#last time i was mixed i ended up in the hospital

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a fem!reader who instead of not wanting kids can’t have kids?

This is a popular request, anon. I've had several submissions from various users. Since the theme/idea is similar, I thought I would combine them into one.

Heavy angst ahead, folks. I decided not to sugarcoat with this one. It's heartbreaking. It's sad. And yes, there is comfort and love mixed in.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, angst, infertility, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of surgical procedure, emotional hurt/comfort, implied abortion/d&c, minor blood

Word Count: 900

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

This time, it sticks.

Somehow.

Miraculously.

After years of struggling, of being told it would never happen, of false results and shattered hopes—it’s happening.

You’d be in denial if it wasn’t for the test results in your hand. It is solid, a print out of what your doctor told you over the phone.

John stands next to you, reading the piece of paper over your shoulder. His shoulders are riddled with tension, lips a thin line. It’s clear that he wants to join in on your joy, but something holds him back.

“Are you happy?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

“I am—I.” John clears his throat. “But last time?”

Last time looked just like this. Last time everything was fine—until it wasn’t. Until the blood and the pain and the hospital visit.

“It might not be like last time.”

John gently grasps the sides of your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t have to. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“It’s okay, John.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod, and John places his lips to your forehead. “I worry.”

“I know,” you murmur, turning your face into his touch. “But you’re here. And that’s all that matters.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

It all has to go. All of it. There is too much damage.

No uterus. No fallopian tubes. No ovaries.

Gone. All of it. Gone.

Johnny sits next to you on the sofa, his head in his hands. His sigh is heavy as he rubs at his face. When he comes up for air, you know his world is shattered, just likes yours.

“The surgeon said they might be able to save some eggs.” Even you don’t believe the words leaving your mouth. It’s a farce.

“Might?” asks Johnny.

“They won’t know until they’re actually inside.”

Johnny is oddly silent. It’s not like him to be quiet.

“Are you upset?” you ask, tentatively.

“No,” he says sharply. “Not with you. Never with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, because an apology feels right but you’re not sure why you’re doing it at all.

Johnny places his hand on your knee, squeezing gently. “For what?”

Tears pool, threatening to spill over. “For not being enough.”

He leans in, face serious. “The fact that you think that at all means I’ve failed you. That I haven’t loved you enough.”

“Johnny.”

He draws you in. “This doesn’t make you less worthy of my love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

A heartrate monitor beeps nearby. They’ll release you soon now that you’re awake and aware.

It’s all coming back in pieces.

You remember the cramping, the spotting, and then the bleeding that wouldn’t stop. You remember the cold linoleum floor against your cheek, of losing consciousness, of gaining it again only for the room to spin. You remember how cold you were, and Simon’s hands—of how his voice cracked when he said your name.

You don’t recall the trip to the hospital. You only remember how Simon demanded help while the staff told him he needed to calm down.

But he’s here now—and no one is yelling. He sits in a chair next to your hospital bed, face grim and skin pale like he hasn’t slept in days.

There have almost always been complications—always been issues while trying to conceive, but of those that have ended, it’s never been like this.

You turn your head, and as if sensing you, Simon glances up from his silent musings. You offer your hand. Simon takes it, and though he doesn’t squeeze hard, you feel the desperation in the way he clings to you.

“I’m not risking you. Never again.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your friend opens the gift, presenting it to the gathered crowd. Everyone fawns over the set of baby blankets. There are several in total, all pale pastels.

You smile and agree that it’s a wonderful gift. Outwardly, everything is fine. Internally, your mind is still at home, lingering on the four pregnancy tests hidden in the bathroom bin beneath a pile of toilet paper.

Each one negative. Each one a glaring stain on the long list of failures.

Kyle emerges from the kitchen with the father-to-be, a massive grin on his face. This baby shower is a reminder to you of all your shortcomings. For Kyle, this is hope—a vision of the future.

And you haven’t told him. Haven’t said a word about those four negative tests.

How many years of trying now?

But you’re still young.

Don’t stress about it.

It’s so easy for others to stick their nose in, which is why you don’t share anymore.

Kyle plops down next to you. The happiness there is palpable, so thick it’s almost like butter on the tongue. You’re going to shatter it—hurt him yet again.

He presents his hand, palm upward.

You snatch it like a lifeline, and squeeze—hard. Kyle frowns at your entwined fingers. His gaze sweeps upward.

In your friend’s hands is a onesie for a newborn. Everyone coos, and something in you breaks. You’re smiling, but you sense the threatening tears.

Kyle’s frown shifts to a sad smile.

He knows. You don’t have to say anything.

Lifting your joined hands, Kyle brings the back of your palm to his lips. Placing a quick kiss there, he then kisses your forehead. He adds another kiss to spot just behind your ear.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

No one is watching.

“I love you.”

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[m1dn1ght-r0t]

Eyes Wrapped in Wool

Yandere! (ex) husband x amnesiac! fem reader

TW: manipulation, toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of (potential) forced imprisonment, coercion A/N: pretty sure amnesia doesn't work this way (i'm no medical professional) but pls suspend disbelief for the sake of the plot ahahah

Your husband never expected things to turn out this way. But by some stroke of luck—or perhaps divine intervention—you ended up bed-ridden in the ICU, suffering from multiple bone fractures and a terrible, oh-so-terrible, traumatic brain injury. Just last week you were talking his ear off about how you've had enough. How you were done with him controlling what you could wear or who you could see, his suffocating clinginess that devolved into explosive rages when you spent time focusing on work or with friends instead of with him, the negging, the snooping, the smashed plates... Jesus Christ. You just never knew when to shut the fuck up, did you? At some point he had stopped listening. Chalked off your dramatic tirade as nothing more than you acting up because of your period—merely white noise. How many times have you guys had this same broken record conversation? Yeah, he knew this marriage wasn't smooth-sailing. If it were, you'd be less opinionated, less bitchy, more pliant, more dutiful. But what relationship was ever perfect? So, he waited for you to run out of steam, as you inevitably do, before adding salt to the wound:

“You know baby, if you weren’t parading around in those slutty clothes of yours and acted your grown age for once, I wouldn’t be behaving that way.”

The scrunch of disbelief mixed with disgust on your face only spurred him to double down. “And maybe if you actually committed to this marriage like a devoted wife would, rather than prioritize your career and practically everyone over me—your husband, need I remind you—then we wouldn’t be having these issues. Ever considered that, hm?” He purposely dragged out his words, a patronizing lilt to his tone, in hopes of reminding that thick, dumb skull of yours that he always knew best.

It wasn't until you had thrusted the divorce papers in his face that he grew silent, the severity of the situation beginning to creep in. ...What? You couldn't actually be serious... right? This was just some lover's spat. A temporary blip that'd be smoothed over with a few intentionally placed saccharine words and hot make-up sex. Like always. So why the fucking theatrics? Are you really gonna be a bitch about this and d— When you slammed the front door shut with your packed bags in tow, leaving him to stew in your parting words—that you deserved better, so much better than him, and that if he didn't sign the papers, he'd be hearing from your lawyer—did the gravity of it all finally sink in. By the end of the week, your voicemail was battered by his countless furious messages. Are you done being a flighty little piece of shit, huh? What the fuck do you think you're doing? I swear to god, baby, I'm gonna drag your ass back here. And if I have to lock you in some basement and chain your hands and legs so you'd never think to leave me again, then so fucking be it. Divorce? Yeah right. Over my dead fucking body. Then came an unknown call. It was like whiplash, really, to first hear that you had been involved in a major car crash, and then, upon rushing to the hospital at neck-breaking speed— "I'm afraid she has retrograde amnesia", the doctor solemnly informed him. He could cry. Oh, he could fucking cry.

On the outside, anyone could see how distraught he was, his hands trembling as he processed the diagnosis, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Poor husband that he was, having almost lost his beloved wife in a freak accident, he now had to deal with the news that she didn't remember who he was. Inside, however, raged a war he couldn't reconcile: what was harder? Holding back the tears, or pretending those very tears were out of sadness rather than pure, unbridled joy? Because what this neatly packaged situation had presented him with was a do-over, a chance to mend the broken marriage teetering on the cusp of divorce. And like hell he's about to let you throw away a three-year connection like some ungrateful cunt when he loves you so, very much.

~

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

As he walks up beside your hospital bed, he can't help but revel at how vulnerable you look. The slight furrow in your brows hinting at your confusion, the way you curl in on yourself as if to protect yourself from who is no doubt a complete stranger in your eyes, and your meek "Who are you?"—a far cry from the usual feisty, snarky attitude you used to dish out.

But perhaps most rewarding of all is the tentative gaze you offer him, eyes filled with a sort of curious glimmer, free from the hostility, disappointment, and hurt you'd flashed his way. You didn't look at him with hate. You simply want to know who he is.

Oh, aren't you precious? He'll gladly feed you his carefully spun narrative until you're full of nothing but adoring love for him—the embers of your thoughts about divorce and leaving him snuffed out for good.

"I know how confusing all of this must be for you. Take all the time you need. I'll be right here with you, as your husband, helping you fill the gaps, okay baby?" He delivers this with as much patience as he can muster, softening the edges of his words to avoid spooking you. But you're not soothed. If anything, you're more overwhelmed than ever. "M-my husband?" You echo, tasting the foreign word, sticky like warm toffee on your tongue.

"And...and my family? Where are they?" Your disorientation is a sight for sore eyes; how badly he wants to devour you right now. “Dead,” he intones, a script he’d been desperate to act out ever since you said your vows. The jarring news pulls a barely audible whimper from you, your eyes widening a fraction.

Shit. Too cold. Too careless.

His expression softens, the corners of his mouth tugging downward in a facsimile of sorrow as he injects a note of pity into his voice. “They died when you were very young, you see. I’m sorry.” He’s really not.

"What…? How could that be? So my p-parents, they're both—" Your breath hitches, tears welling at the corner of your eyes.

At that, he gently grabs your bandaged arm, wanting to comfort you. But when you flinch slightly, he has to resist the urge to snap at you—Oh, cry me a river. Who the fuck cares?? I'm right here, aren't I? I'm right here, damnnit, so look at me!

Instead, he tempers the resentment that's still fresh in his heart after the divorce stunt you'd pulled by reminding himself that he's supposed to be your kind and gentle partner.

So he settles for cradling your hand in both of his like it's fine china, grazing his lips over your fingertips. "But you have me, sweetheart. And I'm not going anywhere."

He half expects you to question his story—it wasn’t very convincing, even to his own ears—prepared to be barraged by your endless streams of “No, you’re wrong!”, “I don’t believe you!” or some other similar outburst.

But when all you do is gaze up at him with cinched brows, seeking reassurance, blinking at him so sweetly with your hand still snugly warmed in his, he pauses. That’s it? No suspicion, no skepticism, no outburst? Hah! He has to physically restrain himself from snorting because how fucking easy can this get?

Maybe the collision had completely scrambled your brains, rewired you to be more stupid, a little slower—exactly how he likes you.

"You trust me, right?"

And when he feels that subtle twitch of your fingers—what he gathers is your attempt at squeezing his hand back for confirmation—accompanied by the sight of your small, almost shy nod, he breaks out into a giddy smile at how utterly adorable you’re being.

Fuck, it’s hard not to already feel high off these micro-doses of innocence and receptiveness from you. Emboldened by your intoxicatingly sweet naivety, he dares to be a little greedier, creeping to perch on the edge of your bed, his hand now moving to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how worried sick I was when I got the call. I thought you had…” He trails off, his implication clear. His face is mere inches from yours now, breaths as featherlight as his fingertips mapping every divot on your face.

“I love you.” He drags his thumb across your bottom lip, the act agonizingly slow. “So, so, so much.” Each whisper spills out heavier than the last, mirroring the increasing pressure of his thumb—your lip almost bruising from how hard he’s pinching them.

How long has it been? He can’t remember the last time he felt the warmth of your touch, your skin… eons too long without your pillowy lips pressed against his has left him completely starved.

“You can’t leave me…” A murmur too quiet to pick up. His gaze, now half-lidded, drifts downward in a drunken daze. “My wife. My good little wife. You love me too, right?”

Without warning, he leans in to close the minuscule gap.

And it’s all too fast and soon because you can feel the suffocating heat of his proximity, the chilling shared breath floating between the tight space. It’s all too much. So, in the last second, you hesitate, pulled from your stupor as you turn your head away.

But he’s not having it. Not when you’re already in the palm of his hand and he’s so fucking close. When he can already taste the opportunity to finally take out the trash and parasites leeching off you, to call up that godforsaken shithole you call a stable, steady-paying job and quit on your behalf, to have you all to himself—a blank slate to knock up with several kids and mold into the perfect little housewife he's always wanted you to be. God, he's already hard at the thought.

Grabbing your jaw firmly, he jerks your face back towards him, thumb roughly wedging between your lips and prying your mouth open.

“Baby.” The endearment spills out, sharp and cold, stripped of any warmth it might've once held.

His gentle veneer cracks ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, you see something else. A flicker beneath the mask—raw, ugly, messy. It gnaws at the edges of your mind, dredging up something you can’t quite grasp. A memory?

“Gimme a small kiss, hmm?” Despite the smile on his face, there is no kindness to it. Just a twisted caricature warning you that you shouldn’t push further.

All of a sudden you feel like you can’t breathe, weighed down by the unsettling intensity of his stare. The man in front of you—the one claiming he's your husband and calling you “baby,” the one touching you—feels wrong. He’s a stranger, you remind yourself. An almost involuntary shiver runs down your spine, like your body remembers something your mind refuses to.

At this point, your husband has caught on to your rather obvious spiralling. He’s not an idiot—he can see your doubt giving way to panic. He contemplates smoothing things over by playing nice, but the selfish part of him ultimately wins.

He squeezes your jaw, nails biting into your skin.

“Kiss me.”

It isn’t a request this time.

[trashytracktales]

Ma'am, I just found your profile and I'm in love with your writing. I would really like to make a request that you made (After McLaren's victory today I was inspired haha)

Could you please write a short one for Lando where he and his girlfriend enjoy the WCC celebration party so much that they don't even have time for themselves (not that it's a big deal for them), but in the next morning the reader wakes up feeling Lando half hard on her back, while they're spooning, so she decides to wake him up with a handjob. So one thing leads to another and they end up having a slow, intense and delicious morning sex.

(if you don't feel comfortable writing, please just ignore. I will totally understand)

Orange glow | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for your support! Enjoy this one 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── After McLaren wins the 2024 Constructors' Championship and Lando dominates the Abu Dhabi GP, the night is full of partying. But the real celebration happens in the morning, hidden between the sheets, and far away from the outside world.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, descriptive language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, post-race tension, spooning, slow morning sex, shower sex, hyping each other up, reader tries to be funny towards the end, quick Lily Zneimer cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 9, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I literally have a list of requests piling up, but I had to jump on this one immediately after last night, oop. I'm a Ferrari girlie through and through, and I'm not going to get into the details of how many times I cried this season, however, I'm so proud of the McLaren boys, and everything they've accomplished. A season to remember for sure. Now let the horrors (winter break) begin 🥲👍🏻

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE WEEKEND STARTED with a lot of pressure, even though the odds were in their favor. And it continued that way on Sunday, after Oscar's Turn 1 incident. Luckily, Lando's teammate had managed to claw his way back into the points by the end of the race. Lando, on the other hand, had been untouchable ever since the lights went out, his car gliding through each lap with precision and speed as if he was running on hopes and old dreams.

His girlfriend watched it all unfold from the garage, her heart constantly in her throat as every sector time flashed on the screens. When the checkered flag finally dropped, she could finally breathe, knowing how much Lando has been stressing about it, especially after the weekend in Qatar.

By the time the podium ceremony begins, the entire paddock is buzzing; she's absolutely sure that no place on Earth is ever as loud as the paddock when someone wins.

Tonight, it's her boy.

In the sea of radiant faces, Lando manages to spot her without any issues and, for a brief moment, their eyes meet. He raises the bottle in her direction, grinning mischievously, before pop it on the podium step and shaking it up, drenching his team principal and the two Ferraris from head to toe.

She laughs, her chest warm with so much pride and love.

After that, it takes Lando a couple of hours before he finally makes it back to her. Post-race duties pull him in a hundred different directions — sometimes simultaneously — media interviews, debriefs, and lots of photo sessions. But when he sees her waiting outside the McLaren hospitality suite, he breaks away from the crowd without hesitation.

“What's a pretty girl like you doing here, hm? You should've waited inside,” says Lando, his voice low, but full of warmth as he wraps his arms around his girlfriend.

He smells faintly of champagne and sweat that mixed with his perfume and natural scent, a heady blend that reminds her of everything he’s just achieved for both himself and his team. The adrenaline it's still floating in the air, and she can feel the buzz of it in the way he's touching her.

“I did,” she replies, looking up at him. “But it took forever, and I got bored.”

It doesn't take long for camera flashes to capture the moment, and Lando takes off his cap to cover their faces, as he leans in to steal a gentle kiss from her before heading back inside.

THE MUSIC IS pretty much deafening, and the lights are a kaleidoscope of neon orange. The celebrations continue into the night, while Lando is — oh, so shockingly — the life of the party, moving from one group to the next with a constant drink in hand, his laughter ringing melodious above the bass.

She stays close but lets him have the spotlight. This is his night, after all, and she wants him to enjoy every single moment. Still, Lando always finds ways to include her by dragging her onto the dance floor for a song, or pulling her into photos with the team, and brushing kisses against her temple as they weave through the crowd.

It gets tiring at times, so she chooses to disappear for a couple of minutes back at their table; a good opportunity to regain control over her breathing, and maybe down another shot. This time, she finds herself watching Lando moving anything but gracefully on the dance floor. He looks like he's yelling, while aggressively gesturing in Oscar's direction, the two of them laughing over something she can’t hear. The sight makes her chest tighten with affection, though. They both seem so carefree right now, so unburdened, and she realizes how rare that is. The season has been the longest ever, and it was filled with so much pressure and expectations. But tonight, all of that has melted away.

“Having fun?” she hears a soft voice from behind her, then her senses are invaded by a faint floral scent.

She turns in her seat to see Lily, her cheeks flushed from the heat, with her smile as contagious as ever.

“More than I expected,” she finally replies, returning the smile and raising her glass to take another sip. “It’s hard not to when I see them like that,” she adds, pointing at their boyfriends.

Lily laughs, nodding slowly. “On the way here, I overheard that they want to get a tattoo in Zak's honor.”

“Oh, fuck no.”

The two girls exchange a look, their eyes locking in a silent agreement. It's their cue to step in, take control, and save their boyfriends from their drunken selves.

It’s past three in the morning when the party starts to wind down. Lando finds her near the bar, his hair a tousled, curly mess and his shirt unbuttoned. He looks exhausted but genuinely happy and satisfied, his eyes bright with the lingering adrenaline of the night.

“Ready to head back, mon amour?” he asks in a broken French accent, slipping an arm around her waist.

She nods, leaning into him. “Thought they'd never wear you out.”

“Pff. FYI, I've got plenty of energy left,” he says determined, smirking down at his girlfriend and watching as her thin fingers button up his shirt.

She giggles, knowing it's not even close to the truth, “Of course you do.”

The ride back to their hotel is quiet, proving her that she was right to not believe him earlier. Lando rests his head against her shoulder, his hand holding hers, fingers intertwined on top of her lap. She can feel the tiredness creeping in, but her heart is still skipping a beat every time Lando brushes his thumb over her knuckles.

When they finally step into their room, he lets out a long sigh, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed.

“Fuuucking hell. I can't feel my toes, is that fucking normal?” he mumbles into the pillow.

She chuckles, sitting down beside him to take her heels off. “You just turned a two-syllable word into four, so you tell me. I could barely keep up with you, baby. I'm not surprised you're absolutely wrecked,” she admits, lowering herself over his back to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

He sighs, flipping his body the other way, looking up at her with a tired but content smile. “Totally worth it, though.”

She places another kiss, to his jaw this time, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. “I'm so proud of you, pretty boy. I hope you know that.”

Lando's eyes soften, and he reaches up to take her hand in his, letting it rest over his chest. “Couldn't have done a lot of things without you... You kept me sane this season.”

She shakes her head, but he squeezes her hand, his expression earnest. “I didn’t—”

“Baby, I mean it,” he interrupts her vehemently, “Thank you.”

They don’t talk much after that, the exhaustion of the night catching up to them both. Finally, when they change and slip properly under the blanket, they fall asleep together, the hum of the city below fading into the background.

THE EARLY SUN spills into the room, casting long shadows over the tangle of sheets. She stirs first, her senses awakening to the quiet hum of Lando's soft snoring. Usually, she would push him on the other side so she won't hear him anymore, but she knows how tired he was just a few hours ago.

His arm is slung loosely around her waist, holding her close to him as if she might disappear. She shifts slightly, and that’s when she feels him — it — a familiar pressure nestled against her ass, half-hard and stirring with his own slow wakefulness.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she stays still for a moment.

The rest of Lando's body is relaxed against hers, but even in his sleep, he responds to her presence, which makes her heart race. Carefully, she reaches back, her hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers. The moment her fingers curl around his cock, Lando lets out a soft, muffled groan, instinctively pressing closer. At that, he wakes slowly, the low sound rumbling in his chest as he tightens his grip around her waist.

“Mm... ‘morning, baby,” he greets her with a thick, rough voice, filled with sleep. However, there’s a teasing edge to it as he pushes his hips more intently into her hand.

“Good morning, champ,” she murmurs in a playful tone, her hand continuing its lazy strokes, rubbing the sensitive head of his cock in circles with her thumb.

He hisses, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “You waking me up like this just because I won?” mumbles Lando, his lips curling into a soft smirk against her skin.

She lets out a quiet chuckle, but doesn’t reply, focusing instead on the way he hardens fully in her small fist, the weight of him in her hand so familiar and thrilling.

“Fuck, I lose it when you touch me like that,” says Lando, fully woken up by now. “Feels so good, baby.”

Hearing that, she perfects her strokes, feeling the pre-cum coating the palm of her hand, smiling mischievously when she manages to pull another moan out of his mouth.

“Do you have to be somewhere today?” she finally asks.

Lando sighs in pleasure, his hips eager to move in the same rhythm as her hand, “Not until after lunch. Why?”

He knows where she's hinting with her innocent question, but he enjoys hearing her talk.

She laughs lightly, feeling his cock begin to throb slightly in her grip. “I just wanted to celebrate some more.”

Lando's hand slides down her body, instinctively, warm and purposeful, as he grips her thigh and drapes her leg over his hip.

“Alright then,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with a lazy, husky need.

Before she can speak again, he shifts behind her, freeing his throbbing cock and lining himself up, pressing into her in one slow, languid motion, thankful he has such easy access to her so early in the morning. Her breath catches in her throat, her hand clutching at the sheets as he fills her completely, the heat of him spreading through her like fire.

“Lando,” she breathes in sharply, her voice tinged with need, her ass pushing back against him.

Lando's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her even closer as he starts to move. His pace is slow, deliberate, each thrust a deep, measured push that sends shivers down her spine. The angle is perfect, his hips pressing against her as he drives into her from behind, her leg draped over his to open her up to him completely.

“Oh, god,” she moans, bringing her free hand to the back of Lando's head, lightly tugging at his hair.

“You always feel so good in the morning, baby—fuck,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her shoulder as he moves. His free hand slides up her body, cupping her breast under the fabric of his shirt she's wearing, and teasing her nipple between his fingers. “So warm and ready for me, I could slip inside even in my sleep, hm?”

As a response, her head falls back against his chest, her hand continuing to thread through his hair as Lando buries his face in her neck. Each thrust is so agonizingly slow, almost testing her patience, but every single one is filled with a quiet intensity that steals the breath from her lungs. His hands are suddenly everywhere — cupping her breasts, brushing over her stomach, gripping her hips as he pulls her back against him with undeniable strength.

“Shit,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and reverent, “You make me so fucking hard,” Lando adds breathlessly. “So perfect around my cock every. Single. Time,” he accentuates the words with each thrust.

His sleepy voice sends a fresh wave of heat through her, her body trembling as she grips the sheets tighter, trying to hold on to the feeling of him fucking her like that. Too soon, their movements grow less coordinated as they both near the edge, their breaths coming faster, blending together in the quiet room.

“Lan…” she gasps, her voice breaking as his hand slides lower, his fingers finding her clit.

“Come on my cock, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice rough with need as his fingers work in time with his slow, deep thrusts. “Let go for me.”

“Oh, fuck,” she cries out, her thighs wanting to press together in pleasure, but Lando's other hand holds her open for him, the slick sound of him pushing in and out of her pussy, an exquisite melody for his ears.

Soon enough, her body tenses, her moans turning into soft whimpers as she comes, her release washing over her in waves that leave her legs shaking. Lando follows moments later, his thrusts growing erratic before he stills inside her, his body shuddering as he presses himself as deep as he can.

They take a long moment to breathe, their bodies joined together. His hand brushes soothing circles over her stomach, his lips pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder and neck, before pulling the shirt over her head so he can feel her in his arms without any obstacles.

“You’re dangerous as hell when you wake me up like this,” he finally speaks, his voice raw.

She laughs, her body still humming with the aftershocks. “Are you complaining?”

“Not even a little,” he admits, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her neck, inhaling her scent.

They stay just like that for a while, making her wonder if Lando fell back asleep, but then he presses one more kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering there as he shifts, pulling gently out of her. The instant emptiness draws a soft gasp from her, and they both feel the warmth of their shared release slipping between them, dampening the sheets beneath.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand trailing down her thigh before slipping back between her legs. Slowly, his fingers press into her fucked out pussy, gathering as much cum as he can so he can push it back inside.

“God, you're so dirty, baby,” he murmurs against her ear, his voice a mix of affection and playful reprimand. “You should probably take a shower, I'm just saying.”

Her heart starts racing again at the sweet sensation of his fingers, but she doesn’t let him have the last word. She finally turns around in his arms, wanting to see his pretty face bathed in the orange glow of the morning. Her lips find his in a superficial kiss, as one of her hands wraps around his body, pressing firmly against the small of his back and pulling him closer. As their bodies press together, his cock rests between their stomachs, still half-hard and slick with the remnants of their orgasms.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to smirk up at him, her voice teasing as she murmurs, “Yeah? Look who’s talking.”

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow as he laughs softly. “Touché,” he whispers, his hands gripping her waist.

Before she can say anything else, he flips them over, pulling her on top of him with an effortless motion. She straddles his hips, her thighs pressing into his, her pussy pressing down on his length. They both exhale at the wet feeling between their bodies, but none of them dares to make another sudden move.

“I wanted to take you in the middle of the dance floor last night,” admits Lando, his hands sliding up to cup her hips, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

“Why didn't you?” she counters, her voice playful as she leans down to kiss him again.

“You would've let me, wouldn't you? Fuck you where everyone can see how pretty you look with my cock inside you?”

She presses one more kiss to his lips, mostly to shut him up, “I'd let you fuck me anywhere you want, my love.”

Lando's fingers tighten around her waist, making her whimper against his jaw, “So fucking easy for me, baby. You're gonna end me one of these days.”

“Not today, though,” she exhales abruptly, fucking her hips onto Lando's length, with no intention other than teasing him.

“Behave,” he says softly, cupping the back of her head in his palm so he can pull her back into a sinful kiss.

They linger there for a while, the morning hues catching in the strands of his messy hair and the faint sheen of sweat on their skin. It’s warm, so intimate, and entirely theirs — a connection that no one can take away nor break.

Eventually, Lando lets out a mock-serious sigh, his hands sliding up her back, stopping roughly at her thighs to squeeze her. “Alright, gorgeous. Shower time. Before we ruin these sheets completely.”

She laughs, climbing off him and wincing slightly at the sticky mess between her thighs. He catches the movement and smirks, playfully slapping her ass as he sits up.

“Come on,” says Lando, taking her hand and pulling her towards the bathroom.

The shower is already steaming up when they step inside, the hot water cascading over their bodies. Lando's fingers are lazily tracing patterns on her back, hers tangling in his wet hair as they share languid kisses under the spray.

“Do you even know what you mean to me?” he whispers, his voice low and filled with adoration. His hands trail up her back, fingers tracing her curves, memorizing every inch of her, all over again. “What you do for me? God, I don't need anything else.”

