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trickphotography2 · 2 days ago

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'tis the damn season | Epilogue II

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 4K

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin finally went home to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his 'pregnant' fiancee to his family was a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. But when the truth came out, he turned to his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

After getting married and having twins, the Jake and Julie are ready to spend Christmas together and relax.

Epilogue | Master List | Ao3

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Epilogue II

Car doors slammed and Cece froze, french fry suspended in mid-air. Shoving the food in her mouth, she slid off the counter and crept toward the bay window in the living room, stepping over discarded toys and books. The sight of her husband leaning into the back seat of his truck usually made her happy, but today, she groaned, eyes fluttering closed with exhaustion. “Shit,” she breathed, forcing her eyes open and rushing back into the kitchen. Another curse fell from her lips when she stepped on a Barbie hair brush, the plastic bristles embedding in her sock. Hopping on one foot, she dislodged it and tossed the offending toy away.

The front door opened, and the usual chaotic sounds of backpacks and jackets hitting the floor rang out. It covered the crinkling of the bag holding her half-eaten lunch and the muffled snap of the walk-in pantry door shutting when she darted inside. Not daring to turn on the light, she moved a few steps inside and collapsed onto the floor. “Take off your shoes!” Jake called.

“Mama! We home!”

“Mama!”

“Mama, where ARE you?”

“Yeah, where is Mama?” Jake asked.

As the three-year-old twins' voices drew closer, Cece hoped the childproof doorknob cover would continue to confuse them. But, knowing her luck, this would be the day her snack-fiend little ones would accomplish the difficult task of squeezing and twisting. As much as she loved her children, it had been a long day - hell, a long week - at the bakery in the lead-up to Christmas, to the point that she couldn't stop to eat.

So yes, hiding in the pantry from her children wasn’t her proudest parenting moment, but damn it, she was hungry and wanted to eat her chicken and fries in relative peace and comfort. Sitting on the floor made her aching feet feel better, though the cold floor was killing her back. It had never quite recovered after her pregnancy - not that a job where she was constantly on her feet made it any better.

A chiming noise startled her, and she swiped the fry grease onto her flour-dusted legging before grabbing her phone. Cece groaned at the picture on the screen: her drink with a prominent fast food logo on the cup. Wanna explain, Mrs. Seresin? So close to dinner?

Don’t rat me out, and I’ll give you a chicken tender

Deal

Cece bit her lip to keep from laughing at the speed of his reply. From the other side of the door, she heard a clap. “I wonder if Mama’s taking a nap?”

“Yeah!” Liam said.

“Naps are for babies,” Abby huffed.

“Naps are for tired parents and growing kiddos,” he countered. “Now, we have to be very quiet in case she is sleeping, alright?”

“Shhhh,” Liam shushed loudly.

“Right. Now, where would Mama take a nap? The bathtub?”

“No!” the twins giggled.

“Really? Mama took naps in the bathtub when we were in college. Wanna go check?” The sound of running was the only response, followed by a cautious, “Be careful - and don’t wake Mama up!”

The pantry opened quickly, allowing her the briefest glimpse of a silhouette before shutting. The sound of callouses on the wall was her only warning before the overhead light turned on. Clapping a hand to her eyes, Cece heard a deep chuckle and peeked through her fingers to see a sight for sore eyes: Jake crouching in front of her, his green eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter. When her hand dropped, he lifted her cup to his mouth, sipping from the straw. “I only slept in the bathtub once.”

The unexpected words made him choke on the soda, and he cleared his throat before setting the cup beside her. “Your 21st was pretty memorable, from what I heard,” he agreed. Carefully lowering his bad knee to the floor, he planted a hand beside her hip and curved the other around her cheek.

Jake still smiled every time he kissed her.

Cece’s eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes dusting the tops of her cheeks. The tension drained from her body when their noses brushed. His forehead pressed against hers, and her hand curled around the back of his neck, tangling in the short hairs. “Hey, Cupcake.”

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Another long day?” Sighing, she nodded, trying - and failing - to open her eyes. “Almost over, at least.”

“Thank god. Remind me to hire more staff next year.”

“Will you listen to me next time or tell me the same thing you did this year?” The thinly veiled ‘told you so’ was motivation enough to open one eye and half-heartedly glare. Jake’s whispered suggestion that she bring on holiday staff had been dismissed whenever he brought it up. Even though the coffee shop/bakery was doing well, increasing payroll - even temporarily - still felt risky when she could handle the work with her usual crew. But the volume of sales and orders kept increasing, and she’d returned to work multiple times after putting the twins to bed to prep for the following day.

Chuckling, he leaned forward to kiss her again. “You’re a meanie-head,” she muttered, using their son’s favorite insult. He laughed against her mouth, pulling away to run his thumb lightly over the dark circles under her eyes.

“Well, this ‘meanie-head’ misses you. You have to go back - ”

“Daddy!”

“Where he go?”

Small hands slapped the pantry door, and they both bit back a groan. “Maybe if we’re really quiet, they’ll go away,” Cece whispered. That hope quickly went out the window when the pounding continued, joined by the spinning of the child lock on the knob and a thud.

“Hey!” Jake snapped. “You better not be kicking my doors.” The pounding stopped immediately. “Go sit on the couch. Daddy’ll be there in a minute.” The twins loudly made their way out of the kitchen as Cece smothered her laughter at their childish grumbling, resting her head on his shoulder. “They get that from you,” he huffed.

“Excuse me! You’re the one who punches trees.”

“Not for years.”

“Thank god. We know how it ended the last time you did.”

“Pretty sure it ended with you kissing me.” Wrapping her fingers in the collar of his flight suit, she kissed him again.

“Who would have thought we’d be hiding in the pantry six years later?”

“Who woulda thought,” he agreed. “Now, I think you owe me a chicken tender, Mrs. Seresin.” Groaning, her head tipped back, and she smiled when Jake’s mouth gravitated to the hinge of her jaw.

“Any chance you’d be willing to exchange a tender for something else, Lieutenant Commander Seresin?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Gift wrapping tonight, then maybe…” her fingers skated down his front, toying with the zipper tab.

“Bedtime can’t come soon enough,” he murmured before crushing his lips to hers. She didn’t notice his hand sneaking into the bag at her hip until he pulled away and clamped a fry between his teeth. Reaching behind her, he grabbed two juice boxes from the shelf and pushed to his feet. “Enjoy your contraband. I’ll keep them distracted for a bit.”

With a wink, he walked out of the pantry. Greeted by the squeals of the kids, he quickly closed the door, hiding her from view.

A loud moan burst from her mouth, and Cece turned to stifle it in her arm. Jake chuckled from where he knelt between her thighs, hands closing around her waist when she pushed back against him. “Feel good, baby?” A whimper and nod were her response, and he grinned, planting a fist in the mattress by her shoulder and brushing aside her shower-dampened hair to kiss the back of her neck. Cracking one eye open, she smiled sleepily at him.

“Harder.”

“I feel like I’m gonna break your back if I go harder,” he said, shifting back onto his knees and resting his hands on the swell of his wife’s ass.

“You won’t,” she assured him, wiggling slightly to invite him to return his hands to where she wanted them. After a moment, she felt his thumbs digging into her lower back and moaned again. Pregnancy had destroyed her back, and - contrary to what the doctors said - it wasn’t getting better on its own. After spending a small fortune on massages, Jake started watching videos online and offered to do them.

“It’s the least I can do,” he’d teased before the first one, his touch light and unsure. “Especially after you did all the work to have them both look like me.”

Cece hoped the massages wouldn’t stop after her MRI in January.

Goosebumps erupted on her skin when his fingers grazed the curve of her breast as his hands moved higher, thumbs running parallel to her spine. The bed dipped as he moved to her side, and Cece lifted her head to rest on her folded arms. Through half-lidded eyes, she watched him work; his brows furrowed with concentration as he soothed her aching muscles. As much as she loved the attention from her husband, it was bittersweet. She knew he felt some misplaced sense of guilt over her body not bouncing back after delivering the twins, and he was well aware of her reluctance to discuss having any more kids until they figured out what was wrong. Living off of over-the-counter painkillers and dealing with tingling in her arms and fingers wasn’t fun, and he hated thinking about the night her pain had flared up so badly that he’d had to carry her into the emergency room while Phoenix and Rooster sat with the twins.

Cece hated that it sometimes felt like she was edging closer to eighty than in her thirties and that she couldn’t play with her kids as much as she wanted to without feeling it the next day. But not a single part of her would have changed it if it meant being without Abigail and Liam. She loved talking to them about their day at ‘school’ - the daycare on base that they were fortunate enough to get spots in - and everything they learned that day. Kneeling by the tub and watching the epic stories they created with their toys. The weight of them crawling into their bed after waking up in the middle of the night, fingers tangling in her hair, and the odd elbow, knee, or foot nudging her, echoing their movements when she’d carried them.

