You look so pretty though. I can’t even be mad.”

“Yea? This jersey thing do it for you?”

His eyes roamed over your body as he bit at his lip.

“In my head you were just wearing the jersey and nothing else, but yes...It does it for me.” He hummed. “If you wanna get off the ice, I’d still like to skate with you even though you were mean to me.”

“If you can get my fat ass off this ground. I’ll skate with you as much as you want.”

It is far more romantic than you cared to admit. His cheeks get red and rosey. Your nose gets cold and he just happens to have a warm neck to hide it in. He makes you laugh and he skates in circles around you. You love him more than you could ever imagine yourself loving someone. And isn’t that just scary as all hell? You didn’t know how you could be apart from someone for six months and all of those feelings, all of those emotions still be there. How did he do it? How did he make you love him like that?

It’s not until he stops in the middle of the ice and pulls you between his legs that you find your answer. His fingers skim over your hair which was in two matching buns atop your head. He smiles down at you like you are the sun and the earth and his heart all in one.

“You’ve never warn your hair this way before.” He whispers. “It’s so pretty. You’re so pretty.”

You smiled up at him. “I saw a hair tutorial on youtube when I was supposed to be helping Stu pick out outfits. I really like them. They’re called space buns.”

“Space buns aye? I love them.” He chuckled. “Hey, tonight after the show there’s gonna be the big party of course, and all my friends from the industry and from home will be there, and I’m sure it’s all gonna be wild but...I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course.”

“Would you wanna….go get pizza with me? Like before the party.”

You snort softly. “Pizza?”

“Yea. I haven’t had it since tour started. I really miss our pizza friendship dates.”

“But what about the party?”

“The party can wait. I just want to have pizza with the really pretty girl from across the hall.” He murmured squeezing your hands. “Will you go with me?”

And that’s when you know. That you’d been set up to fail from the beginning. You were always going to love him, because no one had ever been created with such a capacity for it. You would love him and love him and love him for the rest of your days because it’s all that your heart had been destined for. He was it.

“Yea. fuck yea.”

“Fuck yea!” He chuckled.

“Fuck yea!”

Your voices echo off the ice and his hands pull you close, pull you closer until there’s no space between his body and yours. It’s just the two of you. And a lot of love. That’s all.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’s buzzing. He’s absolutely fucking buzzing from his toes to the tips of his hair. It’s the most electric it’s ever felt. It's never felt this good before. He looks out into the crowd and it’s hard to find the individual faces now. Because there’s fifty fucking thousand people looking back at him. And he’s got no idea how he ever got this lucky, how anyone ever decided to come to his shows let alone this many. All he knows is that he’s sweaty everywhere, his fingers are shaking, and he’s so goddamn in love with life in this moment that he’s gotta share it. He’s gotta get it out of him somehow, someway.

“You guys mind if I play a new one for you tonight?” He murmured into the mic as his fingers fluttered on the keys.

They scream in approval and he smiles. It means so fucking much to him.

“Cool.” He chuckled.

His fingers start to map out the tune that he’d written in a hotel room on a cheap keyboard when his heart hurt and he’d been sick with the pain. Somehow something beautiful had come out of it, even if he couldn’t stomach the words until now. Until tonight. But, he couldn’t imagine sharing this song with fifty thousand people without sharing it with her first. So he was just gonna have to do both.

“Hi. Sorry. One second.”

He gets off the chair of the piano and heads towards the steps instead. The fans keep screaming and reaching out for him. He lets his fingers trail along theirs until he finds her. There. Nestled into barricade alongside Stu and Bryan and Andrew. He reaches out for her hand and she looks a little petrified. Fair.

“What in the HELL are you doing?!” She yelled at him.

He just smiled dopely. She could yell at him for the rest of his life. In fact he hoped that she would. Just as long as she let him hold her hand while she did it.

“Come here. I need to share something with you!” He attempted to explain.

“NOW?!”

“Yes. Now! Don’t be difficult sweetheart. It’s just you and me.”

And fifty thousand of their closest friends.

He has no idea how he gets her up there. He just knows that her hands are shaking, and at the end of the day so are his. Maybe they still them together. She sits on the bench and he sits beside her, and she refuses to look up at the screen to see her own face there. She only looks at him so he only looks at her and the keys as he sings.

You say there's so much you don't know

You need to go and find yourself

You say you'd rather be alone

'Cause you think you won't find it tied to someone else

Ooh, who said it's true

That the growing only happens on your own?

They don't know me and you

I don't think you have to leave

If to change is what you need

You can change right next to me

When you're high, I'll take the lows

You can ebb and I can flow

And we'll take it slow

And grow as we go

Grow as we go

She’s never heard it before. And she starts to cry after the first verse. Only they could know what it meant, what those words were about. It’s a beautiful song, but it’s one full of heartache and love and not knowing whether or not it could ever be enough. It feels like this really important moment for the two of them. Important enough that he doesn’t regret pulling her on stage, all of the eyes and phones, any of it. It’s worth it for her to know.

She wraps her arm around his bicep like they’re at home. It almost feels like they are. He wants to wipe her tears, but he kind of has to play, so he kisses them instead. She starts to cry a little harder so she just hides her face in his arm instead. And that’s okay. That’s so much more than okay.

Tell me you don’t want to leave

Cause if change is what you need

You can change right next to me

When you’re high, I’ll take the low

You can ebb and I can flow

And we’ll take it slow

And grow as we go

Grow as we go

The last note comes out and the crowd goes so crazy that the floor shakes beneath his feet. His heart is hammering in his chest and he pulls her closer to him just to still his shaking limbs. He tugs out his inner ear monitors to hear her. He’s afraid to kiss her and have it not feel authentic, not feel real because everyone’s watching. So he just holds her and speaks into her ear instead.

“I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you too.” She sniffled still crying. “I love you so much.”

Her arms grow tight around his neck and his heart soars. He’d give anything to end the show right there right now to just go eat pizza and play with her space buns for the rest of the night. But there’s a show to finish. So he’s got no choice but to lead her off stage and place her back into the arms of her best friend in the hopes that he can focus for another hour. Here’s a hoping.

***

“You’re wearing my jersey.” She giggled as he cornered her in a booth to do some more of that fabulous kissing he had thoroughly missed so much.

He chuckled against her neck. “Yes. Yes I am. Gotta let people know who I belong to right?”

“Shit. Don’t say shit like that when we have to go to a party after this.” She whined. “I thought you wanted pizza.”

“I do. I do. You just keep fucking distracting me. Wait here.”

He goes to order their meal and gets a lot of squeals thrown at him. He promises to take a picture after their meal in the hopes that it gets him a little more privacy during their meal. It definitely doesn’t. They definitely take photos of them. He tried at least.

“Do you remember the time we got so fucking stoned and went on a walk for pizza and got lost?” She asks him as they dig in.

He immediately bust out laughing and leaned into her shoulder to control the shakes.

“We never made it a block away from the apartment! Holy shit that was the best night ever.”

“And then we got uber eats and fucking fell alseep before it got there. We are such pieces of shit!”

He shrugged. “We did our best. I tipped the guy the next morning, didn’t I?”

“You sure did. My man’s a big spender when he forgets to get his twenty dollar mcdonalds.”

“Oh funny. You’re being funny now. Wonderful.”

She snorted and hid her face in his shoulder. Wow. He was so in love with her.

They sit there eating pizza and making each other laugh and it without a doubt is exactly like it used to be when they were still getting to know each other, back when every time she smiled at him he had to look away because it hurt too much.She’s still his best friend. The difference is now she knows he’d do anything for her, that she’s everything to him. The difference is now he knows she feels exactly the same way.

“Can we leave the party early and go home and cuddle?” He mumbled nibbling at the patch of skin near her shoulder blade where her too big jersey had exposed her.

She giggled. “Depends on how much tequila we drink, now doesn’t it?”

“Just wanna cuddle.”

“Yea? Then I guess we’ll cuddle.”

“Promise?” He murmured, pulling her forehead closer to his.

“Promise.”

She keeps it that night.

The End.

Taglist: @kitykatnumber @lou-and-me​ @ourlittleshawnie @mutuallynotmutual @wanderingmendes @peacedolantwins2 @chels-nyc @@illloveyouforever1​ @justbeingoceana @grittyisathot @hayyitsfayy​ @claredolphinbear24​  @september-lace @grittyaho @literallyshawn @mchutchmendes @liliane106 @iloveshawnieboi @samwillllson @trappedinfairytales @abbersalp @rosesfromcth

[bemybestoy]