Her cheeks warm, though whether from his words or the water, she isn’t sure. She tilts her head up, her smile soft and full of affection for him. “Lando, I’m just here for you. You’re the one out there doing the impossible every single day. My champion.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he presses his forehead against hers. “You're so sweet, love. But you know I'm not a champion yet, my team is.”

Her hands slide up his chest, fingers resting over his heart as she gazes at him, her voice steady and determined. “You are McLaren, Lan. You and Oscar, hold everything together. It's a great responsibility, and I've seen what it did to you this year. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

For a moment, Lando goes silent, his eyes softening as he takes her in. The quiet between them is filled with the sound of the water, and everything he wants to say to her but can't. It'd be too soon, and he has a habit of letting his mouth loose when his emotions get the best of him.

She notices that, and she knows he's working on it, that's why she won't let the moment grow too serious, “Though, to be fair, Oscar has done you and McLaren a lot of favors this season, no?”

Lando’s startled laugh echoes off the tiled walls, and he pulls back to look at her, his grin wide and mischievous. “Oh, yeah? Is that what we’re doing now?”

Before she can respond, he presses her back against the cool tiles, his hands gripping her thighs as he lifts her slightly, her back arching under the contrast of the chilled surface and the hot water.

“Lando!” she gasps in surprise.

“You take that back,” he growls playfully, his lips capturing hers in a possessive kiss that knocks all the air out of her lungs.

Her laughter dissolves into a moan as he pushes into her again, slow and deep, filling her completely. Her legs wrap around his waist, anchoring herself against him as he pulls out all the way, only to slam back inside, setting a rhythm that’s somehow both lazy and desperate.

The shower fills with the sound of water splashing and the soft, breathless moans that escape her lips, her head falling back against the tiles as he buries his face in her neck. His hands grip her thighs harder, holding her steady as he thrusts deeper, each motion pulling gasps and cries from both of them.

“You saying Oscar’s better than me?” he teases, his voice strained but filled with humor.

“Maybe,” she jokes, breathing out sharply, her nails raking down his back as she arches into him. “But you’re doing a stellar job convincing me otherwise.”

Lando's laugh is low and breathless, turning into a groan as he quickens his pace.

For a lot of people, winning means lifting a trophy above their heads, but for him, it's the rhythm of their bodies moving together — a louder kind of triumph that manifests into delicious moans and whimpers.

It's the kind of podium he will never get tired of stepping on.

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[emsdevs]

A Luke Hughes ask of his girlfriend going into labour and him telling his family he is a dad to a son

a/n: I'm so sorry for the wait nonnie! I hope you still like it! Also everyone please note: I have never been pregnant and therefore do not know the exact process of having a baby. If there are inaccuracies, please ignore them. Thanks and enjoy dad!Luke :)

Labor of Love

You swore you both would be prepared for this, and you definitely were. Luke, on the other, didn’t seem to be taking it as well. When you felt your water break, you called him into the room, telling him the situation.

“Oh god. Oh no. We have so much to do. Oh my god. Okay, you can get changed if you wanna, and I’ll get everything in the car,” he said, frantically moving around the room.

“Luke, baby, I can’t change my pants by myself,” you answered, significantly calmer.

“Right! Right, I knew that,” he plays it off, coming over to help you undress and redress. He moves you to the car where you get situated while he runs around grabbing everything you might need while at the hospital. 

After you arrived and got checked in, Luke called his family, letting them know you had gone into labor and were at the hospital. Next, he called yours. It was very early in the off-season and you went into labor a little bit early, so they would have to fly in from Michigan, unable to be there until two days later at the earliest. After many excited reactions, he was finally done with his round of phone calls, and he walked back into your room in just enough time for you to start laboring. Fourteen hours of blaming and yelling at Luke later, you had delivered your baby and were waiting to find out the gender. You both had agreed since it was your first child, you wanted to wait to find out the gender until the baby was born. Soon, your baby was in your arms and the midwife was telling you that you’d delivered a beautiful baby boy. The tears started flowing the moment he was placed in your arms, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Luke in the same state beside you. 

“You did so well, baby. Look what you brought us,” he was getting choked up staring at the perfect mix of you and him.

“He’s so perfect,” you move your finger so your son can grab it, “a baby boy.” Soon, the nurses were stealing him away to run all the tests needed, and you instructed Luke to never let your baby boy out of his sight. Eventually, your boys returned, and you all got some much-needed family time. Soon though, you and your son were in desperate need of sleep, so Luke took that time to go inform his family. When he walked through the doors to the waiting room, everyone stood up waiting for whatever news he had for them. 

“She’s doing good, and the baby was born at 3:17. He’s healthy and so perfect,” he sniffled at the end of his sentence, feeling the tears beginning to well up again.

“He?” Luke heard your mom ask.

“Yeah we had a baby boy,” he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was crying because of the pure joy he felt, his mother wrapping him in her arms while she shed her own tears. Distantly, he could hear Jack and his father having their own celebration before Jim went to call Quinn who couldn’t be there because of playoffs. Gently, Ellen pulled back before asking what name you two had decided on. You both had kept your picks for the names a secret, wanting to keep it to yourselves for as long as possible.

“Samuel Bennett,” he spoke softly.

“Samuel Bennett Hughes,” Ellen breathed, “He sounds perfect, Luke.”

“He is, Mom,” before Luke could start crying again, Jack brought him into a hug, telling him he knew he’d be a good father. His father was the last to hug him, being sure Luke knew how proud he and Ellen were. He let them be the ones to inform Quinn and your family, wanting to get back to his family.

When he got to the room, he took a moment to really take in you and Samuel. You were the love of his life, and he couldn’t wait to see where this road takes you both. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with Samuel and get to know the little boy that you two, mainly you, brought into this world. He was so incredibly thankful to be able to have this moment. You two have been through a lot since getting together in high school. You even stuck with him after he got drafted, choosing to transfer to a school in New Jersey to be closer to him. He’s always had your unwavering support, and he hopes you know he’ll always have your back as well. Right now though, he’s sure both of you will be the co-founders of Samuel’s fan club. No matter what happened or where life leads the two of you, he knows he has you and Samuel, and that’s enough for him.

taglist: @heartsforjh @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels @juxmi @macklin-celebrini-71 @puckmedude

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[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: The New Teacher

(So, I've seen a lot of prompts that have Danny go to Gotham and be a teacher but I don't remember seeing any with it in this direction, so on the chance that this is an original idea here we go!)

Jason was given a choice, or multiple choices. Babysit the Replacement on a mission that could last a week, go to Bludhaven and have some 'brother bonding time' with Dick who needed backup on a big case, or take a temp solo-gig in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Amity Park.

Well, considering he was still a bit hurt about the fact that B replaced him all those years ago and the pit loved to grab hold of that bit of frustrations towards his younger brother, that didn't seem like a smart idea. Dick wasn't an option either because he knew that would lead to 'talking about feelings' and other shit that he didn't want to do.

So he took the solo-gig.

It was supposed to be easy, at least that's what had been implied by the others he'd spoken to about the case. It seemed like most of the Justice League thought this situation was being 'exaggerated' because most of the time when somebody checked out what was going on there was nothing happening. No big take over, or kidnapping, or 'end of the world' situation, but there had been too many calls to put Bruce's mind at ease. The frequent calls mixed with the fact that the Government apparently had the area under a 'black out' made Bruce even more nervous.

Hell, if it hadn't been for the fact that Bruce was famous and that Scarecrow, Penguin and Riddler had all escaped from Arkham he would have been doing the case himself.

Which is how Jason ended up in a restraunt named 'Nasty Burger' looking at the news papers he had managed to get from a stand down the street while taking notes of things he had already seen. It wasn't just that the Government had cut them off, all of the tech in the city was easily 20 years outdated compared to the rest of the world.

Nokia phones, chunky computers, hell he'd even seen a kid with a PDA of all things. Thankfully, it looked like his tech still worked other than running slower than it should have, but thanks to modifications made by Barbara and Tim things were running better than he expected. But, they did struggle to have access to anything, specifically the news.

Hence the paper.

Ghost Boy: Friend or Fiend. A new vote cast by the city has found that the Ghost Boy - Danny Phantom - has had an astounding rise in support after the events over the Christmas Holiday. The new polls suggest that 43% of Citizens support Danny Phantom, with the majority of his support coming from the students at Casper High who insist that Phantom is a hero who has saved them countless times over the past few months. 49% of people still agree, however, that Phantom appears to be at the center of the majority of the attacks with many still claiming that he is the sole cause of the attacks. However, 8% of the population remain undecided, including many teachers, police and hospital staff. Upon seeing the new results of the pole Mayor Montez had this to say; "While I will admit that Phantom appears to favor the younger generation and frequently seems to come to their aid, we cannot forget what it has done in the past. Taken hostages, injured innocents, and caused millions in property damage. Phantom may not be a 'villain' in the typical sense of the word, but we shouldn't blindly trust him just because of a few good deeds."

So there was a... hero? Half hero - potentially villain - in Amity Park? That might have explained some of the calls they'd gotten from Amity park over the past few months. Still, he was concerned by some parts of the report.

Students at a high school were frequently coming under attack? So much that this potential-villain kept saving them? Just what was the cause? What could cause so many issues?

Jason looked up as he saw that same PDA kid talking with a girl with short black hair in a half-ponytail who was wearing a black crop-top. The girl seemed annoyed while the boy seemed worried about something.

"But it's Vlad, Sam... what if he does something?" He heard the boy whisper, "We should go back him up..."

"He doesn't need our help, besides Jazz ran away from home, remember? She got herself into this mess it's her problem to get out of it. Something that Danny should have learned a long time ago."

Jason frowned, pretending not to hear them as he hesitated then got up and walked over to the two younger teens. "Hey, excuse me."

The girl looked annoyed and suspicious while the boy looked confused.

"Uh, yeah?" Tucker asked.

"Hey, sorry to bug you both. But could you guys tell me about this... 'Danny Phantom' person?" He asked, holding the newspaper out.

The girl looked even more suspicious, "And... who are you?"

"And how haven't you heard of Phantom?" Asked the boy.

"I just moved to town." Jason admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, I'm just trying to catch up on all the town drama."

"You moved to Amity Park... willingly? Psh, what do you have, a deathwish?" The girl grumbled.

"Come on, I just moved from Gotham, which is worse?"

The girl blinked as the boy laughed.

"Furries vs Ghosts, who will win~" He said as the girl elbowed him. "Ow! What?!"

"Danny Phantom is a hero." The girl explained, "He showed up in April and has been protecting the town since."

"A hero, huh? Could always use more of those in the world, but the mayor seems to have it out for him."

Tucker sighed, "No kidding, man. Somebody framed Phantom for something really bad and no matter what he does to try to fix it the city just see's that incident as the only thing he's ever done. It was the first big 'public thing' outside of the high school so it was huge but it wasn't his fault."

The girl reached for her phone suddenly, looking at it before she answered. "Hey, Danny. What's up?" She was quiet for a moment, "Yeah, we're at Nasty Burger, wanna join us? Lunch on me?"

A quiet mumble came through the speaker before she smirked.

"I'll order for you then. Double or triple?"

More mumbles.

"Triple it is. See you soon." She said, then hung up. "Come on, Tuck, Danny is on his way for lunch."

"Hell yeah, see you later, dude." The boy said, then jogged off with the girl.

"A teacher? Yeah, it looks like there's some openings but why would you want to have your cover as a teacher?" Oracle asked as Jason sat in his hotel room, looking through the paper again.

"Most of the incidents seem to surround the High School, I want to see what's going on."

Oracle hummed, typing for a moment. "Alright, well as luck will have it, it looks like teachers are sparse at Amity High, at least from what I'm able to get using your connection... which is infuriatingly slow, by the way, are you sure you did it right?"

"I've done it a million times, of course I did it right."

Oracle grumbled, "Stupid Amity black-out. Okay, so you have options. Most of the teachers have fucked off so all of the teachers in Freshmen year switch around to cover lessons or do mixed lessons. For example the English teacher also teaches Math and the normal Math teacher also teaches Science. So it looks like you could have any position you want and the school would just shuffle around the teachers."

"You said English is taken, right?"

"Yep, the teacher is named William Lancer and he- oh... wait, he's on a leave of absence due to injuries he suffered over Christmas Break. Concussion, broken arm, and bruised ribs, he'll be out for a few weeks."

Jason smirked, "Perfect. Sign me up."

". . . Jason, the English and Math teacher... never thought I'd see the day. Alright, I'll type up your application, send it in and casually push it to the front of the line. You'll be official by the time Winter Break ends in a few days. So get studying."

"Sounds like a plan, but I'll be fine, I mean our family is crazy and i deal with criminals on a nightly basis. How hard could this assignment really be?"

He would regret asking that question by the end of his first day as an Amity High School teacher.

[koyagifs]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓾𝓵𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼

pairing: san x nurse!reader ft wooyoung au: strangers to lovers | nurse genre: angst with happy ending word count:13.4k synopsis: he fell first, she fell harder. warning(s): mentions of cancer, character death, grief, hospitals. author note: get your tissues, it's a long one.

San stared at the ceiling tiles, their bland uniformity etched into his memory after a year and a half of treatment. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting uneven shadows across the sterile room. He exhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that had become second nature during these long, grueling sessions.

It was his last day of chemotherapy.

The thought tasted bittersweet. The end of this chapter, yes, but also the end of the routine that had strangely grounded him in the chaos of fighting for his life. A mix of relief, apprehension, and the faintest sliver of hope swirled in his chest.

He glanced down at his wrist, where the IV dripped steadily into his veins, delivering the last of the poison that was somehow saving him. His fingers tightened into a fist, the effort reminding him he was still here—still fighting.

“ doing alright there mr. choi?”

San turned his head, the soft voice pulling him out of his thoughts. The nurse was approaching with a familiar, radiant smile and a small snack in her hand. Her kindness had been a constant through the grueling months, her gentle humor and warm presence something he always looked forward to.

She set the snack down on the tray beside him, brushing her hands off casually. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled made his heart skip a beat. It was a moment—brief, almost imperceptible—but it struck him with an unexpected intensity.

And then, guilt crept in, sharp and unrelenting. He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t. He had a girlfriend—a sweetheart who had stood by his side through every hospital visit, every sleepless night, every doubt and fear. She was his rock, his reason to keep fighting.

So why did he feel this flutter of something unfamiliar whenever he saw you?

San smiled softly, nodding his head as he pushed the thoughts aside. “I’m fine. How are you, Nurse Yn?”

Your name rolled off his tongue with a certain ease, one that felt too familiar for comfort. You paused in your step, turning back toward him with that radiant smile still lighting up your face.

“Me? I’m good,” you replied, leaning slightly against the edge of his chair as you folded your arms. “Though I think I’ll miss seeing you around here, Mr. Choi. It’s not every day I meet someone who’s mastered sarcasm as well as you.”

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “It’s a talent. Comes with sitting in these chairs for too long.”

Your laugh joined his, and for a moment, the sterile hospital room felt a little brighter. But there it was again—that flutter in his chest, that traitorous feeling he couldn’t ignore.

you smiled at him sweetly, placing the snacks by his table side. “ congratulations by the way! youre last chemo today.”

San’s lips curved into a shy smile, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of the thin hospital blanket. “Thanks. Feels… surreal, honestly.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure your girlfriend is ecstatic to have you cancer-free,” you teased lightly, your tone playful yet warm.

San’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but he quickly masked it with a soft laugh. “Yeah, she is. She’s been my biggest supporter through all of this.”

Your eyes lit up, and you nodded approvingly. “She sounds like a keeper. I’m glad you had someone like that by your side.”

He forced another smile, though your words felt like a subtle jab at the guilt simmering in his chest. Of course, his girlfriend was amazing—loyal, loving, and unwavering in her support. She was everything anyone could ever hope for in a partner.

So why did his heart keep skipping a beat every time you smiled at him like that?

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “She really is.”

You didn’t seem to notice the shift in his tone as you gave him a cheerful thumbs-up. “Well, she’ll be thrilled to celebrate this milestone with you. You deserve it, San.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the table where the snack you’d brought him sat untouched.

As you turned to tend to another patient, San leaned back in his chair, staring at the same ceiling tiles that had been his constant companions for the past year and a half.

He clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the confusing thoughts. His girlfriend had stood by him through everything. He loved her. He owed her his life.

But when he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, laughing softly with another patient, he couldn’t help but wonder why you still lingered in his mind.

The doctor shook his girlfriend’s hand firmly, offering her a kind smile before turning to San, who sat slumped in the wheelchair. The nausea was overwhelming, making every movement feel heavier than it should. He didn’t have the strength to walk out of the hospital on his own, and he hated the helplessness of it all.

He felt the jerk of the wheelchair as his girlfriend began to push him toward the exit. The muffled hum of the hospital filled his ears—voices blending together, footsteps echoing faintly, machines beeping in the distance.

And then he heard your voice.

It cut through the noise like a melody he didn’t realize he’d been straining to hear.

San turned his head, his sluggish movements betraying his exhaustion. There you were, standing a few feet away, your smile as bright as ever as you laughed with an elderly patient. You were holding their hand gently, the warmth in your touch evident even from where he sat.

It was such a simple moment, so unremarkable to anyone else. But to San, it felt like time slowed, his chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of chemo.

“San?” His girlfriend’s voice pulled him back, her tone laced with concern. “You okay?”

He blinked, tearing his gaze away from you and nodding quickly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Just… tired.”

She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s get you home.”

San leaned back in the wheelchair, closing his eyes as they moved toward the exit. But no matter how hard he tried, the sound of your laugh and the image of your radiant smile refused to leave his mind.

“Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Choi!”

Your voice rang out, clear and bright, cutting through the muffled haze of the hospital sounds. It echoed just enough to draw attention, and San felt his heart thump loudly in his chest.

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder, his tired eyes landing on you. You were walking toward them with that same warm smile, clipboard in hand, your steps light and purposeful.

San’s girlfriend stopped pushing the wheelchair and turned to face you. “Oh, hi!” she said cheerfully, her voice tinged with gratitude. “Thank you so much for taking care of San. You’ve been such a blessing.”

You waved off the compliment modestly, laughing softly. “It’s my job, really. But seeing patients like San make it all worth it. He’s been incredible through this whole process.”

San swallowed hard, your words making something twist in his chest. He wanted to respond, to thank you properly, but the lump in his throat made it impossible to speak. Instead, he nodded slightly, offering you a small, tired smile.

“I’m so glad he’s finished,” you continued, glancing at him with a sparkle of pride in your eyes. “You’ve fought so hard, Mr. Choi. You should be really proud of yourself.”

His girlfriend beamed, squeezing his shoulder again. “I know I’m proud of him.”

San forced another smile, the warmth of her words clashing with the flutter in his chest as he looked at you. You weren’t supposed to make him feel this way, but the way you smiled, the way your voice seemed to carry so much light—it was almost impossible not to.

“Well,” you said after a moment, stepping back slightly, “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say goodbye and wish you all the best. Take care, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he finally managed, his voice raspy but sincere.

You gave one last cheerful wave before turning to head back down the hall, your presence leaving a lingering warmth in the air.

As his girlfriend started pushing the wheelchair again, San leaned back, staring up at the ceiling tiles. His chest felt heavy, but his heart… his heart was still racing.

When you walked back to the nurses’ station, a small sigh escaped your lips as you set down the clipboard and started organizing the files scattered across the desk. You barely had a moment to gather your thoughts before one of your colleagues sidled up beside you, a sly grin already plastered on their face.

“Sad Mr. Lover Boy is gone, hm?” they teased, their tone dripping with playful mischief.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to your colleague with a faint laugh. "So not appropriate, Jen," you said, shaking your head.

Jen smirked, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. "Oh, come on. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. Mr. Lover Boy had heart eyes for you."

Another colleague joined in, grinning. "She’s not wrong, you know. The guy practically lit up whenever you walked into the room."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands for a moment. "He’s a patient. A patient with a girlfriend, I might add. That’s the end of it."

Jen shrugged, still grinning. "Hey, I didn’t say you did anything wrong. But you can’t deny the connection. Even she noticed it—did you see how tight her grip was on his wheelchair?”

Your blush deepened, and you waved them off. "Alright, that’s enough gossip for today. Go do something useful!"

They laughed but eventually dispersed, leaving you alone at the station. You leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath as you stared at the hallway where you’d last seen San.

Their words swirled in your mind, unwelcome and unsettling. You told yourself it didn’t matter. San was gone, and so was the strange fluttering feeling you’d tucked away every time you saw him.

At least, that’s what you hoped.

Yn let out a sigh of relief as she finally slipped into the driver’s seat of her car. The tension from the long day began to melt away as she leaned back against the seat, letting the quiet hum of the vehicle surround her. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she reached up and pulled down the visor.

There it was—the photo she always kept tucked into the little slot. You and Wooyoung, beaming at the camera, his arm thrown casually around your shoulders. The memory of that day warmed your heart, and for a moment, the heaviness of the day’s events didn’t feel so overwhelming.

“Another day, Woo,” you murmured, your smile widening as your fingertips brushed the edge of the photo. “Another day down.”

The thought of him brought a sense of comfort, grounding you in a way nothing else could. No matter how chaotic or emotional your workday had been, Wooyoung was your constant—a reminder. Your motive to continue.

As you pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, a sigh of relief left your lips. Home. Finally. The day had been long, draining in ways you didn’t expect, and all you wanted now was to collapse onto the couch and let yourself unwind.

But just as your hand reached for the door handle, the sharp ring of your phone broke the silence, making you groan aloud. You fished it out of your bag, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debated ignoring it.

Of course, it was work. You glanced at the caller ID and let out another groan, already bracing yourself for whatever crisis couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

With a resigned sigh, you answered, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Yn, hey—it’s Jen,” came the familiar voice, slightly rushed but apologetic. “Sorry to call you so late, but we’ve got a bit of an issue.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the remnants of your energy slipping away. “What’s going on?”

“One of the patients from earlier today—Mr. Choi—he had a follow-up appointment scheduled, but there’s been a mix-up with his paperwork. The doctor’s asking if you could clarify a few things since you were the last one to update his chart.”

San. His name alone was enough to make your stomach twist, though you quickly shook it off. “Right now?”

“Yeah, I know it’s late, but it’s just a quick question. Won’t take more than a minute, I promise.”

You exhaled slowly, already unlocking the car door to grab your work bag from the passenger seat. “Alright, give me a second to find the notes. Hold on.”

As you rifled through your bag, you couldn’t help but feel a strange pang in your chest. Of all the patients they could have called you about, it had to be him.

As you rifled through your bag, flipping past loose papers and half-empty pens, you couldn’t ignore the strange pang in your chest. Of all the patients they could have called you about, it had to be him.

San.

His name lingered in your mind like an echo, stirring up a mix of emotions you weren’t sure you wanted to unpack. You tried to focus on the task at hand, pulling out the small notebook where you jotted down quick notes throughout the day.

“Got it,” you said into the phone, flipping through the pages. “What do they need to know?”

Jen hummed on the other end, her tone shifting to something a little lighter. “They’re just wondering if you remember updating his discharge instructions. The system’s showing a discrepancy, and the doc doesn’t want him leaving without proper follow-up care.”

Your brow furrowed as you scanned your notes. You could picture the moment clearly—his tired eyes, the soft thanks in his voice as you handed him the folder. “Yeah, I gave him the instructions. Everything’s in his folder. Maybe there was a system glitch?”

“Figures,” Jen muttered. “Alright, I’ll let them know. Sorry to bother you with this.”

You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment before ending the call, slipping your phone back into your bag. The day felt impossibly long as you stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. With a deep breath, you walked toward your front door, fumbling for your keys.

As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar comfort of home wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The faint scent of lavender from the diffuser greeted you, and the soft hum of the fridge in the quiet kitchen was oddly soothing.

Dropping your bag onto the nearest chair, you kicked off your shoes and let out a long sigh. The weight of the day pressed on you, but it was a relief to finally be in your own space.

You wandered to the living room, flipping on a dim lamp before collapsing onto the couch. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to shake the lingering thoughts of work—and of him.

But as much as you wanted to let it all fade, the image of San’s tired yet grateful smile flashed in your mind. You groaned softly, running a hand through your hair.

“Get a grip, Yn,” you muttered to yourself. “He’s just a patient. That’s all.”

Still, no matter how many times you told yourself that, the flutter in your chest refused to subside.

San lay sprawled on the couch, his body heavy with exhaustion. The nausea from earlier had subsided, but the lingering weariness of the day clung to him like a fog. The television flickered in front of him, playing some sitcom he wasn’t paying attention to.

The rustling sounds from the kitchen broke the stillness, his girlfriend moving about as she prepared something—tea, maybe, or a light snack. She had insisted he rest, taking over the household tasks without complaint, but San felt detached, like he was watching the scene unfold from outside himself.

His gaze stayed fixed on the screen, though his mind was far away.

The sound of your voice lingered in his memory, soft and warm, echoing with an unshakable clarity. He had tried to brush it off, tried to focus on the relief of being done with chemo and the unwavering support of his girlfriend. But no matter how much he fought it, you kept creeping back into his thoughts.

“San?”

His girlfriend’s voice snapped him out of his daze. He blinked, turning his head toward her. She stood at the edge of the couch, a steaming mug in her hands and concern etched across her face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her tone gentle. “You’ve been really quiet.”

San forced a small smile, sitting up slightly. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice raspier than he intended. “Just tired, that’s all.”

She gave him a soft nod, setting the mug down on the coffee table in front of him. “That’s to be expected. It’s been a big day.”

He hummed in agreement, leaning back against the cushions as she sat down beside him. Her hand rested lightly on his knee, a gesture of comfort that he appreciated but couldn’t quite reciprocate in the way she deserved.

“That nurse—she was overly friendly, don’t you think?” his girlfriend said, her voice casual but tinged with something more as she sipped the tea she had just made.

San’s eyes opened slowly, his expression neutral as he glanced at her. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, the words catching him off guard.

“She’s just kind,” he said after a beat, his tone even. “That’s her job.”

His girlfriend raised an eyebrow, setting the mug down on the table. “Kind, sure. But the way she was talking to you… it felt a little much, don’t you think?”

San shook his head, the weight of the conversation pressing on him. "Love, she was just doing her job," he said, his voice quieter now, trying to end the discussion before it went any further.

But his girlfriend rolled her eyes, clearly not convinced. "Tsk, but when the other nurses came in and checked by—"

"Please, Sumin," San interrupted, a bit more forcefully now. "We're supposed to be celebrating. Why are we bringing up the nurse?"

Sumin paused, taken aback by the tone in his voice. She stared at him for a moment, as though trying to read the shift in his demeanor, but after a beat, she sighed and leaned back against the couch.

"Alright, alright. We’ll drop it," she muttered, taking another sip of her tea. Her gaze softened as she watched him, noticing the way he’d suddenly withdrawn into himself. "I just... I don’t know, San. I don’t like the way she was looking at you."

San let out a long breath, running a hand over his face as he tried to calm the bubbling frustration inside. The conversation had shifted in a direction he hadn’t wanted, and the weight of it all felt heavier than he’d expected. He just wanted to relax, to unwind, but his mind kept returning to you, to the lingering impression your kindness had left on him.

Sumin huffed, clearly irritated with the tension. She stood up abruptly, her phone in hand as she moved toward the other side of the room. The air between them grew colder, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the silence.

San glanced over at her, a mix of guilt and frustration stirring in his chest. He didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to make her feel insecure or misunderstood. But something about your presence, the way you’d looked at him, kept tugging at him, and it was hard to ignore.

Sumin’s voice cut through the quiet, distant but sharp. “I’m just going to check my social media. Let me know if you need anything.” Her tone was stiff, a hint of coldness lacing her words as she sat down, her attention fully absorbed by her phone.

San didn’t reply right away. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, not just between him and Sumin, but within himself. The ache in his chest, the confusion swirling in his thoughts—it was all a lot to handle, and it left him staring at the TV, the images flickering past without any real meaning.

San leaned against the shopping cart, absently pushing it forward as he followed Sumin down the aisles of the store. The soft, almost monotonous hum of the background music drifted through the air, blending with the occasional clink of other shoppers' carts.