But most of all, Cece loved seeing Jake as a father. Having witnessed the Seresin men parent for years, it shouldn’t have been surprising that he took to it like a duck to water. He had been there for every midnight feeding, helping to juggle the babies on the nursing pillow and cooing as they burped or spit up. There was no judgment when she couldn’t hold them when it came time for shots, and she fell in love with him just a little more when she saw the tears gleaming in Jake’s eyes as their children wailed after every injection. The way he sought her out after having to mete out punishment, curling up in her lap and regretting making their little lips wobble and tears spill down their cheeks as he dissected every word made her want to laugh and cry and hold him.

“Will’s the same way with the boys,” Ally had once told her. “He hates punishing them and thinks they’ll hate him forever, no matter how many times I tell him they’ll forget about the time out or getting sent to bed without dessert. He thinks he’s traumatizing them.”

And Abigail… she was a force to be reckoned with. Older by fourteen minutes, she was well aware of her status as the firstborn and had inherited generations of Seresin bull-headedness. When Cece had remarked on this to her mother-in-law, Mama Seresin had only laughed. “Your mama and daddy come from a long line of stubborn folks, too, Julie. My granddaughter comes by it honest from her grandparents AND her parents.”

Liam, though… Liam was her sweet boy, who loved to cuddle with her. A true mama’s boy, he broke his daddy’s heart every time he pushed out of his arms and reached for her. On nights she worked late, Cece would inevitably get a call from her son, tears on his face as he begged her to come home. It bothered Jake how quickly the switch would flip - if she wasn’t home, Liam was fine. But when it came time for bed, or she was in sight, Liam wanted nothing to do with his father. Will had assured him that it was expected - Tyler had gone through the same thing, and Kevin was in the same stage - but it was cold comfort.

“Keep goin’, and I’m gonna fall asleep,” Cece yawned. Jake chuckled, pulling away when she rolled onto her side. Lifting a heavy arm, she slung it over his shoulders and tugged him down. His lips were soft as he settled between her thighs, and she pushed down his shorts. Jake’s cock sprung free, and she took him in hand. He grunted, smirking against her mouth.

“Definitely worth a chicken tender.” That startled a laugh out of her, which choked off when he thrust into her. “Miss you, baby.”

“Holiday rush is almost over,” she panted as he rocked against her.

Afterward, she snuck into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and glasses while Jake grabbed the wrapping paper and gifts. And, as they wrapped presents, they caught up on each other’s day and traded kisses. Tipsy and tired, she giggled while pulling off her shirt and pressing two bows to her nipples, posing when her husband grabbed his phone and snapped a picture.

Thankfully, everything was hidden away when little hands opened the bedroom door. Jake lifted the twins into bed when Abby poked him awake, forfeiting his time to spoon with his wife. Instead, he cuddled his daughter to his chest as Liam starfished over his mother, his towhead tucked under her chin and fingers tangling in her shirt.

“Squeeze gently,” Cece cautioned, then bit her lip when a glob of green frosting burst out of the piping bag.

“Beautiful,” Jake snickered. Liam beamed at his dad before setting aside the bag and rearranging the frosting with his finger.

“Definitely a cookie for Santa,” she said, watching Jake’s smile drop just a fraction. He was responsible for eating Santa’s cookies. Eating anything sweet after taste-testing her products for weeks turned Cece’s stomach.

“Daddy, look!” Abby said before dumping almost an entire container of sprinkles onto her cookie. Thankfully, the paper plate caught most of them, but the rest rained down on the table, bouncing and hitting the floor.

“Looks like another Santa cookie!” Shooting his wife a look, Jake started to sweep up the sprinkles from the table while Cece grabbed the broom. Having the kids decorate cookies on Christmas Eve was always more fun in theory than practice.

After dictating letters to Santa and a spectacular sea battle in the bathtub that left all the Seresins soaked, it was bedtime. The twins shared a room, and Liam pulled Cece into his bed while Abby and Jake grabbed three books. The twin bed was a tight squeeze for the four of them, and Jake had to keep a foot on the floor to keep from falling out.

The twins were asleep by the end of the Polar Express, and he moved Abby to her bed while Cece carefully extracted herself from Liam’s grasp. Together, they tiptoed out of the room, splitting off at the kitchen. “What time do you want to put the stuff out?” Jake asked, walking into the living room and offering her a glass of water. Lying on his stomach with his head resting on her chest, he tucked his head under her chin, shivering with pleasure when Cece’s fingers carded in his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp. One arm dangled from the side of the couch while the other loosely wrapped around her, eyes drifting closed.

“Maybe an hour? That way, they’re really asleep and before they come into our room.”

“You think we’ll ever get our bed back to ourselves?”

“Not for a few years,” she smirked.

He was silent for a long moment, then sighed. “‘M gonna miss this when I deploy.”

“Me too.” The notice had hit his inbox a few weeks ago, and he’d told her as soon as the kids were in bed. While he’d gone on a few short missions since their birth, this would be the first time he would be gone for an extended period. “It’s only three months.”

“A long three months.”

“It’s what? A couple weeks longer than a semester?” She asked, lifting a shoulder. “We’ve done longer than that.”

“What if the kids forget about me?” His eyes shot open when Cece flicked the tip of his nose.

“Please. They won’t forget about you because you’re away for a few months.” Catching her hand, he ran his thumb along her wedding band as her nails lightly scratched the back of his neck.

“They might.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“They’re little, and their memories aren’t that good.”

“Three months isn’t enough time to erase three years. Your kids aren’t going to forget you.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” That made her pause for a heartbeat.

“I’ll miss you.”

“You’re gonna be outnumbered.”

“It’ll be easier than when they were both in diapers.”

“I’m thinking of dropping my papers.” Cece’s movements froze as she blinked down at the crown of his head, eyebrows nearly reaching her hair. “I just… I don’t want to lose my family to the Navy. Not again.”

Shaking off his hold, her palm rasped on his stubble as she encouraged him to meet her soft gaze. Worry creased his brow, the Christmas tree lights twinkling in his solemn green eyes. “You won’t, Farm Boy. I promise you - Abby, Liam, and I will be here waiting for you to come home.”

“I worry - ”

“I know you do,” she cut him off. “And I love you for it. But we’ll be okay. Let’s… let’s talk about dropping your papers in the New Year if you’re really thinking about it.”

“I am.”

“Alright. I just…” her teeth dug into her lower lip momentarily before clearing her throat. “I don’t want you makin’ a hasty decision after all of the work you put in without giving us a chance to prove that we can do it.” When he opened his mouth to reply, Cece placed her finger over his lips. “The New Year.”

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he pushed onto his hands and kissed her, licking into her mouth. Time seemed to slow as they made out on the couch like teenagers, the couch feeling just slightly larger than his truck cab in high school.

And, after putting the presents under the tree and stuffing the stockings, Jake flipped the lock on their bedroom door after pressing his wife against it, fingers delving into her panties to find her wet.

Not even an hour later, small hands hitting wood woke them, accompanied by sleepy cries for Mama. Pausing only long enough to pull on his boxers and toss Cece her clothes, he crossed the room and unlocked the door. The twins stumbled in, Abby raising her arms for him to lift her while Liam rubbed his eyes and ambled toward his mother’s outstretched arms. “C’mere baby,” Cece cooed.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” the kids screeched as the call connected, and they caught sight of their grandparents. Nursing her second cup of coffee and nibbling on another orange cranberry scone, Cece smiled at her in-laws. After saying their hellos, the grandparents focused on their grandchildren, making appreciative noises at everything they tried to share while talking over one another.

Setting aside his second plate of French toast casserole, Jake acted as a cameraman as Liam showed off his new dinosaurs and Hot Wheels, and Abby her baby dolls and dress-up clothes.

Thankfully, the only knitted baby blanket this year had been addressed to Abby for her toys.

Will and Ally were at the main house, and Jake and Cece caught sight of them as the phone was passed around. Ty and Kev took their turn showing off their presents, and the four cousins talked over one another.

But then Bill took the phone and cleared his throat. “Your Granny and I got you kids a present. I need you to put on your boots and jacket so we can go see it.”

“What’d you get, Pops?” Jake asked, shooting a look at his wife.

“Just something for them to enjoy whenever y’all come out. Keep ‘em distracted while we paint the house.” The bi-annual house painting was scheduled for the summer, not too long after Jake was to get home from the deployment. They’d already decided to take time off and drive home on a road trip, partly to allow themselves to explore and partly to save on the expense of flying the four out and renting a car.

Once the family was bundled up and the twins settled in their parents' laps, Bill led them outside to the barn. Jake bit his tongue, having a pretty good idea of the gift. The camera shook as Bill told his grandsons to stay back before passing it off to Mama Seresin.