Genesis of me

Genesis: becoming me! Hello bitches and kink lovers,This blog shall be an open letter to guide and smooth out  our relationship as I am sick and tired of how a dominatrix and a sub's role are misunderstood. Let me introduce myself, I am Krisztina, a pro domme, in my 30's and I am embracing this role for around 8 years. Meaning I am highly experienced and I tried it all, expect the practices that reach out my limit. Such as permanent damage, I would never put the life and health of a slave of mine in jeopardy not thru my instructions or even just widness(you cannot even imagine thru years how many times I was asked if we can perform a c2c castration  precedure, stabbing with knifes or swords for any amount I can posibly think of asking. I repeate it was about c2c so not bulshit as I would watch all along). When I refused such life threatning session I was offered same only to watch, not to instruct. Answer is still NO everytime. BDSM is not abuse, it is not guided endangerment, it must be sane, sane, consensual and have very clear boundaries of safety. To rewind i started to explore this world in my early 20s ofc and suprise , suprise in real life. Even if i am mostly an online fetish chathost and online domme, I did not know such sections of BDSM exist in camming world, till after a few years i have done dominance in real life. Let me explain! So I had a mid managemnt job after my university in a multinational company, which was and still is top 3 globally in its field and shall always be. There is not even a child all across this world that does not know what company is about when hearing it's name (do not be cretin enough to ask me the name, I will tell NO to your face. Or ask you what info you wish next home adress, Id identification number, blood group or home keys along with an open window in case you do not manage to use the keys:)) ). So i was there around 1 years and half and had a long distance relationship with often travelling . We all know those never lastunless one of the two moves abroad. So I hapilly informed my family and work collegues I wish to move to a different country to move in with my bf/ soon to be fiancee. The question in everyone's head right now was you bf your was Ds relationship? the honest answer is hell no! my bf was alike me a real alpha, one of the strongest man psysical and mental both and definetly would not take attitude from no woman (not even the love of his life, unless he was dick and she was right. To understand you need to picture a man at height 1,95 cm and around 100 kilos all fibers and muscles as he had been a kickboxer and when i met him a trainer for kickboxers at European level. A true montain of a man who yet never felt his manhood threaten if he discussed his feeling with me, his desires, his sensibilities, things i would do or say to hurt his feeling even involuntary a I was busy all the time and moving fast etc). So not only that he was not the submissive type, but even if we were in harmony from time to time he would give me 'attitude'. Now even if I am pleased and happy, even if I amm not the nagging type, no matter who you are and how much I love you, if you cross me I will whoop your ass. After a fe episodes, as chasing him thru the apartment every room with the moop tail pointed a him to kick his ass until he ran out, threating to stab his hand with a fork when he tried to touch my steak after leavig him without one as he made clearly to me he was not a pussy to carry grocery bagsand hence to help and many as suchhe decided I should meet one of his best friend from high school, a lady leaving in a city close. He said we would get along perfectly and the lady and I would get along perfectly. Who would knew I was in for such a big suprise.....(cheshire cat as i recall and type). So I did not know much about her ad what she does for a living when we were instruduced. We had  lovely conversation, then she invited me some day when i am off work to visit her house, met her husband also and spend some more lady time together(I was a manager in one of my bf business a gran coffee shop/ bar it was quite big and had 2 floors one was coffe shop and bar all white with blue lighting surrounding th wide bar and lower floor  couches and tables and ring dance for party rentals such as festivity, anniversieries etc. I done so many things in there: not only i would cash in all the money that being my main, but i would help the other emplyees by making cocktails- I made a course for that- , even cleaning or washing glasses, once out there i was the only personal managing or website, of course PR as even t planning as I was the one who organised every detail of our rental and someone even DJ, a lower floor had DJ booth with pro equipment which i manage to completely fuck up as I had no idea what I was doing and the booked DJ announced last minute he was so coming so my bf said as i am the most modern and tech savvy to give a try to see if i can work it. not only I was not able , but i fucked it up so bad we had to call a tehnician to fix it and he taught me basically how to use it on a minimal level to work it for the party which turned out great. Still cracks me out when i think of my face when i was sure i fucked it up lol. it was a dexter labority moment and his blonde sister deedee: i was like many if i press this and that i will fix it )  I was like well i cannot make it worse :))) Then I decided I need some female eergy without the 'guys' going everyday at my bf gym to do my box training, my krav maga and I gave a call to this lady ask her if I can indeed visit and when It is appropriate to come and suits her schedule.My employees and bf replacing me could manage a day without and i needed a getaway. She invited me in couple or days, my bf drove me to her house and then left to actually replace me. we had an amazing luncheon, laughed, make jokes, just getting to know each other mostly me and her, but also her husband. Then she informed me she had some work to do soon but i can wait with her husband. Unlike I want to come with her. I was like ok I want to come, ut i am not sure whether i disturb you and invite me just to be polite or if it is really ok. i mean i got the best manners you could witnes both on and out of my job. She said she would actually like to share what she does with me as she likes me and she is quite sure having such a strong and open personality  would not make me freak out. I was within my mind ' what should i freak out about?!'. but still acted al casual as i liked her myslf, it only made me very curious. I have a feline personality so curiosity is in my nature, though it is pure and observatory, not the gossip, lame and weak as usual women are. So..... she said she will be busy with work for around 2 hours and if i wanted to stay aside as she cannot pay attention to me. i was like ok... She then invited me at the basement where she said she would met at her 'office' a person whom she expects, as her work space has direct access from garage. Then we would both go downstairs. Well probably telling all cluess made you suspect or realise it was a full dungeon downstairs. a pro dungeon.you should have seen my face when i noticedall the tools, device,suspension systems and the rest of the toys. She looked at me patient and confident, without a care in her mind that i might judge or something.... let me soak it all in... then she asked: You still want to stay or do you want to go upstairs with my husband to keep him company thru soccer game was on tv? " . She was so calm as if she shown me a bush of pants in her garder:)) Then my first outspoken reaction to her it was one of a morron: my first words after what i have seen, my first question asked was if her husband knew about all these(as they do not share a house for more then 10 years). She said yes, but he does not interfer with her work, comes down sometimes, but participates rare and very dismissive toward whom she works with. So I gotten more curious. I obviously suspected what will happen soon, but never withness something alike.Well I done so many sessions and you remember even if having a perfect memory the big lines of the majority. The first one I had only as a peeper I remember in smallest little details. Bitch parked and had a hoody on. he knoecked and when was invited, he went down on his knees down on all stairs. He looked like a maggot or miriapod with his head down to do not cascade over stairs as he was not standing. She then informed her she had a guest which will attend, but will not participate. Not giving a fuck of his reaction. I;ve seen chain suspection bondage, over all punishment and esp cbt along with huge strapon penetration. Shge is quite tall1.80 and she really was at perfect level as he bitch even if him hanging from the ceiling without touch the floor or be close to it even. i was amazed and intrigued. So as soon everything was done and he left ofc i asked so many questions. She answered all with patience even if i must have been annoying like a child and not  take the time to put together the smarters questions. After i while I was blablabla in a hyper manner about what she does as a professional domina I was like wait! does my bf know about this? She smilled and said ofc. He sometimes rarely when visiting me participates even as a master helping mewith pain or bootlicking or stuff. He joins more then my husbnd who when bored and coming down to see when i finish at most lets his shoes licked by my slaves then goes upstairs. I found all these fascinaint and so alternative so ofc I wanted to see more.So often I would visit her as watch her sessions with her slaves. After several mouth a slave of hers made her after session a big financial tribute offer that i participate too and i can second her domining. She asked me if it is something I consider. I did want it, but felt like I would be clueless as per what to do. Even if you watch many times that does not mean you feel suddly like you can replicate that certainty in action. She said not to worry as bitch knows it is my first time and this and following her lead is exactly what it is excites him. So i mus not overthink, just try to have some fun. And damn! It was so much fun! the hormones, the excitment, the laughter from humiliation talk, the driven crazy look on the bitches' face, the overall experience. it was like wow! it is hard to paint it in words, with all lexicon richness or ability to play with words. it is pure extasy! :D:DAfter he felt she made sure he had a chit chat with a glass of wine, making sure i am good with all, she said how great i was as she does not like other lady dommes in general. What was the goodbye part when my bf arrved to pick me up in car she actually did give me my own tribute. how much money! like lots! Then she invited me often to participate in the session in which slave got excited about 2 lady dommes. I accepted that one per week as i was busy with my own line of work. I had so much fun more then a year. Seen lots, done lots.Then a night I was speaking to him in our bed, holding hands, after2-3 rounds of sex and many orgasms. My realtionships are very intimate and I always go for an open man, who is super smart so besides sex and comfy routine I would have a late night conversation till 4-5 am even if we had to bed up and work in couple hours. there is just something that it is most meaninful ina relationship, to communicate ina deep way and to enjoy it lots both of you. and get into each other soul, emotions and deepest needs.So I did ask him : what made you think she would like me and would like her? what made you believe i would enjoy all these as you know we do not do anything as such? He then said he met thru his life many type of women: brainy, prude, whores, dommes, swingerseven submissive lil fmale toys. And he said a true dominant is never made into one. Ofc you can be good if you copy and get exposured to it or at least satisfactory to a slave. But the best dominant are born, not made. It is in their nature and personalities. They give out clues all the time, no matter the random they do.It made me wonder lots. After a couple moment of silence with my head on his chest, lips against his neck and hand holded all thru our talk, just enjoying the thinking of each, the meaninful silence, i asked if he does not feel bothered about that facti enjoy myself playing with slaves when not only he do not do anything alike, but he is not playing with others either. I mean it is a vast emoions i fell which exclude him fully. he said ofc not, as our love life is something i need more then my alternative fun, thta he knows i can live without that experience, but i would be heartbroken if i was without us (you need to understand jealousy cannot be an issue here. Real pro dommes in dungeon do facesitting all dressed up thru latex or leather and it has got a suffocating breath control purpose. i will explain you why: first of all a n evelated domme cares about personal hygiene and she know there are many scat lovers visiting dommes. so to have one licking your pussy it is not quite sanitary. also ass worship is done thru leggings. the most expensive, best dommes will never allow a slave licking. that is just some vanilla crap made up buy hookers selling sex and bdsm aswell. a well respected professional odoes not indulge in that. I am not saing to use a slave for self sexual satisfaction makes you a bad, poorly skilled mistress. But you do that as a lifestyle domme.Meaning you have a domestic relatinship with your slave who is your life patner. Never in a pro dungeon relationship oral for a slave would be allowed or accepted). Drinking champagne straight from mistress soource yes, but without wiping after. You may have it fromshort distance her controlling her debit makeing her slave do not miss anything unless they agree before on a facial champagne game. But when you go to a pro domme you cannot expect her to enjoy licking pussy and ass. Not to mention licks or even nudity just because it arrouses you. so my bf knew my sex life involved only him, in vanilla terms we all know.And he was ok with my alternative fun. We were even if a modern couple a very faithful one. So our orgasms were only and strictly dedicated to one another, exclusively.He wasgreat in bed so i would have every single day more then ten orgams within couple of hours(we had wakeup sex, luch break sex and couple turns before bed, many squirty orgams, clit or vaginal without squirt). The most sexual gesture i seenin the pro domme who introduced me to this world is just around 3 times within one year to milk cock with latex gloves, but with ruin orgasm. she took hand of when she felt he would come load was shoot without touching he would lick after she pull gloved off and glove was washed after. More often she would make the bitch wank himself while she instructs him closeby. her husband accepted her line as he accepted and love everything about her, but he was like my ex fiancee: hear pussy, ass, breast, orgams, real sexual intimacy are for your pratner. Not for everyone. That is a hooker thing to do. To gave all that just just random everyones. One after the other.That is not what a real dmme is made off. Her strenght and charm comes out because he in full intimacy is hard to get if not impossible. And by all means a slave shoould be use till u reach full sexual satisfaction. But only for your chosen one or ones. I fyou are a lifestyle domme and have a slave as life partner or few slaves as toys as open relationship is ok. But you cannot expect same from a real pro domme! That is something builtand leveled up!PS Hmmm now to breath a lil as I poured everything  so fast. deep inhales and exhales. light a cigg after and build this disclaimer. my spelling is awful as you know me i type like a motherfucker in full speed. Ignore all errors and consider the essence of my phrases. I do not believe in going back to spellcheck unless you publich a book or something editorial. I did that during university in an non paid internship, both as corrector and publisher. But it was a publication spread and shippd on a national evel. And in both roles i learned that the first message and thought till publishing as you go back several times are worlds apart. So much changes. And since I do not publish something wanting to be of intellectual value I wish a very spontaneous, fast writing. It is the most sincere, no filters and even if shifting thoughts without a bridge causing some lack of coherency now and then it is more powerful as the first reactions are.  So yes a blog! why a blog? i do not do social media. it is lame, tacky and became brainless. i miss books or blogs at least. and i do not like at all media unless i do exposure over it from bitches craving for begging and tribute me for it. These reasons and that I cannot stand screens after 8-10 hours of online being available to sessions. I like to look in eyes of someone I talk to and they looking back at me. Instead of both or all dinner participants looking non stop at phone while we pretend to be together. Meanwhile no one is present as they focused on media and other stuffs over their phone .That is not only lame and un natural  , but also impolite. Themost important ask from people around me is manners first of all. One lack of manners become my refusal to have this creature close to me even silent, simply unacceptable.  In addition, if i must have my eyes after work on something i prefer a good movie or a book. Actual human contact is important to me as little as we have it nowadays with global situation. so NO, unless i will have video call activated which i will seldom have I do NOT exist until i am online the next day I feel the need to have people at my feet :) I am literary out of this world. I do not exist for anyone online. And enjoy it every minute !

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

What is in a Name?

Rating: T

Genre: Family Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 6385

Summary: Simon and Baz's teen son, Ebb, is having problems. Simon helps him through it.

Read on AO3

AN: I've written lots of parent fics, but it's usually when the kids are young and/or it's focused on their fictional daughter Tasha. So I wanted to do a fic with teen kids and more focused on their fictional son Ebb.  I wrote most of this in like a 3am writing frenzy so sorry for spelling mistakes, I tried to get all of them. Also disclaimer: I'm not a parent, but I tried to do my best. My own amazing parents are super open about their parenting philosophy so I tried to base a lot of this on them. Hope you guys enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

When the door slams hard enough to make the entire house rattle, I jump slightly. It’s just a natural reaction to loud noises, no matter how funny Baz thinks it is. I bend my head out of the kitchen just in time to get a glimpse of my son stomping past me.

“Hey, Ebb,” I say. “How was the skatepark?”

Ebb doesn’t answer, just grunts as he goes towards his room. Unfortunately that’s normal nowadays. I hear him stomp up the stairs and slam his bedroom door just as hard. I sigh and shake my head.

I thought Tasha’s teen years were tough, and they were, but Ebb’s are bad in a different way. He’s embarrassed by his cracking voice so he barely speaks, he spends most of his time in his room, and any emotions he has he seems to take out on his wall. There are dirty footprints to prove it. Baz grumbled about cutting off our son’s feet. I had to remind him that we’re not supposed to mutilate our children, no matter how much expensive paint they scuff.

As I’m chopping carrots for the stew, I hear another door opening, then the soft padding of Baz’s fuzzy socks. He wears them over his regular ones. Because of his naturally low body temperature, he still spends a good part of the summer in about three layers.

“Why is Ebb trying to break the house?” he asks bitingly, though he does sound curious too.

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “He doesn’t tell me anything anymore.”

Baz huffs and takes a seat on at the breakfast bar. “Me neither. It’s a miracle if he’ll say more than five words to me in a day.”

I chuckle, dumping carrots in the instant pot. “Lucky. I usually just get grunts.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “I wish he would just tell us why he’s upset. We’ve always told him he can talk to us.”

I shrug. “Well, we can tell him all we want but that doesn’t mean he’ll do it. You and I both know teenagers rarely do what they’re told.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” He leans over the counter. “At least Ebb and Tasha aren’t fighting super villains.”

“Or being a dick to their roommates who they’re in love with.”

He leans closer, a playful smile on his lips. A few silver strands of hair fall in his face. Baz was incredibly relieved when he first started going grey, but now the vain bastard thinks he looks old. I keep assuring him he looks distinguished.

“But it all worked out in the end, remember?”

I lean forward on my elbows. Our noses brush together. We may be in our forties but we still act like sappy teenagers in love sometimes. Old habits die hard. “That it did.”

Honestly, kissing over a counter isn’t the weirdest way of I've kissed Baz. Burning forest still takes the cake, thankfully. But it's still nice. Twenty seven years and two kids later and I haven't tired of kissing him. I don't think I ever will.

I'm so caught up in kissing my husband I guess I don't hear the front door close and footsteps approaching us.

“Gross,” a very familiar voice says. “You're going to get spit in our supper.”

We pull apart, and Baz sighs with a smile. “Hello to you too, Tasha.”

Tasha walks up to Baz hugs him around the shoulders, a big slightly shit eating grin  on her face. “Hi, Papa.”

“What, I don’t get a hug?” I ask with my own grin.

Tasha rolls her eyes. (Sometimes she’s so much like Penny it scares Baz, and me too a bit.) She strolls over, black curly ponytail bouncing, and squeezes me tight. I squeeze her back just as hard. “There, that better, Dad?”

“Very much.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Hi, darling. How was work?”

“Boring,” she sighs. “One lady spent half an hour trying on different jeans and didn’t buy any of them.

“Rude,” I say as I start the instant pot.

“Retail is truly a trail of endurance,” Baz adds all philosophical. I snort.

“You’ve never worked retail.”

Baz glares. “Neither have you, Mr. Bag of Gold.”

“I was a barista at the college coffee shop though.”

“How good was that coffee?” Tasha asks with a little smirk. Baz snickers. She’s a lot like him too.

I glare at my snarky daughter. “Shouldn’t you being doing homework or something, little miss?”

Tasha glares right back. “First of all, I’m seventeen, I’m not little anymore. Second, it’s summer, so no homework.”

“Then go make some homework, I don’t know.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that, Dad.” She starts walking away, bag slung over her shoulder. “First, I’m going to get changed. Call me down for supper?”

“We’ll use the Alexis thing,” I call to her as she goes up the stairs.

“Alexa,” Baz sighs.

I wave my hand dismissively. “Whatever. Amazon talky lady that lets you play morose violin music.”

He giggles, shaking his head. That’s still the most beautiful sound I’ve ever head. “Well, that’s at least accurate.” He looks down at our slightly scuffed instant pot. “How long on the stew?”

I look at the bright blue timer. “Um, forty five minutes.”

“Good.” He offer his hand like the proper gentleman he is. “Want to cuddle and watch Great British Bake Off?”

I grin and take his hand, the metal of his ring pressing into my skin. “Absolutely.”

And I let my husband lead me towards our couch. But just as we sit down, we hear a loud thumping from the room directly above us. Baz winces slightly. With his super hearing it’s probably way louder. He sighs, slumping against me.

“We never should’ve gotten Ebb that bluetooth speaker for Christmas,” he groans.

I shrug, rubbing my hand over his stomach. He still likes that a lot. “Too late now. Let’s just watch the telly.”

Baz curls around me like an affectionate cat. “Sounds good to me.”

I hum happily and pull him closer “Awesome.”