He glanced around, half-heartedly scanning the shelves but not really seeing anything. Sumin, on the other hand, seemed fully focused on the task at hand, picking out items with a sense of purpose. Her steps were quick, her eyes scanning the shelves for whatever it was she had on her list, while San moved more slowly, trailing behind her as his thoughts wandered.

" oh? Mr. and Mrs. choi?"

San froze, his hand pausing on the shopping cart as a voice called out to them.

He looked up, immediately recognizing the voice—and the face that belonged to it. You stood a few feet away, holding a basket in your hands, a bright smile on your face as you glanced between San and Sumin. The unexpected sight of you in the store caught him off guard, sending a rush of warmth to his cheeks, despite the fact that he tried to hide it behind a neutral expression.

Sumin, ever perceptive, narrowed her eyes slightly at the sight of you, but she quickly masked any reaction, giving you a polite smile.

"Yn," San whispered under his breath, the name slipping from his lips before he could stop it. His mind was racing, and the sight of you had thrown him off balance in ways he couldn’t quite explain. The way your smile had made his heart flutter, how your presence lingered even after you had walked away—he couldn’t shake it.

Sumin’s eyes burned with a quiet but unmistakable anger as she stared at you, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She shifted her focus back to San, her expression tense as she spoke under her breath, but her eyes never left you for long.

You, sensing the shift in the air, offered a polite, friendly smile, trying to keep the interaction light. “Glad to see you up and around, Mr. Choi,” you said with a warm tone, but there was a subtle distance in your posture as you sensed the tension between them.

San felt the heat rise in his chest as he caught the brief but intense exchange. He could feel the awkwardness radiating from both Sumin and you, and he wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap without making things worse.

He glanced at Sumin, her jaw clenched as she stood rigid beside him, and then back to you, who had taken a slight step back, as if to create more space between them.

Trying to ease the growing discomfort, San cleared his throat. "Yeah, I’m just happy to be out and about," he said, forcing a lightness into his voice. "It’s been a long road, but things are getting back to normal."

You nodded, your smile never wavering. “I’m happy to hear that, Mr. Choi. You deserve a break after everything.” Your eyes flickered briefly to Sumin before returning to San, sensing the quiet tension that was beginning to hang between the three of you.

" well, san and i -"

" noona you disappeared on me!" the boy said, his voice filled with a playful tone, his small hands tugging gently at your sleeve.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart lifting at the sight of him. "Oh, hey, bud. Sorry," you said, crouching down to his level to meet his eager eyes. "I didn’t mean to leave you waiting. You ready to go?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically, his grin wide as he bounced on his feet. His presence immediately lightened the tension that had been simmering around you. You glanced back at San and Sumin, the momentary shift in attention allowing you to break the uncomfortable silence.

Sumin, however, wasn’t as quick to let go of her earlier judgment. She glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, her gaze flicking back to San. There was a strained tension between her smile and the coolness in her eyes, but she said nothing more, her focus moving to the small boy by your side.

San’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the small boy tug at your sleeve, a sudden realization making his chest tighten. The boy had called you "Ynie," which wasn’t an uncommon nickname for someone who was close to a child, but the way he’d looked up at you, with such familiarity and affection—it left San wondering.

Is he yours?

The question lingered in his mind, but the thought felt impossible to entertain. If the boy were yours, surely he would’ve called you something else, like eomma—Instead, you seemed to be nothing but a caretaker, a kind presence in the boy’s life, but nothing more.

You waved goodbye to San and his girlfriend, offering a polite smile despite the lingering tension you could feel in the air. The small boy beside you was still beaming, his energy infectious as he tugged at your hand, eager to get going.

“Let’s go, noona!” he chirped, his excitement making it easy to forget the uncomfortable encounter. You couldn’t help but smile down at him, your heart lightening at the sight of his innocence and joy.

“Alright, bud. Let’s go home,” you said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you steered him toward the checkout. You could still feel San’s gaze on you from behind, but you quickly pushed that feeling aside. There was no reason to dwell on it, no reason to let it distract you.

The boy chattered away as you moved through the aisles, his innocent questions and thoughts filling the space around you. You gave him your full attention, smiling and nodding as you helped him pick out a treat at the counter. But even as you interacted with him, your mind kept drifting back to the encounter with San—how his presence had made your heart race and how his distracted gaze had lingered on you longer than it should have.

As you arrived home, Jun's energy was practically overflowing. He raced inside ahead of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as he bolted for the door. "I’m hungry, noona! Can we have the snacks now?" he asked, his voice full of enthusiasm.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you followed behind, the bag of groceries hanging loosely in your hand. "Hold on there, kiddo," you said, playfully trying to catch up to him. "Let me at least get the groceries inside before we have a snack party."

Jun pouted but gave in, following you to the kitchen with his usual boundless energy. "You take too long," he teased as you set the bags on the counter.

"Patience, Jun," you teased back, starting to unpack the groceries. "You know we need to get everything ready first."

Jun crossed his arms, a mock serious expression on his face. "I was born with patience," he declared dramatically, causing you to chuckle.

You smiled, setting aside the groceries as you started to sort out the snacks he’d been asking for. " if you're anything like your father was, then absolutely not." you said, your voice light with amusement as you began to pull out the snacks he’d been eager to get his hands on.

Jun’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face as he eagerly leaned forward. "I’m nothing like appa" he protested, shaking his head dramatically.

You smiled, squatting to his level as you ruffled his hair, " weither you like it or not bud, you're exactly like your appa."

Jun’s eyes searched your face, his smile softening as the question lingered between you. "Do you think appa is proud of me?" he asked again, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

Your heart ached at the weight of his words, the pain in his small voice that he tried so hard to hide behind that brave little smile. You kneeled down to his level, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face as you spoke softly, your own heart swelling with a mix of love and sadness.

"The proudest father in the world, baby," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Your appa would be so proud of you. Everything you do, every step you take… he’s watching over you, and I know he’s so proud of the person you're becoming."

Jun’s eyes shimmered for a moment, a mix of hope and longing in his gaze. He didn’t say anything at first, just wrapped his arms around you in a quiet hug. You held him close, your heart full of love as you gently pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"You’re everything to him," you added quietly, holding him tighter. "And I promise, he’s proud of you every day."

Jun held on for a few moments longer, his small body pressed against yours, as if seeking comfort in your words. Eventually, he pulled away slightly, wiping at his eyes before giving you a sheepish smile.

"Thanks, Ynie," he said softly, his voice returning to its usual tone, though there was a vulnerability in it that hadn’t been there before.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 flashback ~

You stood by the window, a soft smile spreading across your face as you watched Wooyoung and Jun in the backyard. The sound of their laughter filled the air, light and carefree, a beautiful reminder of how much joy they brought into each other’s lives. Wooyoung was pushing Jun on the swing, his playful voice carrying over to you.

"Higher, appa! Higher!" Jun’s excited shout made you chuckle, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight of them.

Wooyoung laughed, pushing the swing higher, his grin wide as he looked up at Jun. "You sure about that, bud?" he teased, his voice full of affection. "You might fly off at this rate!"

Jun laughed even harder, his small hands gripping the chains tightly as he soared back and forth. "I’m not scared!" he shouted, his voice filled with pure joy. "I trust you, appa!"

You made your way to the screen door, opening it with your hip as you wiped your hands on the towel. The scent of dinner still lingered in the air, mixing with the fresh breeze from outside.

"Boys, dinner is done!" you called out, your voice carrying over to where Wooyoung and Jun were still playing in the backyard.

Jun’s head whipped around immediately, his eyes lighting up. "Dinner!" he shouted excitedly, and before you could even blink, he was darting toward the door.

Wooyoung turned to follow him, laughing. "Guess we’ve got a hungry one here," he teased, shaking his head. He gave Jun a playful nudge before walking toward you, his eyes filled with warmth.

You felt a warm smile tug at your lips as Wooyoung placed a soft kiss on yours, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. "Thanks for making dinner," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of affection that made your heart flutter.

"Someone has to keep this little family fed, right?"

You smiled at Wooyoung’s words as you moved toward the table. His gaze was warm, full of unspoken understanding. "Excited to tell him?" he asked, his voice soft but carrying an edge of curiosity.

You nodded, a rush of emotions stirring within you as you glanced over at Jun, who was eagerly waiting for you to sit down. There was a sense of anticipation building in your chest, the moment finally arriving where you’d share something important with both of them. Something that would change everything.

As you moved towards the chair, Wooyoung was already there, pulling it out for you with a gentle smile. "Always the gentleman," you teased lightly, settling into the chair. He grinned, a flicker of pride in his eyes as he gave you a small wink.

You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, before turning to Jun. "So, bud," you began, your voice warm yet full of meaning, "there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you."

Jun’s eyes lit up with curiosity, the playful glint in his gaze giving way to genuine attention. "What is it,noona?" he asked, his voice full of eagerness.

Just as you were about to speak, Wooyoung began to cough aggressively. Your eyes widened in panic as Wooyoung’s coughs became more violent, his hand instinctively reaching up to his chest as he gasped for air. His face turned slightly pale, and for a moment, you could feel your heart stop in your chest.

Your heart raced as you rushed over to Wooyoung, your hands trembling as you reached him. But just as you were about to help, everything seemed to blur for a moment. Wooyoung's face was contorted in pain, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, and his body stiffened as though he was struggling to hold on.

"Wooyoung!" you cried out, your voice breaking with panic. The last thing wooyoung saw was you reaching out to him as Jun wails pierced the air.

" san it's so obvious you like her! Just tell me so we can get this relationship over with!" Sumin cried out.

" fine, i do sumin happy?! " San said, walking away.

Sumin scoffed, grabbing her purse with a sharp motion, her hands trembling with frustration. "You’re unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, as she stormed toward the door. She spun around just before exiting, throwing a final glance at San.

"Fine," she said, her voice cold and brittle, "if that’s how you want it, then so be it."

San stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his chest tight with anger and regret. He couldn’t believe it had come to this—everything had felt like it was falling apart, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

"Goodbye, Sumin," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. "I’m sorry."

Without another word, Sumin slammed the door behind her. The sound of it echoed in the empty apartment, leaving San standing in silence, his mind racing.

He couldn’t deny the pang in his chest. He had hurt her. He knew he had. But his heart was telling him something different now. And for the first time in a long while, he was left with a deep sense of uncertainty about everything that had once felt so sure.

San stared at the phone in his hand, the hospital’s number still flashing on the screen. His fingers hovered over the call button, his heart racing with uncertainty. It hadn’t even been a full day since Sumin left, and here he was, grappling with the weight of his decisions. The tension between him and Sumin had reached its breaking point, and now, the silence that followed felt like an echo of everything he had been avoiding.

But in this moment, his mind kept drifting back to you. He had tried to ignore the way his heart raced every time you crossed his mind, the pull toward you that he could no longer push aside. He couldn’t deny it anymore. No more distractions, no more pretending.

He wasn't ready to jump straight into something new, but the thought of seeing you again, hearing your voice without the barriers of work and the hospital—it felt like a chance to breathe. A chance to find out where things could go without the weight of his past decisions holding him back.

His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment longer before he exhaled slowly. No hospitals, no needles. Just you and me. The thought grounded him, the promise of something simpler, something real.

With a deep breath, he pressed the call button, the sound of the phone ringing in his ear as he waited. Each passing second felt heavier than the last.

" something hospital - how can i help you?" the voice said over the line.

" can i leave a message for nurse yn?"

You stepped into the nurse's office, the familiar scent of antiseptic filling the air. Your eyes immediately went to the desk, where a note was placed neatly in the center, its presence unusual and out of place. You frowned, the confusion evident on your face as you scanned the room. No one was around—just the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights above.

Curiosity piqued, you walked over to the desk and picked up the note. It was simple, the handwriting neat and deliberate.

choi san xxx-xxx-xxxx

You stared at the note in your hand, the name Choi San and the number written underneath it standing out starkly. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt a mix of surprise and confusion flood over you. The familiarity of the name sent a jolt through your chest, though you couldn’t quite place why.

" told ya~"

Jen’s teasing voice broke through the tension, and you couldn’t help but blush, feeling a bit caught off guard. She handed you one of the cups of coffee with a knowing grin, as if she had seen this coming all along.

You felt a nervous chuckle escape your lips, trying to hide your embarrassment behind the steam of the coffee. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered, your cheeks still warm. The note had thrown you off balance, and Jen’s teasing only made it worse.

Jen raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “Come on, babe. The way you looked at that note, the way your face lit up when you saw his name… I’m not blind, you know.”

You sighed, taking a sip of your coffee to hide your flustered expression, but there was no escaping Jen’s sharp eye. She had always been able to read you like a book.

“I’m just… confused,” you muttered, staring at the note in your hands again. “I don’t even know why he’d send me this.”

Jen shrugged, her smile softening as she leaned against the counter. “Maybe he just wants to talk. Maybe he needs something from you. You never know what’s going on in his head.”

You chewed on the inside of your lip, still unsure what to make of the situation. Your thoughts were a mix of curiosity and hesitation. You hadn’t expected to hear from him again, especially not this way.

“Do you think I should call him?” you asked, your voice quiet.

Jen took another sip of her coffee, giving you a knowing look. “If you want answers, you’ll have to find out. But don’t let him catch you off guard, okay? You deserve to know what’s going on.”

Her words hung in the air, and you nodded slowly, the decision weighing heavily on your mind.

You sat down heavily, the sticky note in one hand and your phone in the other. Your gaze flicked back to the framed picture you always turned to after long shifts—Wooyoung’s bright, carefree smile staring back at you, a bittersweet reminder of the life you had built and the love you had lost.

Your thumb hovered over the phone screen, the number scrawled on the note replaying in your mind. Choi San. The name felt heavier now, layered with the weight of questions you didn’t know how to ask.

You glanced back at Wooyoung’s photo, as if silently seeking guidance. His grin seemed as warm as ever, a comforting presence that had always grounded you. What would you say, Woo? What would you want me to do?

The thought only made your chest ache more. You had moved forward, for Jun, for yourself—but had you really opened your heart again? This note, this unexpected reach from someone you never thought would step into your life like this, was testing that resolve in ways you hadn’t prepared for.

Taking a shaky breath, you fumbled with your phone, typing in the number slowly. Your heart raced with every digit, your mind cycling through what-ifs. What if this was nothing? What if it was something? What if you weren’t ready for the answers?

You stared at the number on the screen for a long moment before pressing the call button, your breath hitching as the line began to ring.

On the third ring, the call connected. A quiet rustling came through the line before his voice filled your ear, soft and hesitant.

“Hello?” San said, his tone carrying a mix of uncertainty and warmth that sent a jolt through your chest.

Your breath hitched, the sound of his voice catching you off guard. It had been so long since you’d heard it outside the structured confines of the hospital, and yet it was unmistakably him.

“Hi… San,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to shake the nerves threatening to overwhelm you. “It’s… it’s Yn.”

There was a brief pause, but you could hear the faint exhale of relief on the other end.

“I was hoping you’d call,” he admitted quietly. “I—uh—left the note. I wasn’t sure if you’d… you know, want to.”

You blinked, gripping the phone tighter as his words settled in. “Why wouldn’t I?” you asked softly, though your heart raced at the vulnerability in his tone. “What’s going on, San?”

There was another pause, as if he were gathering his thoughts. When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, more tentative.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said. “Not as a patient. Just… me. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, San, I’m not sure that’s—” you began, hesitation lacing your voice.

“Please?” he interrupted, his voice gentle but filled with an urgency that tugged at your heart. “Just… hear me out. That’s all I’m asking.”

You hesitated, your gaze falling on the photo of Wooyoung again. His smile seemed to encourage you, as if silently reminding you of the strength you carried through everything.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a moment before responding. “Alright, San. I’ll hear you out. What’s on your mind?”

The line went silent for a second, but you could hear him exhale softly, as if the weight of your agreement gave him a sliver of relief.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. “Can we meet? Somewhere outside the hospital. I just… need to talk to you in person.”

Your grip on the phone tightened slightly. Meeting him felt like stepping into uncharted territory, but there was something in his voice—something genuine, almost vulnerable—that made it hard to say no.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Where and when?”

A pause, then San replied, “There’s a coffee shop near the park. Tomorrow afternoon, if that works for you?”

You nodded to yourself, already feeling the weight of the decision. “I’ll be there,” you said softly.

San sat at a corner table in the cozy coffee shop, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of him. The gentle hum of conversations around him and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee should have been comforting, but all he could focus on was the growing knot of nerves in his stomach.

He glanced at the time on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. You weren’t late—if anything, he’d arrived too early—but the anticipation was eating at him. His mind replayed every possible outcome of this meeting, from the worst-case scenarios to the faint glimmer of hope that you’d understand why he’d reached out.

The barista called out an order, and San glanced toward the door, half expecting to see you walk in. When you weren’t there, he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a mistake. Was this too soon? Was he crossing a line?

Yet, amidst all the doubts, the memory of your kindness kept him rooted to the spot. The way you’d looked at him, spoken to him, treated him like more than just another patient—it had stayed with him, giving him a sense of connection he hadn’t felt in a long time.

As San shifted in his seat, he spotted the same little boy from the other day, the one who had called you noona in the store. His heart skipped a beat, recognizing the familiar figure, and his eyes followed the boy as he walked in, hand in hand with you.

"Come on, sweetie, let’s sit down, and I’ll get you your drink, okay?" you said softly, your voice full of warmth and care as you guided the boy to a nearby table. He nodded eagerly, eyes wide with excitement as he followed your lead.

San’s throat tightened, his thoughts racing. Is he yours? He couldn’t help but wonder, the sight of you and the boy together stirring a whirl of emotions in his chest. The boy wasn’t calling you “eomma,” but the bond between the two of you was undeniable, and it only added to the questions swirling in his mind.

You glanced over at San, catching his gaze as you sat the boy down. There was a moment of awkwardness, a flicker of realization in your eyes as you seemed to register that he had seen you with the boy. You smiled gently, though there was a touch of hesitation behind it.

“Sorry, I hope it’s okay if he sits with us for a bit,” you said, walking back over to San’s table. " the babysitter canceled last minute."

San nodded, trying to keep his composure, but the curiosity burned in the back of his mind. “Of course, it’s fine,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual. He glanced at the boy again, then back at you. “Is… he yours?”

The boy looked up briefly at San, his eyes curious but friendly, before diving back into his coloring. You took the seat across from San, giving the boy a quick glance to ensure he was comfortable before turning your attention back to the man in front of you.

Your smile faltered for a second, but you shook your head gently. “No,” you answered, your voice calm. “He’s not mine. it's complicated."

San nodded slowly, his gaze shifting between you and the boy as he absorbed your words. “Complicated,” he echoed softly, his curiosity clearly piqued but restrained.

The boy seemed oblivious to the conversation, his focus entirely on the colorful swirls and shapes he was creating in his book. The sight brought a faint smile to San’s face, though his mind was racing with questions he wasn’t sure he should ask.

" i can stay here with him while you order your drink? i don't mind," San said softly.

You smiled, " thanks, i'll be quick. "

San watched as you stood up, giving him a grateful smile before heading toward the counter to place your order. Once you were out of earshot, his attention shifted to the boy, who was still engrossed in his coloring.

“Hi there,” San said softly, leaning slightly forward in his chair. “What are you working on?”

The boy glanced up, his eyes bright with curiosity. “A dragon,” he said proudly, holding up the page for San to see. The crude but colorful sketch of a dragon filled the page, its wings stretching wide and its tail curling at the bottom.

“Wow,” San said, his smile widening. “That’s a really cool dragon. What’s his name?”

The boy tapped his chin thoughtfully, then grinned. “Jun. Like me!”

San chuckled, nodding. “That’s a perfect name for a dragon. You must be pretty brave if you named him after yourself.”

Jun straightened up in his chair, puffing out his chest a little. “I’m the bravest! No dragon is scarier than me.”

“Is that so?” San replied, amused by the boy’s confidence. “Well, it looks like Jun the Dragon is lucky to have such a brave friend.”

Jun beamed at the compliment and went back to his coloring, clearly pleased. San leaned back slightly, his gaze softening as he watched the boy for a moment. There was something endearing about his energy and innocence, and it was easy to see why you cared for him so much.

When you returned, drink in hand, you caught the tail end of their interaction. “I see you two are getting along,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice as you sat back down.

San smiled at you, his expression warm. “He’s a great kid,” he said sincerely. “And he’s got some serious dragon-drawing skills.”

Jun grinned, holding up his masterpiece for you to see. “Look, noona! hyung said it’s cool!”

You hummed in acknowledgment, smoothing Jun’s hair gently as he returned to his coloring, his small hands moving confidently over the page. Then, shifting your attention back to San, you asked softly, “Why did you want to meet today?”

San hesitated, his fingers lightly drumming on the edge of the table as he seemed to weigh his words. “I guess… I wanted to talk to you outside of the hospital,” he said finally, his voice quiet but earnest.

Your brow furrowed slightly, your gaze searching his face. “Talk about what?”

He took a breath, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment before meeting yours again. “About everything,” he admitted. “About how much you helped me. How much you mattered during… everything I went through. I don’t think I ever really said thank you. Not properly.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the depth of his words. “San,” you began, shaking your head lightly, “you don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.”

“It wasn’t just your job,” he insisted, his tone firmer now. “You made me feel like I wasn’t just a patient. Like I was still a person, even when I felt like everything else in my life was falling apart.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came. The sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it left you momentarily speechless.

“You didn’t give me the pity eyes that everyone else did,” he said, his voice softer now but no less heartfelt. “Like I was going to die in the next few hours. You… you made me feel normal, which I hadn’t felt since I lost my hair.”

Your heart ached at his confession, the weight of his vulnerability settling between you. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“San,” you finally said, your tone gentle. He smiled faintly, his fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the table.

" and ... i fell for you yn."

The words hung in the air, like a quiet confession that shifted the atmosphere around you. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn’t expected that, not in the slightest.

“San,” you whispered, your voice softer now, a mix of surprise and something else stirring inside of you. You searched his eyes for any hint of doubt, but all you found was sincerity—raw and unguarded.

He gave a small, almost apologetic shrug, as if to make light of the weight of what he’d just said. “I know it’s probably not the right time,” he added, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, “but it’s the truth. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it without making things complicated, but…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the table, the vulnerability in his eyes deepening.

You felt a lump form in your throat, unsure of how to respond. This was unexpected—more than you were prepared for. You had always been so careful, so focused on keeping things simple, especially with Jun around.

Jun, completely oblivious to the quiet tension, looked up from his coloring with a big grin. “Noona, do you think my dragon could fly?”

You chuckled softly, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “Of course it can fly, bud. Dragons can do anything.” You glanced at San, your heart still racing.

" i know , i know we barely know each other but please. I would love to get to know you," San said softly.

You took a slow breath, feeling a mix of emotions stirring inside of you. His words were sincere, and there was an earnestness in his tone that made your heart flutter, despite the hesitations you had. You hadn’t expected this from San—this openness, this vulnerability.

"I get it, San," you began, your voice gentle, "and I’m flattered. Truly. But things are complicated right now, with Jun and everything…" You trailed off, unsure of how to explain the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You hadn’t even considered the possibility of something more with him, not when you were still healing from past wounds, and not when your life revolved around caring for Jun.

" and i'd love to get to know jun too," San smiled, holding his hand out.

You looked at San's outstretched hand, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable, and there was a warmth to his smile that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could work out.

Jun, who had been engrossed in his coloring, looked up at the mention of his name. His curiosity piqued, he glanced at you, then at San, before slowly nodding his head. "You wanna be my friend too?" he asked, his voice sweet and innocent.

San chuckled softly, crouching down to Jun's level. "I’d love to be your friend, Jun," he said, his voice gentle, extending his hand to him.

Jun’s eyes brightened, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out, shaking San’s hand enthusiastically. "Okay! You can help me with my dragon, then!"

You smiled at the exchange, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. Watching San interact with Jun so easily, with such genuine care, made something inside of you shift, even more so than his words had. It was one thing to say he wanted to get to know you, but showing kindness to Jun, without hesitation, felt like something entirely different.

"Deal," San said, his voice light with amusement. "I’m an expert on dragons."

Jun giggled, turning back to his coloring book. "I’m gonna make him fly across the sky!"

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jun’s enthusiasm, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected. Maybe this could work—maybe there was something here worth exploring.

With a soft smile, you looked back at San, meeting his gaze. He smiled at you, and you swore you heart flutter.

You paced in your kitchen floor, your mind racing with thoughts. Jun’s soft humming from the table, and his grandmother beside him.

"Yn, darling, you've been pacing for hours. Come sit down, you're making me dizzy." a gentle smile on her face as she sipped her tea.

You paused, guilt flickering in your chest. "Sorry, Mrs. Jung," you muttered, leaning against the counter. Your gaze drifted to Jun, who was completely absorbed in his drawing.

"Sweetheart," Mrs. Jung began, setting her cup down on the table. " what's wrong?"

You let out a long breath, trying to gather your thoughts as you looked at Mrs. Jung, her eyes full of concern. You had always been able to talk to her, but right now, the words felt like they were stuck in your throat.

" i'm nervous. I haven't gone on a date since woo and -" your breathe hitched as Mrs. jung gave a knowing smile.

" hey bud, why don't you go and watch tv for a bit hm?" Mrs. Jung said, picking up Jun from the chair.

You watched as Mrs. Jung gently carried Jun to the living room, her movements calm and steady as she set him down with a soft pat on the head. Jun didn’t seem to notice the shift in the room as he scampered off to the TV, humming to himself as the sounds of cartoons began to fill the house.

Once they were out of earshot, Mrs. Jung returned to the kitchen, her eyes soft with understanding. "It’s normal to feel nervous, sweetheart," she said, her voice gentle but firm. " wooyoung would of wanted you to go on this date."

Your breath caught at the mention of Wooyoung’s name. It had been so long since you’d allowed yourself to think about him in such a way, and hearing his name spoken so gently from Mrs. Jung’s lips made the flood of emotions inside you hard to contain.

You exhaled shakily, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to rise. "I don’t know if I can ever be ready," you whispered, your voice thick with the weight of your heartache. "I don’t want to forget Wooyoung. It feels like… it feels like betraying him, moving on."

Mrs. Jung gave a soft, knowing smile, her eyes filled with compassion. "Darling, you're not betraying him. Loving again doesn’t erase the love you had for my son. It’s a different kind of love. It doesn’t replace what you shared, but it allows you to heal, to open up to new experiences. He would want you to be happy, to live your life fully."

You wiped at your eyes, not wanting to admit the vulnerability you were feeling. "But how do I even try? How do I know it’s right?"

" sweetheart, you'll never know. It's going to be a leap of faith."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in your chest. A leap of faith. It sounded so simple when she said it, but the thought of trusting again—of allowing someone in, especially after all the pain—felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure of what would happen if you jumped.

"But what if I fall? What if it’s too much?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking slightly.

Mrs. Jung gave you a soft, reassuring smile, her hands resting on the counter as she spoke. "You might fall, sweetheart. But you’ll get back up. You’ll always get back up. yn, you went back to work 2 months after Wooyoung died. Honey, no one has the heart like you do."

Her words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, everything went still. You hadn’t realized how much you had buried that part of yourself, the part that had pushed through, day after day, despite the overwhelming grief. Two months. It felt like a lifetime ago, but Mrs. Jung was right. You had gotten up. You had gone back to work, to your routines, to life in a way you never thought you could. It hadn’t been easy, and some days it had felt like you were moving through everything in a haze, but you had done it.

You looked at her, blinking back the unexpected tears that had begun to gather in your eyes. "I don’t feel like I’ve done much, Mrs. Jung. I feel like I’ve just been… existing."

She shook her head, her expression gentle but firm. "Sweetheart, surviving is an achievement in itself. You kept going. You didn’t let the pain swallow you whole. That’s strength. That’s courage."

You swallowed, the tightness in your chest loosening slightly as you absorbed her words. "I didn’t feel strong, though. I still don’t always feel like I’m okay."

Mrs. Jung smiled softly, walking over to you and placing a hand on your shoulder. "That’s okay. Being strong doesn’t mean you always feel like you are. It’s about getting back up, even when you feel like you can’t. And, honey, you’ve done that. You’re doing that right now."