And there, standing in the last stall with its head peeking out, was a spotted Appaloosa. She stuck out on a farm that mainly bred Quarterhorses and American Paints. “Horsie!” Abby squealed, bouncing in Jake’s lap as he ran a hand down his face.

“Pops.”

“You got them a horse?” Will huffed.

“She’s beautiful!” Ally sighed.

“Broken for riding already,” Bill said proudly, striding closer and petting her forelock. “Her last owners said she loved kids and taught theirs how to ride.” Ty and Kevin got closer, each holding one of Will’s hands.

“How big is she?” Cece asked.

“Just under 15 hands,” Mama Seresin answered. “And sweet as can be. Don’t worry, Julie - the twins will be in good hands with her.”

And they were. When summer came, the Seresin grandchildren took turns riding Nutmeg. Abby and Liam were only slightly behind their cousins in riding lessons and would have stayed in the barn all day if allowed.

So when Jake saddled up two horses, handing Abby up to Cece, and settled his son in front of him, the twins held tight to the saddle horns and grinned excitedly. After months of physical therapy, Cece was feeling better than ever with her back pain - multiple bulging disks right where her uterus had pulled on her spine - finally being addressed. “Ready?” he asked, looking back at his wife, who nodded and adjusted Abby’s little cowgirl hat on her head. The ride across the ranch was slower; both parents worried about kids bouncing out of saddles, but it was still enjoyable. Liam, who had clung to Jake after he got home, asked a million questions as they rode.

Under his favorite tree on the property, Cece laid out a picnic she’d packed while Jake tumbled in the high grass with the kids. When called to eat, he sat beside his wife and listened to her story about running into Betty Roberts in the grocery store. He was positive that there was some new story about them running through Magnolia. There were plans to have dinner with Lucy and her family and to stop by the firehouse to introduce the kids to some of Brian’s friends.

And, of course, they needed to visit her parents.

On their last night in Magnolia, they sat on the front porch swing, watching the twins chase fireflies with their cousins. With his eyes drooping closed and his wife’s head resting on his shoulder, he sighed contentedly.

“Hmm?” Cece hummed.

“Nothin’,” Jake replied. “Just thinkin’ about how happy I am to be home.”

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Author's Note: I couldn't *not* revisit Jake and Julie at Christmas. I credit @tgmreader for encouraging me to continue writing these two. I had fun going back through the fic and pulling out reminders of my favorite scenes (such as Jake being comforted by Cece on the couch, and having Liam sleep the same way).

I definitely pulled the back pain part from my friend's experience with it after having her twins.

Happy (belated) Christmas to those who celebrate!

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#top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #'tis the damn season fic #cowboy Jake Seresin

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starmieknight · 3 days ago

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Stars Align

The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

AO3 link

Concept Art

Legend of the Gobblewonker (Art)

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3 (previous)

It had been a couple of days since the Wax Stan fiasco. There wasn't much going on around the Shack apart from the usual tourist groups and the gnomes fighting the local wildlife for trash can rights. Pretty normal stuff. Almost like it had been for the thirty years without the twins around.

Still, the peace couldn't last.

Stan didn't know it at the time, but the next couple of days were about to be more exciting than anything that had happened yet that summer.

And it all started with a television commercial.

Stan grins as the latest tour group gathers around him, all eager to throw their money away into his Mystery Sack. Really, these guys would fall for anything! And they're happy to do it, a few of the older women even going so far as to pinch his cheeks.

It's a weird feeling, having these women look at him like he's adorable or something. Yuck. He's old enough to be their husband. They shouldn't be cooing over him like he was some scamp of a grandson.

He'd never had any old ladies doing this when he really was a kid back in Jersey. They were usually running him off with a broom for stealing pies or something off the windowsill.

Stan plastered his showman smile on as the last lady turned to him, feeling the strain of keeping an act up as she patted his cheek maternally.

"Such a handsome young man," the lady sighs. "And a good son, too ― running this place for your dad. I've met him, you know. The Mystery Shack was a favorite stop of mine when we were younger. I didn't even know Stanford had a son… Is he around?"

The hopeful look in the lady's eyes and the slight pink in her face was enough to keep Stan from bolting into the house. The question felt kind of shady, but he also had vague memories of flirting it up with this particular woman over the years. From dark hair to the silvers he had worn until just recently, she had been around for quite a while.

He still couldn't remember her name.

"Uh, yeah, that's me!" He said as cooly as he could manage, tugging at his collar. Why did the tie suddenly feel suffocating? "Stanford’s son!"

"You said your name was Stan, too, didn't you? At the start of the tour? Are you a junior?" The lady smiled in a way that might have been teasing, but Stan was already shuddering at the thought of being named after his father.

Let Ford have that one all to himself. He was fine with his middle name being his mother's maiden name. Romanoff sounded pretty cool, anyway.

"No! Nononono," he waved his hands frantically. "I'm― Lee! Stanley Pines… The Second! Named after an uncle."

"Aw, how sweet, carrying on a family legacy like that." The lady patted his head once more. "Well, Stanley, tell your father that Dolores is back in town when you see him. Over at the Fall-In Hotel."

Stan felt his ears grow hot. Okay, maybe they hadn't just... flirted it up. More like, if she was around more often, Dolores would have been in line for the next, ex-Mrs. Mystery title.

"You got it, toots." He grinned, winking. Then flinched and backtracked. "I mean, Ma'am. Definitely ma'am. I gotta, uh ― go wash the goat! Bye!"

With the Mystery Sack tucked securely under his arm, Stan bolted for the Shack's backdoor, racing past the stairs to throw himself into his armchair.

"Ugh," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Dealing with an ex like this is the worst."

Soos patted his back sympathetically while the twins, both sprawled out on the floor, turned to look at him curiously.

"You have an old girlfriend outside?!" Mabel squealed with excitement, stars in her eyes.

"Emphasis on the old girlfriend." Stan raised a pointed eyebrow at her and gestured to his face. "She thinks I'm his son. Had to give her a stage name and everything."

Mabel wrinkled her nose. "That's... kind of weird."

"Very weird." Dipper agreed.

"What're we watching?" Stan asked, hiding his money sack beneath the chair cushion for now. He looked at the TV hopefully. "Tiger Fist?"

"We're waiting on the commercials now!" Mabel said brightly.

"Oh, look!" Soos said suddenly, pointing at the TV. "It's that commercial I was telling you dudes about!"

Stan's lip curled with disgust as the advertisement continued to play, Gideon Gleeful's annoyingly shrill tones ringing in his ears. It sounded even worse without his hearing aide muffling the sound. He missed being able to turn it off when he didn't want to listen to people talk.

He sat up enough to unbutton his jacket and toss it in the direction of the coat rack. It was entirely too hot this summer and he wanted out of his pants five minutes ago. He paused in the middle of stripping to stare at the pile of fabric on the ground, wondering why he had done that instead of hanging it up properly.

He always hung his jacket up ― ever since donning his Mr. Mystery persona.

Admittedly, he was a bit messy by nature, but leaving his clothes laying around haphazardly felt entirely too... teenager-ish.

Stan hurried to right his wrong and turned back to the kids in time to hear Dipper voice the desire to check out Gideon's road show.

"No!" Stan barked, face feeling itchy from the mere idea of getting close to the Tent of Telepathy. "Never! You are forbidden from patronizing the competition!"

Soos chuckled at him. "Dude, I can't take you seriously with that face. You're like a baby bear. So cute!”

Stan made a frustrated noise as he stomped up the stairs.

They'd listen to his warnings if they knew what was good for them.

_____________________________________________________________

And, of course, they didn't listen. They were his family ― why would they?

Pines were never good at keeping their noses out from where they didn't belong. (Usually their noses were too big to even bother with trying, but the twins were still growing into theirs.)

With only a quick stop by the Corduroy house to grab Wendy for backup (and boy was it weird, considering Dan didn't recognize Stan and tried giving him the shovel talk about taking Wendy out), Stan arrived at the Tent of Telepathy just in time to miss the show.

Thank Moses. He really didn't want to listen to Gideon sing some cutesy song and do his little dance. It was unsettling.

The only song and dance he ever sat through was that VHS tape of Dipper's Lamby Lamby Dance the twins' mom had sent him. He still had that, somewhere. Probably had the pictures of him holding the newborn twins somewhere, too.

He should really find those things. The kids would probably like to see them.

"Man, that kid's an even bigger fraud than Stan." Dipper was saying as he and Mabel exited the tent. "No wonder our uncle's jealous."

"I'm not jealous of that twerp!" Stan snapped, startling the kids. They looked up at him guiltily, Wendy merely shrugging when they turned to her for help. "I specifically forbade yous two from coming here and you still did it anyway! And what's worse is you dragged Soos along with you ― where is he anyway?"