I turn on our next Bake Off episode. We get so involved in all the cake and pastry drama we barely hear Ebb’s extremely loud emo music. I hope he’s alright. He does this a lot, shutting himself in his room and being angsty. Usually it’s over simple stuff we can’t fix, so we’ve learned to just give him his space until he calms down. But still, he’s my kid. I’m always worried about him. So I hope he’s okay.

———————————————

“Alexis, announce supper is ready,” I say. The stupid black tube doesn’t respond. How are these things supposed to make life more convenient? It’s more useless than my magic used to be.

“Alexa,” Baz calls out from the dining room, “announce supper is ready.”

The black cylinder of frustration rings this time. I frown “Why does it only listen to you?”

“Because I call it by it’s proper name.”

I grumble as I bring in the last bowl. Stupid technology, worse than magic.

Oh Crowley, I sound so fucking old.

I hear Tasha jump down the stairs. (She’s been doing that since she was six.) She enters the dining room, dressed in her Watford Lacrosse sweater and grey trackies, curls piled up on top of her head in some sort of bun.

“Mm, smells good,” she says as she sits down. She immediately goes for her spoon.

“Manners, darling,” Baz scolds kindly. Tasha frowns and cross her arms. She keeps reminding us of how old she is, but she definitely still acts like my little girl sometimes.

“Ebb?” I call up the stairs. “You coming down for supper, love?”

Soon enough, we hear Ebb’s heavy thumps descending. He’s been thumping around a lot recently. Baz jokes that our son is turning into a numpty, and I’ve made him promise to never say that in front of him. Ebb doesn’t need any more issues from us. He stomps in, upper body almost totally hidden by an oversized black sweater. When he sits, I can see his deep scowl. Well, whatever is going on definitely hasn’t resolved. Maybe we’ll talk after supper if he wants.

I put Ebb’s stew bowl in front of him. He grunts in acknowledgement, which is pretty good nowadays. Before I sit down, I make sure to kiss the top of kids’ heads. I’ve done it every supper we’ve had together since they were born. Baz says it’s cheesy, but still thinks it’s sweet. I just want Tasha and Ebb to always know they’re loved, because I never felt that as a kid and I wish I had.

So I lean over and kiss Tasha’s head. She groans with a smile. I lean over to Ebb, but he shifts away, crossing his arms over his chest. I try to hide the way that stings. Well, when kids get older sometimes they don’t always like their dad kissing the top of their head. Tasha told me to stop embarrassing her with it when she was fifteen. She said it was okay again a few months later. Maybe that’ll happen with Ebb too. I don’t know. I hope so...

I sit down, and Baz gives me a sympathetic look from across the table. I smile back at him, trying to say, “I’m okay.” Which I am. Ebb is allowed to do what he wants with his body, that comes before my feelings.

“Let’s eat,” Baz says grandly.

We all unfold our napkins and put them in our laps. (Baz has finally taught me manners over the decades.) All of us eat in relative silence for awhile. I don’t mind, I want to enjoy the stew. Ebb is somehow able to eat while still scowling. Did he learn to do that from Baz or all on his own? Either way, it’s impressive, in a moody teenager way.

“How was work today, love?” Baz asks.

It takes me a second to realise he’s talking to me and not Tasha. I swallow my beef before speaking. “It was good. Lily is finally learning how to make crafts without eating the glue.”

Tasha’s brow furrows. “Do kids really try to eat glue?”

“Oh yeah, lots of glue. And crayons. And dirt. And those massive LEGO bricks. It’s my job to keep them from doing it.”

“Dad, remind me to never become a nursery teacher.”

I give her a “really?” look. She smirks and continues eating. How did I raise such a sarcastic daughter? I blame Baz. And Penny.

“How was your work today?” I ask Baz.

Baz shrugs. He’s picked up on a lot of my habits over the years. “It was alright. Filed some reports, did a few conference calls, had leftover pasta for lunch.”

“Working from home is going well then?” Tasha says between bites.

“Definitely. No more morning commutes on the tube is wonderful.”

I point my fork accusingly at him. “But it also means you don’t get outside enough. You’re going to get even paler, love.”

He waves dismissively with a small smile. “Not possible.”

“We’ll see,” I laugh. I look over at Ebb, who is still scowl eating. I should try to make him feel included. “How was your day, Ebb? Do any cool moves at the skatepark?”

“No,” Ebb grumbles. Well, that’s the first word he’s said to me all day. Baby steps.

“Oh, uh, well that’s a bummer. I bet you’ll do more next time.”

“How are you doing on the half pipe?” Baz asks. “You told me you were doing well last-”

Ebb slams his fork down so hard the table rattles. The crashing sound rings out through the room. Baz looks very taken aback, and slightly in pain. Loud noises up close don’t mix well with his vampire hearing. Tasha and I are just stunned with our backs perfectly straight. Ebb glares at both Baz and I with rageful fire in his eyes.

“Why the fuck did you name me after a bloody Christmas Carol character?!” he shouts.

The whole house is silent. Honestly, I’m too stunned to speak. Baz and Tasha seem to be in the same situation. Ebb glares at us for another few seconds before violently pushing his chair away and storming off. He stomps hard to his room, then slams the door even more forcefully than when he came home.

We stay in stunned silence for another few minutes. I gape at Baz, mouth opening and closing like a fish. His eyes are wider than saucer plates. Tasha is just looking at her food, pushing around hunks of carrots.

“Well,” Baz finally sighs, “that was something.”

“Understating that a bit, Papa,” Tasha says, eyes flicked up. I just nod, mouth still hanging up. I’m still processing stuff.

“Thank you for the commentary, Tasha.” His eyebrows get all scrunchy. “Hasn’t Ebb heard about Ebb Petty around school?”

Tasha shakes her head. “Probably not. I didn’t hear about her until you guys told me, then in class. And learning about The Battle of The Mage has been moved to fifth year magickal history. Headmaster decided it was too grim for the younger kids.”

Baz scoffs. “Well, she has a point. But I suppose Ebb will need at least part of that lesson early.” He looks back at me. “I think you should go talk to him, Simon.”

I shake my head out, finally breaking the shocked spell. “Uh, wait, why me? You’re better at this serious stuff.”

“Because I gave Tasha the talk on her namesake. Now it’s your turn.”

“Could we rock, paper, scissor to do it?” I say with a strained smile.

Tasha’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do you two seriously ‘rock, paper, scissor’ on parenting decisions?”

“No,” Baz says immediately. But when Tasha fixes him with an accusatory look (she’s very good at that), and he shifts uncomfortably. “Occasionally. Not on big things. Usually on who has to help you monsters with the dishes when we’re both tired.”

Tasha shakes her head and goes back to her food. I was only half kidding, really. Baz looks back at me. “Honestly, love, you’ll be better at explaining this. You’re the one who picked his name, and I think you’ll explain its significance the best.”

I chew on my lip, drumming my fingers on the table. I’m nervous. It’s not like I haven’t had hard talks with my kids before. But I still get nervous. I never had parents growing up (the Mage does not count even a bit), so I don’t have any blueprints for this. I've read books and learned from others to make up for it, but I’m always scared I’ll mess them up by accident. Baz assures me I’m not, that I'm a good dad, but that fear doesn’t go away. And from the look on his face, he knows I’m thinking about that again. We’ve gotten good at figuring each other out over the years.

Baz reaches across the table, holds my hand and squeezes. You’ll do great, he says with just his expression. I let out a breath and squeeze back. “Alright, be back in a bit.”

“Alright,” Baz says kindly. “The photo is still in the upstairs hall.”

“Okay.” I get up and start making my way down the hall. As I’m ascending the stairs. I hear Tasha say something.

“Papa, was I this bad when I was thirteen?”

“No,” Baz replies, “you were worse.”

The following snicker tells me Tasha has thrown something (probably her napkin) at Baz’s face. I stifle my loud snort. Ebb doesn’t need to think I’m laughing at him.

I walk down the upstairs hall. Ebb’s room is right at the end. Before I go in, I grab a particular photo on the wall. It’s not the original polaroid, since Fiona wanted to keep it. But it’s a good copy. I’m glad we have it. I like to look at it.

I get to Ebb’s door. It’s covered in KEEP OUT signs he printed off the internet. I knock firmly, but not too loud. “Ebb? Can I come in?”

“Go away!” he shouts. I know he’s trying to be forceful, but his voice cracks, which takes away a bit of the impact. Do not laugh, Simon, don’t you dare laugh. You’re supposed to be a good father, dammit.

“I know you want to be alone, but I really think we need to talk.”

There’s a short silence, only filed with the faint sound of creaking springs. Ebb must be rocking or shuffling on his bed.

“Are you gonna yell at me?” he asks. He sounds so small and nervous. It reminds me that no matter how moody or rude he is, he’s still my little boy, who cried because he couldn’t fit all his plush toys on his bed and he didn’t want any of them to feel left out. He’s not some monster, even if he was being a bit of a brat earlier.

“No, love,” I say kindly, “I’m not going to yell. I just want to talk.”

I wait through another short silence with mattress squeaking. “Okay,” he finally says.

I open the KEEP OUT door and enter Ebb’s room. He covered it in punk and metal band posters a few months ago. A lot of them are from Fiona. She’s very happy to “finally have someone in this family with good music taste.” (Sixty four years old and she’s still as punk as ever.) Ebb is sitting on his bed, back against the wall, oversized hoodie over his pulled up knees. The hood is up and the collar is pulled up to his freckled nose. He looks like a black blob. His curly dark hair is falling in his face. It reminds me of Baz when we were teenagers. He’s even got the same sort of haircut. Part of me wonders if he found an old picture of Baz and took it to the hairdresser.

I sit down on the end of the bed, giving Ebb space but not sitting too far away.

“Hi,” I say with a soft smile, showing him that I’m really not going to shout.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks. He’s trying to sound normal, but I hear the nervous twinge.

“No,” I sigh. “Honestly, I’m a bit disappointed, but I’m not mad. You know Papa doesn’t like loud noises, and I wish you would have talked with us calmly without making a scene.”

He burrows deeper into the hoodie, looking down at his knees. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” I shift a bit closer. “You get to be a pissy teenager sometimes, it’s normal. God knows both me and Papa were.” That makes him smile a little. “But I’m the dad, so it’s my job to reign you in.”

He nods and emerges slightly from his sweater. “Okay.”

I grin, putting my hand on the bed near him. “Good, glad we’ve got that sorted. Now let’s talk about why you were upset.” Ebb frowns and goes back into his sweater. Parenting is two steps forward, one step back sometimes. “I’m guessing something happened with your name. Did someone make fun of it?”

Slowly, still beneath all that black fabric, Ebb looks up with his big brown eyes. I can’t see his mouth but I assume he’s pouting or frowning. “Yeah...”

My heart breaks a bit. I can’t help it. I know bad things will happen to him, it’s inevitable, but it still hurts me when my kid gets hurt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-It wasn’t that bad, really.”

“Doesn’t matter how bad it was, love, you can talk about it.”

Ebb emerges more, his arms moving more into his lap so he can fiddle with his fingers.  “It was Dylan.”

“One of your Normal friends?”

“Yeah. He’s usually cool but he can be an arsehole sometimes.”

“Language, darling.”

He looks away. “Sorry, Dad.”

“It’s alright. So Dylan made from of your name?”

“Uh-huh. He asked me what ‘Ebb’ meant, and I said it was short for Ebenezer. Then he started laughing. I asked him why he was doing that, and he said he couldn’t believe my dads named me after the guy from Christmas Carol. I didn’t know what that was so I asked and he laughed at me more. Then he got everyone else to laugh with him. It was super embarrassing.”

I shift closer and put a hand on his knee. He doesn’t shove me off, so I keep it there. “I’m sorry, love, that sounds terrible. Kids can be really mean.”

Ebb blows air out his nose and nods. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that.” He shrugs slightly. “I don’t know. I just hated feeling stupid, y’know?”

I chuckle. It’s actually really good I’m doing this. Baz would do well, of course, he’s a great father, but this is definitely more my territory. “Yes, I really know that, darling. I completely understand. I felt stupid all the time as a kid.”

“Really?” he says with a surprising amount of shock. “But you’re so smart!”

“That’s very sweet, Ebb,” I say, still laughing a little. “But at your age, I didn’t think I was smart at all. I could barely speak properly, I needed Aunt Penny to tutor me in every class, and I was the worst mage ever.”

“I thought you were the Chosen One.”

“Yeah, but that was because of a prophecy and me exploding a lot. That didn’t mean I was any good at magic back then.”

He nods thoughtfully, similar to Baz when he’s reading. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“Glad to hear I make sense for once.” I move so I’m right pressed against his legs. “I really get why you were mad, Ebb. Dylan was being a jerk and that sucks. You’re allowed to be upset. Now I’m here to tell you something he doesn’t know.”

“Oh?”

I lean forward, a big grin on my face. “Dylan is a big dummy, because you’re not named after a Dickens character.”

Ebb’s eyes go wide, lips falling open. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m pretty sure I remember who I named you after.”

“Who was it then? Ebenezer isn’t a really common name...”

“No, it’s definitely not.” I motion at him with my hand. “C’mon, sit here. I’ve got something to show you.”

Ebb cautiously emerges from his hoodie cocoon, and sits next to me on the edge of the bed. He’s not pressed up against me but he’s very close. I flip over the picture frame. According to Fiona, she took this during summer break in a bar in Scotland. It makes sense. All three of them look properly sozzled in the photo.

“What’s this?” Ebb asks.

“Well, it’s a photo,” I say. Ebb knocks my shoulder.

“Oh for Merlin's sake,” he groans. “Just tell me, Dad.”

“Fine fine, if you insist. This is a photo from a very long time ago.” I point to seventeen year old Fiona’s smiling flushed face. “That right there is your Great Aunt Fiona when she was a teenager.”

“She doesn’t like us calling her Great Aunt. Says it makes her feel old.”