A shaky breath escaped you as you nodded, feeling the weight of everything—of the grief, of the uncertainty, of the pain—begin to settle in a different way. It wasn’t gone, but maybe it didn’t have to define everything. Maybe you didn’t have to have everything figured out right now. Maybe you just had to keep moving, one step at a time.

" and you have Jun yn. Wooyoung left Jun in your care because he knew. He knew you'll be the one to get back on your feet. "

Mrs. Jung’s gaze softened, her hands gently rubbing your back in comfort. " now, let's get you all dolled up for this date. Gotta meet the man who swoop my daughter."

The knock on the door alarmed you as you heard Jun small, ' i'll get it'.

" jun, no let grandma answer the door!" you called out,

Jun’s voice echoed from the hallway, his little feet padding quickly toward the front door. "I can do it, noona! I’ll get it!"

You rushed after him, but by the time you reached the door, Jun had already opened it wide. You froze for a moment, catching sight of the person standing there.

San stood at the threshold, looking every bit as nervous as you felt. His smile was gentle, the bouquet of flowers in his hand as he looked down at Jun.

" hey little man"

Jun looked up at San with wide, curious eyes. "Hi! You brought flowers for noona?" he asked, his excitement bubbling over.

San smiled down at him, his nerves easing a little at the boy's innocent curiosity. "Yeah, I did. I thought she might like them."

Jun nodded seriously, then gave San a big grin. "Noona loves flowers!"

You couldn’t help but smile at Jun’s straightforwardness. The tension in the air seemed to lift as San chuckled softly, ruffling Jun’s hair. "I hope so, buddy."

"Alright, go ahead, buddy. You can put them in the vase," you said, guiding Jun back inside. "Let me get the door."

As Jun scurried off to the kitchen, you turned back to San, your heart fluttering a little at the gesture. You hadn’t expected flowers, but there they were—bright and fresh, a simple but meaningful token.

San shifted on his feet, looking a little unsure but smiling nonetheless. "I know it’s a little forward, but I thought it might be a nice start."

You took a small breath and stepped forward, reaching out to accept the bouquet. "It’s perfect," you said softly, your voice warm. "Thank you, San."

"Glad you like it," he said, his eyes meeting yours with an earnestness that made your heart skip a beat.

There was a brief moment of silence between you two, the sound of Jun's giggles from the kitchen filling the space. You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Come on in, I think Jun is making his special snack," you said with a small smile.

San gave a relieved chuckle and stepped inside, the warmth of his smile growing. "I’ll be glad to see what he’s cooking up."

As you led him into the living room, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Mrs. Jung coming into view as San greeted her.

Mrs. Jung smiled warmly at San as she stepped into the living room, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Hello, San. It’s nice to finally meet you," she said, her tone friendly and inviting.

San looked a little caught off guard but quickly regained his composure, offering a polite smile.

You felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks at the ease with which they were talking. Mrs. Jung had a way of making anyone feel comfortable, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a little too soon for her to meet San. She, however, didn’t seem to mind.

"I’ve heard a lot about you," Mrs. Jung continued, winking playfully at you. "Yn talks about you often, you know."

You felt your face heat up, your hands instinctively reaching to adjust the flowers in your hands. " mrs. jung!"

She chuckled, as Jun came into view. " halmeoni, noona is going to be San hyung friend!"

Mrs. Jung raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye as she looked at Jun. "Oh really? Is that what you think, little one?"

Jun nodded enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. "Yup! San hyung is cool, and he’s nice to noona!" He turned to San, his eyes bright.

San chuckled softly at Jun’s enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but smile at the interaction, feeling a little lighter despite the nervous energy that had been buzzing around you since the start of the evening. It seemed like Jun had already given his seal of approval.

" you kids go have fun. Jun and I will be here," Mrs. Jung said, giving you a wink.

San smiled, " we can maybe get a snack before the movie?"

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "That sounds perfect," you said, your heart lightening at the idea of spending time with San, just the two of you.

Jun, from his spot in the living room, cheered. "Movie time! Don’t take too long, noona!" He giggled, making you laugh too.

"Don’t worry, we won’t be long," you reassured him, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. You placed a kiss on his forehead before turning back to San, your nerves replaced with a sense of calm as you took in the moment.

San smiled at you, his expression genuine and kind. "Alright, snack it is then," he said, gently taking your hand and leading you towards the door.

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapped around you, but it didn’t feel cold. With San by your side, it felt like everything was in the right place. You both walked side by side, the evening stretching out ahead of you, full of possibilities.

~

You laughed at San's joke, his coat wrapped around your shoulder as he chuckled. You leaned into the warmth of his coat, feeling a little more at ease with every step. His laughter was easy and light, and it made you feel like the world had shifted just a bit, making everything feel more manageable.

" i swear, he's my little brother but man do i question if he's adopted or not," San said.

You giggled, " he sounds like a handful. Kinda like Jun"

San laughed, shaking his head. "A handful is an understatement," he said, his voice light but affectionate. "He’s always got a million ideas running through his head, and somehow, he convinces me to go along with them."

" jun is much like his father.." You said softly, looking up at the stars as San walked beside you.

San's steps slowed as he listened to your words, his eyes flicking to the stars above before he turned his attention back to you. He could hear the softness in your voice, the weight of the sentiment behind it.

" what was Jun's dad like, if you don't mind me asking?" San looked at you, watching your features to make sure you're comfortable.

You took a deep breath, pausing for a moment as you thought about how to answer. The memories of Wooyoung were still so fresh, but talking about him didn’t feel as painful as it once did. Maybe it was because San had made you feel like it was okay to share, like it was safe to open up again.

"wooyoung was full of energy, always joking around, always trying to make people laugh. He had this way of making even the hardest days feel lighter, like nothing was ever too serious when he was around. But when it came to the people he loved, he was incredibly protective. He’d do anything for them."

You smiled, remembering the little moments, the big gestures. "He was stubborn, though. Very stubborn. He always thought he knew best, even when he didn’t. But in the end, he had a heart of gold." You paused, your smile faltering just slightly. "He was the kind of person who could light up a room with just his presence, and he didn’t even have to try."

San listened intently, his expression soft and empathetic. "Sounds like he really cared about those around him."

You nodded, your chest tight as you spoke. "He did. He cared a lot. Especially about Jun. He’d always say that Jun would be his greatest legacy. That no matter what, he’d make sure Jun knew how much he was loved, even if he couldn’t be there to show him."

San gave you a knowing look, his voice gentle as he spoke. "It sounds like Wooyoung left behind a lot of love. And Jun’s lucky to have had him as his dad."

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of his words. " he is and i wouldn't have changed it for the world,"

San smiled gently, his eyes soft as he looked at you. There was a sense of admiration in his gaze, something that made you feel seen in a way that was comforting. "It’s clear how much he meant to you, and how much you mean to Jun," he said quietly, his tone sincere. "I can see why you’re such a strong person. You’ve carried so much love, and you’ve kept going for both of them."

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I don’t always feel strong, but I try. For Jun, especially." You glanced over at San, the quiet support he offered making you feel more grounded. "Some days are harder than others, but I just remind myself that Wooyoung wouldn’t want us to stop living."

San's voice was gentle but firm. "And he wouldn’t want you to carry it all alone either." His gaze held yours, his words unspoken but clear. "I’m here, whenever you need someone to talk to, or even just to be there."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth spreading through you. San held his hand out for you, and without hesitation you grabbed it. San's hand was warm, his grip firm but gentle as your fingers intertwined. It felt natural, as if this simple gesture carried the reassurance you didn’t know you needed. He gave your hand a small squeeze, his smile soft as he glanced at you.

San’s gaze was soft, yet it held an intensity that made your breath catch. His hand lingered near your face, the gentle brush of his fingers against your skin sending a warmth radiating through you. The world seemed to quiet in that moment, the sounds of the city fading into the background as his eyes searched yours.

"Yn..." San’s voice was soft, almost reverent, as if your name held more weight than you realized. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the look in his eyes, a mixture of tenderness and vulnerability that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as you met his gaze. His hands moved gently to your waist, the warmth of his touch grounding you even as your heart raced. San pulled you closer, closing the space between you with an ease that felt natural, as if this moment had always been waiting to happen.

His eyes searched yours, his expression open and sincere, the question hanging delicately in the air. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice almost trembling with anticipation.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing there under the soft glow of the streetlights.

You nodded slowly, your voice failing you, but the small smile on your lips told him everything he needed to know. "Yes," you whispered, so softly it was almost carried away by the breeze.

San’s smile widened, the vulnerability in his eyes replaced by a warmth that made you feel weightless. His hands, still resting on your waist, gently guided you closer as he leaned in. His movements were slow, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted, but you didn’t. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, your eyes fluttering closed.

When his lips met yours, it was soft and tentative at first, like a question waiting to be answered. But as you leaned into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt for balance, the kiss deepened, becoming something sweeter, something filled with a quiet passion that left you breathless.

The world seemed to stand still, the noise of the city fading into nothingness. All you could feel was him—the warmth of his hands, the softness of his lips, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own. It was a kiss that felt like a promise, unspoken but deeply understood.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting lightly against his, San’s smile was radiant, his cheeks flushed. "I’ve been wanting to do that for so long," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, your own cheeks warm as you looked up at him. "I’m glad you did," you replied, your voice full of honesty.

In that moment, everything felt right.

one year later....

Jun's laughter echoed across the backyard, his little hands gripping San’s head for balance as he perched on San's shoulders. His giggles were infectious, drawing matching smiles from you and Mrs. Jung as you watched the two from the porch.

“Higher, hyung! Higher!” Jun squealed, kicking his legs excitedly. San pretended to wobble, earning another round of delighted laughter from the boy.

"Careful now," Mrs. Jung warned lightly, though her smile betrayed her amusement. "We don’t need a trip to the emergency room today."

San chuckled, steadying Jun with a firm grip on his legs. "Don’t worry, Mrs. Jung. I've got him."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Jun’s got you wrapped around his little finger already, doesn’t he?"

San glanced back at you, a wide grin on his face. "What can I say? The kid’s irresistible."

Jun leaned forward, his face upside down as he looked at you. "Noona! Hyung is the best! Can we keep him?"

Both you and Mrs. Jung burst into laughter at his innocent plea, while San’s face flushed slightly. He reached up to ruffle Jun's hair, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "I think you’re stuck with me now, bud."

Mrs. Jung gave you a knowing look, her eyes twinkling with warmth. "Well, he’s certainly fitting in nicely," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

You felt a flutter in your chest as you watched San and Jun together, the sight stirring something deep within you. You hummed in acknowledgment as you took a sip from your drink. Mrs. Jung brought out a piece of paper.

Your breath caught as you stared at the papers in Mrs. Jung’s hands, the weight of their significance settling over you. The edges of the document were slightly worn, as though it had been handled carefully many times before.

“Are those…?” you whispered, unable to finish the sentence, your heart pounding in your chest.

Mrs. Jung nodded, her expression tender. "Adoption papers for Jun," she confirmed softly. "With Wooyoung’s signature."

You felt your knees weaken, and you instinctively reached for the porch railing to steady yourself. Your gaze darted between the papers and Mrs. Jung’s face, searching for an explanation, even though you already knew what this meant.

" honey, he knew you would of signed these paper in a heartbeat but he also wanted Jun to have the best step father and from the looks of it, San is an amazing father towards Jun already."

Your lips quivered as Mrs. Jung’s words sank in, each one weaving into the tender ache in your heart. You looked at her, the understanding and love in her eyes making your emotions bubble up to the surface.

“He really thought of everything, didn’t he?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You glanced over at San, who was now holding Jun’s hands and spinning him around gently, their laughter blending together in perfect harmony.

Mrs. Jung smiled knowingly, her hand squeezing your shoulder gently. “Wooyoung loved you, sweetheart. He loved Jun. He wanted both of you to be happy, even if he couldn’t be here to see it. And I think,” she said, her voice soft but certain, “he knew that someone like San would come into your life.”

Your gaze lingered on San, watching the way he interacted with Jun—kind, patient, and full of joy. It was almost as if Wooyoung’s wishes were coming to life before your eyes.

“He’s been so good to Jun,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “And to me.”

Mrs. Jung chuckled, brushing a tear from her cheek. “It’s clear as day, Ynie. San isn’t just good to Jun. He loves you both.”

You held the papers close to your chest, the weight of them feeling lighter than before. San sensing your discomfort looked at you as he set Jun down. San’s brow furrowed slightly, concern evident in his gaze as he approached you. Jun ran off to grab his favorite toy, leaving the two of you standing together in the gentle afternoon sun.

“Hey,” San said softly, his voice steady and warm. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, though the papers pressed against your chest felt like they were carrying years of memories and emotions. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you replied, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

San tilted his head, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “You sure? You’ve got that look… like there’s a lot on your mind.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped you as you lowered the papers, glancing at them before looking back up at him. “It’s just… a lot. Mrs. Jung gave me these.” You held the papers out, your hands trembling slightly. “They’re adoption papers for Jun. Wooyoung signed them before he… before he passed.”

San’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze flickering to the papers and then back to you. He stepped closer, his voice gentle but resolute. His smile grew as Jun came by your side - a velvet box in his hand as he handed it to San.

San knelt to Jun's level, his smile soft and full of warmth. "You sure you want to help me with this, buddy?" he asked gently, ruffling Jun's hair.

Jun nodded eagerly, his little hands clasped together as he bounced on his toes. "Uh-huh! You said it’s for noona, and I wanna help!"

You tilted your head in confusion, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of the velvet box. “San, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

San straightened, the box resting firmly in his hand as he turned to face you. His expression was open, filled with vulnerability and determination all at once. He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring that sparkled in the sunlight.

“Yn,” San began, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling in his eyes. “Meeting you and Jun has changed my life in ways I never thought possible. You’ve shown me strength, love, and what it means to truly care for someone. And Jun… he’s an amazing kid because of you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him kneel down, the moment feeling surreal.

“I don’t want to just be a part of your life,” he continued, his gaze locking onto yours. “I want to be there for every moment—the good, the bad, and everything in between. I want to be a family with you and Jun. So, Yn… will you marry me?”

Jun tugged on your sleeve, his grin infectious. “Say yes, noona! Say yes!”

You laughed through your tears, your hand flying to your mouth as your emotions overwhelmed you. Looking down at San, at Jun’s hopeful face, and at the ring that symbolized a new beginning, you felt your heart soar.

“Yes,” you whispered, then louder, “Yes, I will.”

San’s face broke into a radiant smile as he stood, slipping the ring onto your finger before wrapping you in a tight embrace. Jun cheered loudly, wrapping his small arms around both of you, completing the picture of a family you never thought you’d find again.

[myfictionaldreams]

so glad you’re back! happy new year!! please could you write poly!marauders where reader is feeling clingy and needy in the evening? like she’s just melting into the boys, wearing their clothes and they love every second if it.

Not Today, Please. // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: Why is it fair that every month, you have to experience agony for multiple days at a time? The boys hate seeing you suffer with your period and take it upon yourself to try and make you as comfortable as possible.

Requested by: I've mixed together a request from this lovely anon & @f1ct1onallove. Thank you both for your requests!

Tags: 18+ readers only, minimal smut, fluff, domestic bliss, menstruation, magical orgasm, comfort, kissing/cuddling, overall just cuteness

Words: 2.9k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

It was an off day. It was normal. Everyone experienced them from time to time.

Today. You felt like complete and utter shit.

There wasn’t a major catastrophe that had happened for your day to be going this negatively, a surprising thought considering that you’re attending Hogwarts, which seemed to be renowned for its trouble occasionally. To be truthful, you were experiencing a mundane situation.

You’d started your period the day before. It was a typical event for those with a uterus. However, it was your second day of ‘hell’, which was usually your worst.

Agonising pain stemming from your abdomen, creeping to the muscles down your thighs, followed up nausea and exhaustion, irritability, and hunger that never seemed to fade, no matter the amount of food scoffed. Not to mention the absolute chaos from the blood that was lost that left you feeling in a constant state of dirty and ill.

Yet, despite all of this, life was expected to continue. Unfortunately, this included attending lessons, sitting in uncomfortable desks and chairs, and walking from one end of the immense castle to the next with minimal time to stop for breaks and lunch.

Sometimes, you cursed the fact that you were born with a uterus, and then the second you ceased bleeding, you were back to normal, but those few days were the pure definition of Hell.

One small detail to note was that, of course, you attend the hospital wing and have Madam Pomfrey create a concoction to aid with all of your symptoms. However, after attempting this multiple times, the only potion strong enough to work made you feel zoned out, disorientated and useless for the rest of the day. It was great before bed, but it did not mix well with tasks on a day-to-day basis.

This all leads to your current predicament of standing in a hidden corridor in the castle. Only a single lamp illuminated the cobweb-ridden walls. Not that you were paying attention to this, as your eyes were firmly shit. All you were concentrating on was controlling your breathing as another wave of pain flared in your abdomen.

Swaying on the spot, your fingers pressed firmly into the area that hurt, hoping to massage the ache away, but the way that your nose began to tingle with the threat of the tears building behind your closed eyes, nothing seemed to be helping.

One more lesson, that was all you had left for the day. Charms with Professor Flitwick and being the model student, it would be noted if you decided to skip. Instead, you chose to take these last few minutes before class to try and cope with the pain before sitting for the next hour in the same seat.

Another cramp ached through your lower body, causing your knees to tremble as you tried to do anything but fall to the floor.

A shuffle from the far end of the corridor had your pulse racing and nose sniffing as you tried to control your emotions, forcing the fake mask into place before anyone saw it.

Leaning away from the wall you were facing, you turned and immediately bumped face-first into a firm chest. The calming cedarwood scent notified you whose arms surrounded your back, a hand cradling your head soothingly as small circles were drawn on your lower back.

“I need to get better at this hide-and-seek game”, you try and joke as you tightly grip the back of his sweater, breathing him in entirely as the top of his head rests on yours.

Remus’ chest vibrates as he laughs under his breath, holding you tighter. “Maybe we should pick a better game, considering I have a little help in my back pocket”. Frowning, your fingers slip lower until they’re cupping his arse, half groping, half feeling for what he was referring to until you feel the parchment paper.

“That’s cheating using the Marauders Map to find me”, you muse whilst tilting your face up to look up at him. Remus always towered over you; even when you decided to dress up in heels, he continued to be the tallest in the room. Remus’ kind green eyes softened as he looked down at you, the hand cupping the back of your head and sliding to hold the side of your face.

“I’m worried about you”, he admits, cutting right to the chase. “I know you’re in pain, and I hate that you feel like you have to hide it”. You couldn’t help but sigh, knowing there was nothing that you could hide from either of your boyfriends.

“It’s not that I’m trying to hide anything; I just needed a minute to compose myself before class. Speaking of which, we are going to be late- Ah”, the gasp of pain is slipping out before you’re able to clamp your mouth shut. Resting your head against his chest, he holds you close whilst you wait for the pain to ease.

“Sorry, it’s easing slightly now. We can carry on,” you explain, pulling away from him to take his hand with the intention of continuing to class.

However, you’re pulled back as your boyfriend stands still, looking at you with a positive twink in his eyes that had you both weary and intrigued. “Firstly, never apologise for being in pain. Secondly, the class has been cancelled; that’s another reason why I’ve come to find you.”

“Class is never cancelled, what’s happened?”

Remus finally begins to move, only stepping toe to toe with you. “Something about Flitwick being unwell. I’m not sure, but we have other plans now”.

You aren’t sure whether to be buzzing with relief that you are expected to go to your last class of the day or be concerned with the plans Remus and the others have. The Gryffindor parties that your boyfriends and friends put on were infamous throughout the castle for how wild they were, but today, all you wanted to do was rot in bed with some chocolate and preferably your boyfriends wrapped around you.

Remus sensed your trepidation and lifted his free hand to tip your chin towards him, “Don’t look so worried. I promise you’ll like it. Come on”.

Reluctantly, you follow with one arm wrapped around your abdomen as Remus holds firmly onto your hands, and your thumb absentmindedly rubs over the thin silver scars on the back of his hands. It didn’t take long before you realised the area of the destination was the Room of Requirement. The longer you walked, the more you found yourself leaning into him, savouring his warm and firm grip on your hand until you were aware of how needy you appeared. Still, Remus didn’t seem to mind and occasionally leaned down to kiss the top of your head affectionally. 

As the two of you approached the room of requirement, you paused and said, “Wait, I’m not sure I want to go to a party tonight, Remus. Could we please go back to the common room? Or could I just go and wait for you guys in bed?”

Remus gives you a reassuring smile, pulling the two of you along the corridor before stopping by a door as it materialises in the wall. “I promise you’ll love this”.

Still filled with uncertainty and expecting loud music and shouting from a crowd, you’re pleasantly surprised when you’re welcomed into the most comfortable-looking room you’ve ever seen. Jazz played at a quiet volume from somewhere in the corner, and a raging fire thoroughly warmed the room covered in pillows, blankets, armchairs, and stools.

Your jaw hung open as you admired every inch of the room, your eyes lingering on the ceiling as you admired, “Is the ceiling made of glass?” As you stared at the sky, your eyes widened, a beautiful orange and red hue like a sunset.

“Not quite”, James began as he appeared from under a pile of purple fluffy blankets, his cheeks blushed with rose and lips plump as Sirius sat up too, looking just as dishevelled. “It’s the same spell used in the Great Hall; it just reflects the sky outside”.

“It’s beautiful”, you muse, stepping further into the room and releasing Remus’ hand as he shuts the door behind you. “Who did this? That’s pretty advanced magic - Ah!” You squeal in surprise as you’re taken off your feet and spun around on the spot.

“Merlin, be careful with her prongs!” You hear Sirius chastise as he, too, approaches, but you don’t mind James’ antics as you cling to the excitable man, breathing him in.

“I’ve noticed something; I find it funny that even though Sirius’ animagus is the dog, and yet James is the one who acts like an excitable Puppy”, Remus points out whilst slinging an arm around Sirius’ shoulder.

“Hey-!” James begins as he carefully places you back on the floor and turns to his boyfriend to reprimand him. However, he is cut off as Sirius steps forward, gripping his cheeks together until James’ lips purse out so he can kiss them quickly.

“Aw, my little puppy”, Sirius jests before repeating the kissing action with you with a more tender, gentle touch, and you lean into it desperately. “Welcome to your wonderful evening of fun, Darling”.

“Thank you! This is amazing, boys!” you exclaim whilst looking around the room and trying to decide where to rest first, but then a thought came to you: where would you go to the bathroom? As soon as you are finished thinking that thought, a door appears in the corner of the room. Stepping away from your boyfriends, you explain, “I’m just going to use the bathroom. Do you have any spare comfortable clothes I could change into?”

James grins as he reaches for some folded-up clothes you’d missed, and a sense of belonging and comfort fills your heart as you see it includes his shirt. Cleaning up, you’re now in leggings and James’ old quidditch shirt, feeling refreshed yet cosy.

Returning to the room, you momentarily forget about your current circumstances. You admire your three boyfriends as they lounge in front of the fire, casually talking with one another but sharing grins as you walk back towards them. Except reality comes crashing back as another wave of cramps ruins your uterus.

Massaging your abdomen as you double over, you can hear Sirius swear loudly before clambering over the cushions to get to you but stops a foot away, his hands hovering over your shoulders but not touching. Needing comfort, you reach for him, mainly collapsing into him as you wait for the pain to subside.

As it does, you relish the touch of his strokes down the centre of your back as he begins to explain his actions: “Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to touch you. I know I get overstimulated when I’m in pain, and people touch me, so I didn’t want to grab you if you just needed a minute.”

Warmth spreads through your chest at his consideration, and you squeeze him tighter as you tiredly say, “You can always touch me”. His eyes reflect the mischief in his smile at the tone you say the words, but he laughs it off as you try to hide your face in his chest.

“Come on, you perv, let’s get you comfortable”. Following closely beside him, Sirius takes you to where the other two are resting in front of the fire.

“I’m going to get us some food and drinks”, James explains as he stands, kissing your lips carefully before leaving the three of you. As you lie down amongst the pillows and blankets, your head resting against Sirius’ chest, more pain and nausea hit you.

It’s Remus’ turn to give you a chaste kiss before standing and making his way towards the exit, explaining he would go and get the potion from Madam Pompfrey. This left you and Sirius to be close together. And close together is precisely what you needed.

The thumping of his heart as you rested your cheek against his chest was comforting. Your fingers rested over his stomach, but the need to be even closer came over you. Your fingers slipped beneath his jumper to rest against his soft skin. Sirius hummed in contentment at the touch as his fingers carefully massaged your abdomen to relieve the ache. 

Sucking in a breath as more pain takes over, Sirius shifts so he’s looking down at you with concern etched across his face, the shoulder-length hair falling into his eyes. 

“Are you warm enough? Do you want my jumper?”

“I mean, I’m not going to say no, " you drawl tiredly, watching intently as he reached behind his head, pulled his jumper off, and began to help it on. You’re immediately surrounded by everything Sirius, his warmth and smell making you feel like you’re in your own personal corner of heaven. His arms are back around you as soon as you’re comfortable, but you can tell he’s still thinking hard. As much as Sirius pretends to be mysterious, you can read his face like an open book. “What is it?”

“I’ve heard from somewhere that orgasms help with period cramps”, he remarks casually whilst continuing to massage the pain away. You couldn’t help but give him a deadpan look.

“As much as I agree with that sentiment, I’m not in the mood for the mess that would come if it”, you explain, trying to ignore the warmth now throbbing between your legs that had nothing to do with your period.

It’s his turn to give you a pointed look as he reminds you, “Love, I don’t have to have sex with you to make you orgasm, do you not remember your birthday?”

Heat laces your cheeks as you very vividly remember your birthday and the spell Sirius had learned to give you an orgasm without so much as touching you. Instead of saying anything further, you reached up to run your fingers into his hair and pulled his face towards yours. The kiss was gentle and yet heated, your entire body leaning completely into his, legs tangled together as your tongues danced against one another.

You needed everything Sirius could offer, craving him. From the moans he was making, he felt the same way as his weight pressed you further into the cushions beneath. His hands cupped against your face, cradling you so carefully it was like he was afraid you would break, whereas your grip was so intense in his hair you were surprised strands weren’t falling out.

Slowly, those delicate touches moved down your body until one of his hands rested over the area that continued to cramp, his fingers spread wide. His lips left yours but only to whisper the spell into your neck, causing the unbelievably intense orgasm to pulse through your cunt as you squeezed your thighs together as hard as you could. The effects of the orgasm were felt from the tip of your head all the way to your toes as you cried out, “Sirius!” as wave after wave of pleasure eased through you until you collapsed completely into your surroundings.

Sirius continued to hold you, his arms now wrapped around your waist and face. He kissed lightly against your jaw, cheek, tip of your nose, and lips as you tried to catch your breath.

“How was that?” he asked with a gleam in his grey eyes, a ghost of a smile threatening to break free across his handsome face.

“Perfect” was all you could muster of a response as you snuggled closer to him until your head rested against his chest and he simply held you. “My cramps don’t feel so bad anymore”.

“Hmm, good”, Sirius kisses the top of your head before humming to the music playing in the background.

You must have fallen asleep against him as when your eyes opened next, Remus was kneeling before you, holding out a purple bubbling concoction in a tiny vial. “Drink it all, and we’ll get you something to eat”, he instructs as you also notice that James has returned with plates and plates of all manner of foods and desserts.

Sitting up, you thanked him before drinking and then promptly gagged at the taste and texture of the potion. However, the effects were instantaneous as a sense of calm washed over you.

“Woah, easy there, I’ve got you, Darling”, Sirius reassures as you slump back into him, having no energy to hold your head up anymore.

“Open your eyes, Honey, I need you to eat this”. You do with great difficulty but are welcomed by the precious sight of James Potter grinning down at you with a bowl of soup in his lap, the spoon lifted and waiting for you to have.

James fed you the soup and bread as you fell into complete contentment at the care they were giving you. If you had any sense, you probably would have cried with joy and love, but the potion left you feeling too out of it, even if you had the energy to shed a tear.

“All good?” James asks as he finishes feeding you some ice cream. Licking your lips, you nod and smile tiredly at him. James returns with his cheeky grin, leaning down and kissing you before not so subtly pushing Sirius out of the way until his perfectly squished between you and Sirius. “Move over, Pads, it’s my turn to cuddle”.