"He went to get the truck," Dipper mumbled, tugging his cap over his eyes to avoid looking at his uncle.

"Oh, come on, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel smiled at him, eyes wide and sparkling. Oh, boy ― he'd have to stay strong if he wanted to stay angry. "Gideon's dance moves were adorable! And his hair is like, whoosh. Give him a chance!"

Your niece is being duped by this brat, Stanley.

The ideal of her trusting heart being taken advantage of was enough to relight the fire of anger in his heart.

“Absolutely not!" Stan growled, grabbing the twins and throwing them over his shoulder like sacks of potatoes. "We’re going home ― and I don't want to hear anymore about that Gideon brat or ― or I'll ground you!"

"You're pretty serious about that kid," Wendy observed with mild surprise. "Does he really get on your nerves that bad?”

"Doesn't he get on yours?" Stan retorted with a scowl. "I've heard you complain about him stealin' your fancy face lotion enough times to know you can't stand him, either."

Wendy grimaced at the reminder. "Yeah, that shit's expensive."

"Language!"

"Y'know," Wendy continued, ignoring him. She poked his cheek, earning a yelp from him as she pressed on a tender spot. "You could use some skincare yourself. You're breakin' out something bad, man."

"It's a Pines thing," Stan brushed her off, wincing at the itchy feeling overtaking his face. Now that she’d drawn attention to it, it was hard to ignore. "We got oily skin. What can I do about it?"

"Wash your face?" Wendy snorted. "They make specialty stuff for your skin type now. This isn't the sixties."

"I'm not puttin' any snake oil on my face, Wendy."

"I'll bring you some face wash tomorrow, Maybe a face mask, too."

"Oooh," Mabel perked up. "Spa day?"

"Don't even think about it, pumpkin.” Stan ordered sternly, pointing his finger at her as he deposited the twins in the El Diablo. "Yous guys are on house arrest ― we're not doing anything fun tomorrow except givin' tours and flossing tourists!"

___________________________________________________________

Wendy brought the face masks.

"I think this might even be more fun than my idea of bedazzling my face!" Mabel exclaimed happily, patting her panda mask into place.

Stan glowered at the TV, sat firmly in his chair with his arms crossed. He might have made an imposing figure, if not for the cat mask he was wearing. It was cold and sticky and smelt like plants.

His house was in the middle of the woods ― wasn't that enough nature for his body?

"That sounds like a painful idea." Dipper shot an amused look at his sister, to which she just sighed.

"I'm unappreciated in my time," she mourned, earning a pat on the back from Wendy. The redhead in question was wearing a dog mask and was watching Dipper like a wolf. There was still one face mask left and one blank slate left for her to work with.

Stan was actually looking forward to seeing if she could convince Dipper to go along with them or if Wendy would have to wrestle the boy down to put the product on his face.

Which was how she'd strong-armed Stan into participating.

Seriously ― she'd put him into a headlock and slapped the mask on him while he was choking.

It would have been impressive ― if he wasn't so humiliated by it.

She would have never even thought about it if he'd still had his old man body!

Ding! Dong!

Stan glanced over his shoulder at the door, moving to take off his mask.

Wendy slapped his hand down and glared at him.

"Fifteen minutes." She reminded him sternly.

He growled in frustration.

"It could be a tour group!" he protested. "I can't give a tour like this!"

"It could also be a salesman or something." Wendy rolled her eyes. "You're not getting out of this yet, man."

"Wendy..."

"I'll get it!" Mabel volunteered easily, hopping off Stan's lap where she'd been pinning him into place. "If it's a tourist, I'll scream really loud so you can get ready!"

Well, Mabel didn't end up screaming, but Stan thought that she should have.

From the first twangs of a Southern accent floating through the front door, Stan felt his blood pressure spike.

He threw himself out of the armchair, no longer worrying about Wendy and her face masks, and bolted for the door.

Gideon smiled up at him in a false show of innocence.

"Why, hello there! I'm Lil―"

Stan snatched Mabel back and slammed the door in Gideon's face.

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel cried out in shock, staring at him with the most wounded face he'd ever seen from her before. "Why did you do that?"

This was no accident, Stan! You did this!

Stan grimaced and shook his head to dislodge the unwanted memory. He fixed his glare on his niece and fought to stay in the moment.

This was a problem in the present, not the past.

"I'm not going to let that little fake lead you on, Mabel." He said sternly and crossed his arms. "He's no good."

"He's adorable and appreciates my style!" Mabel retorted hotly. "I'm just trying to make a friend. This is my summer vacation! I'm supposed to be out riding bikes and doing stupid stunts without adult supervision."

"You'd rather run off with a stranger than hang out with your family? You were just having fun putting slime on my face, in case you forgot!"

Mabel deflated slightly. "It was nice to do something I like with you and Wendy... but you're such a sour puss about it! Gideon actually likes doing stuff like this..."

Stan slumped, sighing. He ruffled her hair gently and pulled her into a hug.

"I'll try to keep the complaints down." Stan said quietly. "But no promises! I never did anything like this as a kid and it's strange to me. I― I never had friends as a kid, just a brother. And boys back then would've been in hot water for doing girly stuff like this. There ain't nuthin' wrong with it and takin' care of yourself. But the world was a lot more small-minded. Even for those free lovin' hippies."

He shuddered at the reminder of a certain long-haired guitarist.

"Yeah, I guess you and Grandpa would have been doing other stuff when you were my age." Mabel smiled weakly at him. "Kinda like us now. He's older than you, too. It must be weird being the 'teen' role model instead of being the little brother, huh?"

Stan's brow furrowed and he wondered how Shermie got pulled into the conversation.

He'd been so much older than them, so Stan and Ford didn't bond with him like―

Never had friends... Just a brother.

Stan froze.

Oh. Oh shit.

Ohnonono.

"Pretty weird kiddo." He said hollowly, ushering her back into the living room with Wendy and Dipper. He could feel his control slipping by the second and he knew he only had moments before he broke. Already his chest felt tight. "I gotta go ― make a phone call! Berightback!"

As soon as Mabel crossed the threshold of the room, Stan turned on his heel and bolted for his bedroom.The door slammed behind him and he sank down against it, burying his fingers in his hair.

Oh, sweet Moses ― he'd nearly ruined it all!

He was grateful, for what seemed like the first time in his life, to have another brother.

All his life, Shermie had felt more like a stranger to Stan than a sibling. Too old to play with his dumb baby brothers, then away at war while his wife and son crashed at the pawn shop. Then Stan was on the streets and Shermie moved across the country to Washington. He hadn't even come to 'Stanley's' funeral.

In fact, the last time Stan had seen his oldest brother was nearly thirteen years ago when the younger twins were born. They'd sat together outside the NICU, sharing anxious looks as they waited to hear if Dipper was going to live through the night after the complications he'd been born with. Shermie and Stan had even shared a relieved hug after they found out the boy was going to be fine and Shermie shared a story about something similar that had happened with Stanford and Stanley.

Not only had the Stan twins shared a placenta, but Stanley had been breached. While the nurses were quietly, exclaiming over Stanford's extra fingers and shooting nervous looks at Filbrick, who had forced his way into the delivery room, the doctors had converged on Caryn and were discussing the possibility of surgery to help deliver the second twin.

Stanley, however, was impatient and didn't take being separated from his twin well, even as an infant.

There hadn't even been enough time to unlock the brakes on the hospital bed and move their mother to the operating room before Stanley forced his way out into the world.

Poor little Shermie, who'd snuck into the room, was both horrified and amazed by the whole experience.

Little brothers, he'd commented while holding a tiny, baby Dipper, are a handful. You always gotta be on the lookout for them cause they'll give you a heart attack if you look away for a second.

And then he put Dipper in Stan's free arm, the other already occupied by a sleeping Mabel, and left him with the youngest Pines twins.

And Stan fell in love in an instant. So much so that he'd nearly gotten into a fistfight with Shermie about whose turn it was to cuddle the babies later.

But as much as he'd loved Dipper and Mabel, being around them was dangerous.

The more time he spent with his family, the more risk he took in keeping up his ruse.

So he'd stayed away and only sent letters and the occasional gift by mail.

He had planned on keeping the twins at an arm's length this summer, but that was proving futile at this point.

He nearly let precious info about Ford slip to Mabel in an attempt to connect with her and keep her out of Gideon's clutches.

Stan groaned miserably and leaned his head back against the door.

"Oh man, Sherm," he muttered into the empty room. "Little brothers may be a handful, but older siblings are no picnic, either."