I snort, but it’s with kindness, I swear. “Yeah, that sounds like Fiona. But back to my point, that’s her when she went to Watford.” I move over to a familiar blonde man. The sight of his face doesn’t make my blood boil like it used to, but there’s a small ache. “That's her friend from school, Nicodemus Petty.”

Ebb’s face screws up. “Nicodemus? Really?”

“Yeah, and you thought your name was bad, kid.” He snorts and smiles. I feel like I’ve accomplished at least something. I bring my finger over to the last person. She’s grinning too, longish blonde hair falling in her face. Looking at her gives me a small ache too but in a different way. “And that, is Fiona’s other friend and Nicodemus’ twin sister, Ebeneza Petty. Everyone called her Ebb.”

I watch as Ebb’s eyes go incredibly wide. His fingers curl over the wooden picture frame. I let him take it from me. He holds it in his lap, staring at it. “That’s who I’m named after?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m named after a girl?”

“Yes, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Don’t let your Aunt Penny catch you talking like that.”

His mouth twists around with shame, so I think he gets it. He keeps staring at Ebb Senior’s face. “But, why did you name me after her?”

I knew that question was inevitable. I’ve been trying to figure out what to say in my head, but nothing really works perfectly. Oh well. Have to try my best.

“Well,” I sigh, “a lot of reasons. Biggest one was that Ebb was just a good person and I wanted to honour her. When I first met her, she was kind to me. She didn’t treat me like a Chosen One or a weird sort of Normal group home kid, she was just nice. I’d never had an adult simply be nice to me before her.”

“So, she was like your mum?”

I shake my head. “No, she wasn’t a mum. Ebb was just my friend, but she was a really good one. She listened to my problems and helped however she could, usually gave me advice and such. Sometimes she just let me hang out at her house. It gave me an escape from all the stuff I was going through. She let me just be a kid with her.” I sigh, mind going back to the memories of tea and little china goats. “I admired her a lot too, honestly. Ebb was super powerful like me, but she never let that define her. Y’know what she did for most of her life?”

“What?”

“Herded goats on the Watford grounds.”

Ebb starts giggling. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. She herded goats, lived in a little cottage on the field, made tea, and that was about it. But that’s all she wanted to do. Ebb never let anyone tell her what she had to be. She was incredibly strong that way.”

Ebb looks up at me, sadness in his eyes. “You’re talking about her in the past tense. Does that mean she’s dead? Like Grandma Natasha?”

I sigh, then nod slowly. My heart is aching a bit more. “Yeah, she passed away a long time ago, love.”

“How did she die? Was she just really old or sick or something?”

I wish, I almost say. But that feels a little too sarcastic right now. “Well, the whole story is a bit too long and sad for right now. I’ll tell you all of it one day. But essentially Ebb sacrificed herself. She saved your Auntie Agatha’s life and lost her own because of it.” I stare at younger Ebb’s smiling face in the picture. I feel a few tears well up and I push them away. “Ebb didn’t want to be a hero, and she never should’ve been put in that position, yet she was one in the end, i guess. Because she was too much of a good person to let someone get hurt.”

“Do you miss her?”

I look down at him with a small smile. “Sometimes. Not as much as I used to, but the sadness comes back every once in awhile. Just like Papa and Grandma Natasha.”

I don’t tell him that I’m honestly mostly angry. Ebb never wanted to be a hero, and the magickal world just wouldn’t leave her alone. She should still be here, taking care of her goats, living in her cottage, being nice to my kids the way she was nice to me. But she’s not. And that’s so horribly wrong.

“Dad? Are you alright?”

I look at Ebb, my Ebb, again. He looks concerned. No matter how pissy he is, he’s still very empathetic and kind. He’s a good kid. Maybe I’m actually doing a good job as a parent. Maybe the older Ebb would be proud of me. At the very least, she’d be very happy for me. All she ever wanted was for me to be happy, and I am. I put an arm around my Ebb’s shoulder, and he leans into me.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m good, love.” I look him in the eye to make sure he’s listening. “Now, I’m not telling you all this to guilt you about being embarrassed over your name. You don't have to like it any more or less now. And if you want to change it, that's totally cool. Your Papa and me want you to be happy, and if that means going by a different name, okay. We’ll always love you no matter what. I’m just telling you so you understand where Ebenezer came from and why we picked it. Also so you know,” I poke his nose, making his face pinch up, “that we would never, ever name you after a Dickens character.”

Ebb laughs loudly. It snorty and raucous. My heart soars. That’s a sound I haven’t heard in awhile. How I’ve missed it.

“Okay,” he giggles, “I believe you.”

“Good, glad that’s all cleared up.

He smiles softly, leaning his head on my shoulder. He’s getting taller every day. I keep whining about how big our kids are getting and Baz just rolls his eye and tells me to not be sad over the inevitable. Tosser. I know he’s going to be a mess when they move away.

“I think I’ll stick with Ebb for now,” he says half into my shirt.

I squeeze his shoulder and kiss his head. (Well, his hoodie.) “Okay. Whatever you want.”

Suddenly, he throws both arms around me, hugging me tight. I’m shocked for a second. It’s been awhile since he’s hugged me, let alone this hard. “I love you, Dad.”

Well, my heart has melted into my shoes. I’m reminded of what Malcolm told me after Tasha was born. He only started having actual conversations with me after her. Maybe he felt we finally had something in common. He told me that being a parent is frustrating and rage inducing at times, but there will always be moments that remind you why you wanted to be one in the first place. This is probably (definitely) one of those moments.

I hug Ebb back. “I love you too, darling. Always will, no matter what.”

We hug for a little while. I savour it, a small part of me wondering when this will happen again. I like hugging my son, sue me. Eventually, Ebb pulls back slightly. He wipes his eye and nose with his hand. I grab the tissue box and hand it to him. I may have unbreakable poor hygiene habits, but I can teach my kids better ones.

“Wanna go watch Doctor Who?” I ask as he blows his nose.

“Okay,” he replies. “Are there still ice cream bars in the freezer?”

I grin and stand up, offering my hand. “Yup. We should raid them.”

Ebb smiles and takes my hand. He holds on tight. So do I. I’ll let him hold on as long as he wants.

We go back downstairs. Tasha’s upbeat pop music is playing from the kitchen. I’m not surprised to see her spinning and dancing with a dish towel in one hand and wand in the other. Little fireworks burst from the tip in time with the song. Baz is leaning over the sink, just finishing up with the last pot. He’s pointedly not acknowledging the music, save for tapping his foot. He’s still pretentious as anything, especially when it comes to music. Our eyes meet. He mouths “okay?”, and I nod.

I feel Ebb let go of my hand and watch him walk over to Baz. He throws his arms around Baz and mumbles a “sorry, Papa” into his shirt. Baz smiles, hugging Ebb back and whispering what I can safely assume is him accepting the apology and saying he loves him. Both Baz and I say “I love you” as much as we can. He didn't hear it a lot growing up and I didn't hear it at all. We want to make sure our kids will never wonder if they're loved or not.

Ebb looks up at Baz, chin digging into his chest. "Dad said we could have ice cream bars while we watch Doctor Who."

Baz raises his eyebrow at me. I smile sheepishly. "Did he?"

"Uh-huh."

"I see. Well then, someone will have to go to the basement freezer."

Ebb frowns. "I got them last time. It's Tasha's turn."

"No!" Tasha shouts. "I did it last time!"

Baz looks to me. "Do you remember who did it last time?"

I shake my head. "No clue."

Tasha and Ebb look at each other. It seems like they're communicating via telepathy. Baz says it's a sibling thing, that I wouldn't get it because I'm an only child. I don't have to have a sibling to know it's fucking weird.

"On three?" Tasha says.

"Loser cleans the stove?" Ebb replies.

"Deal." She throws her cleaning rag on the counter. "One...three!"

Tasha dashes off. Ebb pushes off Baz and runs after her. "Hey no fair!"

We listen as they run through the house. I walk forward and Baz immediately pulls me to him. I relax instantly. He’s always a solid weight I can lean against when I'm tired. His arms are steel bands across my back. I sigh against his neck.

"It went well?" he whispers.

"Yeah," I say. "Some kid made fun of his name and made him feel dumb. I told him that the kid was a jerk, that I know how he felt, and he definitely wasn't named after the guy from Christmas Carol."

Baz chuckles, running his hand up and down my back. "We may be mad but we're not cruel."

"Exactly. I told him about Ebb so he knows where his name really comes from."

"Did you tell him the whole story?"

I shake my head. "No, just that Ebb was a really nice person I loved, who sacrificed herself to save Agatha. We'll have to tell him the whole story one day though, before he learns about it in class.”

“Yes, very true. Let’s hope Ebb will understand it as well as Tasha did.”

“He will. He’s smart, he’ll be able to handle it.”

“Agreed.” He slowly runs his fingers through my hair. It’s not as thick and curly as it used to be, but Baz still loves to do that. “You did a good job, love. A+ parenting.”

My grin spreads across my face. I’m not smug, more relieved than anything. It’s nice to hear that I’m not fucking up my son. And I know Baz wouldn’t outright lie to me to make me feel better. He really means it. I’m doing alright. I’m giving my kids good childhoods, far better than anything I ever had. That’s all I want.

“Tasha! I touched them first!” I hear Ebb shout, followed by jumping steps coming up from the basement. Tasha literally slides into the kitchen on her socks. She holds up the book of fudge bars in front of us.

“Got them, I win!” she says with the biggest shit eating grin.

“Cheater!” Ebb stands at the doorway with hands on his hips. I don’t say it, but now his hood has fallen off, and with his loose curly hair and tons of freckles (he’s got more than Tasha and me combined), he looks like a pissed off fairy. He’s so adorable. “I touched the box first but she grabbed it before I could!”

Baz and I give each other with a “are we supposed to resolve this?” expression.

“Well, we don’t know the rules of this race,” I say.

“Except that the loser has to clean the stove,” Baz interjects. “So compromise, you both clean the stove.”

“Papa!” they both whine.

I flick his ear. Baz flicks my side in retaliation. This is the closest to our old brawls we get nowadays.

“Let’s have ice cream and watch telly first,” I say, taking the box from Tasha. “Then we’ll figure out what to do with the stove.”

“Fine,” Ebb sighs. “Can I pick the episode?”

“As long as it’s not the library. That one gives you nightmares.”

He frowns, though it’s closer to a pout. “Does not.”

“Does too.”

I open the box and start doling out the last four ice cream bars. Tasha snatches hers with a chirpy “thank you!” and runs to the living room. She wants to grab her favourite spot on the couch. Baz takes one and kisses my cheek. Finally, I give one to Ebb.

“Thanks,” he says with a soft smile. I’m pretty sure he’s talking about more than just the ice cream. I put my arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t flinch away at all.

“You’re very welcome, Ebb. Always.”

He leans on me again, putting an arm around my waist. “Do you think the other Ebb would’ve like me?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “She would’ve adored you.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You’re amazing and strong and unashamed to be yourself. How could she have not loved you?”

He blushes with embarrassment, but smiles all the same. “Okay. I think...I think I would've liked her too.”

I grin, then kiss his soft, curly head. He doesn't pull away. “C’mon, let’s watch some David Tennant.”

We walk into the living room. Tasha is already in favourite corner with her feet on the ottoman. Baz is on the other side with his arm over the back of the couch. I sit next to my husband of course, and he pulls me close, rubbing my shoulder slowly. Ebb sits between Tasha and I, leaning his back on my side and putting his legs over Tasha’s lap. She tries to push him off but all that skateboarding has made his legs strong. Eventually Tasha relents with a huff. Baz gets the Amazon lady to dim the lights and start the episode Ebb picks.

We watch the show in relative quiet. Tasha makes snarky comments every once awhile, and Ebb pokes her with his toe, telling her to shut up. Baz calls them both annoying chatterboxes, but with lots of love in his voice.

It’s perfect.

———————————————

AN: Aw, what an adorable family. Tbh I just really the idea of Simon and Baz having kids. They would be good parents imo. And it's fun to explore in writing, cause I feel like both of them would have fears based off their own childhoods. I've done some stuff about that before and I like writing about it. Hope you all liked reading it. Until next time :D

[jacobseedvaas35]

A Love Like No Other

Jacob Seed X OC Ana Pearce

Warnings: Mention of Abuse, Violence and Smut

Warnings in this chapter: Smut

Word Count: 2156

Tags: @dolphinitley

Chapter Seven

Ana has been missing for two hours now. No one had seen her when she ran off in the morning. She had left her phone in the cabin, so they couldn't call or track her with that. They looked everywhere. Called people and asked if they've seen her but it was a "no" from everyone.

It was night time now, Jacob sat on the couch in Joseph's living room, with everyone around him. He rested his elbows on his knees, whiling tapping his foot on the floor. He tried to think of places that she would have gone but nothing was coming to mind. He worried about her. Was she ok? Did something happen to her? Where was she?

Then, something came to mind. He had an idea on where she could have been. Jacob stood up and left the building without saying a single thing to anyone. He jumped into his car and drove down to Whitetail Mountains.

-

The drive took forever but he finally reached the destination, on where he thought Ana could be. He made his way up the mountain and sure enough, there she was. Sitting near the edge of the mountain and staring out into the view of Hope County. He let out a sigh of relief and made his way to Ana. He took a seat next to her and the two of them came eye to eye.

Not saying a word, Ana wrapped her arms around Jacob's neck and started to cry.

"You had me worried Ana. You've been missing for hours" Jacob said as he tightly held her against him.

"Her words hurt me Jacob"

"I know. She crossed the line but I can tell you this, she was the most terrified when you went missing"

Ana sat back down, right next to Jacob and looked out at the view again. "I hate being insecure about myself but it's not my fault. It's that bastards fault, for making me like this".

Ana looked up at Jacob and wrapped his arms around his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I just had to be alone for a while".

"10 hours is a long time. You had me worried sick" Jacob sounded a little grumpy but seeing her in one piece was good enough for him. She did need her space after her sister's harsh comments. "Why did you come here for?".