Sirius swears but moves slightly over, and with everyone fed and happy, everyone gets comfortable. You remain where you are, lying against James’ chest. Remus then presses close against your back, his arm wrapping around you to rest over your hand, and Sirius lies sideways, his head resting against your head. It was a wholesome night, and there was nothing you appreciated more than your boyfriends. When the next few days passed, you would show them exactly how thankful you were for them.

[lvnleah]

Endo Struggles | AWFC x teen!reader

Based on this request :)

Summary: After struggling with your periods for a while, your teammates Leah helps you fight for a diagnosis. Eventually, you have surgery and your teammates Leah, Beth and Viv support you.

Warnings: mentions of hospitals, sick, surgery and pain.

Notes: I’ve started my own tag which can be found the end of the fic, make sure to follow it so you can see everything I post and my anon asks! :)

Word count is 3k, this is turning into a mini series :)

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You woke up feeling off, a dull ache rested in your lower abdomen. Last night you’d gotten your period, it was the first in a few months, and because you had no cramps leading up to it you thought you’d gotten off.

Your period was always something you’d struggled from ever since you’d gotten your first when you were eleven. They’d always been painful and irregular but your parents had always blown you off as dramatic and that it was a part of womanhood.

So far it hasn't affected your career at Arsenal due to them being irregular. You’d just turned eighteen when Arsenal offered you your first professional contract. Now, six months later, you were living with Beth and Viv.

The pair had taken you in and made their spare room your own. Your parents lived two hours away from the training ground and with you not driving and them working, you had no way of getting to training.

Despite not knowing you long, Beth and Viv offered for you to move in with them into their flat which you gladly took up. Since then the couple had basically become your parents, most of the time they were more caring and loving than your own.

You laid in bed for a moment, clutching your stomach, before slowly climbing out of bed. Beth and Viv were already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast like usual before you headed to training.

“You okay, Y/N?” Beth asked, raising her eyebrows curiously. “You look in pain…”

Beth and Viv exchanged a concerned glance as you sat down at the kitchen island, still clutching your stomach in pain.

You nodded, your lips closed tight, “Mhm…just super bad period cramp.”

“Are you alright to go to training?” Viv questioned her concern just as bad as Beth’s “it’s okay to have a day off you know.”

“I’ll be okay,” you nodded your head once again as Beth passed you a bowl of cereal, “I just need to take some pain relief and then I’ll be okay.”

The painkillers kicked in, dulling the ache in your abdomen for a while. After breakfast, you travelled to training with Beth and Viv. You had a quick team meeting before heading out to the pitch.

While the team went out to the pitch, you stayed behind to tie your boot laces up. Suddenly, a pain shot through your body, and you collapsed. Cramps twisted your insides, you fell to the ground and curled up into a ball. With your knees to your chest, the pain subsided a tiny bit, and tears started to blur your vision.

Minutes later, Kim and Leah came back into the changing room to grab something but concern etched their faces as they knelt beside you.

“What's wrong?" Kim asked, her voice urgent. “What’s happened, Y/N?”

"Just...period pains," You gasped, trying to downplay it. “I’ll be okay in…a bit.”

The changing room floor was cold against your cheek, and you clung to your knees like a lifeline. Kim and Leah hovered over you, their expressions a mix of worry and confusion.

“Y/N,” Leah said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “This isn’t normal. You shouldn’t be in this much pain.”

You tried to sit up, but the cramps tightened their grip. “It’s…it’s just my period. It happens.”

Kim exchanged a glance with Leah, her eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N how long have your periods been like this?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “Since I was eleven. My parents always said it was part of being a woman.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Your parents were wrong. This level of pain isn’t normal. You need to see a doctor.”

“But training—” you protested weakly.

Beth and Viv appeared in the doorway, concerned just as much as Leah and Kim. “What’s going on?” Beth asked, kneeling beside you.

“It’s Y/N’s period,” Kim explained. “She’s in agony and her parents have never taken her to the doctors over it.”

Viv’s expression softened. “You don’t have to suffer like this. We’ll take you to the doctor.”

You wanted to protest, to insist that you could tough it out. But the pain was relentless, and you were tired of pretending it was okay. Maybe it was time to seek help.

"These aren't normal," Leah said firmly. "We need a medic."

You groaned in pain, “I’ll be fine…it’ll end soon.”

The team medic arrived, assessing your pain and sending you home. Beth and Viv helped you hobble to their car. The journey was a blur of agony, and you collapsed into bed, grateful for the strong pain relief they'd given you. Sleep claimed you, but it didn't last long.

Before you knew it, your sleep was interrupted and the sharp pain was overtaking your body again. Your room was dimly lit, just a small bit of light peaked through the curtains.

A knock sounded at your door before it pushed open, a tiny bit of light peeked in and Leah stepped through the door.

“Hey kid,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of your bed, “how are you feeling?”

“So..so much pain,” you scrunched your face up, tears threatening to spill once again.

“Y/N have you ever looked into these period pains?” Leah asked. You shook your head, all of your concerns had always been ignored, “Do you think it could be endometriosis?”

You knew Leah had struggled with endometriosis, she’d always been open about it, but being eighteen years old you had no clue what it truly was.

You shrugged, “I don’t really know what endometriosis is, Le.”

Leah sighed, “Well I have stage two, there’s four different stages, so mine is bad but not bad bad. My symptoms started at thirteen, the pain used to be my enemy.” Leah joked.

“I used to roll around in pain, kid,” She said, brushing fallen hair away from your face, “I ended up in A&E so many times, for ages it was just blown off as stress and me being dramatic but after a while endo was brought up. A few years later, and my mum arguing with many different doctors, I was finally diagnosed.”

“Do you think I have it?” you asked, “The pain is so bad.”

“I’m not saying you do,” Leah shrugged, “but it’s worth looking into.”

You nodded your head, still clutching your stomach in pain before nausea overtook you, “I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay okay,” Leah said, gently helping you up, “It’s okay, c’mon let’s get you to the bathroom.”

The room spun, and you barely made it to the bathroom before your stomach rebelled. The pain had escalated from a dull ache to a full-blown assault on your insides. You clung to the toilet bowl, heaving, tears streaming down your face.

Leah was there, her hand on your back, soothing circles. “Easy,” she murmured. “Let it out. I’m here.”

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t even form thoughts. The nausea subsided, leaving you weak and trembling. Leah helped you rinse your mouth, then guided you back to your bed. She tucked the blankets around you, her touch gentle.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’ll figure this out, Y/N.”

You nodded, grateful for her presence. The room felt less lonely with Leah sitting beside you. She didn’t shy away from the messiness, the vomit, the pain. Instead, she held your hand, her eyes filled with empathy.

“Leah,” you croaked, “thank you.”

She smiled, brushing hair from your forehead. “No need to thank me, kid. You’re going to be okay.”

You closed your eyes, exhaustion pulling you under as sleep claimed you once more. The next day, Leah took you to the doctors. At first they were dismissive, putting it down to being stressed and just a teenager.

Leah fought hard, she argued with the doctor and demanded they do a laparoscopy to see if you had any endometriosis growing around your womb, ovaries and pelvis.

They tried you with different medications and birth controls but none of them did anything. Your periods and pain remained the same. The doctors did multiple ultrasounds and none of them showed any signs of endometriosis.

Finally, after some back and forth trips to the doctor, she finally gave in and added you to the long waiting list of other women who were waiting for surgery as well.

Days blurred into weeks and weeks blurred into months as you waited for surgery. You continued to be in pain with your periods, even when you were ovulating you were in excruciating pain. Your pain had been affecting your football career and it was ruling your life.

Finally, your surgery date rolled around after four months of waiting. Beth and Viv were taking you, Leah had promised to be there once you woke up. As for your parents, they told you you'd be fine and didn’t need them there.

“You ready, kid?” Beth asked, as you pulled up outside the hospital.

You nodded, swallowing a lump in your throat, “I guess,” you shrugged, “I’m just nervous.”

Viv turned around in the driver's seat so she could face you as you were sat in the back, “There’s nothing to worry about, you’re going to be just fine.”

“We’re right beside you,” Beth reassured you, “and Leah will be there when you wake up, she’s promised that she will be.”

You nodded and before you knew it, you were in your own private room, waiting to be called in as you sat in the bed with Beth and Viv beside you. You’d been nil by mouth since last night, you couldn’t eat or drink meaning that you were absolutely starving.

“I’m so hungry!” You whined, tilting your head back, “this is so cruel, they’re starving me!”

Beth and Viv both chuckled at your whining, “you can’t eat before surgery, kid.” Viv said, “remember me and Beth were the same before our acl surgeries?”

“Don’t worry,” Beth smiled, “the food after when you wake up will be amazing. We’ll get you whatever you like.

You waited around for at least an hour and during that hour you saw different people. It started off with the anaesthetist coming in to see you. She was a nice lady, she explained the whole process to you and how they’d put you to sleep but it was far too much to take in all at once.

They gave you the option of either anaesthetic through the cannula or through the mask. You opted for the mask, hoping it’d make you less anxious.

Then, your surgeon came in. She ran through the procedure and told you what would happen. She explained that they’d look for endometriosis and if any was found then they’d remove it there and then.

Finally, they did your final basic checks. They weighed you, took your height and blood pressure as well as asking you a range of different questions. After all of that, you had to wait around for another hour and then it was finally time to go down.

“Don’t be scared,” Beth whispered to you as she pulled you into a hug, “you’re going to be fine, I promise. We’ll be here when you wake up with Leah.”

You nodded, letting go of Beth before Viv pulled you into a hug, “I’m so proud of you, kid. We’re going to be right here waiting.”

“I love you both,” you whispered, “thank you for being here.”

“Love you too,” Beth smiled before they rolled you away on the bed.

You entered the operating theatre and there were many people around. There were multiple nurses as well as the surgeon and doctor you’d met earlier on. The nurses helped transfer your onto the operating table before the anaesthetist quickly went over things again.

“Okay Y/N, just count down from ten for me,” she said, placing the mask on your face. You began to count down, your eyelids became heavy and you soon drifted off into what felt like a sleep.

Two hours into your surgery, Leah arrived at the hospital. She made her way upstairs to the room where Beth and Viv were waiting for you.

“Still no Y/N?” Leah asked as she entered the room, a little gift bag in her head.

Beth shook her head in response, “Nope, they said surgery could be anywhere from an hour to six hours.”

“Yeah, mine was two hours long,” Leah nodded, “Hopefully she’s out soon, how was she when she went down?”

“Anxious and scared,” Viv explained, “what’s in the bag?”

“Just some of Y/N’s favourite things,” Leah said, “My mum put one together for me when I had my first endo surgery so I thought it’d be nice for her to have one.”

Eventually, you were rolled back into the room. You were still fast asleep, your braids that Beth had done now slightly falling out.

“How was the surgery?” Leah was the first to ask, concern written all over her face.

“It went well,” the nurse nodded, “she has four incisions but the doctor will be round to give the rundown and results when Y/N is awake.”

Thirty minutes later, you finally woke up. Your eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, you weren’t sure where you were. The harsh white hospital lights hurt your eyes as you peeled them open, you covered your eyes with the palm of your hand as you let out a groan.

The pain came next. A dull ache that radiated from your abdomen. It was a familiar pain, one you’d felt before during endometriosis flares. But this time, it was post-surgery pain, and it carried with it a sense of relief.

You tried to move, but your body protested. Wires connected you to machines, monitoring your vital signs. The room seemed to tilt, and you closed your eyes, willing the dizziness away.

You tilted your head and Beth and Viv’s faces appeared, Leah soon walked round and joined them.

“Hey kid,” Beth smiled, her voice gentle. “You’re awake.”

Viv squeezed your hand. “How are you feeling?”

You tried to speak, but your throat was dry. Leah grabbed the cup of water that the nurse had left and lifted the straw to your mouth. You took gentle sips of water, washing away the metallic taste and dryness.

“I feel amazinggg,” you sang happily, still a little high from the anaesthesia. “Where am I?”

Beth, Viv and Leah bursted out into laughter, “That good, kid.” Viv nodded. “You’re in the hospital, remember?”

“Oh yeahh! Leahhhh,” you whined, sticking out your tongue. “My tongue hurts, Is it still there?”

Leah nodded. “Your tongue is intact, kid. They didn’t go anywhere near it.”

“Phew,” you sighed dramatically. “Good to know. Now, where’s Myle?”

Beth chuckled. “She’s at home, darling. You’ll see her later.”

Your lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I miss Myle so much! That surgeon better not have taken her.”

Viv squeezed your hand again. “Hey, hey, it’s okay! Myle is safe at home. You’ll be reunited soon.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. “I love Myle. She’s cute.”

As the anaesthetic wore off, you drifted in and out of sleep. The pain in your abdomen dulled, thanks to the nurses’ timely administration of pain relief. You felt a little more like yourself when the doctor finally entered the room.

“Hey, Y/N,” she greeted, her smile warm. “Is it okay if I discuss your results? Are your friends comfortable staying?”

You nodded, grateful for their presence. “Yes, please. They’re staying.”

The doctor pulled up a chair. “Your surgery was quite extensive,” she began. “We delved deep and found stage three endometriosis. It was growing around your ovaries and pelvis. The pelvic endometriosis explains your back pain, and the ovarian involvement is likely why ovulation has been excruciating for you.”

“But you removed most of it?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“Yes,” she reassured you. “We removed as much as we could. There’s a tiny bit left, but it shouldn’t cause as much pain.”

The room blurred over as tears welled in your eyes, “Will this affect my future?”

The doctor sighed, “I can’t say anything for sure but when the time comes and if you want to have kids you may have some issues conceiving naturally. I’ll leave you to rest up, you should be home before the evening is out.”

You nodded your head and tears began to slip down your cheeks. Leah climbed onto the bed and sat next to you, she pulled you into a tight hug. Leah’s hug was warm, comforting. She knew how to be there for you without saying a word.

“You’re going to be fine, kid.” Beth tried her best to reassure you.

Viv nodded, “Yeah, you’ve got everyone supporting you. At least you can start on getting the pain sorted now.”

“Do you want a goody bag?” Leah asked, “I put you one together!”

You laughed through your tears and nodded your head. Leah handed you a small bag and you opened it up. Inside was a range of different things that you loved. There was your favourite chocolate, some hair ties, fluffy socks, soft pyjamas, chocolate cookies, lip balm and a little stuffed highland cow teddy.

“You guys are amazing.” You smiled, brushing the fluffy highland cow with your hand, “Thank you for today, I’d have been alone without you.”

“You’ll always have us, kid,” Viv smiled, “We’re not going anywhere.”

The days that followed blurred together, a mix of pain medication and soft blankets. You laid in your bed at Viv and Beth’s house, movies played on your telly as Viv, Beth and Leah took it in turns to sit with you.

You had one brief phone call with your parents, one that hurt a lot. You explained what the surgery had resulted in on the phone, you expected at least a tiny bit of sympathy but your parents had none to give. You cried over it, a lot, but as promised Viv, Beth and Leah were right beside you. The three of them made you feel more loved than your parents had ever made you feel.

[christussy]

boyfriend award

fred weasley x reader

——— fred weasley is ultimately the best boyfriend you’ve ever had ———

he wasn’t your first boyfriend but definitely your last, or at least it felt that way because of how in love you were with him.

laying on his hard chest as he tangled your hair, fred weasley was ultimately the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

you came to that conclusion quite early on.

he was the most lovable guy at hogwarts. sure he was irritating and annoying sometimes but his charms made people fall to their knees.

there was a rumor once that a third year was so in love with him they tried to spike his butterbeer, but fred caught on early enough and fed it to ron.

they then had to go to the hospital wing that day which was coincidentally where you and fred met.

madam pompey wasn’t as mad at them as she was at you that day though.

you had just beaten up marcus flint for “accidentally” spilling porridge all over you. the only reason he even did that was because a week prior to the porridge incident, you had left hair removal in his shampoo and now he looked like the mix of voldemort and big bird had a child.

can’t say he didn’t have it coming.

—

when fred heard of your prank, he knew he needed to meet you immediately. the one thing he knew how to do was prank people more horrid than pumpkin candy.

“the ever-popular y/n, tell me your secrets.” fred teased.

“what secrets?” you countered, folding your arms.

fred had you cornered outside the hospital wing but you swore you had never felt as comfortable as now.

maybe it was his looming presence or the warmth of your now bloody jacket, but everything in that moment felt comforting.

“how did your hands land on hair-removing shampoo? and how did it end up in flint’s bathroom? so many questions and none answered.” he said with a curious tone.

“well maybe if you let me talk first i could answer them.”

fred smirked, for some reason your witty response made his heart flip more times than it did during quidditch games.

“i got the bottle from my cousin in the americas, and i convinced one of flint’s friends to exchange the shampoos without marcus noticing. well of course i had to provide payment by agreeing to do his homework for potions but it was so worth it.” you explained, and fred could see the glint in your eyes.

“well done, if it was up to me i would’ve exchanged his body soap for rocks.”

“quite a sadist, aren’t you fred weasley?” you teased.

“not sure what you’re getting at y/n y/l/n. i only enjoy the occasional bloody prank, nothing sadistic about that.”

“Y/N Y/L/N! when I find you you’ll be sporting your own bruises!” marcus flint exclaimed from inside the hospital wing as his friends attempted to take the mirror out of his hands.

“guess he doesn’t like the look of purple and bald on him.” you shrugged with a smirk.

you assumed fred would’ve laughed along but he was looking quite grim.

it was then that you noticed his stiff body and arms fisted on his side.

“fred, what’s wrong?”

“he shouldn’t be talking to you like that. especially if he’s threatening you y/n.” fred said with anger in his eyes.

“calm down. nothing i’m not used to as an aftermath of another prank.” you tried to reason, “it is my fault that he’s in there looking like lord voldemort.”

fred cracked out a smile at that comment before letting his anger dissipate away.

“it’s still not okay. when he gets out of here another prank is coming his way.” fred muttered the last bit to himself but realized that you could hear him as he looked down at you with a smirk.

a smirk that made your knees weak.

a smirk that would stay in your mind for weeks to come.

—

after that conversation, fred weasley had appeared in your life more times than in the past.

the routes you had taken before were now included with a red headed jokester who always smiled brightly at you in passing.

the rumors you heard about all the pranks happening to marcus flint were created by none other than fred.

you found that out on a fateful day marcus flint almost ran into you with pink robes on. he had fred, george, and a bunch of first years tailing after him as they laughed.

fred threw you a wink when he noticed you were watching with shock on your face.

the way your body reacted to his wink made you realize you might just have a crush on fred weasley.

—

putting ur chin on his chest and making eye contact with him, you smiled up at fred.

“something on your mind, love?” fred asked as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“nothing much. just thinking about how we first met.”

“oh yeah, remind me again. was it with marcus flint’s bald head or when you obsessively started stalking me.” he teased you.

“i did not stalk you fred weasley!” you protested with a grin.

“easily could’ve. but there was no reason to, i was hooked from the moment i laid eyes on you outside of that hospital wing.”

when he said sweet things like that, it was hard for you not to fall in love with him all over again.

fred weasley was ultimately the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

-chrissy!!!

[mywhisperingwords]

still here | fred g. weasley

summary: an old friend starts showing up every time you need him word count: 5.6k masterlist

The corridors of St. Mungo’s were quieter than usual, but there was still a hum of urgency in the air.

Since the war had ended, the hospital had been inundated with patients—some still recovering from physical wounds, others battling the mental scars left behind. You’d been working there for weeks now, throwing yourself into the chaos as a way to avoid the memories.

The war was over.

That was what everyone said.

But it didn’t feel like it. Not to you.

You rubbed the back of your neck as you turned the corner, the exhaustion of the day dragging at your heels. Healing was rewarding, but it was unrelenting too. Your own grief, your own loss, had been shoved to the side so you could focus on fixing others. It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you turned toward the sound.

Fred Weasley was leaning casually against the wall, hands stuffed into his pockets, his hair messy but bright as ever. His smile stretched across his face like it always did, a bit crooked, a bit mischievous.

“Fred?” Your voice cracked, disbelief threading through it.

“In the flesh,” he said with a grin. “You weren’t expecting me, were you?”

You stared at him, your mind fumbling to piece together what was happening. He was here. Alive. Whole. Standing in front of you as though nothing had changed.

It had been too long since you’ve last seen him.

“I—no,” you said finally, your hand gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it hurt. “What are you… what are you doing here?”

“Visiting,” he said easily, jerking his chin toward one of the nearby rooms. “Someone needed cheering up, and you know me—I’m the best man for the job.”

You laughed, a soft, disbelieving sound. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“And you have,” Fred said, his eyes sweeping over you. There was something softer in his tone, something unspoken. “You look tired.”

“I’ve been busy,” you said, shrugging.

“I can see that,” he replied, the smile tugging at his lips dimming just slightly. “But don’t let it wear you down too much, alright? You’ve always been better at taking care of everyone else than yourself.”

You swallowed, his words hitting somewhere deeper than you wanted to admit. “It’s… good to see you.”

Fred grinned again, bright and wide. “Good to see you too, love. It’s been too long. Let’s change that, yeah? You know where to find me.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a wink and strolled away down the corridor, disappearing around the corner.

You stood there for a moment, frozen. It had felt so normal, so effortless. Just like before.

“Who were you talking to?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to see Elena, a fellow Healer, approaching with a curious look.

“Oh,” you said quickly, your pulse still racing. “Just… an old friend.”

Elena smiled, tilting her head. “Nice to see familiar faces, isn’t it? Especially after everything.”

You nodded faintly, but something about her tone didn’t sit right.

The exhaustion in her eyes was clear, and you felt it too. Sometimes it was hard to be kind to yourself when you put it all on another person.

“You should take a break, let me take over some of your patients,” you told her, a warm smile on your face.

Elena watched you closely, before shaking her head. “Don’t throw yourself into more work, you need to rest too.”

The rest of the day passed in a haze. You went through the motions, treating patients, mixing potions, and doing your best to avoid lingering too long on the morning’s encounter.

But the more you thought about it, the harder it became to focus. Seeing Fred again had felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. It had stirred something in you—hope, relief, a flicker of happiness you hadn’t felt in ages.

&

You sank into the couch the moment you walked through the door to your flat, kicking off your shoes with a groan. Another day of potions, poultices, and endless rounds of patients, each one a stark reminder of what had been lost in the war.

St. Mungo’s was a lifeline, sure. It gave you purpose. But it also drained you, leaving little room to process everything you’d been through.

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, savoring the quiet.

The knock on your door startled you.

Frowning, you dragged yourself to your feet, wondering who it could be at this hour.

When you opened the door, Fred Weasley was standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets and that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Fred?” you said, blinking at him. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t come find me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your brows furrowed. “I’ve been busy.”

“And I’ve been bored,” he replied, throwing himself onto your couch like he owned the place. “What’s a bloke got to do to get a little attention around here?”

Despite yourself, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch. Fred had always been like this—effortless, larger than life. He had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

“I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me,” you said, heading to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“Well, someone’s got to,” he called after you.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face.

A few minutes later, you brought two steaming mugs of tea into the living room, handing one to Fred before sitting down across from him.

He didn’t reach for the mug right away, instead leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His gaze was intent, but not unkind.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. Fred rarely veered into serious territory—he was the king of deflection, the master of keeping things light.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

You sighed, sinking back into the cushions. “What do you want me to say, Fred? That I’m tired? That I’m still trying to figure out how to keep going when it feels like everything’s fallen apart? Because I am. But what’s the point of talking about it? It doesn’t change anything.”

Fred leaned back, his expression softening. “Maybe not. But bottling it up doesn’t help either. Trust me.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

“I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away for a moment. “I hate seeing you like this. You used to light up every room you walked into, you know? Now it’s like… you’re barely there.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean to make it heavy. I just… I miss you, that’s all.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile. “I miss you too.”

For the next hour, Fred did what he did best: distracting you. He told you ridiculous stories about the shop, about George’s questionable taste in merchandise and the chaotic customers who made running a joke shop anything but boring. He had you laughing until your sides hurt, the weight on your chest lifting just a little.

By the time he stood to leave, it was late, and you were feeling more at ease than you had in weeks.

“You should come by the shop sometime,” he said, pausing in the doorway.

“Maybe I will,” you replied, leaning against the doorframe.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling in that way they always did. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, Fred.”

You closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. For the first time in a long while, you felt… lighter.

It wasn’t until you were cleaning up the living room that you noticed Fred’s untouched mug of tea sitting on the coffee table.

You frowned, picking it up. It was still full, the liquid cold to the touch.

“He must’ve been too busy talking to drink it,” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head. You poured the tea down the sink and put the mug in the dishwasher, before heading to bed.

&

The shop was eerily quiet as you stepped inside, the familiar jingle of the bell sounding oddly out of place in the stillness. You glanced around at the dimly lit aisles, the shelves a kaleidoscope of colors even in the low light. It was strange seeing the shop like this, so empty, so lifeless.

You had worked late again, but something about the thought of going straight home made your skin itch. You needed to be somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t the sterile white walls of St. Mungo’s.

Your feet carried you to the back office without much thought, and you paused at the slightly open door.

Fred was there, hunched over the desk, his fingers toying with a quill as he stared down at a piece of parchment.

“Fred,” you said softly, pushing the door open further.

He looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Finally off work, then?”

You nodded, stepping inside and leaning against the doorframe. “Barely. Thought I’d stop by, but it looks like I missed the fun.”

“Yeah, George closed up a while ago. You’ve got terrible timing,” he teased, his tone light.

Your gaze flicked to the desk where a photo caught your eye. It was the three of you—Fred, George, and yourself—arms slung over each other, laughing like you didn’t have a care in the world. You picked it up, your fingers brushing over the glass.

“I remember this,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Good times, weren’t they?” Fred said, leaning back in his chair. “You and George couldn’t stop arguing that day. Think you were fighting over who’d get the last treacle tart.”

Your smile widened despite the ache in your chest. “He cheated, though.”

Fred snorted. “He’s a Weasley. Comes with the territory.”

Setting the photo down, you slid into the chair across from him. “Feels like it was forever ago.”

Fred’s expression softened, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to settle on his features. “It wasn’t that long ago. We’re just… different now.”

You studied him, a lump forming in your throat. He looked the same as he always had—bright eyes, a smirk that never quite left his lips—but there was something in his voice, something in the way he looked at you, that felt heavier.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Things change.”

Fred gave a small nod, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “So, how’s it really going? With the hospital, I mean.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It’s… a lot. I thought I was ready for it, but some days it feels like I’m drowning.”

“You’re not, though,” he said, his tone firm. “You’re stronger than you think.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’ve been through hell, and you’re still here. That counts for something.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the sincerity in his voice made the words stick in your throat.

“Thanks,” you said instead, the word barely above a whisper.

Fred gave you a small smile, leaning back in his chair. “Anyway, I’ve got to run. Things to do.”

“Like what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked. “You don’t get to know all my secrets.”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes as you stood. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Don’t work too hard,” he said as he stood, heading for the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” you said, watching as he left.

You lingered in the office for a moment before shaking your head and making your way toward the exit.

As you reached the front door, someone stepped inside.

“George?” you said, startled.

He looked at you, his expression tight and guarded. “Thought I’d locked up.”

“I—uh—yeah. I was just… stopping by,” you said vaguely, clutching your bag.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. His face was drawn, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

“You look terrible,” you said before you could stop yourself.

George gave a dry laugh. “Thanks. Just what I needed to hear.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, shifting on your feet.

He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You weren’t at the —”

Before he could say what he wanted to say, the picture of the three of you slid from your hands. You hadn’t realized that you were still holding it.

The shards of glass were everywhere, you immediately went to pick them up, but George grabbed your hand before you could hurt yourself.

“I do that too, you know?”

The question caught you off guard, your chest tightening. “What do you mean?”

George shrugged, his gaze flickering toward the back office. “Feels real, you know?”

You frowned, unsure how to respond.

“Right,” George said, his tone unreadable.

An awkward silence stretched between you before he cleared his throat. “If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

As you stepped out into the night, the cool air prickling your skin, his words lingered in your mind.

You shook your head, trying to brush off the strange feeling settling in your chest. The conversation with George left you feeling unsettled.

You told yourself it was just George grieving. Everyone was grieving. That’s all it was.