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #stanley pines #stan pines #gravity falls stanley #gravity falls stan pines #grunkle stan #de aged Stan pines #de aging #my writing #17 again au #stars align

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kindred-spirit-93 · 4 months ago

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me asf

listen the Chinese were cooking SO HARD with the “red string of fate”

#red string of fate #it is a beautiful concept #now all i can think of is some sort of blacksmith coming between the (ill) fated lovers #yk to cut the string #asdfghjkl #i like to season things with tragedy #can u tell i like to hurt myself #but not in a love triangle sort of way idk i dont like them at all #GUARDIAN ANGEL OH MI GOD #some couple prayed very hard for a child and they were blessed with a healthy lil girl yay #she grows up knowing peace and love from her family #probably affluential idk #anyway #she has a guardain spirit #maybe her parents made a deal with a diety #regardless #she falls in love with someone #i just realised the plot is inconsistent. welp still going #and they meet in secret and its just the fluffiest fluff ever #all the feels #(btw its not a noble x peasant)#i think theres a lot of that kind of 'forbidden' love already #its more once upon a time these two families had a very big argument and have been enemies since #so much so that looking in their general direction is sin bc people historically are silly like that sometimes #fr look up rivalries in pre islamic arabia. shit got wild. there was once a 100 year war started over a camel. ANYWAY #wait this is just romeo and juliet #fuck #*sigh*#guardian angel takes mortal form of village blacksmith and keeps an eye out for our girl (idk if she knows the parents know all do or none)#and one day thanks to guardian angel powers TM he forsees misery and pain if their union is to live on

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zinaanqar · 2 months ago

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Help Secure a Future for a Whole Family - Me, Ahmed, my wife Dina, and our children Zeina, Eileen, Yamen, and Ronza 👶💙

✅️ Vetting info

#264 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here],

#741 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here]

#213 in the Gazavetters spreadsheet [here]

Donate now to save my children 🙏

I’m Ahmed Alanqar from Gaza, where we have lived our entire lives under siege, facing daily hardships and military actions. In October 2023, the conflict escalated catastrophically, destroying my newly built home, my neighborhood, my workplace, and robbing us of our sense of safety.

We are now homeless, desperately seeking a chance to build a new life away from the constant threat of bombings that have become our grim reality.

As we face this challenge, my children are always at the forefront of my mind: Zeina (8 years), Eileen (7 years), Yamen (5 years), and Ronza, who is just four months old and was born during the war.

My wife Dina and I dream of offering them better opportunities than we ever had, a future filled with security and happiness. 💜

Ronza: A Symbol of Innocence Amidst the Destruction 💝

Every time I look at Ronza, I see pure innocence in her eyes, unaware of the terror that surrounds us. She smiles and plays, oblivious to the danger and destruction around her. I can't help but wonder: How long will this innocence last? How long can we protect her and her siblings from this reality? I know that I want them to have a life they deserve, free from fear and filled with love and opportunity.

This Campaign is a Call for Hope, to Guide Our Children Toward a Better Tomorrow ✨

This call is for all who believe that every child deserves a life of dignity and safety. Your contribution is not just a donation; it’s an act of shaping a new life for Ronza and her siblings, ensuring they grow up in a world filled with hope, away from the horrors of war.

Thanks to Your Support, We Have Made Progress, but We Still Need Your Help 💖🕊️

Thanks to your generosity, we’ve raised €77,630 of our €100,000 goal. Your support has shown us that humanity is still alive and strong. Your help is a light of hope that we’re building our children's future on.

We kindly ask for you to continue supporting us by donating or sharing our story. Together, we can ensure that our children have the safe, bright future they deserve, filled with peace and opportunities.

✅️ Vetting info

#264 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here]

#741 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here]

#213 in the Gazavetters spreadsheet [here]

Tag for reach 🙏

@heritageposts @turtletoria @valtsv @anneemay @tamamita @annabelle--cane @schoolhatergirl

@prinnay @pregnantseinfeld @bigandgreedy @pcktknife @punkitt-is-here @paper-mario-wiki

@ot3 @t-800 @killy @4ft10tvlandfangirl @nabulsi @27moremoons @90-ghost @palms-upturned

@palipunk @komsomolka @comrademango @sabertoothwalrus @quasi-normalcy @3000s

@victoriawhimsey @irhen07 @irhabiya @davepeta @eternal-fractal @shencomix @miiilowo

@crapscicle @autisticmudkip @apollo

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loveanddeepspaceimagines · 4 months ago

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Talking to your baby bump ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Zayne carefully arranged pillows to support your sleeping form before settling beside you on the bed, your baby bump now beneath the covers. His hand wandered to stroke gentle circles over the swell, awestruck as always by the miracle inside.

"Hey little one," he murmured softly so as not to wake you. "It's just you and me for a chat." A tiny fluttering kick met his palm, drawing a quiet chuckle.

"I want you to know how excited your dad is to meet you," he continued, voice full of wonder. "I'll teach you everything how to walk, talk...".

His eyes drifted to your peaceful expression, love swelling in his chest. "You're going to have the best mommy, you know. She's the kindest, bravest person I know." Brushing hair from your cheek, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

Turning attentions back to your unborn child, Zayne smiled. "I promise I'll support both of you no matter what. We're gonna have so much fun together, the three of us."

Caressing the bump once more, he whispered, "I love you so much already, little peanut. Can't wait to hold you in my arms."

As if in reply, a stronger fluttering pressed against his palm. Smile stretching ear to ear, he rested his head by your side, content to keep watch over his perfect little growing family.

You were curled up asleep on the couch, your baby bump pressing against the cushions as you rested. Rafayel came over quietly and knelt beside you, gently placing a hand on your stomach.

"Hey little one," he whispered softly so as not to wake you. "It's daddy."

He still couldn't believe there was life growing inside the woman he loved most. Your child wasn't even born yet and already he loved them fiercely.

"I just wanted to tell you how excited I am to meet you," he continued, rubbing gentle circles with his palm. "Your mommy and I have been waiting so long for this."

There was a flutter of movement under his hand and Rafayel's breath caught, overcome at even the smallest response. "I know you can't understand me yet, but I promise I'm going to be the best daddy."

Throughout your pregnancy so far, he had doted on your every need and craving. But in quiet moments like this, he also spoke his heart to your unborn baby through your belly.

"We're going to have so much fun learning and playing together. I'll teach you how to draw if you want!" He chuckled softly. "But most of all, I want you to know how much you are loved already, little one."

He placed a tender kiss to your abdomen resting his cheek there.

The evening sun slanted gently through the bedroom window as you slept, your soft breathing the only sound amid peaceful quiet. Xavier lay beside you, propped on an elbow while watching your belly rise and fall beneath his palm.

9 weeks along now, just the faintest swell showed your child's growth nestled safely within.

Leaning down, he placed a tender kiss to your belly through fabric before whispering, "Hey little one. It's Daddy. I know you can't hear me yet but I just wanted to say hi."

He scooped gentle circles with his hand, half expecting to feel answering flutters even this early. His heart swelled impossibly at the idea of hidden tiny fingers and toes taking shape, getting ready to greet him.

"I can't wait to meet you. Your mom and I will do everything to take care of you, keep you safe and loved."

"You'll know so much love, little peanut. We're going to be a perfect happy family together - just wait and see." Xavier sniffed, emotion rising in his voice. His eyes strayed reverently to your peaceful face.

"You're so lucky to have her as your mom. She's going to be the best." He murmured placing soft kiss to your stomach.

You had drifted off to sleep early in the evening, Sylus sat beside you on the couch, watching your peaceful slumber with a quiet smile.

His large hand drifted to rest gently against the swell of your abdomen, feeling the occasional flutter of tiny movements stirring within. His child, strong and spirited even now, responding to his touch.

"Hey there little one," Sylus murmured low, careful not to wake its mother. "It's just us guys for now. You keeping momma company in there?"

A curious prodding against his palm seemed to answer. His smile widened as he continued his one-sided conversation.

"You're going to turn our whole world upside down soon. But me and your mom, we can't wait to meet you. We'll teach you everything - how to walk, talk. Maybe how to wrestle if you're up for it."

Soft chuckling accompanied the mental image before growing serious once more. "Most of all, we'll make sure you know how much you're loved. No matter what."

His fngertips traced soothing patterns over stretched skin, voice dropping lower. "We'll be here for you always, little crow. Me and your mom against the world."

Glancing once more at your sleeping form, he placed a tender kiss to your belly. "Be good to your mom, you hear? See you real soon, little one."

©loveanddeepspaceimagines 2024

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Hope you enjoyed reading this peace! Reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated. I'm hoping i can find mutuals in lads fandom! Thank you for reading!

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obxsummer · 2 months ago

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leave me again ii // rafe cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x routledge!reader (she/her), ex!jj maybank x reader

summary: you left the cut with nowhere to go. it’s rafe cameron that finds you and shows you the life you deserved to live

warnings: sorry jj lovers, that man does not get our girl back so sad jj and probably ooc rafe but i love it when that man is soft

navigation || part one

Six months.