"Because this was the place that made me fall in love with you more" Ana replied.

"You loved me that long ago?"

"Yes. Can I ask you something Jacob?"

"Sure"

"Are we...like...official now?"

Jacob smirked and looked at Ana. "I'd die to be your boyfriend, fiancé, husband or whatever. Just as long as you want to be my girlfriend, fiancé or wife".

"Of course I do"

"Then it's official, we are a couple now"

"I love you Jacob"

“I love you too Ana. Let's go home now"

-

Ana and Jacob walked to the front door of Joseph's home, holding hands. Before Jacob could raise his arm to knock on the door, Haley opened it and hugged her little sister.

"You had us worried sick Ana. Don't you ever do that again" Haley said as her hug tightened.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to be alone and didn't realise the time until it got dark" Ana said.

Everyone ran outside to greet Ana. The concern on all their faces had disappeared and was replaced with happiness and joy. Hannah slowly walked out off the house, not knowing if her sister was still angry at her.

After all the hugging, Ana looked at Hannah and smiled at her. She took it a good thing and approached her sister, hugging her tightly and continually apologising to Ana.

"It's ok Hannah. I'm over it. I know you didn't mean to say anything" Ana said to her.

"So, we are okay?"

"Of course" Ana hugged her again.

"Let's all get some rest and speak in the morning" Joseph suggested and everyone went in their seperate ways.

-

A month later, Ana and her siblings had all officially moved into Joseph's compound. Each getting their own little cabins to sleep in. Most of the day, they'd spend it at Joseph's house or with the Seed siblings at their own regions. Except for Ana.

Jacob didn't want to take her to his workplace. He believed that, if she saw what it contained and how messy it was, she'd guarantee leave him. Jacob didn't want that, their relationship was just beginning and he didn't want it ending too soon. But their relationship wasn't the only one to bloom in the last month.

Blake and Faith had become very close. People around them noticed how close and flirty they were with each other. At times, Faith would sick on Blake's lap and make out but mostly when Joseph wasn't around.

Hannah and John announced that they were together, two weeks after the event of Ana missing, and that the two of them were already thinking about getting married. One week ago, John had gotten on one knee and proposed to her and Hannah was not going to say no to him. Now the four ladies had a wedding to plan.

Haley and Joseph thought they were keeping their relationship a secret but everyone knew that something was going on between them. They were close and a few times, John and Jacob had walked in on them when they were kissing, so the secret was out. Haley and Joseph were an item. There was also a time when Ana and Hannah had heard the two of them making love, when they thought no one else was home. Ana and Hannah joked amongst themselves, joking about how loud Haley was in the bedroom.

The truth was, everyone was sleeping and having sex with their partners. Everyone except Ana and Jacob. Blake, Hannah and Haley had already experienced that pleasure long before moving to Hope County. Neither of them were a virgin in the first place.

Ana was never that curious about that sexual experience. Was she keen for it now that she was with Jacob? Yep she sure was but didn't know how to go about it. The thought about it was still making her very nervous and scared. She knew Jacob was sexually frustrated but he was also a very patient guy. Never forcing her into something she didn't want to do.

Jacob believed that Ana was the type of girl, who wanted to get married before having sex and he was okay with that.

-

It was midnight, Jacob woke up from a very pleasurable dream. He looked down at his crouch once he released how hard he had gotten, from the dream, Jacob gently got out off bed and walked into the bathroom.

"I have to be quiet while doing this" Jacob said and pulled his member out, pumping himself fast.

Ana opened her eyes when she felt the bed empty. Looking to her side, she noticed that Jacob wasn't lying down next to her. She sat up in bed and saw the bathroom light open. Ana didn't make anything of it, the man probably just had to use the toilet or something, so she laid back down.

A few minutes went past and Jacob was still working on himself, trying to reach his end. He had his eyes closed as his mind went into deep and dirty thoughts.

"Jacob" a voice from behind him came.

He stopped pumping himself and turned his head to the door way. "Ana".

She looked down and got a glimpse of his member, only to realise what he was up too. "You need help with that" she pointed down.

"I've got it. Go back to sleep"

"You've been in this bathroom for twenty minutes now. Are you sure you've got it?" Ana asked with a smile on her face.

"I'll eventually get there. Don't worry" Jacob winked at her.

"Hmm" Ana said and walked into the bathroom. Jacob, still with his member in his hand, watched as Ana walked up to him. She slowly took the straps of her night gown and let them fall down her shoulder. "Maybe this can help you".

She grabbed Jacob's arm and walked him over to the bathroom counter. He had a fair idea on what she was trying to do, so he put his hands on her bottom and made her sit on the counter. He grabbed his member back in his hand and slowly started stroking it again.

Ana looked down at it and bit down on her lip. "A big dick for a big man. Fuck I'm a lucky girl" she teased and dropped the top bit of her night gown, revealing her breasts to Jacob. She grabbed his other hand and put it on one of her breasts, moaning each time Jacob squeezed it. "Is it working?"

"It sure is but I'm holding myself. I'm not ready to finish off just yet. I want to enjoy these two babies a much as I can" Jacob said, pumping himself slightly faster.

"Trust me baby. You are going to see these two, a lot" Ana gave him a flirty smile.

"Can I?"

"You can do whatever you want Jacob. They are yours to enjoy" Ana informed him and watched as he put his face closer to her breasts.

Still pumping himself, Jacob started to kiss and suck on her breasts and occasionally, kissing her shoulders and neck, making her moan.

This feeling of pleasure was completely new to Ana and she was having the time of her life but she wanted more. She needed that burn in her core, satisfied.

"Jacob"

"Hmm" was all he gave her as he continued to kiss her neck and shoulder.

"I need more"

"More what?"

"You know, more" Ana said. "I'm ready"

Jacob paused and looked up at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Please I need relief right now"

"Hold on. I'll get a condom"

"No. Don't worry about it" Ana was quick to stop him. "Just do it. I want to experience everything". She pushed the rest of her night gown down, dropping it on the bathroom floor. She then grabbed the waist line of her panties and slid them off.

This was what Jacob was waiting for. His member started to twitch in his hand and it became even more harder.

Ana grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to her. Opening her legs wide on the bathroom counter, revealing her soaking wet cunt to Jacob.

She's heard other people's stories about where they lost their virginity. Behind buildings, Alleyways, inside cars and just normal bedrooms but Ana didn't think she'd lose her virginity on a bathroom counter. She didn't care though, right now she just wanted to experience this "pleasure" that a lot of people told her about.

Jacob lined himself at her entrance, watching her as he slowly entered her. Ana's grip on Jacob's arm became tighter. Her nails digging into his skin and her head rolling back. A moan escaped from both their mouths once he was fully inside her.

Ana's moved her arms up to Jacob's neck, wrapping them around. Jacob's hands rested just above her backside and started to thrust. He started with slow thrusts, as Ana still tried to get use to his size but once she was set, his thrusts became rapid.

Her moans were getting louder and Jacob was loving the sound. He didn't imagine their first time having sex with each other, to be like this but he was definitely loving every minute of it.

The thrusts got faster and deeper, hitting Ana in the right spot. The burning sensation in her core, was getting bigger and she knew that she was only a few minutes away from reaching her end. She wanted to experience the whole orgasm thing. Her sisters told her that it was one of the best feelings during sex.

It didn't take long, after a few more hits in the right spot, Ana's walls tightened around Jacob and she experienced her first ever orgasm.

Her moans and watching her ride out her end, was enough for Jacob too. He let out a growl against her neck and spilled his seeds inside Ana. He got one last, loud moan from her as she felt his warm fluid inside her.

"Did that help?" She joked, breathing heavily.

"It helped" Jacob replied in the same state as her. "Ready for bed?"

"Hell yes" Ana chuckled.

Jacob put her hands on her bottom and carried her back to the bedroom. Naked and sweaty, the both didn't care and just laid in bed. Ana's head and hand resting on Jacob's chest, while his hand rested on one of her butt cheeks.

"Goodnight" Ana said

"Goodnight" Jacob responded back and the two of them were out in a flash.

[blouisparadise]

As promised, here the continuing rec list of fics where Louis is called pet names. Part one can be found here, and when it’s out, part three will also be linked here. Happy reading!

1) Tie You Up and Make Me Scream | Explicit | 2166 words

AU where Harry teases Louis and it becomes a game until they cant handle it anymore and escape to have tent sex while the rest of the boys are in the other tents.

2) Feel The Need | Explicit | 4898 words

Louis and Harry attend Liam's Halloween party. Risky Business ensues.

3) Just Stop Your Crying (It’s A Sign Of The Times) | Explicit | 5864 words

My own imagining of the inspiration for Sign of the Times.  Featuring boys in love, even after all this time.

4) We’ll Stumble Through Heaven | Explicit | 6504 words

Louis likes to be a good boy for his alpha.

5) Raised on Rhythm and Blues | Explicit | 8034 words

“That look on your face makes me think you’re not cooking me spaghetti fast enough,” Louis announces as he walks back into the kitchen. Harry knows exactly where Zoe gets her habits from.

“Cooking for my two beautiful and insanely intelligent children, not for the weird bloke that sleeps in my bed and eats all my food,” Harry answers, tilting his head and wondering if he should add more sauce.

6) Forever, Uninterrupted | Explicit | 8578 words

Harry finds a mysterious picture in Louis' bag one night and drives himself crazy over it. It's definitely not what he thinks.

7) Spice Up Your Life | Explicit | 9501 words

After a conversation with his Uni friends, Harry worries that his relationship with Louis has lost it's spark.

8) Infinitely All For Me | Explicit | 10630 words

The Alpha Louis' been betrothed to since he was 14 has finally come of age and Louis' been delivered to his home.

9) Keep Holding Me This Way | Explicit | 13747 words

An English grad student, a frat jock, and an unimpressed rich boy walk into a bar. No one walks out.

10) Let’s Take the World By Storm | Explicit | 14656 words

Harry lifts his head off Louis' chest to look at Louis' face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

“I don’t know, but our sex life feels a bit boring, ‘sall,” Louis says, completely avoiding eye contact.

“Boring.” Harry says flatly. He doesn’t say anything more, and Louis looks up to see that Harry seems to be mulling it over.

“Yeah, boring," Louis says, and keeps talking before Harry can pipe up. “I mean, think about it. We’ve been dating since X Factor, and now things are starting to drag a bit. We don’t even have the time for handjobs anymore, much less actual sex.”

11) The Seed Inside You, Baby, Do You Feel It Growin’ | Explicit | 14793 words

Louis really wants Harry to get him pregnant.

12) Oops, Baby, I Love You (In That Order) | Explicit | 25344 words

The minute Louis Tomlinson decides he don’t need no man to start a family, Harry Styles literally falls into his arms.

13) Another Day Gettin’ Into Trouble | Explicit | 25619 words

Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

In Harry’s defense, when he first thinks about it his intention is just to buy the kit and give it to Louis to make his own dildo with, because that’s what he wants anyway, right? To have a penis filling him up?

Then he realizes that it would be weird if Louis made a copy of his own dick to fuck himself with. It’d be super weird. Louis fucking himself? That’s a weird idea. Harry’s pretty sure Louis wouldn’t like that.

Clearly the only solution here is to use his own dick for the mold.

14) Force of Nature | Mature | 25672 words

Louis is a shy, young musician who doesn't want to go to Harvard.

Harry is a confident,  second year athlete who likes to have a good time.

When their paths cross while their families are vacationing at the same lake resort, what begins as a summer of fun becomes a defining journey that might just change everything.

15) Up To No Good | Explicit | 26525 words | Sequel 1 | Sequel 2

Harry doesn’t think of himself as a womanizer, not at all. Sure, he enjoys sex, enjoys how women feel underneath him, and by some people’s standards he has sex with quite a lot of people, but that’s no reason to tell him that he can’t have a female PA anymore.

It’s especially no excuse for giving him a male PA who’s possibly the most gorgeous boy in the world who won’t even let Harry look at him for too long.

Sometimes Harry hates his life.

16) Always Come Back To You | Explicit | 28862 words

“I’ll do it,” Harry offers brightly. No one even blinks. “I’ll do it?”

Louis sighs irritably. “Shut up,” he orders, tossing a pillow in the general direction of Harry’s face. This is a terrible time for jokes, especially Harry’s lame, old people ones.

Not that it was an old people joke. Just that most of the time Harry’s jokes consist of knock-knocks or terrible puns. The type of jokes old people like, Louis’ pretty sure. His nan always finds them hilarious when Harry tells her one.

Harry bats the pillow out of the air without even blinking. “Be reasonable, Lou,” he says in his most reasonable voice.

Louis is perfectly reasonable, thank you very much, and he’s also frustrated and upset and tired and he really wants to punch something. Maybe he should have held on to that pillow a little longer.

“You’re not gonna fucking do it,” he snaps. “That’s the last thing I need.”

17) Blind From This Sweet, Sweet Craving | Explicit | 31170 words

"So, I guess we'll go?" Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. "I mean, I wouldn't mind. We could make it an adventure."

Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He's fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry's gaze–he probably knows that Harry's mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he's not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he's also Harry's best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he'd still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He's got Harry's back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they'll be able to get out of this situation, together.

Harry sighs. "We're going," he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

18) Cupid’s Chokehold | Explicit | 35326 words

Louis is a Cupid who tries to match up Niall and Harry. It doesn't work out as planned.

19) Mark My Word (We Gon’ Be Alright) | Explicit | 35524 words

"He’s always known that there would come a time when Harry would bond with some beautiful, quiet omega, and they would have lots of curly-haired pups and live happily ever after.

Knowing it and living it are two very different things, though. Watching the object of your affection desperately search for a mate and completely disregard you as an option is all sorts of painful, but it is what it is, and Louis is just going to have to learn to live with that."

20) Who Would’ve Thought | Explicit | 44275 words | Companion Fic

The idea doesn’t come to Louis until they’ve been at the bungalow for a couple of days. Harry has no idea that he’s going to pop a knot. He’s been living his life with the expectation that he’s going to be a beta, and Louis isn’t going to tell him otherwise.