&

The air outside St. Mungo’s was brisk, carrying the crisp bite of autumn. You tugged your coat tighter around yourself, grateful for the rare quiet moment on your break. The day had been chaotic—healers rushing from patient to patient, the hum of spells and the faint scent of antiseptic filling the halls. It wasn’t exactly the type of environment that allowed for deep breaths or calm thoughts.

You wandered down a quiet path near the hospital, letting the cool breeze soothe your frazzled nerves. Your eyes scanned the rows of trees, their branches shedding golden and crimson leaves onto the cobblestone.

“Mind if I join?”

The voice was unmistakable, and you whipped around to see Fred grinning at you, his hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his jacket.

“Fred!” you exclaimed, relief washing over you like a balm. “What are you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d check in,” he said, falling into step beside you. “You’re impossible to track down these days, you know that?”

“I’ve been busy,” you said with a shrug. “Work’s been… a lot.”

“Still haven’t figured out how to clone yourself yet, then?” he teased, bumping your shoulder lightly with his own.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Not quite. Maybe I’ll work on that next.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the leaves crunching underfoot. Fred was always like this, effortlessly pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts, making the world feel lighter somehow.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “what do you do to unwind after a day of saving lives?”

“Sleep, mostly,” you admitted. “If I’m lucky, maybe eat something that doesn’t taste like parchment.”

Fred gave a mock gasp. “Blasphemy! This is why I should’ve brought you something from the shop. Maybe a bag of Canary Creams to keep things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Pretty sure my coworkers would kill me if I turned anyone into a bird on hospital grounds.”

“Sounds like they could use a laugh,” Fred said, smirking. “You’re too serious these days.”

You looked at him, the warmth of his presence easing the tension that had been knotting your chest all day. “Maybe. It’s hard not to be, though. Things… aren’t how they used to be.”

Fred’s expression softened, and for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes dimmed. “No, they’re not. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost who you are. You’re still you, even if it feels different now.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Fred gave you a crooked smile. “Anyway, I should get going. Don’t want to keep you from your heroics.”

“Right,” you said, watching as he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing down the path.

When you returned to the hospital, you spotted Elena near the staff break room. She was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, and her expression almost concerned when she saw you.

“Hey,” she said. “You alright? You looked… I don’t know, distracted earlier.”

“Distracted?” you echoed, frowning.

“Yeah,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “You seemed… off. Just wanted to say, if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

Her words gave you pause, confusion prickling at the back of your mind. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, managing a small smile.

“Of course,” Elena said, her tone warm but cautious. “Just remember, you’re not alone, okay?”

You nodded, though her words lingered uneasily in your mind as you made your way back to your duties.

Why did Elena think something was wrong?

You pushed the thought away, chalking it up to exhaustion. But as you dove back into your work, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling in your chest—the faint but growing sense that something wasn’t quite right.

&

Your flat was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. You had collapsed onto the sofa after a long day, still wearing your healer robes, too tired to change. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily against your chest, but your mind refused to quiet.

A knock at the door startled you, your heart leaping in surprise. It was late—too late for visitors—but you dragged yourself up to answer it.

When you opened the door, Fred stood there, leaning casually against the frame with a lopsided grin.

“Hope I’m not interrupting your riveting evening plans,” he said, his voice light but warm.

“Fred,” you said, your fatigue melting into a mix of relief and surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to check on you,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He glanced around your flat, his eyes landing on the cluttered coffee table and the half-empty mug of tea. “Looks like I got here just in time. You’re living the dream, aren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, shutting the door behind him. “Not all of us get to play with fireworks and sweets all day.”

Fred laughed, a sound that filled the room and wrapped around you like a blanket. He plopped down onto the armchair across from you, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“You look awful,” he said cheerfully.

“Thanks,” you muttered, sinking back onto the sofa.

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, the kind you only shared with someone who had known you forever. You tilted your head to look at him, the familiar lines of his face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled—it was all so painfully Fred.

“It’s been a while,” you said softly. “Since we sat like this.”

“Yeah,” Fred said, his voice quieter now. “Feels like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “Do you ever think about it? About how everyone just assumed we were—”

“A couple?” Fred interrupted, smirking. “All the time. George used to place bets on when we’d finally ‘admit it.’”

You laughed, though it felt hollow. “They weren’t wrong, though, were they? We were close.”

Fred’s expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “We were. Still are.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. The question had been buried deep in your mind for years, but now it rose to the surface, demanding to be spoken. “Fred… why didn’t it ever happen? Why didn’t we ever—?”

He looked at you then, his gaze steady but distant, as if he were searching for the right words. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “sometimes you don’t get closure. Sometimes things just… are.”

The answer left you reeling, the weight of it settling heavily in your chest.

Fred stood abruptly, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Anyway, I should go. You need sleep, and I need to—” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward the door.

“Right,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As he left, the silence in your flat felt deafening. You stared at the spot where he had been sitting, your thoughts a chaotic tangle of emotions.

Fred’s words echoed in your mind, and for the first time, you wondered if you were chasing something that could never truly be found.

&

The bell above the door of the tea shop jingled softly as you stepped inside. The warm scent of cinnamon and chamomile washed over you, momentarily easing the tension that had weighed heavily on your shoulders since the previous night. It was your first day off in weeks, and after losing a patient yesterday, you had needed this—a quiet space to think, or perhaps, to not think at all.

Your eyes scanned the room, landing on Fred sitting by the window, a steaming cup in front of him. His head was tilted slightly, gazing out at the bustling street outside.

You hesitated for a moment before walking over to him. His face lit up when he noticed you, and he gestured to the empty seat across from him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Fred,” you said, sliding into the seat. “You’ve got a habit of turning up exactly when I need someone to talk to.”

“Call it a gift,” he said, shrugging. “What’s got you looking like you just ran headfirst into a Hippogriff?”

You sighed, wrapping your hands around the warm ceramic of your cup after ordering a simple black tea. “Rough day yesterday. Lost someone.”

Fred’s teasing expression softened immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gentler now.

You shrugged, your throat tightening. “It happens. Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

Fred leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You ever think about doing something else? Something less… heavy?”

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But it’s not that simple, is it? I like helping people.”

“And who’s helping you?” he asked, his tone pointed but kind.

You looked away, his words cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “I’m fine,” you said quietly. “Really.”

Fred didn’t press further, instead leaning back in his chair and letting the conversation shift to lighter topics. He told you a ridiculous story about George’s latest experiment at the shop, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and dramatic pauses. You laughed in spite of yourself, grateful for the distraction.

The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, reminiscing about old times and trading jokes. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the tea shop didn’t exist.

Eventually, Fred glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up. “I should get going,” he said, his tone reluctant. “George will have my head if I’m late again.”

You nodded, watching as he turned toward the door. “Fred,” you called after him.

He paused, looking over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” you said simply.

His smile was soft, genuine. “Anytime.”

And then he was gone, leaving the air around you feeling oddly still.

You stayed a few minutes longer, finishing your tea in silence. When you finally stood to leave, you noticed something strange—people were staring at you.

Their gazes weren’t hostile, but curious, as if you’d done something out of the ordinary. You met a few of their eyes, but no one said anything. A couple seated near the door exchanged whispers, their eyes flicking toward your table.

Frowning, you pulled your cloak tighter around yourself and stepped out into the chilly air. The feeling of being watched clung to you as you made your way home, an unease settling in your chest.

When you reached your flat, you locked the door behind you and leaned against it, trying to shake the strange sensation.

“Just tired,” you muttered to yourself. “That’s all it is.”

But the memory of their stares lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

&

It was late when you heard the knock at your door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it. But when the knock came again, heavier this time, you reluctantly got up and opened the door.

George stood there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, his face pale and drawn.

“George,” you said, blinking at him in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “Mum’s been asking about you,” he said, his voice careful. “She says she hasn’t seen you in ages.���

You frowned, closing the door behind him. “I’ve been… busy.”

“You’re always busy,” he said, looking around your flat as though trying to make sense of the chaos. His gaze lingered on a pile of unopened letters on the table, a half-empty cup of tea on the counter. “You’ve been avoiding us.”

“That’s not true,” you said defensively.

“Isn’t it?” he said, raising an eyebrow. He looked at you closely, his sharp eyes narrowing. “You’re not okay, are you?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. George had always been perceptive, too perceptive, and you suddenly felt stripped bare under his scrutiny.

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, looking away.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “we’re all trying to figure out how to move forward. It’s hard, isn’t it? Finding a way to keep going without—”

He stopped himself abruptly, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Without what?” you asked, your chest tightening.

George shook his head. “Never mind,” he muttered. “Forget I said anything.”

You frowned, confused and slightly unnerved by the way he was looking at you, like he was trying to tell you something without actually saying it.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“Just… come with me,” he repeated, already heading toward the door.

“George, it’s late—”

“I know,” he said, turning to face you. “But this is important. Please.”

Something in his tone made you hesitate. Reluctantly, you grabbed your coat and followed him out into the chilly night.

He didn’t say much as you walked, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. You tried to make sense of his sudden appearance, the strange tension in his voice, but the silence between you felt too fragile to break.

Finally, he led you to a quiet, secluded area, the air around you growing heavier with each step. You glanced around, the faint outlines of headstones barely visible in the moonlight.

“George,” you said, your voice catching. “What is this?”

He stopped in front of a particular spot, his back to you. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep, shaky breath.

When he finally turned to face you, his expression was unreadable. “I just thought… maybe this would help,” he said quietly.

You didn’t understand what he meant, not fully, but something in his eyes—something raw and achingly familiar—made your chest tighten.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

George didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stepped closer and pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you. The unexpected gesture caught you off guard, and for a moment, you froze.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “It’s okay to miss him.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you felt the air leave your lungs in a sharp gasp.

You clung to him, your mind reeling, the weight of his words pressing down on you.

For a moment, it felt like something inside you was unraveling, pieces of a puzzle you hadn’t realized you were trying to solve falling into place.

But the full picture remained just out of reach, the truth lingering at the edges of your mind like a shadow.

George pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes.

You nodded silently, unable to find the words to respond.

&

George left after a while, a long time that was filled with silence. But you couldn’t go yet, you were still standing in the middle of the graveyard.

That’s when Fred walked up next to you, looking down at the grave in front of you.

“You’re not real,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Fred tilted his head, a soft smile playing at his lips. “No,” he said simply, “I’m not.”

The weight of those words hit you like a tidal wave.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched thin, taut with everything you hadn’t said and everything you now understood.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice barely audible.

Fred’s gaze softened, but there was something unshakably sad in his eyes. “You needed me,” he said. “So I was here.”

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking. “But you’re gone,” you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

“I am,” he said, his voice steady but quiet.

The world felt impossibly still, the air heavy with unspoken grief.

“I don’t—” you started, your voice cracking. “I don’t know how to do this, Fred. I don’t know how to let you go.”

Fred turned to you. “You don’t have to,” he said gently. “Not really. I’m always going to be here, just not like this.”

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. “It’s not fair,” you whispered. “You were supposed to have so much more time. We were supposed to have more time.”

Fred’s smile wavered, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his façade. “Life’s not fair,” he said, his voice tinged with a bitterness you rarely heard from him. “But you know that already, don’t you?”

You nodded, the tears spilling over now. “I love you, Fred,” you said, your voice breaking. “I loved you, and I never even told you. I never got the chance to—”

“You didn’t have to tell me,” Fred interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “I knew.”

You looked up at him, your breath catching. “How?”

He smiled, a bittersweet curve of his lips. “You think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me? Or how you always laughed at my terrible jokes, even when no one else did? Or how you always saved me a seat, even when it meant you had to stand?”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your tears.

“I knew,” he said again, his tone softer now. “And you know, deep down, that I loved you too.”

Your chest ached, the pain so sharp and overwhelming that it felt like you might break under the weight of it. “I just wanted more time,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Another chance.”

Fred’s expression grew serious, his gaze locking with yours. “I know you do,” he said quietly. “But if you had it, would it ever be enough?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat.

Fred leaned back, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “You would always want more,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a quiet sorrow. “Because that’s how it is with love. It’s never enough time. Not really.”

Your hands trembled as you struggled to process his words.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you said, your voice breaking again.

“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice impossibly gentle. “I’ll always be a part of you. I’ll always be in your memories, in the things that make you laugh, in the things that remind you of me.”

Tears streamed down your face, your chest heaving with the force of your sobs. “But it’s not the same,” you choked out. “It’s not the same as having you here.”

Fred’s expression softened, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache even more. “I know,” he said. “But you have to keep living, love. You have to keep going, even if it hurts.”

You looked at him, your vision blurred with tears. You reached out your hand, close enough to touch his face, but you didn’t, too scared of what might happen if you tried.

Fred’s smile was soft, tinged with sadness. “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to.”

You clenched your fists, the ache in your chest almost unbearable.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” you whispered.

Fred looked down at you, his gaze filled with a love that you could feel in every fiber of your being.

“You don’t have to say it,” he said. “Just… let me go.”

You sobbed, the sound raw and broken, as you watched him turn around.

“Fred,” you called, your voice cracking.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” you said, the words tumbling out of you like a confession, like a plea.

Fred smiled, his eyes glistening. “I know,” he said. “I love you too.”

And then he was gone.

You turned around again, staring yet again at the grave in front of you.

You stood there for a long time, the silence deafening. Until you took a step forward, your fingers tracing the engraved letters.

Fred Gideon Weasley

1st April 1978 - 2nd May 1998

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Pleasant Surprise

Pairing: Louis Tomlinson x Y/N

Summary: After a trip abroad, Louis returns home to his girl.

Warnings: nothing but fluff :)

My first time writing for any of my darlings from 1D. It’s been a rough month, spent the past couple days listening to all their music both individually and in the band which birthed the idea of writing a fic, so here you are.

Ps. I haven’t had the motivation to write anything for almost a year but the boys gave me a little push.

---------

Y/n sighed for what felt like the millionth time today as she kept flipping through the channels on the tv in search of something to entertain herself. When nothing piqued her interest, she gave up. She took a look around her surroundings and decided that she should do some tidying up. It’s been a couple days she’s been in a slum and the pile of clean laundry has been staring at her on the other sofa begging to be folded and put away.  

Throwing the covers off of her, she opened up Spotify to play some music while she started working on the living room. The intro to best song ever filled the room as she pulled her hair up into a messy bun and got up to her feet.  

Excellent choice Spotify, she thought, with a smile on her plump lips. 

Her boyfriend, Louis hadn’t been in the country for almost a month as he went to L.A. to spend time with Freddie during his school break. She missed him dearly but she knows and understands that the little lad was Louis’ world and the last thing she ever wants to do is come between them. For the past couple weeks, she managed to get through her hospital shifts, using it as a distraction from the fact that an empty house waited on her at the end of her twelve-hour shift.  

Louis loved spending time with his son in L.A., they had made the most out of their time together by going to beach, ice-cream runs, playing football together, basically whatever Freddie wanted to do, they did. Amidst all the fun, Louis was desperately missing his girl waiting back home for him. Sometimes he’d feel guilty for having to be away from her but she continuously reminded him that Freddie came first and reassured him that it’s okay for not being around.  

That’s one of the many things he loved about her, her understanding. 

With the laundry all sorted, y/n finished cleaning up the living room by dumping all the accumulating water bottles and empty snack packs that only grew as the days went by. Little black dress came on and she began belting out the lyrics without a care in the world because who was there to judge her? Definitely not her sassy boyfriend. The last time Louis had heard her singing one of Niall’s songs, he teased her about it by saying that Donkey from Shrek had more talent than her. Of course, y/n locked him out the bedroom that night.  

With the area tidied, she moved to the kitchen. The song continued on and she couldn’t help but fully give into the music and started swaying her hips to the sound of Louis’ voice that’s belting through the speakers. She was totally engrossed in the music; she didn’t hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway nor the sound of the front door being opened and shut.  

Louis lips broke out into a cheeky smile at the song flooding the house mixed with his girl’s voice upon entry. Abandoning his luggage at the door, Louis followed her voice to the kitchen and paused in the doorway. Y/N was oblivious to his presence behind her, too focused on wiping down kitchen island. She had on her oversized black t-shirt that he loved seeing her in, she was in her element and Louis loved seeing her like this. Happy and carefree. 

I like to see the way you move for me baby! 

Louis watched her intently as she swayed her hips and dipped to the floor, his eyes focused on her bum the entire time. When she stood up to her full height, he snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He felt her stiffen at first but quickly relaxed when she realized that it was her Lou. His scent that she loved so much, invaded all her senses. 

“What a way to be welcomed home, love.” He inhaled the scent of her shampoo and kissed the exposed skin of her neck, immediately raising goosebumps on her skin. Her cheeks flushed out of embarrassment. 

“You’re early.” Lou gently turned her around in his arms and wasted no times kissing those lips he’s missed all that time apart. Lou nipped at her lips a couple times before breaking apart to get some much-needed air.  

“It’s called a surprise love and from now on I’ll keep changing my flights home if it means I get to come home to your poor singing and tempting dancing.” Y/N rolled her eyes at his comment, he should be the last person talking. 

“You shouldn’t be talking Mr. Oohhh it’s whatcha do to meeeee.” Louis gasped at her impression of his dreadful X-Factor audition. 

“Ha ha ha, funny. You’re gonna regret that.” She couldn’t hold in her laugh as he hoisted her up on the countertop. She cupped his face and pulled him in for another kiss, this time more needy and sloppy. 

The pair were happy to be reunited after their time apart, neither one of them couldn’t wait to have each other to themselves. 

[tsukisrants]

First Prize - Jeon Jungkook

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3.068

Warnings: Boxer!Jungkook, Possessive Behavior, Violence, Spankings, Manhandling, Dom/Sub undertones, Name-Calling, Hair-pulling, Fingering, Rough sex, Spit, Creampie.

Summary: "I need these eyes, little one. I need my number one fan, huh? Or I'll lose my mind, and we don't want that, do we?”

smut under the cut

A blow.

Another one.

The pungent smell of blood intoxicates him.

His mixed with that of his opponent.

Anger rises in his chest, overwhelming and distorting him.

Clouding his senses.

The gaze of the audience turned towards him. People look at him and devour him with their eyes.

Among them, yours.

You, who look at him with your childish eyes.

With that curiosity and desire.

Your eyes, his fuel.

Everything around him catches fire.

The flames blaze uncontrollably and his body is moved by an intoxicating adrenaline that creates addiction.

Despite the pain, the fatigue.

He wins.

The opponent falls to the ground.

He, on the other hand, stands triumphantly.

The shouts rise, the screams caress his ears, and he revels in every moment of glory.

He was born for this.

You, on the other hand, tremble.

You look at him with dreamy eyes, as you have been doing for a long time now.

Since you were dragged, against your will, to one of these fights.

You didn't want to come at all, but in the end, you gave in, and thank heaven every day that you did.

You saw him, and since then you have done nothing but come back.

Come back to him, for him.

Enchanted, bewitched.

At every encounter, you stand in the front row.

At every encounter, you have eyes only for him.

You scream his name, you smile.

You smile and everyone's eyes are on you.

But yours? Yours are only on him.

Your gaze belongs to him completely, like every single part of you.

And fuck, he likes it.

Jungkook lives for the desire he has for you and for the desire you have for him.

At every encounter, he checks if you’re there.

But as always, he does nothing.

He looks at you.

He observes you, and burns your skin with those dark pits.

Jungkook keeps playing this little game with you for a while.

Then, one evening, you don't show up.

You miss a fight.

You didn't want to, but exhaustion didn't allow you to move.

Too tired from work, you skipped a fight.

That night, they had to urgently take Jungkook's challenger to the hospital.

Furious, he ended the evening by downing a bottle of vodka, and then picking a fight with a group of idiots, emerging victorious.

Jungkook never loses.

At the next fight, you are there.

You are there, you have returned, and when you look at him, your curiosity turns into confusion, then fear.

In his eyes, the deepest darkness.

Jaw clenched, he delivers precise and devastating blows.

He wins, because he can't do otherwise.

He wins, and you timidly exult.

He steps down from the ring, drinks a drink.

He downs it in one gulp, and you remain enchanted watching his neck shine under the dim light of the gym, his Adam's apple moving up and down.

He redeems the winnings, and leans against the wall.

His friends congratulate him, now accustomed to his successes.

He crosses his arms, and then you notice.

Jungkook is looking at you.

Your hands tremble, and you look around, as if to make sure that he is really looking at you.

You want to run, to escape from him.

But your body seems unresponsive.

It is no longer yours, but his.

Dominated by his eyes.

With a nod of his head, he gestures for you to follow him.

Before you can realize it, you are following him.

A dark corner, and a hand that grabs you.

He pulls you.

You are in a room you have never seen before, you realize it is the room where he prepares before the fights, before dominating the whole world with the strength of his fists, of his body.

"You weren't there last friday," he says.

You gasp, trying to find the words to answer him, completely caught off guard.

"I-I... no, I wasn't there," you reply.

He approaches you, making you step back.

Your body collides with the wall, and he towers over you.

One of his hands next to your face, and you feel your breath catch.

With the other, he grabs your chin.

He forces you to look at him.

You part your lips, and you have to forcefully suppress the moan of astonishment that tries to escape from your throat.

"Don't do it again. Don't miss again, I need you there."

His confession leaves you stunned.

Your confusion clear and evident on your face.

"I need these eyes, little one. I need my number one fan, huh? Or I'll lose my mind, and we don't want that, do we?"

You shake your head. No, you don't want that.

God.

He needs you.

He just said it, and he did it with his eyes locked into yours. He meant it.

He means it.

"I will never miss a fight again, never," you promise him.

As you say it, you truly believe it. You would be ready to do anything for him, and it doesn't matter if you don't really know each other: you belong to him.

He smiles, and Jungkook's smile scares you.

It excites you.

It makes your panties wet.

You feel warmth spreading through your body, your skin filled with uncontrollable shivers.

"Good girl," he says.

His words burn: they set your mind to flames.

There’s nothing in the world you want more than to hear those two little words over and over again.

As he speaks, the hand that was holding your chin moves.

Jungkook rubs his thumb against your lips, his tattoos marked with scratches and splatters of blood make the image even more exciting than it already is.

Jungkook pushes his finger into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue.

The taste of his salty skin is enough to elicit a faint moan from you.

"These eyes, little one. They make me want to hurt you, do you understand? I want to destroy you," he growls, hungry.

He pushes his finger even deeper into your mouth, making you gag.

Jungkook fucks your mouth with his thumb, and you take everything he gives you.

You cough.

He moans at the sight, releasing your mouth.

A trail of saliva connects his thumb to your parted lips, and Jungkook's breath becomes more labored. Heavier.

"Do it. Hurt me. Do whatever you want to me," you beg him.

In an instant, he grabs you by the hair.

His hand tightens with force at the base of your neck.

The strength with which he pulls you excites you: you love the idea that he can do whatever he wants with you, that Jungkook is so much stronger than you that he can bend you and fuck you whenever and wherever he wants.

A cry of pain escapes you, and he laughs.

Jungkook laughs as he drags you by the hair across the room, until he positions you in front of a table.

Once there, he forces you to move as he pleases, shoving you around like a rag doll.

He pushes you down, bending you over the table.

You flinch, tears of pain streaming down your cheeks, meeting your lips, still wet with your saliva.

You feel the taste of your own tears, let it intoxicate you.

The cold surface of the table against your cheek keeps you anchored to reality, and when Jungkook pushes your face forcefully against it, you find yourself squeezing your thighs together.

You love to suffer for him.

You've dreamt of him at every encounter, and finally it's reality.

He’s finally giving you the pain that you craved for so long. Too long.

"From now on, you're mine. Say it."

"I'm yours."

Then, he spanks you.

Hard.

Jungkook's hand collides with your ass, again and again.

Over the skirt you're wearing.

The black one, the one you know is a provocation made for him.

Designed for him.

The one that hugs your body, short in just the right places.

Then, he pulls it up, making it tangle around your waist.

He grabs your panties, and then Jungkook tears them.

They're the pink ones, with the sweet pattern you love.

He loves them even more.

Jungkook gets off to the thought of corrupting you, ruining you for anyone else.

Scraps of fabric from your ripped panties fall to the ground, forgotten.

"If I see wearing a skirt like this again I’ll make sure you regret it, you hear me? You don’t wear shit like this, not without me, do you understand?", he asks.

In another circumstance, you would have probably screamed and resisted.

But now, for him, you would do anything.

Everything is so wrong that it feels so fucking right to you.

When you don't respond, he spanks you one more time.

"Do you understand?", he asks again, leaning forward to grab your face, pressed against the table, and forcing you to look at him.

Your gazes meet and you feel insignificant under the weight of Jungkook’s.

You love feeling this way.

You don't want to be anything other than a little toy for him to use and fuck.

"Y-yes! I understand!", you exclaim.

He smiles satisfied, before pushing two of his fingers deep inside your mouth.

In their rightful place.

With his other hand, he unbuttons his pants.

He pulls down the zipper, then pushes them down, letting them slide down his thighs.

You can't see the scene clearly, but you hear the metallic sound of the zipper being pulled down, the buckle of his belt briefly hitting the table.

He lowers his boxers, stained with his pleasure: a wet spot that marks the level of his desire for you.

He pulls out his cock, and you widen your eyes.

It's big.

Thick, long, and shining from how wet he is, drops of pre-cum sliding down his pulsing tip.

You want it in your hhmouth, in your pussy.

"Good girl, lick them for me, make them wet," he encourages you.

He fucks your mouth with his fingers, once again forcing you to choke on them, pushing them deep into your throat.

As he watches the scene, he touches himself.

His hand moves quickly against his cock, his hips pushing forward in a desperate attempt to receive more friction.

Jungkook grunts and hisses in pleasure, gritting his teeth and wetting his lips with his tongue.

Then, your mouth is left empty.

Jungkook brings those same fingers between your legs, rubbing them against your pussy, before plunging them into you without any regard.

"So tight, so warm for be, fuck...", he murmurs.

He's not talking to you, but to himself.

As if you are nothing more than a little fuck-toy. Nothing more than a flashlight.

Perhaps you really are nothing but that.

He moves his fingers quickly, thrusting them inside you.

The sound of your wetness, of your pleasure, echoes in the room.

It’s all so fucking messy.

You are wetter than you have ever been before, and it is solely and exclusively for him.

Hot droplets of your juices splash down his hand, down his wrist. The veins of his forearm popping out with the strength that he’s using to finger-fuck you.

You feel your wetness trickle down your legs in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers inside you.

As he touches you, he rubs his cock against your flushed and sensitive skin, against your ass.

He leaves behind a glistening trail of his pleasure, his pure desire for you. Your ass wet with his pre-cum.

When Jungkook deems that he has stretched you enough, he pulls his fingers out of your pussy.

You feel empty without a part of him inside of you, and it feels so wrong not to have him inside of your body.

"Open," he orders, tapping those fingers on your lips.

You open them, and he forces you to taste yourself, pushing those wet fingers against your parted lips and then against your tongue.

"You make me so horny, baby..."

When he's satisfied, he cleans his fingers on your face, on your cheeks.

He grabs you by the hips first, then his hands slide down your body: he spreads your legs, firmly grabs your ass, and keeps you open for him.

From above, he lets his saliva slide onto you, onto your throbbing pussy.

He spits on your pussy and the sound is enough to make you moan loudly, gasping his name.

Your fluids mix, becoming one.

He rubs the tip of his cock against you, pushing it inside your pussy.

Just the tip.

It's not enough, not even close to being enough for you.

"Beg me. Beg me to give you my cock, come on, you fucking slut," he groans.

You can clearly feel that Jungkook is teasing you.

The humiliation burns fiercely in your stomach, and only serves to make your pussy even wetter for him.

You are now lost in your own perversion, and decide to let go.

To embrace your deepest desires and needs.

"G-give it to me. Please, Jungkook, please... fuck me, fuck me..."

He does. Jungkook satisfies you, because he can't resist when you beg him so sweetly to fuck you.

"Fuck, baby," he pants.

He buries himself in you completely, and a moan similar to a scream escapes your lips.

Your folds open up to accommodate his length, the lips of your pussy hugging him tightly as your tight walls suck him in.

"You're such a dirty little whore. You like getting fucked like a bitch in heat? You were made to take my cock, made to get fucked like nothing more than a flashlight."

You tremble. You nod and moan.