It had been six months since any of the Pogues had seen you. No social media, no sight of you around town, no letters. Nothing.

The past six months left you to do a lot of reevaluations. You’d walked aimlessly after the group had left for the dive with nothing but your backpack and phone, no destination in mind. Until you found one.

“Lost or something?”

“Fuck off, Rafe,” Your response was instant as you continued to walk without sparing him a look. The car shifted into a different gear, you guessed by the noise, before Rafe was hopping out to approach you.

“Are you okay?” When you didn’t answer, he moved in closer and grabbed your shoulder before turning you to face him. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You stared at him with the knowledge that you probably looked like a mess with the tear streaks across your cheeks. While Rafe had a lot of issues with your friends and brother, he usually stayed clear of you. Whether that was because you were close with Sarah, or what, you didn't know.

Twisting your fingers together, you dropped your gaze as tears started to build again. “You ever watch someone you love choose someone else over you, every single time?”

The question felt like a punch in the gut to Rafe. He had. His whole life he watched his dad choose Sarah. Watched his mom choose another family over him. Watched Wheezie choose another sibling over him.

“Get in, I’ve got somewhere to take you.”

Six months ago, you hopped in Rafe Cameron’s Range Rover and left The Cut behind. You didn’t question the decision, knowing you’d worry about everyone else before taking care of yourself, and that clearly didn’t work in the past. You felt horribly guilty about leaving John B with no indication whether you were okay or not, but you knew if one of them found out, JJ would be busting down the door to Rafe’s bedroom before you had a chance to say no.

While you weren’t sure what the original intentions had been, Rafe was so different with you after bringing you back to his new house. One he’d bought after selling Tannyhill, free from the haunting of his father and the screams that echoed off the walls, he had turned it into a safe space for himself and anyone he invited in.

Things blossomed quickly and you realized the Rafe in front of you was not the bully, coke-head addict you’d once known. He was such a gentle person, and so much more attentive to you than JJ had ever been. Whether it was making you breakfast in bed before you left for the day, or prepping a warm (actually warm, like hot water you’d hadn’t had in forever) candle lit bath, or popping an expensive bottle of wine just for you to taste, he was there in ways nobody had been. You were his girl, his only girl, and you never once had to question that.

Rafe had even invited you to sit in on his investment meetings and he was slowly pulling your name into his business so you’d have a professional background to grow into. You were steadily becoming an educated little couple in his home, something he was so proud and grateful for. He had someone to lean on for advice and give him fresh eyes on new projects with no judgment or fear of anger. The two of you soaked up your bubble of peace for as long as you could before shit hit the fan.

Little did you know, on the other side of the island with your brother, there had been absolutely no peace. John B and JJ barely spoke, everything ending in an argument when they did. Pope was sick of playing mediator, and Kie had more of less shut down out of guilt. Sarah was still searching for you, but you’d gone ghost. Cleo was treading lightly with the knowledge that everything would explode eventually.

So, they did what they could, and dove into treasure hunting. When JJ pulled the amulet out of his pocket in the back of the Twinkie, John B’s emotions were mixed. Sure, he was stoked that he’d found the object the group was looking for, but he wished you were here. It was your birthday, and John B was inches away from losing his shit without you.

“Dude, are you okay?” Pope asked as the group stood in the office area of the house, trying to find more information on the amulet’s inscription.

John B tossed the heavy object on the desk in frustration. “No, I’m not okay! We can find decades old treasure like it’s the easiest thing ever, but we can’t find jack shit about my sister? That’s bullshit, Pope. And you know it.”

Pope knew things would be sensitive today. Even JJ woke up grouchy, which John B told him was deserved since he caused your absence in the first place. The lack of your presence weighed heavy on the group, so Pope suggested going to visit one of your favorite beach spots.

Little did he know what he was getting himself into.

“Rafe!” The house was filled with your laughter as Rafe twirled you in the kitchen lighting, your favorite song playing from the interactive speaker on the counter. The two of you had spent the day together, visiting the country club for lunch before Rafe took you shopping for something to wear tonight.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme love on you, it’s your birthday” He mumbled as he pressed soft kisses into your neck, hands squeezing your hips teasingly. The soft fabric of the dress he’d picked out covered your frame, the color matching your skin perfectly.

You hummed in content, fingers holding his biceps tightly as if your knees would give out any second. “You loved on me a lot this morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Rafe’s thumb traced your bottom lip before he kissed you softly. “You make it so easy.”

The two of you got lost in each other for a few more moments, soaking up the quiet as the orange sunset started casting through the windows. Today had been the best day you’d had in so long and you were so grateful of Rafe for giving you so much patience and love.

It had taken time for you to adjust to this kind of life. You walked in here with three outfits to your name, a busted cell phone, and a stuffed animal John B won you at the town festival as kids. And Rafe embraced every bit of it, let you keep your Pogue pieces while building you a life around it that was filled with items you needed but would never ask for, all while loving you so gently.

You climbed out of his car (technically the one he’d bought you but you refused to acknowledge that), and stepped down into the soft sand below. This was your spot, the spot you came to whenever you needed to clear your head or take a moment alone. You’d shared it with Rafe shortly after everything changed, and now, it was a shared spot that you both considered special.

Rafe moved around the car to grab your hand and guide you toward the area he had organized for the two of you. A small white table had been set up with your favorite snacks and two glasses of wine, surrounded by the fluffiest blanket and pillows you’d seen.

“Did you do this?” You squeezed his hand tighter, tears in your eyes at how sweet and thoughtful the gesture was. Your jaw dropped as the two of you walked closer; everything was thought out down to the tiny forks you loved so much being there to pick up the appetizers.

“Course I did, baby.” Rafe kissed your temple softly and grabbed one of the glasses to hand to you before taking hold of his own. You clinked your glass against his, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply in appreciation.

And then everything went to shit.

“What the fuck?”

Rafe’s hand tightened against your lower back, both of you looking over to see the handful of figures standing a few feet away. Your heart went to your throat went you made eye contact with your brother, whose hand was wrapped in Sarah’s. JJ stood behind him along with Kiara, Pope, and Cleo, all of them looking at you expectantly.

“Shit,” You whispered and took a step back from Rafe, eyes meeting his in dread. His expression had hardened at the sight of JJ, all the anger rushing back when he thought about how you’d been treated in the relationship, how unfair everything had been. You clocked the frustration in his gaze and placed your fingers on his cheek to redirect his focus back to you. “Don’t. I’ll handle it.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked but he didn’t argue as you slipped your wine glass back into his hand and left his side to approach the group standing in front of you. You weren’t even worried about JJ or Kie, you were worried about John B more than anything.

“Hi,” The greeting was so quiet you almost didn’t hear yourself. How do you talk to people you disappeared on six months ago?

John B’s only response was to pull you into the tightest hug he had ever given. You stumbled with the force of his body colliding with you before regaining your balance and returning the embrace.

“You’re okay,” He repeated the words to himself as if convincing his mind that they were true before stepping back and holding your cheeks in his hands. The smile on his face was huge, and you were so so confused. “Holy shit.”

“Hi,” You laughed quietly, placing your hands on top of his. “I’m so sorry.”

John B shook his head, his thumb brushing the random tear from your cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I told you to take a break, yeah? And you did.”

You glanced back to where Rafe was surprisingly conversing with Sarah with no anger in sight. The pit in your stomach slowly disappeared as you took them in and turned your attention back to John B. “I um… there’s a lot to catch you up on, and I want to tell you. I wanna tell you all of it, JB, but-”

“And I wanna hear it,” He reassured softly. “But someone put a lot of effort into your night and I don’t wanna steal any of it.”

You were so goddamn grateful for your brother. Pulling John B into another hug, you spared the look over his shoulder to see Kiara stomping away from the beach. You tried to keep a smirk off your face but it definitely made its way through.

Stepping back from John B, you shared hugs with Cleo and Pope, promising that you would see them soon before you were face to face with the reason you made it here in the first place. JJ looked rough. His hair was chaotic, arms thinner than you remembered, and he just looked tired.

“I don’t want your apology,” You spoke as he opened his mouth. “And it looks like you have a girlfriend to go find anyway.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” JJ replied quickly as he stared at you. “Not anymore.”

You pulled your lips in and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you around, JJ.”

He reached a hand out toward you when you moved to walk away. You paused just out of his reach and looked back. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

You nodded. “I know. I should be thanking you actually, because if you had said it back to me that day, I wouldn’t have found something so much better.”