Louis is an omega, though, and most omegas want to be filled up with a knot,  fucked the way their bodies are made to be fucked, and Louis is no different. In ten years he wants to have an alpha waiting for him at home who will hold him down and fuck him exactly the way Louis wants to be fucked without worrying that they’re going to expect him to stay at home, open a joint bank account, raise a litter of babies, cook and clean and, most importantly, be submissive. For that to happen Louis needs an entirely different kind of alpha.

And so the plan is born.

21) Tangled Up In You | Explicit | 45152 words

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?”

Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry.

Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.”

“A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute.

“Of course not!”

“A stripper?”

“No!”

Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!”

“What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing.

There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

A professional…what. “What?”

22) Nobody Does It Like You | Not Rated | 58820 words

Louis isn't looking for a home, but he finds one in Harry.

23) Tug-Of-War | Explicit | 63000 words

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't.

24) Why Can’t It Be Like That | Explicit | 63567 words

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

25) Perfect Storm | Explicit | 80230 words

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[thatwritergirlwwe]

Sasha x Roman One Shot: Thanks to Evolution....

I love my husband...

I really do...

He's my best friend(sorry Bayley, male bestfriend I mean)...

He understands me...

He's been with me as a struggling and socially awkward (I still am) girl with big dreams...

We are compatible in every way...except sexually.

The sex is unfulfilling and I'm afraid to tell him out of fear that it'll hurt his feelings. He gets enough heat from jealous fanboys about not being good enough for me. Imagine the dagger to the heart he'll feel if I told him that he's inadequate enough in bed. It was okay when I met him at 18 because he being my first, I didn't know any better and I loved him but now I'm a woman at 26. I'm annoyed with coddling him. He asks me if I came and I say, "yes." He asks me if it's good and I say, "of course." He asks me if I like this big dick...I nod, confused. 0_o, we both know he doesn't have a big dick. But alas, he's the only man I've ever had and glancing down at the ring on my left hand, he's the only man I'll ever have.

When I walk into the locker room, I notice that all of the women from both brands are present. Whatever the announcement tonight is, it has to be big.

"What do you think it is?" Bayley asked as they changed into their gear.

"I don't know, I'm thinking tag-titles," Sasha shrugged.

As I walk around backstage, I keep either running into or making eye contact with Roman. I've always thought he was sexy and I've had more than a few fangirl moments over him when I was in NXT while he was with The Shield. I was giddy af when we tagged together that time. We've run into each other way to many times today and now I can't stop daydreaming about him. I think I'm ovulating. Ovulating is pure torture when your sex life is subpar. I wonder what Roman's sex life is life. His wife is lucky. I've never heard any whisperings in the women's locker room because he keeps it professional when it comes to us but I feel like he's hiding a monster in those black cargo pants and the way he flicks his tongue? If he isn't a freak, that's blatant false advertising.

About 15 minutes to we went live for Raw, we were told to file out onto the ramp. I took my place on the front row and Roman took his place beside me. This wasn't the first time we stood out here beside each other but this was the first time I actually wanted to fuck him.

He rotates his shoulders which causes his big arms to brush against me. I shiver. It's like the nerves in my skin had a direct line to my pussy. I squeeze my thighs together and feel wetness. I feel him staring down at me because the entire right side of my face felt hot af and my lips are on fire. I stared at the ring in front of me and imagine he and I giving the members of the WWE Universe a Rated-X show. It felt so real and had my pussy soaked. I started sweating and I wondered if he felt the vibe too because it was strong.

Mr. McMahon came out which told me that shit was real. RAW went live and Triple H and Stephanie praised us which brought tears to my eyes. My heart was pounding with anticipation when they asked the women's division to step forward.

The big reveal was an all women's pay per view, Evolution. Yet another step in the right direction. I think it's going to be a good one since creative has incentive to try. If only we could get equal pay...but I'll save that gripe for another story. I hope I have a feud with a legend, maybe Trish. I don't care as long as I have some actual direction going into the event. Unless I'm drafted to Smackdown, I've lost hope for another Raw reign in the near future with Alexa and Ronda running around. It seems as if creative has no direction for me. They also have no direction for Bayley. So logically they'd put us together to have no direction together. Bayley is my best friend so I don't mind but the only way I'll be satisfied with this cop out is if they introduce tag titles.

I had a tag match with Bayley and we reunited as besties...for now.

After the show I run into Roman yet again.

"Congrats on the pay per view," he smiled. "You girls really deserve it."

I smiled in return. Roman was a really sweet guy, almost like a giant Samoan teddy bear. I knew what he said was genuine because that's just the person he is. I've never heard him say anything negative, even about the fans who boo him. There were some guys back here who could give a damn about the women's division but fake it to avoid looking like misogynistic pricks. He wasn't one of them.

"Thank you so much. I'm getting chills just thinking about it. Is it October yet?" my voice faltered as I began getting emotional all over again thinking about it.

To my surprise Roman dropped the duffel bag he was carrying and pulled me in for a hug. I cling to him and his strong hands consoled my back, rubbing up and down. Through his black shirt, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. Being this close to him, having myself enclosed in his arms and breathing in his scent made my pussy ache for him. I was shook.

When I adjusted myself in his arms I accidentally rubbed my crotch against his. There was a bump and I instinctively jumped back.

"You alright?" he asked.

I couldn't make eye contact with him. I nodded and began rolling my bag away. "Yeah, I'm fine."

How embarrassing. I guess I can take comfort in the fact that the feeling wasn't one sided judging by his erection. Damn, I sighed, imagining his soft plump lips on my soft plump lips...the other set. Shaking my head, I try to get the thoughts out of my head. Sure Mizake isn't Roman but that's okay because he's the love of my life and that's all that mattered. He was a good, supportive man and deserved my loyalty to him and our vows.

"Sasha?" he calls out but I don't stop walking. I hear his footsteps jogging up behind me.

He cuts me off from the front and extends his hand. I raise a brow. It was custom to shake hands of everyone you cross paths with upon arrival but upon leaving? Nah. Maybe this was his way of saying everything was cool after what just happened so I reach my sweaty palm out to meet his. There was something in his hand and he pressed it into mine. He winked before walking away. I looked down at a key card in my hand.

My husband wasn't on the road with me this week so I slide in the car with Bayley and we head to the hotel.

"Why are you so quiet?" she asks.

"Just thinking," I reply.

I tossed and turned in bed all night. My mind was gone and at 2 AM I found myself sliding his key card in the lock. He was sitting in the bed scrolling on his phone. I don't know if he was waiting on me or if he too had insomnia. I didn't think he noticed me and I almost backed away until his eyes suddenly snapped up.

"You're late," Roman commented simply in a calm low voice. "What's up?"

"You tell me."

He pats a spot on the bed next to him and my stupid legs carried me forward. I picked a spot at the foot of the bed to plant myself. Chuckling, he pats the original spot next to him again.

"You know I'm married, right?" I said holding up my left hand.

"So am I," he held up his left hand in return.

"Look, I don't cheat on my husband and I won't help another man cheat on his wife. Point, blank, period!" I declared.

"Then why are you here at 2:00 AM? You could've easily stayed in your room and we could've forgotten this happened."

"Because I wanted to give this back to you," I said, holding out his key card. As he grabbed it, his fingers brushed mine sending shivers down my spine and I felt a jolt of desire pass through us.

He held my gaze for a moment before leaning himself back against the headboard. "I think you came to me because you're sexually frustrated."

"Excuse me, what?"

"It's obvious, Sasha. You turned a simple hug into a damn near dry humping session. Does that sound like someone sexually fulfilled to you?" he inquired. "That's probably why you go so hard in the ring. You have to release that pent up energy some kind of way."

"Or maybe I'm just the best at what I do," I counter.

"No argument there but I notice you didn't deny the frustration part," he pointed out. "I know you're attracted to me and I'm attracted to you."

"You are?" I looked up at him in shock. He was always nice to me but I never thought it was anything more than that.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked. "I just never made any moves because it's not in my nature to shit where I eat. Plus, I was also being respectful of your marriage but if the guy isn't doing what he's supposed to be doing, why shouldn't I step up?"

"Uhm, I don't, maybe because it's wrong!" I state. "You're attracted to me, I'm attracted to you. That's fine but acting on it is crossing the line."

"The only line I'm thinking about is the one leading me from your clit to your slit," he licked his lips and I almost fainted at the thought. Once again, he pats the spot on the bed next to him.

This time I went. Was I really doing this? Thoughts were swirling through my head as I crawled forward. I don't want to cheat on Mizake but I also didn't want to let this opportunity pass me by.

I don't know which one of us leaned forward first but what I do know is our lips met in the middle. His lips were soft but firm with a sense of power as they coaxed my lips apart to tease me with his tongue. His tongue entered my mouth and he flicked it, giving me a preview of what was to come. He began pulling at my muscle shirt and I assisted, disconnecting the kiss to get the piece of fabric over my head.

He slowly kissed down my neck stopping at my left nipple and rolling his tongue over it. He bit it softly and I moaned in pleasure. Roman's head bobbed down and sucked my right nipple into his mouth. His tongue lingered over it, teasing it. I let out a tiny whimper. My body began to shudder.

As he continued his assault on my nipples, he reached down and began fingering me slowly. I was soaked. Disconnecting from my chest he spread my legs apart and stared at my vagina. I thought I would've been uncomfortable with it and in the beginning I am but I start playing with myself while watching his reaction. Roman sat up on his knees and lowered his pajama pants and I finally got a glimpse at it. It was perfect, thick, long, veiny but not disgustingly so. He slowly rubbed himself to me doing the same. When I was near climax and my thighs began twitching, he slapped away my hands and dipped his head down.

I threw my head back in ecstasy as his tongue flattened against my clit. As promised he licked a line from my clit down to my slit and back again. My back arched and I could feel him smirk as he took his hand and pushed my pelvis flat. This was the moment I knew I fucked up letting him taste me. He grabbed my legs and positioned them over his shoulders as he went to work. He wasn't just paying attention to my clit, he attacked my entire pussy with complete vigor. He sucked and licked my lips, he fingered me as my juices flowed while simultaneously tongue kissing my clit. This felt like the sweetest torture I've ever had.

I whined when he ejected his fingers but my disappointment was short lived when he replaced it with his tongue. You could hear the smacking as he bobbed in and out of me. I could feel the pressure building up inside of me and I panted as my body exploded all at once, shaking in orgasm. I was actually scared for Roman because during this, my pussy tightened with convulsions on his tongue, locking it in there. Roman licked up and swallowed all of my juices. When I came down from my high, he rested his head in my pussy and nuzzled it sending little aftershocks waves over me.

Roman hovered above my body with his cock dangling between his legs. Shame arose from allowing myself to end up here spread wide and waiting in front of another man. I turned my head. He grabbed my chin, making me look him in the eyes as he held his dick at my entrance. "Tell me you want this dick."

My pride wanted me to get up, put my clothes back on and walk back to my room but my body was like, "yes, I want it."

I took him all the way on his first thrust. It was an adjustment for sure since he had a couple of inches on Mizake. His strokes were long, deep and measured. He quickly gained speed and depth, hitting all the right spots. I gasped when he made contact with g-spot. That was all he needed to hear as he gave me deliberate thrusts in the same direction. It didn't take long before I felt a tingling sensation spread throughout my body and knew I was about to cum. My pussy started contracting around his dick as I bit down into my lip to keep from screaming.

Roman leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Yeah, you didn't even want to fuck me but look how I have this pussy acting."

It felt so wrong, so right, so bad, so good all at the same time. No matter how much I tried to relax while pinned to the bed with my knees at the side of my head underneath him, no matter how I tried keeping my breathe synchronized with his deep strokes, no matter how I tried scratching, grabbing, biting and screaming for mercy hoping that he'd slow down for a while for me to regain my composure, no matter how I tried to firm my ass while he was smacked it with one hand, while holding my hip with the other from the back..he was served me divine dick for the next 40 minutes.

It's like I'm having so much pleasure that my brain feels like it can't take anymore and I need this to end soon but at the same damn time I'm dreading the fact that eventually Roman is going to come and it has no choice but to end. Tomorrow he'll fly back to his wife and children. I'll fly back to my husband.

It was pure pleasure I experienced during this session and it brought tears to my eyes as I rode him to my last and final orgasm. I was rendered speechless, both of us were, everything about it was magical.

I could barely move when we were finished, I was so sore and my knees were weak. When I looked between my legs my vagina was swollen as if I lost my virginity. I was curled up in the fetal position trying to my gather my thoughts and this bastard was smirking talking about Summerslam in a few weeks as if he didn't just fuck my life up...