Jungkook laughs as he fucks you. He laughs at the state you're in: desperate and lost in the pleasure that he is giving you. His cock thrusts inside you again and again, hitting all the right spots, driving you crazy.

"Yours. Only for you. Your whore, only yours, y-yours only, J-Jungkook please..."

Hearing you say it drives him crazy.

He grabs your wrists and, pulling at them, he holds them behind your back, bending your arms.

With one hand, Jungkook keeps you still, gripping your wrists so tightly that you're sure you'll wear his marks for days. While he fucks you he releases the adrenaline of the encounter, the anger of not having seen you last time, and the explosive desire he has had of you for weeks.

He spanks you.

Again, and again.

He does it until the mark of his hand is imprinted on your ass, a mark that will last on your skin for a long time.

You are his.

His and only his.

You belong to Jungkook.

With each spank, you thank him.

He grits his teeth, thrusting into you forcefully and violently. He pushes his cock into your wet pussy with precision and fervor.

The sound of his length slamming into you makes you tremble, it's a sound so obscene, so wet that it brings you close to the edge.

He understands, recognizing the signals of pleasure building relentlessly in your belly.

One of his hands slips between your legs, his rough fingers teasing your swollen and pulsating clit.

He moves his fingertips against you in fast circular motions, in rhythm with the impetuous thrusts of his cock.

You pulse around his length, the orgasm getting closer and closer.

"Come. Come on my cock, little one, go ahead," he growls, abusing your clit until all you can do is tremble, caught in spasms.

Jungkook's voice caresses your ears and gives you the final push you need to finally let go and surrender to pleasure.

"C-Cumming, K-kookie! F-for you, I'm cumming for you!"

You cum, just like that, trembling and covering his cock with your pleasure.

Drops of it splash down his cock, and your pussy pulses against him again and again, making him grunt and moan.

Even Jungkook trembles.

He leans forward, burying his face in the hollow of your neck and bites you.

He bites your shoulder, sinking his teeth into your sensitive skin, and Jungkook buries himself even deeper in your hole, now almost at his limit too.

You are exhausted, hypersensitive. Your clitoris begs for mercy, and he shows a little compassion by stopping teasing it.

He pants against your neck, his warm breath colliding with your skin, and your body feels like it's filled with pure electricity.

Then, he grabs a piece of skin between his lips and starts sucking.

Next to the bite, a purplish bruise now occupies your otherwise pristine neck.

Despite the tiredness, despite your body begging for mercy, you take his cock, again and again.

You let him use you to pleasure himself.

You let Jungkook use you to empty his balls, thrusting inside you as much and as hard as he wants.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck, kitten..."

You beg him to do it, to fill you up, to mark you indelibly.

You beg Jungkook to cum inside you, to give you every drop of his thick, warm cum.

"Take it. Fuck, baby, I'm cumming. Christ, can you feel it? Feel it, feel my cum inside you, take it all, every fucking drop."

As he says this, he releases your wrists, now adorned with the marks of his hands.

Deep bruises that will hardly fade.

He grabs you by the hair and turns your face to the side.

He kisses you, bites your lips.

Jungkook's saliva mixes with yours and drips onto your chins.

"All my cum in your pussy, little one. The best pussy I've ever fucked, all mine..."

With these words, he buries himself in you one last time, fulfilling his promises: he fills you. He claims you. He makes you his.

Hot spurts of his cum fill you, and part of you believes to feel every drop filling your pussy.

He thrusts into you and both moan in unison, seized by violent spasms of pleasure.

You both stay still for a while, locked together.

Your breaths mirror each other.

You both tremble and gasp.

Jungkook gently kisses your shoulder, right where he bit you minutes ago, leaving the mark of his teeth.

The gesture is gentle, contrasting with everything you just shared.

Yet, it feels so right.

"Mmh, baby. Here it is, the first prize," he whispers, softly rubbing his cheek against yours.

You smile, reveling in his tender caresses.

Despite his words, though, you feel that in reality, it is you who have won.

[monzaaasharl]

Mama McLaren

A/n:: Mark is my favourite F1 dilf. During the making of this I accidentally posted it so this took me even longer than it should have 😝, I also had an insane writer's block, i got this request many months ago and I've only just got around to finishing it. Mixed with this request here!

Pairings:: Mark Webber x Reader, Oscar Piastri x Reader, Lando Norris x Reader

Summary:: Y/n Webber starts to act very motherly towards the McLaren boys

Genre:: Fluff

Warnings:: There aren't any

@pear-1206

Driver x Reader Masterlist Monzaaasharl

It was the third race of the season, but it wasn't just any race, oh no, it was the Australian Grand Prix. Not only was it your husband's home race but also the driver he manages.

Oscar, he was like a son to you with the amount of time he spent with your little family. Well little as in you, your husband, your 21 year old son Noah, and your 17 year old daughter Jasmine.

The Australian Grand Prix was something that the Webber family always looked forward to. And this year, just like the last, you'd be watching the race from the McLaren garage.

"Have you got everything both of you?", you asked your two kids knowing they would forget something.

"Yeah, we've got everything, mum", you received as a response.

"Come on, we don't want to be late now", Mark said knowing fully well there was not a possibily they would be late, but wanted them to get there early to cha to the McLaren boys and give them a small pep talk.

After a peaceful drive in the car through the city, you finally arrived at the paddock.

You made your way through the paddock in your small group, and ended up in the McLaren hospitality.

"How's it goin' you two?" Mark said when he spotted the papaya drivers.

Oscar and Lando both turned around when they heard the familiar voice of the older aussie man.

"Yeah not too bad"

"Everything's going pretty well so far"

"Well we'll just be around if you boys want us", Mark said to both the McLaren boys, not wanting to distract them too much before the race.

"Good luck boys, i know you're going to do amazing", you always felt quite protective over them both.

"Yeah, good luck mate", Noah

"Good luck"

"See ya"

"See you after"

⋆˚✿˚⋆

After an intense Grand Prix and a mix of emotions after seeing Max was out, you found yourself still in the McLaren garage after your husband had left you quickly for the podium ceremony.

Lando had finished third which definitely made you proud, but seeing Oscar so close and just missing out on the podium positions it made you just the slightest bit sad.

When you saw him come back to the garage you made sure to tell him how proud you were of him. He ended up staying with you, Jasmine, and Noah while watching the podium celebrations.

"You did amazing this race, I hope you know that"

"Thank you, I just wish that I could've got onto the podium"

You knew it made him a bit upset knowing he was so close to a podium finish for his home race.

When Mark came back from the podiums he made sure to congratulate Oscar on his race and tell him how well he did even if Oscar didn't feel like he did good enough.

"You did good mate, don't let it bring you down"

"I won't, don't worry"

Oscar made his way to his own family leaving you lot alone.

"Y'know, I always thought after you retired I wouldn't have to worry about someone else racing"

Your husband laughed at your comment and gave you sweet kiss, much to your kids disgust. It didn't matter how old they got, they still didn't like it.

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Thank you for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are all appreciated!

[lesbojournals]

Poly!Marauders x Reader (who just came home from a behavioral health unit)

a/n: hey guyss long time no see ! this is kinda just an angst/comfort piece that reflects what i went through a few months ago. i tried not to make it too specific as everyone's experience with behavioral health care is different! pls don't read if you think this topic might be triggering for you

Your slip on shoes squeaked against the hospital floor as the nurse guided you towards the lobby. She turned around to give you a reassuring smile, and you tried your best to give her a smile back. 

It had been 9 days since you had last seen your boys. 9 days since your parents took you to the Emergency Room to be admitted into the behavioral health unit. 

You held a lot of shame in your chest as you trailed behind the nurse. You didn't let your boyfriends visit you during your stay, not wanting them to see you in such a weak state. You had always been their strong girl. 

You sighed as the lobby came into view, tears pricking at your eyes. Your parents had said Remus would be there to pick you up. You glanced down at your form, stringless pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt that didn't quite suit you. Would he still like you, even like this?

You spotted his car pulled up by the door, and your nurse gave you a wide smile.

“You did it hun,” She opened her arms for a hug, which you gladly accepted. “Feel better.” 

You could feel your throat constricting as tears threatened to leave your eyes, so you gave her a quick nod and took your belongings from her. 

You spotted Remus immediately as you left the hospital doors, and in seconds he was out of the drivers seat and in front of you. You took a second to look up at him. His honey eyes were glossy, worried, and you felt guilt consume you for causing the bags that were currently living under his eyes.

“Can I…” he whispered. “Can I hug you?” 

You choked back a sob and nodded, and the second you were in his embrace you fell down to your knees. He followed you down to the ground, his grip tight on you as he rubbed your back gently.

“It's okay my sweet dove,” He reassured. “You're okay.”

It was a few minutes before he was able to guide you up and get you in the passenger seat of the car.

You held your face in your hands, breathing heavily. How embarrassing. 

Remus kept quiet as he drove slowly, letting the music play gently on the radio as to not overwhelm you. 

“James and Siri are at home waiting,” He all but whispered. “We didn't want to overwhelm you with all of us at once.”

You sniffled and nodded, keeping your hands securely covering your face as tears continued to flow down.

Time seemed to move slow and then rapidly all at the same time. You could've sworn you just got in the car, but here Remus was turning off the ignition for the car and resting a timid hand on your leg.

“We're home, love.”

You let your hands drop although you were still crying, and looked up at your shared home with your boyfriends. 

Would they forgive you for keeping your mental health a secret for so long?

You almost feared seeing Sirius, in fact, you feared seeing all of them together.

Your brain told you one thing and one thing only. 

They were breaking up with you.

Remus gave your leg a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready to go inside?”

You let out a choked laugh, mixed with salty tears and despair. “I suppose.”

Remus grabbed your belongings from your lap and you let yourself out of the car. 

You trudged up to the front door, Remus not even having to take out his key before James swung the door open as fast as he could. His gaze went quickly from Remus’ to yours, and his smile dropped. 

“Oh love,” He cooed at you, and you felt the waterworks burst again as you cried into James’ chest.

You don't remember being guided to the couch, but somehow you ended up there with James latched to your side. He brought your hand up to his chest to feel his heart beat. 

“It's alright,” He comforted. “You're home.”

Sirius was next to make an appearance. When you lock eye contact with him you feel your lip tremble more. He had to be mad at you.

But the expression on his face said otherwise. He looked the most exhausted of the three, his hair unkept and his outfit disheveled and wrinkly. He looked awful, and that was a lot considering Sirius was someone who regularly kept up on his appearance.

He opened his arms for a hug and you leaped from James’ side to be held in his embrace. He sounded on the verge of tears.

“Oh baby,” His voice barely let out. “I love you so much.”

This caused you to hug him tighter, cry harder, and nearly fall to the ground on your knees again.

“Hey, hey,” Sirius grabbed your face with his hands, eyes full of concern and glossy tears. “It's okay.”

“I thought-” You hiccuped through your wet sobs. “I thought you were going to break up with me.”

Shock fills Sirius’ expression and he lets go of your face to hug you tighter. 

“No, no, no baby,” You can tell he's crying a bit harder now. He nestles his head in the crook of your neck. “We love you so much.”

It was quiet for a while, the environment filled with your heavy breathing and sniffles. You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing–the way the nurses taught you how to in the hospital. In through your nose, out through your mouth. 

Steadily, you started to relax in Sirius’ arms, and his grip loosened around your waist. You looked up at him and made contact with his silver-colored eyes, and he let hair fall in front of his face as he leaned down to whisper.

“Are you okay?” 

You nodded feverishly, and Sirius hesitantly let go of you. You slumped back onto the couch, practically on top of James, which he gladly accepted. He put a protective arm around you and started to rub circles on your back.

Remus knelt down to your eye level, putting a comforting hand on your knee. “Do you want to change out of these hospital clothes, dovey?”

You pondered it for a moment, stuck between being comfortable next to James and wanting every last inch of your 9 day stay washed away. 

Remus patiently waited for your response, and you nodded. He stuck his hand out for you to grab and you did so, allowing him to pull you off of the couch. 

“I need a shower.” You begrudgingly told him, and he nodded in understanding. 

You trailed behind Remus, still holding his hand as he led you to the bathroom. You sat on the tile floor as he started the shower for you, holding his hand out under the water as he waited for it to be an adequate temperature. When it was ready, he silently helped you up to take off your clothes. 

It was in no mean a sexual act. He paid no attention as he helped you take off your shirt and pull down your pants. Your eyes filled with tears at the gentle love he so easily expressed for you. 

He didn’t push you, nor did he ignore the tears forming in your eyes. He knew what they meant. 

“Would you like me to shower with you?”

You shook your head no. You appreciated every last word, knowing it was fully his love and his heart ready to be there for you till the last second. 

“I need privacy.” You whispered to him, and he nodded his head, going to leave. 

“Wait-” You grabbed his hand, and he turned back to you. “Will you wait outside the bathroom till I’m done?”

He brought your hand to his lips, giving it a small kiss. “Of course.”

And with that you got into the shower. It was a luxury you hadn’t appreciated–showering without interruption, without eyes on you. It was a quick shower, but a perfect one. You came out of the bathroom in one of your large, fluffy towels–another luxury you didn’t really realize you had. 

Remus gave you a small smile when you opened the door. He waited, just as he said he would. 

He followed you as you walked to the bedroom, seeing a pair of James’ sweats and one of Sirius’ band shirts folded neatly on the bed. Your favorites of theirs to wear. Remus handed you a pair of fuzzy socks and you gladly got into them. 

When you got back into the living room you noticed your favorite candle was lit, and that Sirius and James were cuddling on the couch in one of your favorite blankets. 

James perked up at the sound of yours and Remus’ footsteps. 

“Darling,” He breathed out gratefully. “Come join us.”

You curled up on James’ other side, Remus coming over behind you to wrap his arms around you. You had your ear pressed to James’ chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat. You knew you had a rough road ahead with recovery, and your boys knew it too. But you had them there for you, and that just might be enough. 

[megalony]

Our Army- Part 2

Here is the follow up to my Eddie Diaz imagine, thank you all for the lovely feedback on this one.

I have an idea for the third part too if anyone would like that.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

Summary: With another impending arrival, (Y/n) and Eddie have to tell the rest of the kids their news. And talk about the possibility of moving to a bigger home.

Enjoy.

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

Twisting his head to the left, Eddie leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head. He began to glide his hand up and down her arm while his foot moved in tandem, tapping the heel of his boot against the floor.

He felt the way (Y/n) hummed into his chest and nuzzled her cheek into his shirt like she was trying to hide herself away, and it made him smile into her hair. He didn't have to say anything to guess that (Y/n) didn't feel much better. He could feel her hand scrunching up his shirt in her fist and she was leaning into him enough that she was almost sitting on his lap.

Eddie tapped his free hand against his thigh as he slouched back in his seat with one leg crossed over the other. His eyes trained in on his hand and he grimaced; it was clear he had just come off shift. Washing his hands hadn't done anything to rid the muck from beneath his nails and he still had dirt caked into his knuckles that were starting to split and crack.

And he hadn't had time to get changed into the spare clothes in his locker. If he wanted to get down to the hospital on time for (Y/n)'s first antenatal appointment then he had to hurry.

"You good?" He murmured into her hair, earning a small hum as (Y/n) lifted her head from his chest to bury her face in his neck instead.

He wasn't quite sure whether (Y/n) was feeling sick or if she was tired or even if it was a mixture of both.

Morning sickness had gotten worse and to add to the mix, Amelia had been staying in their bed for the last week. She had two nights of rough seizures that kept her off school and kept (Y/n) awake with her in the night.

"I think we're up." He looked over at the monitor when (Y/n)'s name flashed up on the screen, and he didn't miss the quiet groan (Y/n) let out into his shirt.

She moved her hands to push herself up and took the time to shake her head and try to clear her mind. Eddie had been at work last night and into the morning and (Y/n) ended up with Amelia, Chris and Paul in the bed with her last night. It was a wonder Tilly spent the night in her own bed when the room was empty and she wasn't used to sleeping alone.

Paul had practically laid on top of (Y/n) most of the night and Chris had a tendency to kick and wriggle a lot in his sleep. (Y/n) didn't get a lot of sleep and she felt drained from not eating much today.

It felt good to have Eddie's arm around her waist and (Y/n) felt his lips against the side of her neck as they headed down the hall into room number ten on the right.

They had been in this position many, many times. Eddie had been to only one of the scans when they had Amelia as he had been in the army for most of the pregnancy. But he did his best to make it to all the rest, and he'd already told Bobby (Y/n) was pregnant again.

Bobby was more than sympathetic and agreed they could try and work around her antenatal appointments and Eddie was already booked in for annual leave around (Y/n)'s due date so he could be off with her and the kids.

"Okay Mrs Diaz, how are you?"

"Nauseous." (Y/n) did her best to smile and look okay, but she knew she looked green around the gills and her stomach was churning. She watched a sympathetic look cross the midwife's face as she looked down at her notes quickly.

"Oh dear. You've been prescribed complan shakes in your last pregnancy, did they help? I'll make sure to order you some vitamins and anti-emmetics that you can collect today."

"Yeah, they helped." (Y/n) didn't necessarily like the taste of the supplement drinks, but they boosted her system and gave her protein and vitamins when she couldn't keep down any food. She nodded when the midwife murmured that she would write her a new prescription for some and she felt Eddie's hand move to grip her thigh comfortingly.

"Okay, let's have a look at this little one shall we?"

(Y/n) wished she had one of those complan shakes right now when she stood up and her legs started to shake. She felt Eddie's hand on the small of her back and his other hand on her arm and she knew he could see how shaky she felt.

It felt good to be sat down again and she leaned her head back, taking a moment to suck in a deep breath to clear her head. She felt Eddie hovering beside her, his hand gliding up and down her arm while she rolled her shirt up and tucked it beneath her bra.

"This will be cold, but I'm sure you're used to this routine by now." The midwife's words were kind and (Y/n) nodded, lifting her head to look up at Eddie for a moment.

He tangled their hands together while his other arm pressed over his chest with his fingers tapping against his chin and mouth, but it did nothing to distort the smile on his face.

It didn't matter how many times they had been in this position, Eddie loved being at scans and seeing the baby appear on the screen for the first time. It made everything real. After today, they would be thinking of ways to tell their families that they were having yet another baby.

Eddie stroked his thumb against the back of (Y/n)'s hand and when he caught her eye, he winked. She looked a little better now she was sat down again.

(Y/n) dithered her eyes between Eddie and the midwife to try and keep herself awake. She fretted closing her eyes for too long and falling asleep. But when she looked back at the midwife, she started to feel her chest tightening up with sparks of adrenaline fluttering in her stomach beneath the sonogram.

Could she not find a heartbeat? Was she struggling to find the baby? (Y/n) took two pregnancy tests that both came back positive and she had been in this position four times already, she knew the signs and feelings. She was pregnant.

Was something wrong this time?

Her fingers squeezed Eddie's hand causing him to stroke his thumb along the back of her hand to try and calm her down.

"Okay…" The midwife plastered a smile across her face and pushed the screen to face them while her other hand held the sonogram in place. Pressing it down quite firmly into (Y/n)'s stomach which caused her to wriggle. If she applied any more pressure, (Y/n) felt sure her bladder was going to burst.

(Y/n) pulled on Eddie's hand, pressing his hand against her chest while she sat forward a little so she was at a better angle to see the screen. To see their fifth- and last- baby.

"Alright, so this familiar shape here is baby A, and down here, we have baby B tucked away in the corner."

Confusion plastered across both their faces which leaned forward to scrutinise the screen.

A and B? What was she talking about?

"You- you mean…"

"Twins, congratulations." She could see the shock written on their faces and dwelling in their eyes. "All seems good here, I'll print these off and make a note on your file. You'll need extra appointments and close monitoring now."

(Y/n) let her head fall back as stars twinkled in front of her eyes. Twins. Two babies, at the same time. She was going to be weighed down with two kids. She would have to make double the effort during labour if they were having two babies. Two newborns to settle and change and feed during the night and take out and dress. Two more kids running round the house.

Six children.

Her head flopped to the left and she looked up at Eddie, apprehensive about what kind of look was going to be on his face. He had had mixed reviews about having another baby, although every day since she told him, Eddie had reassured her a thousand times that he wanted this. But neither of them had thought about the possibility of twins. They had ever had a multiple pregnancy before.

(Y/n) could of passed out when she saw a dazed smile pulling at Eddie's lips and he was practically leaning over her to get a better view of the monitor. She gently slid her hand from his hold to reach up and cup the side of his face while the midwife jotted down a few notes.

"Babe…?"

"I did say I wanted an army." He murmured before he ducked down to steal a kiss from her lips.

It seemed to be an unspoken agreement that this would be their last pregnancy. Five kids would be more than enough and as much as (Y/n) loved their family- and she knew Eddie was always infatuated with her when she was pregnant- five pregnancies was enough.

This seemed like the perfect twist, like a present to have two for the price of one with their last pregnancy.

(Y/n) could feel her heart rocketing in her chest when Eddie smiled against her lips and glided his tongue across her lower lip before he pulled back. He was happy. His face was beaming like the moon on a clear night and his expression made (Y/n)'s emotions soar.

"If we sit you back down at the desk, I can take some bloods and your BP and then you can be on your way."

(Y/n) let Eddie take her hands and help her up off the bed and she was glad to feel his arms around her to guide her back over to the chairs in front of the desk.

Her hand moved to tangle in her hair and she leaned her head to one side, becoming lost in thought. They were going to have six kids. There was going to be eight of them in the house. It might be time for a move. God, the kids were going to be thrilled at the prospect of twins in the family.

She leaned her head on Eddie's shoulder while he kissed the top of her head and gripped her thigh. She could feel him buzzing with excitement, his fingers twitching against her skin, his foot jittering up and down and she could practically sense the thoughts rushing through his head at a mile a minute.

With two newborns in the house after Eddie's annual leave finished, (Y/n) might need some help. She wasn't sure how she would cope with six kids, two being newborns who needed constant changing, feeding, nurturing and attending to. At least the other kids would be at school during the day which meant (Y/n) would have to juggle newborns during the day.

It was going to be a hassle, but they would make it work. They always did, and this is what they wanted.

"Ready?"

(Y/n) held her left arm out and nodded as she lifted her head from Eddie's shoulder and sat up straight. The elastic strap around her arm didn't feel too bad, but she winced when she felt the needle prodding at her elbow. Then again, then again.

"Sorry, I'm struggling to find a vein."

Turning to the right, (Y/n) looked up at Eddie as he leaned over and pecked her temple. It was always a struggle trying to draw blood, (Y/n) never seemed to have any prominent veins and she went home looking like a pin cushion.

She winced when the needle finally sank into her arm and her right hand moved to clench around Eddie's thigh, giving her something to focus on other than the uneasy feeling in her numb arm.

Her arm felt like it was about to drop off when the band finally unstrapped from her arm and she jingled her elbow, grimacing when she could barely feel her fingertips.

"Let's do your BP- do you feel alright?" The midwife stuck some cotton over the crease of (Y/n)'s elbow, but she inched closer when she noticed the faraway look in (Y/n)'s eyes.

Whatever she tried to murmur came out as a groan and Eddie surged forward, binding his right arm across (Y/n)'s waist when she flopped forward. He felt her head tip down towards her knees, her upper body flagging over his arm as if she had been shot. Her arms dropped to her sides and she dithered on the edge of the chair with Eddie being the only thing stopping her from crashing to the floor.

"Oh, okay amor, down we go."

Eddie tried to be careful as he wound his left arm around to cup her forehead and he gently leaned her backwards. He twisted to be in front of her, letting (Y/n)'s head drop onto his shoulder and her body lean into his chest. And when he went down on his knees on the floor, he eased (Y/n) down with him. It didn't take much effort to lay her down on the floor and he made sure she was on her side in the recovery position.

His fingers carded through her hair, keeping it from her face and he stroked his fingertips along her cheek. Watching each flutter of her eyelids and how her head moved a little as if she were leaning into his touch.

He continued to drag his fingertips along her skin whilst trying to calm down his own breathing. He felt like closing his eyes and passing out too. He hadn't been expecting this when he woke up this morning.

Six kids.

"Lia, can you come here a minute, carino?" Eddie reached his hand out to wave to his eldest who was just about to walk out the kitchen.

He caught her eye and ticked his head to the side, watching the confusion dance across her eyes but she nodded all the same. She changed paths, walking sluggishly over towards the living room like she wasn't truly awake yet.

Her eyes cast around the room, noting that her mum was sat in the armchair with her dad perched on the arm rest. Chris and Paul were sat on the rug with a board game laid between them and pieces scattered all around the floor and on the coffee table. And Tilly was sat on the sofa, a teddy bound in her arms and her attention fully focused on the cartoon on the tv.

It looked like they were having some kind of family meeting.

Amelia set her drink down on the table and slumped onto the sofa, curling her legs beneath her and binding her arms around her waist.

Once she was sat down, Eddie paused the tv, much to Tilly's annoyance as she snapped her head to look at him. Her big eyes narrowed and she let out a little whine before pointing to the tv, making her discontent rather clear.

"Daddy…"

"One minute girly, we need to talk to you all."

(Y/n) smiled softly when the boys looked up at them, suddenly drawn away from their game. They both sat upright and twisted so they were facing both parents while (Y/n) leaned against Eddie's thigh.

"Why?" There was a smile on Chris's face, despite the confusion pooling in his wide eyes. He had a feeling this was about something good. Usually when they were all told to sit together and talk, it was because they were going on holiday somewhere. Or when they had made the big move from Texas over to LA before Tilly had been born.

"Because we have something to tell you." (Y/n) began stroking her thumb up and down Eddie's thigh and when she tilted her head back to look up at him, she noticed he was gliding his hand up and down his chin and jaw. A nervous habit he had picked up from somewhere.

They had planned to have this conversation today, but they hadn't said who would be the one to tell the news. It was usually (Y/n) who told the kids each time they were having a baby, mainly because with the boys, she had enlisted Amelia to make it a surprise for Eddie to find out.

They both shared a look for a moment or two and (Y/n) felt Eddie's hand gliding further down her back while his tongue poked against his cheek, he was still thinking every thought possible.

"We're going to have another baby."

"Baby?" The excitement in Tilly's voice was lit up with the smile on her face and she pointed at (Y/n) as if it wasn't clear who would be having the baby. Tilly was the youngest up to now, she had never seen (Y/n) during a pregnancy, she was only three and Paul was five, he didn't remember (Y/n) having Tilly. But Chris and Amelia did.

Eddie snapped his head to look over at Amelia when he heard her gasp "Again?" and for a second he thought he would be met with an angered expression. But her wide eyes and open-mouthed smile made him relax.

"Yes, again." He rolled his eyes and shook his head towards Amelia which caused her to grin and dip her head down. "But this time, we uh… this time, we've found out that your mum's having twins."

The round of surprised faces looking back at them was nerve-wracking, but the way Chris leaned his head back and started to laugh made their nerves dissipate somewhat. They both heard him mutter something along the lines of 'six of us' as he continued to laugh and stuffed his thumb into his mouth, clearly happy about this news.

Tilly leaned across towards her big sister and gently patted her arm so she could mumble the word twins with a confused expression. She was only three and none of the kids in her nursery or their family were twins.

"Two babies," Amelia whispered as she leaned into the arm rest and looked over at her parents. It was kind of thrilling to know she was going to be the eldest of six kids. Sharing the attention of their parents wasn't going to be fun, but twins in the family was going to be great. And that meant more visits from their grandparents.

Whenever (Y/n) had a baby, their family always came over and Amelia knew Eddie's parents would be straight down here the moment the twins were born. And she couldn't wait for the team to know, it was going to make all their parties and events much more interesting.

Tilly's little eyes went wide and she quickly shuffled off the sofa so she could trot over to the armchair. She planted her arms down on (Y/n)'s thighs and looked up at her mum very sweetly in the kind of way she would do when she wanted something.

(Y/n) waited, brows raised, for her youngest to ask for something or come out with a question. But she was taken by surprise when Tilly leaned forward and patted her hand against (Y/n)'s stomach.

"Two? You're not big." There was clear confusion in her voice and (Y/n) leaned her head back into Eddie. That wasn't a question she liked. She couldn't explain properly to Tilly because their toddler wouldn't understand, and she wasn't looking forward to any of the kids commenting on how big she was going to be once she was in the later trimester.