And with that, you walked away from JJ and the empty promises he had always given, walked away straight into the arms of someone who would give you the world and more, if you just so much as asked.

navigation

#outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #john b routledge #outer banks jj #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #john b routledge x sister!reader #routledge!reader #pogues x routledge!reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 23 days ago

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DCxDP idea: To Be Human Again

Danny had not been human for a long time. His home dimension had long since fallen. He lost his friends and family to old age, watched their descendants rise and fall in the same way, and witnessed his Earth come to an end.

When the cosmos erupted and took the solar system he knew and loved, Danny was oddly at peace with the end. He was no longer a Halfa but a full Spirit of the Stars. Solar flares ran through his veins rather than blood, stardust decorated his skin in gently kissed freckles, and his eyes held the swirling clouds of the cosmos.

Danny had not become a ghost. He had transformed into an Ancient, commanding the prophecies, fates, and endless opportunities that all living beings could experience in their lifetimes.

He flouted through his domain, witnessing battles between Lords of Choas and Order. Planets gain life and break apart. Endless time stretching from the graveities he weaves to flouting stones.

As time passes, his name begins to fade into legends and myths, and even the ghosts that once battled with him forget their time together. They, too, can age at a much slower rate, but change comes for them. He is present for Box Lunch's birth, but when he leaves to create light in the darkness, he misses her growing up. When he returns, Box Lunch does not know him, trembling in place as she bows low like her parents.

He stares at her, wondering what he found wrong with her, until he realizes she is a young adult. Were it not for his once evil timeline, he wouldn't have known her child form. He had missed it.

His gaze falls onto the much older pair of ghosts who call him by his new title. Neither Box Ghost nor Lunch Lady show any signs of remembering his name. They greet him with his title, and act as if though that is his identifier.

How many eons had it been since he last heard someone call him Phantom? Or even Danny?

"Lord Star Weaver?" Box Lunch stammers when the giant being only continues to stare. "Is something the matter?"

"Hmm," he considers her question, wondering if his realizations upset him. It's not that he was lonely or that he missed the sound of his name. But he has spent eons in a haze focusing on his work, and now it's almost as if he was waking from a dream.

Dreams....what did those feel like again?

"Tell me, Box Lunch, are there any portals to any living Earths?" His voice booms over the Realms, echoing as if they were a part of him. Maybe they were.

Danny had not sat on his throne since his elder sister breathed her last, but he still remembered the way the Infinite Realms changed on his whims. It's where he learned to weave stars. The young woman's ghost looked startled before she gestured vaguely to a path behind her.

"Yes, sir. I regularly use the anchored portal to visit the local Earth. It's where my father was born before his death."

Danny looks down at Box Ghost before leaning toward Box Lunch's height. She is no bigger than his pupils, and she seems frozen in terror as his eyes glow with hunger. "Show me," he says.

Her parents make strangling noises, but they wouldn't dare speak against the King and Ancient of creation. They send their daughter worried tight smiles but encourage her to lead the Star Waver to the portal.

She flights for a solid hour, his large form sending every ghost into hiding as he passes. Despite not having a living heart, he knows that it beats a mile a minute within her chest as her glow flickers in uncertainty.

They arrive at the portal, a swirling green pool resting in the open mouth of a mechanical jester. Danny thinks it looks like the building of an amusement park. He remember going to one once with Sam. This had been the Funhouse, filled to the brim with trick mirrors.

The memory causes him to smile.

Lunch Box nervously moves her hands one after another, bowing at the waist and stepping to the side so Danny can consider the portal. He is much larger than the building and doubts his foot would fit inside the portal.

He should change his form.

"Here it is, Lord Star Weaver, the portal to the human-AGHHHH!" Box Lunch's words fade into a scream as two bright rings of light form around the Ancient. Fearing she had offended the being and he was planning on retaliating, she flings herself to the ground before the portal, begging for her existence.

"I will do anything!" She cries, head pressing against the glowing green stone underneath her. "Mercy, please, Lord Star Weaver."

"Anything? Then you shall be my guide in the new Earth, " a human voice says. Shocked, she raises her head only to see that the Ancient has vanished and that a human teenager with soft fluffy hair, big baby blue eyes, and the most innocent demeanor is staring back at her.

Were it not for the soul she could feel carefully folded up inside him, she would have thought him a human who stumbled through the portal.

"My....Lord?" she dares to ask, and she's rewarded with a soft smile. Honestly, the human body the Star Weaver has chosen is an odd one. It looks like a strong gust of wind could knock him over.

"Yes. Where does this portal lead?"

"Gotham," She shutters out, "The city within the United States of Earth. This portal is in te middle of a human outlaw named Joker, but humans there aren't able to see us very well so he never bothers me."

"Gotham" Danny rolls the name on his human tongue, tasting it as the sound vibrates through his bones and his heart. It's been so long since he last felt this alive, and if that was what the name could do, who knows what the city could bring him. "What a wonderful place to get lost in, don't you agree, big sister?"

"Um...I beg your pardon?" Lunch Box blinks, but he shifts her fate with a snap of his fingers. Since she had never been alive, having been a Realms born, Danny has control of her guiding star. He moved it for one that belonged to a version of herself born in the human world.

Lunch Box's body shifts into flesh and blood. Her draw drops as she stares at her human hands. Danny grins. "I'm Danny Fenotn, moving to Gotham with my older sister. Adopted, of course. Who might you be?"

She looks at him with horror and heartbreak, but what leaves her mouth is only three words: "I'm Della Fenton."

"Della." He repeats the name, nodding his head and smiling. "It's lovely."

"It was my mother's Earth name before her death, " she says in a daze, and Danny smiles, striding into the portal without a second glance.

"Come on, Della, I want to see our new home."

He steps into the portal, while she can only look out over the Realms that no longer whisper and speak to her. How could it? She was no longer a ghost. She silently apologizes to her parents, who would likely be waiting at their haunt for her, and turns away from the only home she's ever known.

She can not afford to anger the Star Weaver. If he can breathe life into her with a mere snap of her fingers, she fears what he can do to take it away.

On the other side of the portal Della finds that her King has been caught by humans, who have tied him up to a chair and a snickering clown waved a knife in his face.

His gentle smile did not leave his face even as the Joker sliced two thin lines on his cheek.

"Della" Danny calls never taking his eyes off the clown. "Is this the outlaw you spoke of?"

Human goons swarm her. She is shocked to find that they can touch her as she is thrown on the ground, only to remember she is now human. The dull ache in her chin is her new reality.

"Yes. That's the Joker," She says after getting her wits about her. One of the goons presses the heel of his foot on top of her head, slamming her back to the ground and breaking her nose. A scatter of snickers echoes through the room as Joker loudly cackles.

"That's right, little boy. I'm the Joker, and this is my Fun House. What were you two doing sneaking about here uninvited?"

There are teeth in the Star Weaver's answer, and she shivers in place, wondering how she will survive him. "Oh, I just felt like star gazing. Say, did you know your guiding star is becoming dim?"

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #To be Human Again #A immortal Danny has forgotten his humanity #Lunch Box Danny Phantom #He's on vacation #He wants to see what has changed #Joker picked a very bad person to bother #Not even Clockwork messes with him #Morally Grey Danny Phantom

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kiss-me-muchoo · 15 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 || 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ Hanno, the man you loved, was getting married, you left Numidia and when he found you again, you were married to one of the emperors of Rome.

warnings_ historical inaccuracy, vague semi public sex, angst, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so, FLUFF, no proofread.

notes_ pls listen to mermaids and queen of peace from Florence + The Machine, there’s so many Paul Mescal type of vibe songs

♫ ♪ Paul playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

The sun burned your skin, often leaving carmine splotches across your shoulders, arms, and neck. But you loved collecting shells and finding pearls to sell. The water was warm as well but soothed the heat of the sun.

Loneliness wasn’t a stranger. Being a kid in the sandy streets all alone, with no family made you judgmental.

It was a fluke that you knew how to speak in Masri, Etruscan, and Latin. With an uncertain origin, you could only guess that you might have come from Egypt or Etruria Padana.

As a teenager, you arrived in Numidia, where you found a job that made you a pioneer in the waters.

Everyone let their hands get wet to fish. But barely, they took the time to dig deeper and for a longer period to collect shells, oysters, and fascinating underwater treasures.

Over the years, you earned the names of “siren” or “sea foam woman”. The children enjoyed your stories of mermaids and sailors in mysterious waters, making you a trustworthy friend to almost everyone in Numidia.

“Imagine the sunset as if someone had splotched pink, orange, and purple over the aquamarine sea,” you say pointing at the shore. “That’s when all of the mermaids swam to the surface and played”

The children giggle and you chuckle, feeling that you shake as doing so, you quickly look down at the sleeping baby in your arms, wondering if you have woken him up. False alarm. Her mother, Nessarea, was a good friend of yours and she trusted you enough to leave her kid as she worked trimming satin in the market.