[keywestlou]

MOBY-DICK

MOBY-DICK - https://keywestlou.com/moby-dick/"Call me Ishmael." Opening line to Herman Melville's Moby-Dick. One of the most famous opening lines in literary history. Melville published Moby-Dick this day in 1851. A failure. Turned few on. Melville died in 1891. Moby-Dick still an economic flop. It took to the 1920's for Moby-Dick to become a literary success. It was "discovered." Actually, Herman Melville the author was discovered. At the same time in the 1920's, his first novel Billy Budd became a popular best seller. I envy Steve Thompson that he came to Key West in the 1970's and became a part of the island. At the same time that he discovered Key West, he likewise discovered the Chart Room. A winning combination! Steve became friends with Phil Tenney. Phil was a Chart Room regular in the '70s. One of the nicest people I met in the Keys. He shared his 19 foot Mako with all of us and showed me how cool catching lobsters was. His dad was a diplomat overseas for a while. His mom drove a Porsche and I sure liked her style. They talked about living overseas and strange places. All the ancient cities and mysterious faces. Phil had a woodshop on Caroline Street. The door was always open and it was really neat. He had all the best stuff from band saws to jointers. His index finger was shaped like a spiral pointer. He said he looked up when a car honked his horn. He was on the drill press and he saw the bandages torn. He had a wire in his finger from a previous repair. He said it reminds him to pay attention when working there. Phil now owns probably the best restaurant in the Keys. Everyone knows it by its first name, Louie's. Louie's Backyard. Phil and his wife Pat bought Louie's in 1983. Today, Phil and his son Jed run the place. I experienced a bit of a calamity a few days ago. I live on the golf course. Two blocks in from the 18th fairway. There is a whole block of houses across the street from me that are directly on the golf course. All homes are 2 stories. In the five years I have rented here, my home has been hit by errant golf balls 5-6 times a week. A loud noise. Never any damage. Till last week. My bedroom on the second floor. A golf ball hit and broke a bedroom window. Glass all over the floor, a dresser, TV set and my bed sheets. Called the realtor who manages the property. He said your house too far in to be hit by golf balls. Just what I needed. Bullshit! Anyhow, the manager is now trying to determine who is responsible for replacing the window. The homeowners association or my landlord. Yesterday, a carpenter showed up. To fix the window? No. To cover the entire window with a piece of plywood. The board was drilled into the house. Nothing is simple in Key West. Probably take months to resolve the issue. I got my cleaning lady Sylvia and her husband Jose over to clean up the mess, change the sheets, etc. Harpoon Harry's own a boat that was in the Powerboat Races. Big stuff! Boats expensive to purchase. Expensive also to maintain and operate. Not kid stuff. The Harpoon Harry boat won the friday races. A big deal! Congratulations in order. Donald Trump has advised he will be announcing his candidacy for the Republican nomination for President in 2024 tomorrow. Woe is we! He can't win. He's lucky he won the first time. If he loses a primary, he will run independently to be a spoiler. If he wins a primary, I cannot believe the people will elect him again. The odds actually are he will lose a primary and run independently. Even a good and talented person like Theodore Roosevelt could not win as an independent. What Trump will succeed in doing is helping to elect the Democratic candidate. Enjoy your day!

[tgwltw]

Talk it out.

I am not quite satisfied with how this turned out but this has been collecting dust in my folder for a while so I figured I should just get this done and over with! Thank you for sending this prompt in and I am sorry for taking months to get to this prompt! As usual, there are probably mistakes here and there but I hope you will still enjoy reading this.

Every weekend, you have a designated day where it’s just ‘me-time’ for you and this normally means all of your household chores, including watching and playing with your kids, will be your husband’s responsibility for that very day – from the very moment you open your eyes until right before you go to sleep. Dick being the very loving and understanding husband that he is knows that you more than deserve your ‘me-time’ because you do some much for the entire family and you know you can depend on him to keep your children entertained for the day.

Most of the time, things go very smoothly and the only time Dick ever calls you is to check if you have eaten or not. Which is why you are surprised to see Dick calling you again later that day when he had only just called you around lunch time.

“Babe,” Hearing Dick’s voice always bring a smile to your face and this time, it’s no different – the smile on your face is large before you finally register the slightly panicked sound. You sit up, placing your book at the side and scoot towards the edge of the seat. “I know I shouldn’t really disturb you but – “ He cuts himself off and you can hear him knocking on the door again.

“What’s wrong?” You grab your robe and pull it over your own body before standing up. You grab your book and quickly throw it in your sling bag. “Dick, tell me. Is everything right?”

Dick makes a disgruntled noise before he comes back to the phone. “Things were going well earlier and we were about to go for nap time but then, when Richard started crying, Alexis and Alex immediately went to lock themselves in their rooms and I can’t get them to come out and they won’t talk to me and I – “ Dick stops to take a breath, “I’m so sorry, babe, but I think this is something I can’t handle on my own.”

“I’ll be home soon.” You nod to your maid and mouthed at her to get your dress ready. “Love you, Dick. I’ll be there soon.” You reassure your husband and Dick lets out a sigh of relief before telling you that he loves you too and for you to drive safely. You ended the call after exchanging a few more words and the whole time you are getting dressed, your mind is nagging at you about something.

The entire ride home, you are pretty sure you already know why your older children are acting up but it’s something you know you have to discuss with Dick first. When you reached your house, you let out a sigh of relief to see the state of the house still intact and pretty much still how you left it with the exception of a few toys strewn about here and there.

“Dick?” You call out the moment you step in the house, locking the door behind you. You hear footsteps coming down the stairs and despite the situation you are currently facing, seeing your husband still makes your heart race and a smile appears on your face.

Upon seeing you in the living room, Dick can’t help but smile too. He pads over to you and pulls you in his arms, burying his nose in your hair, tightening his hold around you. You wrap your arms around his torso, rubbing his back.

“I am so glad to see you, Y/N.” Dick pulls away to stare at your face and you lift one of your hands to cup his cheek. He turns his head to press a kiss on your palm. “Richard’s sleeping now – he was starting to get cranky earlier.” He informs you.

“Alexis and Alex?” You smooth the frown away from his face and Dick gives you another small smile.

“Still locked up in their rooms. I tried talking to them but I think they got madder so I stopped for a bit to check on Richard.” He murmurs and you nod your head before pulling away from your husband. It’s probably time for you to see your children.

Reaching your daughter’s room, you find the room to be unlocked and empty. You spy one of the dolls Dick gave her near the trash and let out a sigh before padding over to pick it up, dusting the doll and placing it back on the dresser where it had originally settled. You step out of her room and head towards your son’s room instead and true to your suspicions, you can hear the two of them talking with each other.

You waited a minute outside of your son’s room before knocking on the door. You hear the surprised yelps from inside and quietly chuckle to yourself. “You can’t enter!” You hear Alex shouting at the door and whatever happiness you felt immediately disappeared at his tone. You sigh before opening the door – they probably thought it was Dick too.

Alexis frowns and crosses her arms when she spots you walking in to your room – your steps falter the slightest bit; that meant that her anger is also directed to you and not just at Dick. Alex smiles when he sees you and when he is about to move towards you, Alexis grabs his arm. Alex turns to look at his older sister and when Alexis shakes her head, Alex pouts but listens to his older sister anyways. He moves over to her side and if this hadn’t been a very serious situation, you would have cooed at how adorable the two of them are being.  

“Alexis, Alex, why are the both of you giving your daddy a hard time?” You ask gently as you approach the both of them. The frown on Alexis’s face deepens and Alex glances at his sister and you before opting to answer your question instead.

“Because he doesn’t love us anymore!” Alex points out with a huff. Alexis nods her head in agreement and your heart breaks just the tiniest bit at the neglect your older children are feeling - deep down inside, you had seen this coming. They had been wary at first when Dick and you had announced the arrival of their new sibling and even though initially they had been okay at first, you gradually saw signs of the kids starting to act out and while you don’t really want to take this too seriously because you know your kids are doing it for attention, you still need to sit down with them and have a talk.

You nod your head. “How are you so sure daddy doesn’t love you anymore?” You ask and took a seat at the edge of the bed. “I have a very big heart – Daddy has a very big heart too – we have a lot of love to share with everyone. Why do you say Daddy doesn’t love you?”

“Because Daddy is always playing with Richard! He never plays with us anymore! And whenever we ask Daddy to play with us, he is always worried about Richard and it’s always about Richard,” Alexis grumbles in annoyance. She used to think her youngest brother is very adorable but not anymore! All he did was cry and cry.

You gather both of your kids in your arms and they immediately relax in your hold, wrapping their arms around your torso and your waist. “Daddy always tries his best for everyone, even me.” You tell your kids. “Richard just needs a lot of attention right now because he’s still small – he can’t go out alone, or play alone and because Richard is still very small, he needs a lot of care but that doesn’t mean Daddy doesn’t love you.” You try to explain.

Alex scratches his cheek before nuzzling in your embrace. “So does that mean if Richard gets bigger, Daddy will play with us again?”

You press your lips atop of his head. “My darling, Richard is still a lot of sleeps away from being bigger but do the both of you know what you can do?” You lightly nudge Alexis and she looks at you, curiosity burning in her eyes. You smile at her and lightly squeeze her nose causing her to flail before laughing against your hold. “You can help Daddy look after Richard – spend some time with Richard. Richard would love it if his older siblings will spend some time to play with him too.” You tell the two of them and the two of them are quiet for a few minutes and you simply tighten your holds over them. “Daddy and I, the both of us love all of you equally and when you act up like this, it not only hurts me but it also hurts Daddy too.”

Alex is the first one out of your arms. “I am going to talk to Daddy!” He huffs. “Come on, Alexis!” He grabs onto his sister’s hand and begins to pull her out of the room with you tailing after them. You aren’t that worried when you see them cornering their father because Dick probably already heard them from the moment they made a move towards the living room.

You sat down on the armchair and grin at Dick who has his arms full of his kids. Alex is running his mouth as he prattles on and on about what he wants to help his father with and Alexis, being the competitive girl that she is, begins to explain how she will be the best big sister Richard ever has. Even though there is a possibility that you may have to have a talk with your kids again in the near future, seeing all of your family with happy smiles on their faces is enough for you. Dick’s elated expression warms you to your core and when he looks at you with that wonderful, beautiful smile of his, you almost feel like you fell in love with him all over again.

[mafiabosstsuna]

scenario w someone trying to seduce away Tsuna, Dino and Xanxus' pregnant s/o thinking that now's the chance since they have lost interest in her

COMPLETE

Admin Enma would like to apologize for being an absolute donut and misreading the prompt, Anon. Instead, here are some women trying to steal away the men because they think the S/O lost their interest now that she’s pregnant. Please forgive Admin Enma, she is sorry.

Tsuna

When the announcement of the pregnancy reached the ears of the mafia world, many people tripped over themselves to give the Vongola Decimo their congratulations. Presents were sent to him and his wife - diapers, powdered formula, baby clothes, baby toys - and they sent back personal thank you cards for their thoughtfulness. Each present was also pre-screened and analyzed for safety protocols but of course, that was to be expected.

Some of his closest friends were amused by the man’s outlook towards his pregnant wife. The first few months were filled with anxiousness and overprotection, much to her dismay and Tsuna’s insistence. She even went far as to get multiple doctor’s notes on how she was still capable to doing her regular desk job without any issues, not that Tsuna didn’t ignore them. But the effort was there and Tsuna eased up just a tiny bit. Instead of five bodyguards to look after her through the day, there was three.

There were some women who saw this as their chance to climb the ladder in the mafia world. It was evident near the end of the second trimester during a formal party held by an ally family that women had their sights set on Tsuna once more since his marriage to his wife.

“She looks like she swallowed a watermelon!”

“Do you see how her stomach is bulging out of her dress?!”

“Yes! What a shame too, that dress was designed by the same man who did my dress tonight.”

“Really? It flatters you but definitely not her.”

“Oh dammit all, Abrienne is making the first move.”

Sure enough, a slender woman had managed to strike a conversation with the Vongola boss and his wife. Abrienne was what many people can call beautiful, tall with nice curves, flawless skin, and shiny hair. She knew exactly what to wear to accent her best assets and took advantage of it. She also knew exactly what to say to befriend the wives of many bosses only to sweep their men from under their feet.

“The poor woman.”

“She has no idea what Abrienne is capable of.”

“Do you think Don Vongola would still acknowledge the child as his heir if he leaves her?”

The women at the party watched as discreetly as they could at how Abrienne caused the Donna to laugh brightly, holding onto her husband for support and to her belly, as if laughing too hard would make her due date come faster. They stared petulantly at the triumphant look on Abrienne’s face as the Donna left to go towards the direction of the bathroom, the female Mist guardians following behind her for protection, and completely missed the adoring look the man sent his wife.

Abrienne latched onto Tsuna’s arm quickly, tiptoeing up to whisper in his ear. It was exciting for the women to watch the scene unfold as she gave him the most seductive look she could after lowering herself back down and licking her lips. They watched in horror and fascination as the Don Vongola retched his arm out of her hands, his face full of controlled rage and spat something at.

The could-have homewrecker stepped back, causing the women to burst into conversation as they watched the Vongola walk away from Abrienne. The next time they saw him, he was completely wrapped around his wife and was practically showing her off to everyone he came across.

“Oh my!”

“That was exciting!”

“The Donna is so lucky to have him!”

“I wish my husband was like the Don Vongola when I was pregnant!”

Dino

The meeting was dragging on and on and the other man would just not shut up. Dino resisted the need to roll his eyes as he listened to the boss of some small family from the west of his territory drone on about how beneficial an alliance between their families would be for the both of them.

Normally Dino would have killed this man and crushed his family’s forces under his boot but he wanted to challenge himself to a bloodless 9 months while his wife was pregnant to avoid causing her stress. It was a challenge he had set himself and he was doing pretty well 7 months in.

The other man’s wife smiled serenely next to him, occasionally fluttering her eyes at the Don Cavallone. Her make up perfectly accentuated her face, bringing attention to her bright green eyes. She was a young thing, probably 10 or so years younger than her husband and was around Dino’s age.

“Ah, my apologies, Don Cavallone,” the man said after listening to Dino mused aloud on the prospects of an alliance. “May I be excused to go to your nearest restroom? I’m afraid I drank too much water as a result of talking your ears off. That was terribly rude of me.”

Dino laughed it off politely. “It’s all right, my friend. My subordinate here will guide you to a room. I will go ahead and draft a treaty while you are gone.”

Both men stood up and shook hands before the elder left the room, following after one of Dino’s men. The blonde sat down in his chair, glancing at the picture of his pregnant wife on his desk before beginning to type out a treaty on his computer.

There was a silence between Dino and the other man’s wife as he typed away on his laptop. Such an alliance would be beneficial and the other man seemed like a good business partner to work with. Everything he had proposed, albeit in a lengthy way, was sound and fair and if Dino worked hard enough, he could find an advantage to use and abuse.

“Ahem, Don Cavallone,” the woman interrupted his thoughts, causing him to pause in his typing. He looked up to see her look at him under hooded eyes and knew exactly where this was going.