"Because the babies are tiny right now, princess." Leaning over, Eddie swooped down and picked Tilly up, earning a squeal from her as he sat her on his lap.

"Where will they sleep?" Paul had a bright smile on his face and he was patting his hands down excitedly on the coffee table, but there was hesitation in his eyes as the question dawned on him.

They were all sharing rooms already. The boys shared a bedroom and so did the girls. Two more siblings meant there would be three of them per room and Paul didn't like the sound of that. At the moment he and Chris had bunk beds, Paul being on top because Chris wouldn't be able to climb the ladder. But they liked having bunk beds, they could play games and make forts and it meant their room was bigger.

They had a desk and a computer and tv in their room and enough space for race car tracks and all the fire trucks and ambulance toys they were collecting. They didn't want another bed in their room.

And there wouldn't be room in the girl's bedroom for another bed or a cot, it would be too cramped.

"That's what we wanted to talk about. It's gonna be too cramped in this house with eight of us. So me and your mum were thinking about moving-"

"Where?" A streak of panic flooded Chris's voice as his smile finally dampened down and he spoke around his thumb that was still stuffed in his mouth. He didn't want to move. This was their home.

They had moved from Texas down here and that had been scary, it took Chris a while to get used to a new environment and new routines and people and schools. He didn't want to move. He loved his school and his friends in class, he loved being so close to the beach and the parks and the zoo and he loved the team Eddie worked with who were their family. He didn't want to leave.

"We're staying in LA, buddy I promise. We're not leaving this area, we just need a bigger house, that's all. We could end up on the next block, we don't know yet."

Eddie smiled and tightened his arms around Tilly, squeezing her into his chest as he kissed her temple.

They didn't want any of the kids worrying about leaving town. They weren't going to uproot like they had done four years ago. They were all settled and happy here and this was where they were staying, it was just the house they needed to change. Both (Y/n) and Eddie loved their respective jobs and they would never move the kids from their schools and friends now everyone was happy here.

"Do we still have to share rooms?" There was a small spark of hope in Amelia's voice, although she was perplexed.

She didn't want to share a room with Tilly if she had the choice. Tilly was her sister and she loved her, but she was a toddler. She went to bed early so Amelia had to stay in the front room or wear her headphones and be quiet if she was awake in their room. And if Tilly woke with nightmares, she woke Amelia and she was loud and disruptive.

But Amelia had had her own room before Tilly was born, and it had been hard at times. At least with Tilly, if Amelia had a seizure during the night, Tilly would cry out for their parents and Amelia always got help. When she had her own room sometimes her parents didn't always hear her.

Once she had fallen out of bed and had to scream for help once her seizure finally wore off.

"I don't think we can get a seven-bedroom house, baby." (Y/n) inclined her head in Amelia's direction with a soft smile. "But we'll have a few more rooms, not everyone will have to share. We'll make it work."

It was doubtful that they would be able to get a house big enough for all the kids to have separate rooms. They might get a house with only one more room which would mean the girls would still share, Chris and Paul would share, and then the twins would have a room of their own.

All they knew at the moment was they had to start looking soon and they would find something that worked for them all.

"But we want to start the process soon, get moving now before we have the twins so it's not too much stress and we all won't be cramped in here or have the twins in the middle of moving house. Is everyone okay with that?"

Neither of them were quite sure what they would do if any of the kids disagreed or said they didn't want to move. It wasn't much of a choice to stay here for much longer. But the round of smiles and nods and excited noises they got made them both smile.

They had to get sorted soon. Eddie and (Y/n) couldn't waste any time. The only choice they had was either get a house and move now while she was still in the early stages of pregnancy. Or wait until she'd had the twins to move. Once (Y/n) got to six or seven months along, moving would be too stressful and hard so they wanted to move now.

It would be a lot easier to get into a new house and get settled now because then they would have the space for the twins. Waiting would mean cramping everyone in this house and then doing the moving process with two fussy babies in the mix.

That wouldn't be ideal.

***

"Ready?" (Y/n) glanced her eyes down to the kids who all looked like they were bubbling over with excitement.

When she felt Paul pressing up into her side, she held her hand out and watched him deadlock their hands together. His head rested against her hip and he pushed into her leg, snuggling up into her side as much as he could manage without knocking (Y/n) over. He looked eager but still nervous.

Paul had been a toddler when they moved from Texas to LA so he didn't remember the big move. The house they were currently in was the only one he ever knew, and moving was a big prospect, even if they were still staying within the same area.

"Okay, let's take a look."

Eddie had Tilly bouncing on his hip, her arms deadlocked around his neck and her head on his shoulder and she didn't seem like she wanted him to put her down anytime soon.

He reached his other hand out for Amelia who walked one step in front of him as they headed to the house they were viewing. The agent had already told (Y/n) and Eddie about the house and she was stood inside, but she wouldn't hound or pester them. She had said they were more than welcome to look around with the kids and see what they all thought.

(Y/n) kept hold of Paul's hand and followed inside after Chris, while Eddie and the girls were already inside looking around the kitchen.

They steered into the front room first and (Y/n) liked how Paul tugged her towards the bay window. She had a feeling he was looking out the window because they always had Halloween and Christmas decorations up in the windows and this window was ample for decorations.

"Mum, patio doors." Chris looked behind him before he pointed ahead. The living room was open and led right into the back room that Chris guessed they would use as a dining room. And there were two large patio doors leading out into the garden.

The garden looked big. There was a stone patio that led onto a grass verge and lots of flowers dotted around. There was space for their games, trampoline and the pool they always got out in the summer.

"It's good, hm?"

Chris nodded his head eagerly and moved to look out the back doors, catching a glance of his dad who was roaming the kitchen with Tilly chatting his ear off. And Amelia was looking round with a smile on her face, her fingertips tracing the counters and the cupboards for the sensations.

"Let's head upstairs." Pressing a kiss to the side of Tilly's temple, Eddie bounced her in his arm and held his free hand out for Chris who advanced over towards him.

He grinned when he saw the smile creep onto Chris's face when he saw the stairs. They never had stairs in their old house in Texas, neither did Eddie's parents. Chris had never had to walk up stairs to get to his bedroom and instead of feeling daunted, he felt thrilled.

Both his hands moved out to plant on either wall to balance himself, but when he looked back at his dad, Eddie's smile softened. He wove his free arm around Chris's waist and hoisted him up off his feet to carry both him and Tilly up the stairs.

"If this is the house we get, I'll add rails up the stairs." Eddie would drill some handrails onto both walls so Chris had something to stabalise himself with and help him up the stairs.

He could walk up stairs at the doctor's office or in museums, it just took Chris a while longer to get up. They picked a bungalow when they came to LA because it was easier, not because Chris couldn't manage it. But if they wanted more rooms, a two story house was more ideal. Steps would help with physio for him now he was getting older.

"Mummy." Once Amelia trotted upstairs after Eddie, Paul twisted to look at (Y/n) and when she hummed, he let go of her hand in favour of holding his arms out towards her.

"Don't tell me your legs can't carry you up the stairs." Both (Y/n)'s hands moved to her hips and she rose a brow as she looked down at her younger boy.

The way he frowned made her heart seize up and when he stomped his foot and whined, (Y/n) sighed. She leaned down and scooped him up, sitting him on her hip. She felt the way his leg smoothed up and down her stomach and he looked down with a perplexed expression like her bump was suddenly in his way. She was starting to show now and (Y/n) had a feeling that Paul was starting to get a bit jealous.

She pressed her free hand to the wall as she headed up stairs, making sure not to lean back so she didn't put herself off balance. The last thing they needed was a trip to the emergency room.

"Who would get which room?" Amelia looked around the landing, there was quite a lot of space upstairs and there looked to be a few rooms up here which was promising. And she knew her parents had come to look around the house last week. They had been to a few houses, but this was the first one the kids had been able to look round which meant they thought this was a prime candidate.

"Okay, me and your mum would have this room." Eddie turned to the right and moved over to the door at the far end of the hall. He headed inside and looked around as the kids followed suit and piled in.

When his eyes landed on (Y/n) he pursed his lips and looked at Paul who was cuddled up in her arms. She wasn't supposed to be carrying any of the kids, not now she was nineteen weeks along with twins.

Eddie set Tilly down to her feet so she could roam around and he loved how she peered into the walk-in wardrobe like she thought it would lead her to Narnia.

Once the kids nodded and inspected the room, Eddie moved back into the hall and pointed to the next room closest to theirs. "The twins would be in here."

They would have to have the twins room as close to theirs as possible. For the first few months, the twins would be in their room anyway for night feeds and settling them to bed. But after that, they would still have to be close by to be settled to bed and changed and looked after.

The room was a decent size with a small built-in wardrobe in the corner and a lilac carpet that looked almost brand new. The good thing about this house was that they wouldn't need to add any new carpets or change the laminate flooring downstairs which was one less job. It would just be painting and wallpapering the rest of the house, depending on what the kids wanted their rooms to look like.

"Lia, this one would be yours baby." (Y/n) juggled Paul a bit higher on her hip as he was starting to become heavy but she knew he didn't want to be set down yet. She reached her hand out for Amelia and pointed to the room opposite what would be the twins room. The one next to her and Eddie's room.

They let her wander in first, apprehension and excitement bubbling up inside of her as she headed in. It was a smaller room since she wouldn't be sharing and the twins would need more space, but the room was still a decent size for her bed and desk and tv and craft supplies. There was a quaint square window at the far end of the room, and when she turned to the right to look at the small space beside the door, she gasped.

There was a built-in vanity and mirror behind the door, perfect for her jewellery and make up.

"I like this one." She nodded her head as she did a rotation in the middle of the room.

When she leaned to look in the hallway, she reached out and took Eddie's hand, tugging him a bit closer to her. He tilted his head to the side, silently asking what was playing on her mind as he could see something hidden within her eyes.

"You'd hear if I seized in the night, right?" She had been nervous when they talked about moving house that her bedroom might be on the opposite side of the house to her parents. And she feared not sharing a room with Tilly and seizing during the night with no one nearby to help or hear.

She wanted a room of her own, Amelia was the eldest and she wanted her own space. All her friends at school got their own rooms, especially if they were the elder child. But she was always scared about having a seizure when she was alone, it was one of the reasons she wasn't left home alone.

"We'd hear you, Carino, don't worry. That's why this would be your room, so we're next door, and you can keep the guard on your bed."

Eddie and (Y/n) had already agreed that the twins and Amelia had to be near them. Tilly, Paul and Chris didn't need assistance during the night and they slept through the night so there was no issue of them having rooms further away from their parents. The twins and Amelia had to be nearby for emergencies and help during the night. And Amelia wanted the guard rail back on her bed after the seizure activity she'd been experiencing lately.

Eddie pecked Amelia's temple and squeezed her hand before they headed over to look at the bathroom. It was a decent sized room with a bath on the left side and a decent sized shower on the right. That was good for Amelia as she was reduced to only taking a bath if (Y/n) could be in the room with her as she was at risk of drowning if she seized in the bath.

(Y/n) took Tilly's hand and indicated for Chris to follow as they headed past the stairs to the landing on the left side where there were a further two rooms. These rooms were admittedly smaller, but it still have the kids space of their own.

"Tilly, you'd have this room." The room was rather compact but it was long with a rectangular shape rather than a box or square. It was enough for her bed, a small wardrobe and all her toys and her dolls house.

The little girl seemed equally excited to have her own room as she started to jump up and down and moved straight over to the window to see what she could look at. She had a view of the back garden, something which clearly made her smile. Tilly wanted her own room, she hated playing in her room if Amelia was there whereas here she would be able to chatter to her toys and mess around without being observed. And if Amelia woke during the night, it wouldn't disturb Tilly's sleep.

"What about us, do we have to share a room?" Chris was already stepping out into the hall and pointing towards the last bedroom up here.

This was a big house, with five bedrooms upstairs and Chris guessed if the girls had their own rooms, then he and Paul would still have to share. It wouldn't be such a bad thing, Paul liked sharing a room, but Chris couldn't deny that it would be fun to have a space to himself.

"Not if you don't want to." The smile on (Y/n)'s face intrigued Chris as he watched his mum open the bedroom door.

This room and Tilly's room were the same size, both the smallest of them all but still more than enough considering all the kids had shared rooms with each other for the last four years.

"There's a small room downstairs right next to the stairs and kitchen, we can make that a bedroom so you boys get to have a room each."

Just past the stairs before the kitchen there was a small box room on the left. It wasn't very big, but it was the perfect size for a bedroom and it meant almost all the kids would have their own room, only the twins would have to share which didn't seem like it would be an issue in the future.

"Paul, baby I think you'd have the room downstairs." (Y/n) nudged Paul up and down on her hip as she stood in the hall while Chris happily headed into the room that would be his if they chose this house.

It would be easier to have Chris upstairs so when he had a bath and got ready for bed, he wouldn't have to always hurry up and down the stairs. And he was often heading to the toilet during the night and with the bathroom being upstairs, it would be easier.

"No." A low whine left Paul's lips and he suddenly tightened his arms around (Y/n)'s neck causing her to groan. She began smoothing her hand up and down his neck, but when he started to wriggle and swing his legs, she leaned over.

She carefully set him down to his feet which immediately began to stomp on the carpeted floor and he grabbed (Y/n)'s leg, pressing into her like he was trying to topple them both over.

"What, you don't want your own room baby?"

"Not away from you! No! Put Lia downstairs." Another whine clawed at the back of his throat and when when he saw his dad and big sister walking out the bathroom, he pointed over at her.

She was the eldest, she could go downstairs. Paul didn't want to be down there when everyone else would have rooms upstairs. Especially not when his room would be the furthest away from his parents, that didn't seem fair. What if he wanted help during the night? What if he wanted to go into their room? He would have to scuttle all the way up stairs in the dark to get to them.

(Y/n) bit her lip and crouched down in front of him, pressing her bump into her thighs as she reached out for Paul's sides. But he continued to point and wail with tears welling up in his eyes.

"Baby, Lia has to be near us in case she's not well in the night, you'd be right downstairs, not far away-"

"It- it's not fair." With another wail, Paul pointed towards (Y/n)'s stomach and waved his hand, indicating to the twins. They were getting priority, their room was closest to their parents and he didn't like it. Paul didn't exactly need to be close to them during the night, and it wasn't as if he was being made to live in an out-house in the garden or far, far away. He was right downstairs, right below them. But he wasn't happy.

Twisting to the right, (Y/n) looked up at Eddie who was trying his best to smother a smile.

She had been right. He was getting jealous.

Letting go of Amelia's hand, Eddie moved forward when Paul continued to blubber and point at (Y/n)'s tummy as if it would do anything to remedy the situation.

He leaned down and scooped Paul up, stopping him from stomping his foot on the floor and throwing a small tantrum. He cuddled Paul into his chest and moved towards the stairs which caused the five year old to pause in his wails, unsure where he was now being taken.

"Come on soldier, let's take a look at your room. Having your own room means you pick the colour, you can have posters and shelves for your trucks and toys. What colour do you want your room, hm?"

Eddie kissed Paul's cheek as he got to the bottom step and turned left, aiming for the small room that was perfect for Paul, even if he didn't think so yet.

"But- but-"

"No buts, no getting jealous over the new babies, okay? Everyone gets their own room here, it's all fair and me and mummy need the twins with us, unless you wanna get up during the night to change a dirty nappy. Now I bet you want a bright orange room, right?"

"No! Purple room."

The five year old had already stopped crying and was now thinking of what he would like the room to be. His and Chris's room back home was blue and green with gaming stickers on the walls and night light stars stuck on the ceiling because Chris loved space. But Paul could have his room however he wanted it, and that was exciting, even if he would be the only one with a room downstairs.

(Y/n) moved her hand to her back to click it into place, but she looked over at the kids when Amelia moved towards her and Chris was already grabbing her hand, excitedly pulling on her arm.

"Is this the one?" Amelia's smile and that sparkle in her eye gave away the fact that she wanted this to be the house they picked.

It was the perfect size, the rooms meant everyone didn't have to share and they all got their own space. Downstairs was spacious, the garden was great and it was a quiet house. Plus, there was space between them and the neighbours so they wouldn't hear the neighbours arguing like they did back home.

"I think this is the one, baby."

***

Tilting back, (Y/n) leaned her shoulders back into the headboard and slowly uncurled her legs that had been crossed beneath her for far too long. Her toes curled and her feet bent as she straightened out and clicked her spine into place in the process.

A grin spread on her lips when the bedroom door opened and she looked over at Eddie. His hair was sopping wet and forming into hundreds of curls which flopped all across his temple and near his ears. He had a towel slung around the back of his neck like a scarf and a pair of boxers strapped on his hips, showing he'd just been for a shower.

She loved the smirk on his face when he caught her eye but when Eddie caught his foot on one of the many boxes littering their bedroom, (Y/n) couldn't help but laugh. Her hand moved to smother her lips as Eddie stumbled, reaching his hand out on the end of the bed so he didn't fall flat on his face.

"Something funny?" He muttered with a sly grin as he clambered onto the end of the bed and began crawling up over her legs.

"Have a nice trip?" She knew it was cheesy and a gasp tumbled past her lips when Eddie's hands moved to her sides and he started dragging the tip of his index finger along her waist. He knew exactly where to make her ticklish and he loved the way her legs nudged against his knees as he hovered over her thighs.

(Y/n) ceased his actions by cupping his damp face in her hands and pulling him in for a kiss. Her teeth nipped at his lower lip and she felt his hands stop tickling her in favour of cupping her hip and tracing one hand along her bump to feel for the twins.

"What're you up to?" Eddie muttered against her lips before he traced his kisses down her jaw and attached to her neck instead. He looked across to his side of the bed that was currently occupied by garments and clothes and onesies all laid out in piles.

"Seeing what we can use again."

Eddie leaned his cheek on (Y/n)'s shoulder so he could look at what she had gotten out.

There were a few things they had kept from when Paul was a baby, mostly as keepsakes. There were a lot of Winnie The Pooh onesies, bibs and little hats as Chris had helped pick them all out.

Reaching out, Eddie skimmed his fingers across the small pink dress next to (Y/n) as a smile danced across his face. "I remember this one."

It was a dress with a frill at the bottom and across the middle, it read 'Daddy's Princess' with a crown beneath it. That was one that Buck had given them once they had Tilly and learned they had another girl. They always waited until the birth to find out the genders and this was no different, they didn't want to know yet.

"Hm, I like that one." (Y/n) leaned across to peck his cheek. She remembered that was a favourite that Eddie would always put Tilly in if he was the one dressing her each day. She lived in that dress for the first few months and (Y/n) couldn't bear to throw it out once Tilly outgrew it.

"Let's hope we have at least one girl in here then." Eddie leaned back on his heels so his hands could cup (Y/n)'s stomach.

He tilted forward so he could press his lips to her bump. Eddie knew the team were starting to take bets on what gender the babies would be. He himself didn't care, but he thought it would be rather fitting if they had a boy and a girl, then they would have three of each.

"It's a good job we kept Tilly's cot in the attic." She murmured quietly, watching a look flash over Eddie's devilish eyes.

"Hm, intuition."

Neither of them were sure why they kept Tilly's cot once she grew out of it. Granted, she had not long gotten her big girl bed, but instead of selling the cot or giving it away, Eddie just put it up in the attic to be dealt with later. It must have been intuition that Tilly just might not be their last baby after all. And now it meant they only had to get one more cot as opposed to getting two new ones.

(Y/n) began to card her fingers through Eddie's hair when he shifted round to lay between her legs. She loved the sweet smile on his lips and the hazy look in his eyes when he rested his chin on her stomach so he could look up at her.

She brushed the damp locks away from his temple and started to ruffle and style them while the tv blurred some strange tv show in the background.

All the kids had boxes in their rooms and the living room was piled high with bags and suitcases and boxes. In three days, they were officially moving out. Last week, (Y/n), Eddie and Hen had been to the new house and decorated the living room and the kid's rooms. They had painted and wallpapered, knowing it would be much easier to decorate first before they officially got the kids moved in. And Hen had been more than happy to help.

"Mummy, my teddy-" Tilly pushed open the bedroom door with one of her teddies tucked under her arm. She only had a few teddies left on her bed as every other toy had been plugged away ready for the move.

But when she moved towards the bed and realised Eddie was laid on (Y/n), her little eyes narrowed and she stood right at the side of the bed next to them.

Twisting his head to the left, Eddie leaned his cheek against (Y/n)'s bump to look down at their youngest.

"What's up, princess?"

"What you doing?" There was an accusing tone in Tilly's confused words and she pinned her teddy tighter to her chest as she waited impatiently for an answer. Her stern demanour made (Y/n)'s lips form into a grin and she felt Eddie chuckling quietly against her.

"Giving the babies a kiss, why?" To make his point, Eddie turned his head and pressed another sloppy kiss to (Y/n)'s stomach.

The three year old frowned deeply at Eddie's actions and when she took notice of the baby clothes and the blankets scattered on the bed, she looked increadibly put out. All of a sudden, Tilly tossed her teddy to the floor and stomped her foot down on the carpet which made a small echo around the room now that it was practically bare.

Eddie rolled his lips together, doing his best to supress his grin at how amusing Tilly looked when she got stroppy. And he could feel (Y/n)'s fingers pausing through his hair and she let out a little chuckle.

"No. I'm the baby."

Her words were affirmative and her little hands clenched into fists, but it was the tears bubbling up in her eyes that made Eddie's heart jump. She was used to being the youngest and having everyone refer to her as the baby. With them having four kids, Amelia was referred to as the eldest and Tilly was always called the baby.

Even when Eddie's parents rung up almost every week to see how the kids were, they were used to saying 'how's the baby?' or 'how's the little one' and Tilly absolutely loved it. She loved when Eddie told everyone she was his baby, but now she was starting to realise that two new babies in the family meant she wouldn't be the littlest anymore.

She wouldn't be the baby of the family, there would be two new siblings younger than her for the family to fuss over, and she didn't like the sound of that.

"You're not the only baby, princess." Eddie watched with amusement as Tilly stomped her foot again before she tried to clamber onto the bed. She climbed over the back of his legs, causing him to groan, until she was on her knees in the middle of the bed at their side.

"I'm the baby." She almost whined before she flopped into (Y/n)'s arm and tried to burrow into her.

"No, we've got two more babies in here. But you're the only princess." Eddie pecked her cheek to try and soften her up. It had been a long time since he'd called Amelia 'princess', she always preferred Eddie calling her Carino and when she had been younger she especially loved when Eddie would call her beautiful.

Tilly huffed and looked like she might even burst into tears, but being the one and only princess was almost as good as being the only baby.

She burrowed her face into (Y/n)'s chest and started to wriggle around while Eddie went back to leaning his cheek on (Y/n)'s stomach so he could look at the tv. His hands idly ran up and down her waist but his eyes glanced back to Tilly when she started to move. Her knees coiled up, but she suddenly started to prod her hand at (Y/n)'s stomach.

"What're you doing?" (Y/n) began to card her fingers through Tilly's hair, feeling utterly loved by having her youngest cuddling into her and Eddie laid on top of her glued to her frame like this. Although it was strange to feel Tilly prodding and poking at her stomach.

"Babies are in the way." She huffed with an unhappy expression, but her eyes widened and she gasped when she poked (Y/n)'s tummy and felt a kick in response.

Her eyes darted to look over at Eddie who lifted his cheek from (Y/n)'s bump to press his lips there instead.

"Ooh, you've woken them up now." He murmured just to see the way Tilly's eyes widened and she started to rub (Y/n)'s bump rather than prod at her. Clearly trying to soothe them instead in case she would get into trouble for waking them up.

[leighsartworks216]

Let Me Help You

Zayne x gn!Reader

I just copy/pasted this from my notes bc I am too tired to go through and retype it all 👍

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentally/emotionally abusive parents, crying, communication, food + cooking, domestic, established relationship

Word Count: 1,019

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You felt awful. Watching Zayne try to rescue dinner. The dinner you were so determined to make for him. You weren't bad at cooking, but (and you'd be the last to admit this) you got in way over your head with the recipe you chose. The amount of multitasking required to make it meant it fell apart before you even turned the stove on. Which meant half of the food was overcooked (not burnt, just... crispy and tough), and the other half was undercooked (which Zayne was trying to deal with now).

You dropped your head onto the kitchen table, hiding in the cover of your arms. You're not sure when you start crying. All you know is you have to keep it tamped down, have to keep it from Zayne, have to pretend you're not. You've already bugged him enough for one night.

Glass makes contact with the wooden table, mixing with the gentle clatter of silverware. You risk peeking out with one eye to see a plate full of the scavenged meal. You didn't have the appetite for it anymore. You go back to your moping.

Zayne's chair slides across the floor, muffled by felt attached to the bottom of the legs. He's sitting just there. It ignites an unfamiliar swarm of fire ants in your body; they crawl and chatter and fester under your skin. You dig your fingers into your arm, preparing for the worst.

"My love," he says softly. When you don't answer, he pulls your hand from your arm. He holds it tenderly, rubbing along your knuckles in a familiar display of his affections. "Talk to me, please."

You inhale shakily. "Are you upset?" you mutter. It's muffled and quiet, but he pieces it together.

"I'm not upset, but I am worried. It's not like you to do something like this."

"It's not like you..." Unfortunately, that is the problem.

You hesitantly lift your head. You don't let him go, but you don't look at him as you wipe the tears from your face. He squeezes your hand a little tighter. "My parents called..." you finally admit.

Zayne had only ever met them once. It was the single most uncomfortable, disquieting experience possible. You'd ended up leaving that dinner party early, but you still couldn't manage to cut them out of your life. They're your parents, they should be kind, loving and understanding - and somehow you trick your brain before every call into thinking they are, up until they open their mouths.

He sighs, frowning. "What did they say?"

"They said that... you do too much around the house after working as hard as you do. That I should be pulling my weight more, be a better partner." You keep going before he can argue against their claims. "They're right, though. I mean, you work so hard at the hospital and then you come home and cook? I should have something ready for you. You should be able to relax right after work, not keep working to take care of me after all that.

"So I thought..." You sigh, rubbing at your sore eyes. "I thought I would make you something. Something proper, not just, like, stuff from the convenience store down the block."

"May I say something?" he asks quietly.

Your chest clenches painfully at every thought of what he could say, but you nod regardless. He squeezes your hand again like a silent thank you.

"Taking care of you is not work to me. It never has been," he starts. He speaks firmly, but not unkindly. He knows why you think that way, knows your parents have spent every minute of their lives cementing that into your head and reinforcing it with every phone call berating you for taking up too much time and space. But it's not true. Never.

He continues, "I enjoy being able to come home from work and spend time in the kitchen with you. I always look forward to it. And even if we order food in, I never mind, because I will be eating it with you. Do you understand?"

You stare down at your joined hands. Their outlines blur into smudged watercolor as tears build back up in your eyes. You wipe them away and nod.

"You are the best partner I could ever hope for."

You watch as he brings your hand to his face. He kisses your palm and gently nuzzles it open with his cheek so you hold his face. He smiles softly at you. It's the first time you've looked at his face since he got home. He was starting to miss it, the way your gaze feels so warm on him.

"I'm sorry," you croak out.

"It's alright," he reassures. "Please talk to me the next time you have doubts like this. While I appreciate the gesture, choose a simple recipe next time."

A laugh bubbles out of you despite yourself. He kisses your hand again. How he missed that smile.

"Okay."

It fades back into a troubled frown a moment later. It's like the sun peeking out on an overcast day, only to be covered up by the next passing cloud.

"I can still do more around the house. I feel like I don't do enough for everything you do for me."

He hums thoughtfully. "Let's make a list of chores. We can divide them between us until it feels balanced. Is there anything else?"

You mindlessly stroke his cheek with your thumb. He leans into it. He can see the thoughts fighting in your head. See the way you fight on both sides in the war of indecision. It seems there is a clear winner, when you finally, finally look him in the eye.

"I think," you start in a nervous, broken whisper, "I need help cutting them off."

"Let me help you," he whispers in return, a plea.

You nod with little hesitation. "Okay."

"Is there anything else?" he asks again.

"Just one more thing.” You glance at the plates of food before you. "Can we get takeout?"

He chuckles softly. "Yes, we can get takeout."

---

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