He quirked an eyebrow before turning his attention back to his computer. “Yes,” he indulged her to go on. Dino was always fast at typing, something he was proud of. Given no distractions, he could probably finish this document and print it out just as the older man returned to his office.

“Ahem,” she went again. Dino sighed as he looked up from his desk to look at the woman. He was not amused at the sight of her shirtless, obviously trying to use what little breasts she had to entice him. “Everyone knows your wife is pregnant but I figured someone of your caliber wouldn’t be interested in a woman as big as she is now.”

She leaned forward on the desk with her arms, obviously hoping to push her breasts up more than they were by her push-up bra. “Of course, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Dino stared at her face for a moment before leaning into her space with a smirk. He pressed a button on the phone on his desk, never breaking eye contact. “Martin,” he told the subordinate standing outside his office as a guard, “can you please come in and remove this trash in front of me. Thank you.”

The woman stared in shock as she was bodily hauled, shirtless and all, out of the office by one of his men. Dino picked up her shirt she left in her chair, threw it outside of his office, before sitting down back at his desk and returning to his typing. This time, he added he condition of the other man to file for a divorce in order to secure their treaty.

Xanxus

There was nothing more amusing to Xanxus than someone trying to cozy up to him to climb up the social mafia ladder. He’s had men and women throw themselves at him multiple times throughout his entire life and he’s always used and thrown them away before they could do anything. They were his toys, they were the ones who chose to play with fire.

However, this time it was just annoying. The woman practically ground her hips against his side, hoping to elicit some carnal reaction from him. Useless really, he wasn’t in the mood. Even if he was, he had an S/O he knew would be happy to take care of him. Pregnancy hormones were a blessing sometimes.

Xanxus didn’t do anything to tell her off, but he didn’t encourage her either. It wasn’t bothering him at all, just a mild annoyance that would surely tire of his lack of reaction and reciprocation.

The entire night, she had plastered herself to him. It was beyond annoying now, it was down right irritating. He could feel the woman’s lips on his cheek and his neck, biting at his ear. It was funny to see how desperate she was for his dick, for a higher position in the mafia world.

It was when she tried to palm him between his pants that drew the line.

Tired of playing games, Xanxus roughly shoved the woman off of him. He watched as she fell to the floor with a shriek, her eyes flashing with anger. “What is your problem?”

He stared back at her, not amused and with disgust lacing his voice, “Nothing. I don’t like it when trash try to hang off of me.”

She stood up, huffing and fixing her bra through her outfit without a care of who was watching. “I was trying to offer you something. Figured your pregnant bitch wouldn’t put out and thought you might need someone to warm your bed.” The woman scowled at him, her face distorting ugly. “I guess you’re pretty happy with your hand.”

Xanxus lazily took out his gun and pointed it at her head, watching her freeze in place. “One - you’re trash. Two - trash like you shouldn’t say a damn thing out the woman carrying my child. Three - we have plenty of sex, most definitely better than anything you can try to give.” He used the barrel of his gun to push her down to the floor, the fear in her eyes getting his blood boiling.

Damn, he hopes his pregnant lover was ready for a long night.

He pulled out his wallet and threw a couple of bills at the woman on the floor. “Here, this is probably more than what you would get in a night out standing on the corner. I’ll be sure to tell my men about you if they’re interested for a romp.”

[ladyknightleyisundercover]

victorious

happy birthday, victoire weasley | (now on AO3!)

The main thing that happens when a baby is born, George discovers, is tears. The baby cries—the baby howls—such a huge sound from such a tiny thing, and yeah, okay, maybe if you’d just been ripped from inside the only thing you’d ever known, you’d cry too. Fleur cries, but that’s also probably allowed, because she was the one who was ripped apart. And Bill cries, probably because Fleur has a grip like a basilisk. That’s maybe legitimate, too.

But everyone, everyone else cries, crowded around the hospital bed, beaming down at Fleur, beautiful Madonna with her precious infant, and George just can’t. He hasn’t cried since the day of Fred’s funeral, when he cried enough for a lifetime. Literally. There is nothing that could possibly be worse than that day, nothing else that will ever be deserving of tears. So for almost two years, he hasn’t cried. It’s simple.

His is the only dry eye as the baby is passed around. Mum and Charlie, who will weep for England at the drop of a hat, have been at it since they were allowed in to meet her. Others, like Hermione, keep pushing away the tears, clearly trying to pull themselves together and never quite managing it. As he watches, Ron pulls her in close, kissing her forehead so her eyes close, and yet more tears fall. And in the other corner, Percy and Dad are doing some kind of glasses-cleaning thing that fools no one, least of all when Dad puts a hand on Percy’s shoulder, which suddenly starts to shake. George looks away, feeling suddenly like a voyeur. The thing about not crying for two years is that when you see other people doing it, it feels oddly personal and maybe a bit shameful, like you’ve walked in on them in the bathroom.

Someone, Harry, maybe, asks about names, and an expectant silence fills the room. Fleur and Bill exchange looks, and Bill nods, stepping back. It is clear to everyone that this is Fleur’s day, and she basks in the attention, arranging the baby’s blanket just so. “We ’ad a name chosen,” she says slowly, “we were going to call her Marielle. But...we talked, earlier. We thought...” And she trails off, looking at her husband.

It’s obvious that something significant is coming. For a second, George is so certain that they’re going to call the child Fred he almost laughs, but instead pinches the inside of his elbow and looks at the ground, refusing to look at Bill as he speaks. “Neither of us believe in...I don’t know what you’d call it. Cosmic signs. Divine intervention. But we thought...we thought, it cannot be a coincidence that she was born today. Two years after...well, you know. But she’s going to grow up with all this behind her. She’ll be safe and happy and whole. So...”

Fleur speaks again, now. “I always wanted ’er to ’ave a French name, to mark that part of ’er heritage. And so we shall call her Victoire.” Someone gives the tiniest gasp. “It is, ’ow you say, Victoria. But it is also—”

“Victory.”

Bill says it with such formality, and everyone responds as one, a low roar of approval. Words and voices can’t be distinguished, but it cannot be clearer: this is A Good Thing. George feels like he’s been hit by a Bludger. The roar of approval gets louder, suddenly, and he looks up to see Fleur looking at Ginny, reaching out to her, Ginny looking stunned—but pleased—and he realises that they must be asking if she would like to be Godmother, or maybe the middle-name, or maybe who the fuck knows what.

He doesn’t care about that, he cares about nothing except the anger rising and rising and rising, and he’s going to explode, going to punch someone, going to yell louder than the baby, the child, the victory. How could they? How could they?

“George?” Ron’s voice sounds far away, and George can’t quite understand, at first, the look on his brother’s face. Then he gets it: confusion. Ron is confused about why he might feel angry about this stupid decision his stupid brother has made. Now everyone else is looking at him, staring like he’s the misfit, the what-doesn’t-belong in this happy picture.

He can’t stand it.

He pushes back, marching out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The last thing he hears is a loud, indignant wail from the baby, and he can’t bring himself to feel even the slightest twinge of guilt about it. She has everyone looking after her every need, soothing her, being there with her. He has no one—or at least, he doesn’t have the person he needs most.

So he might as well have no one.

*

He shuts himself in his room back at Mum and Dad’s, intending to ignore everyone for the next week or so until he feels marginally better about the whole situation. That lasts for the next, oh, forty-five minutes, until Ron arrives back.  

“Fuck off, Ron,” he says, when his brother lets himself in. He’s locked the door, but he is an Auror. “I mean it. Fuck off, or I’ll curse the fucking door closed.”

“Then I’ll get Bill to come and blast it down. Cursebreaker, remember?”

“Bill’s a dick.”

“Bill’s a dad.” Ron’s so earnest, and it’s not meant to be a joke, but it sounds so silly that George almost grins, until he remembers that he’s really, really mad at his brother. Which one doesn’t really matter.

“Still a dick.”

“Whatever,” Ron dismisses this with a wave of a hand. “You need to go and apologise to him.”

George splutters. “Why?”

“Because Bill’s a dick, but you’re a bigger dick.” George opens his mouth to make the obvious, juvenile comment—habit, more than anything—but Ron cuts him off. “No,” he says, and George shrinks back, startled. Ron doesn’t get angry, often, but when he does, he means it. “You have to. I get it. You’re mad because they called her victory, but, fucking hell, what else could they do?! Think about it. Poor kid’s never going to have a birthday. In her entire fucking life. What the fuck were they going to call her? Tragedy? Funeral? Death?”

He almost snarls this last, breathing heavily, and George doesn’t know what surprises him more, the fact that Ron gets it, or that he so clearly doesn’t. Victoire, victory, however you say it, it’s an insult to everyone who died, or who nearly did, or worse.

And it’s the truth. It’s what they were, ultimately. Victorious. Some victory.

Ron’s silent for a good few minutes, the only sound the gradual slowing and calming of his breathing. And then, very quietly, he says, “I don’t know if I like it. Victory...it just...it sounds wrong. But it’s not about me. It’s not even about Bill and Fleur, really. It’s about her. And it’s what she deserves, right?”

George sighs. “I guess.” The annoying thing about Ron, these days, is how often he’s right. Not that he’ll ever tell him that. He just gives him incremental salary rises every time he does something remotely helpful to him. At this rate, he’ll be earning more than the Minister of Magic by Christmas.

“Look,” Ron says bracingly. “Bill’s on his own now, he’s gone back to Shell Cottage to get some more clothes for Fleur. She needs to stay at the hospital a while longer—”

“Why?” George asks, his head shooting up. “Is there something wrong with her, or the baby?” The fear is sudden and all-consuming and takes him by surprise.

It appears to take Ron by surprise, too, but his voice is steady as he explains. “Apparently it’s standard procedure. New mothers and babies generally spend a couple of days in hospital, even if things have gone well, which they did. They’re both fine, but apparently fine is relative if you’ve just, y’know. Pushed a Quaffle out your—”

“Okay.”

“So you’ll go and apologise to Bill?”

“Fine.”

*

“That you, Gin?”

“...well, I guess it would be more insulting if you called me Percy, but—”

“Oh, it’s you.” The thing about Bill is that he’s always had this completely inscrutable tone of voice, where you’re never sure if his next sentence is going to be a declaration of eternal love, or an intention to murder your nearest and dearest. It kind of freaks George out.

“Can you hold this for a moment?” He doesn’t wait for a response, simply holding out something soft and yellow, and George accepts it, before realising it’s a baby’s outfit. It is the tiniest item of clothing he has ever seen.

He doesn’t realise he’s said this out loud until something in Bill seems to soften. “She’s so small. I thought I’d remembered from when you all were kids but...she’s so small.”

“Well...I guess you were smaller, then, too.” Bill grunts in response to this rather pathetic comment, going back to sifting through a bag positioned on the big armchair. Clearly not finding what he’s looking for, he shifts his attention to another bag, this one on the sofa. George looks around the living room, and realises there are two or three more bags dotted around the room.

“Now I know I’ve never had a kid myself, but I thought you were only supposed to pack one hospital bag?”

“Oh, you know Fleur,” Bill says vaguely.

George snorts. “That makes sense. Gotta have the right outfit, yeah?”

“Watch it,” says Bill, who was once savaged by a werewolf. “That’s my wife.”

George swallows, but holds his brother’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says. “And I’m sorry about earlier. Really sorry.”

Bill nods slowly. “I’m...I’m sorry we maybe sprung that on you,” he says. “To be fair, Fleur and I had only decided a few hours before. We thought it would be...well, we didn’t intend to be disrespectful, at any rate.”

George moves a bag and sinks down in the chair. Bill sits on the floor opposite him, and George can suddenly see how tired his brother looks. His brother’s a dad now. How ridiculous! A laugh bubbles upside him, and he bites his cheek to make it go away.

“Y’know, when you were doing the announcement, I was sure for a second that you were going to call her Fred,” he says instead.

“A girl named Fred?”

“Fredericka’s nice.”

Bill looks at him sceptically, before grinning. “Freda.”

“Frederbelle.”

“Fredette.”

George snorts. “I’m glad you didn’t.” A pause. “I think Victoria’s a nice name. Even Victoire sounds okay. If you’re, y’know, French.” He crosses his eyes as he says this, making it clear it’s a joke. “But victory? I just don’t know...” He looks at his brother, willing him to understand how much this bit isn’t a joke.

Bill looks away first, closing his eyes, and it takes him so long to respond that George actually wonders if he’s fallen asleep. It wouldn’t exactly be undeserved, given his past twenty four hours. But then, eventually, he says something.

“I miss Fred,” he says simply. “I know you are the last person I need to explain that better to. I know you, more than any of us, get it. But I miss Fred every single day. Everyone says ‘oh, but we won, in the end!’ but it doesn’t feel like a win, when I think of him. Every time I look at little Teddy Lupin, it doesn’t feel like we won. You know?” George nods. Of course he knows. “Do you want to know what I think, though?”

George braces himself for some bullshit about how Fred’s looking down on them, about how Fred would want everyone to move on and be happy, George in particular, blah blah blah. He’s more than heard it all before, and he doesn’t need to hear it again. Bill’s an eldest child, though. He’ll tell you anyway.

“I think that every day the rest of us are still here is a victory. Every time you don’t give up, give in, you win. Every day—every hour, if that’s what it takes. And I need her to know that sometimes, just existing is a victory. Never mind anything else. Just living—that’s the victory. That’s the win.”

“She will.” George says this with more certainty than he’s ever said anything in his life, and he realises how much he means it as the words tumble out. “She will know all that. Because I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her about Fred, but I’ll tell her that first. Because you’re right.”

Sometimes eldest siblings know what they’re talking about. (But only sometimes.)

Bill reaches over, claps him on the back, then leaves his hand there. “Thanks, kid,” he says, somewhat hoarsely.

“And then I’ll tell her where we keep the good dungbombs.” Bill snorts with laughter, and maybe a few tears come out too, and maybe that’s why George maybe—maybe—lets one fall too.