“But when they looked around, they found a big ship full of sailors. The mermaids got scared and hid…”

“Did the sailors hurt them?” A little girl with braids asked.

“No, dear. The sailors proposed a deal. They would visit the mermaids once a year and take one of them. In exchange, treasures would be given”

“And that’s why you’re here, y/n! You’re a mermaid and the sailors took you!” Soon an adult masculine laugh was mixed with yours, making you frown and look around. Only to find an unmistakable pair of blue eyes looking at you. That makes your smile grow and your heart to warmth.

“I’m not certain about that, little one” The boy makes a pout and at a certain distance you hear a bamboo flute. The sign of mothers calling their children to go home.

“No, y/n. You have to tell us who was the first mermaid to go with the sailors. Or else we’ll assume it was you “

“I’ll keep it a secret for tonight” you finalize, standing up and saying goodbye to each child. You watch them run away, to the village. And it’s only you and the baby in your arms, who started squirming and stretching.

And your dear Hanno.

“Parents will come and complain to you…” he says, remaining seated on a big rock and looking in awe at you.

“Let the children believe in fantasy while they can” you answer, tending the baby and smiling at his tiny hands forming fists. “Soon they’ll understand I am no mermaid”

“Hardly. Every day there’s a sea foam woman on the shore…” you glare at him with disdain, only to laugh again. He made space for you to sit beside him. And for some minutes he would only look at you taking care of the baby.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask eyeing him. Subtly he blushes.

“It isn’t a secret you gather all the children to tell them tells” you chuckle.

“Like a star chases the sun…” you say resting your head on his shoulder. Which he finds lovely. “You always find me, Hanno”

“And I will always will…”

Hanno was a reserved man. You met him years ago when he also arrived in Numidia. He was lonely like you, rarely spoke about his past, and claimed to be centered in the present.

“Here… I brought you something” he said, digging his hand under the pocket of his tunic. He took out a necklace. Made with shells you had collected.

“Hanno… this is beautiful. It must have costed a lot. You shouldn’t…” you almost whisper, holding the piece of art with one hand and looking at it in love.

Just like you were with him.

“It’s a present, y/n. No inquires in the cost”

“Thanks. I truly love it…” he nods, urging you to lift your hair so he can place the necklace around your neck.

You look at the shore again, now almost in complete darkness. But soon you get lost as you feel his calloused fingers in your exposed skin. He was a farmer, with tanned skin, burnt blonde hair, and a beard that made him look like a Roman prince.

It was a mystery the day you fell in love with him. As well as when you would confess it.

“What is he doing?” Hanno asks after putting the necklace around you. You frown confused but soon you understand. The baby in your arms wanted to grab his beard. “Ajay likes you, Hanno”

The man looks carefully at the baby. He wasn’t around children very often. But he enjoyed how well you handled them. It made him want a family. And he often wondered if you wanted the same. With him…

Little Ajay wrapped his tiny hand around Hanno’s finger and it made your heart swell.

“I’m getting a piece of the land where we have the green sprouts” he announces and it makes you squeal in happiness. “Hanno, that’s the most exciting news!”

“I’m having a home” he realized as you were ushering to hug him, slightly sandwiching Ajay.

Hanno bit his tongue, almost saying what he dreamed. Asking if you wanted to be part of his home.

…

When rain fell upon the dry and arid land of Numidia, you felt superstitious, feeling it was a bad omen.

You hadn’t seen Hanno in a couple of days. The last time you saw him he said he would come and visit you. The spring nights you spent together made you realize how in love you were. It was uncertain if Hanno loved you back but you thought it might have been mutual. Because of the way his eyes locked on yours, the way his hands carefully traced some spots on your body, the smiles that felt very personal to you.

Hanno made you feel special. He was your best friend. The person you would sacrifice for and the one who could take out your heart as dramatic as it sounded.

“You’ve waited for him for days, y/n,” Nessarea said, rocking Ajay in her arms as she patted your shoulder. “Are you gonna tell him about the matron?”

“It depends…” you answer, sighing, looking at the valley in front of you. The clothes hanging, waiting to get dry swayed with the warm air.

“On what?”

“I’m telling him I love him. If Hanno loves me back, I will forget about the matron” The old woman from the elite saw you dancing and asked if you knew how to write and read. You knew the minimum because Hanno taught you, but you needed more. She claimed she could educate you, but not in Numidia. She didn’t tell you where.

“You really love him that much?” Nessarea asked.

“So much that I would remain in ignorance just to be with him”

“I would’ve done the same for Calisto” Your friend had lost his husband before Ajay was born. You felt terrible for her, as she had also been in love.

“You can love again, Nessarea. Calisto will always be yours. But you can be happy again, Ajay too…” you say kissing the baby’s head.

When you turn around, you see Hanno walking through the hanging clothes and a smile appears.

“He’s here!” You announce, literally running outside the little hut, straight to his arms.

He accepts your embrace and you hear him chuckling.

“You worried me, Hanno!” you say after breaking the hug, giving him a little punch on his strong chest. “You took so long to come over”

“I’m sorry” he didn’t look as happy as he was when he first saw you. You sensed he even looked nervous. “I’ve been busy”

“Let’s go inside, it’s raining” You take his hand but he doesn’t follow you. Which makes you turn around and look again at him, expectantly.

“I’m getting married to Arishat” the oxygen drained from your lungs. Your smile disappeared and Hanno noticed it. “Her father made the offer last night and I couldn’t say no”

Arishat was a couple of years older than you, the same age as Hanno. Her father was a warrior and they were native from Numidia but they were away for some time. They arrived back a couple of months ago and Hanno started working with his father, where he met the woman.

“You couldn’t say no? Hanno, you can’t marry someone you don’t love”

“I guess I’ll learn to love her. Because it is-….” he was so close to saying that the one he loved was you.

“A matron saw me dancing a couple of days ago. We met and she wants to educate me” The decision was taken, Hanno had decided. Rage filled you, taking a step back, marking the distance between you and the man.

“A matron? Likely a filthy Roman scum” you frown at his words, crossing your arms.

“You’re not happy that I’m getting educated? That I’ll stop being just a woman that gets wet to put a damn piece of bread on that creaky table?” You spat out, pointing at the table that could be seen inside the hut.

“You know it’s not like that, y/n…” Hanno sighed, brushing his hair in exasperation. “You’re perfect just like you are, with the things you do…”

“Well, I want more” Hanno could feel the venom in your voice, he could see the coldness growing in your eyes and the distance you had placed.

You sigh, knowing it’s over. He’s getting married to a strong woman, one that everyone loved and praised along her family, and he would be happy as time passed. If he agreed to marry someone he barely knew was because he didn’t love you as you thought. Just as a friend…

“Congratulations on the engagement,” you say leaning to grab your empty basket, ready to go and collect shells, even in the pouring rain. “I truly hope you’re very happy with her”

“Come back, y/n…” you hear him calling you as your steps grow further. Tears swell in your eyes and you grab the basket even harder, hoping it would dissipate your need to scream in agony. “Please, y/n…”

Your figure slowly disappeared through the meadows, no longer a picture in the valley.

He screamed that he loved you. Hoping you would come back.

But you didn’t.

And hopefully this time he wouldn’t find you.

That night Hanno came back, willing to break the proposal and stay with you, but Nessarea opened the door with teary eyes, revealing you were gone. You promised to keep her and Ajay safe. Hanno found your basket of shells, all of them cracked, and only one of them remained untouched.

He wanted to cry out in desperation. If he would’ve said it when he had you in front of him, if he had chosen better words, if he had run faster, but he kept that cream iridescent shell under his tunic. Promising to hold on to your memory.

…

Promicia was the name of the matron that took you under her wing. After a month by her side, your hair was trimmed, and your skin felt like silk, unburnt. Your body was covered in fine fabrics, and she even arranged to get you a pair of earrings made of gold.

Promicia was cold, even heartless. But she was willing to make you shine just to make her name go even up higher leagues.

And she did it.

She made you forget everything you knew about Numidia. The siren everyone claimed to know actually turned into sea foam, to never be seen again. She washed away, melting away, to overseas.

“Keep your chin up and shoulders straight, girl,” Promicia said coldly. “I want you to look perfect when we arrive at the palace”

“Yes, dominus”

Even when you forgot who you were before arriving in Rome, you constantly remembered Nessarea as well as Ajay.

And Hanno. But as soon as you were reminded that he married, that he already had a home. Your blood boiled, to then succumb into sadness. Hence why you preferred to avoid his memory. Only resulting in pain.

And when Promicia announced that one of the emperors of Rome was interested in you, you had no time to go back to the past.

Your steps were confident as you ascended through the stairs of the most exotic and ostentatious place you’ve ever been to. The guards had luxurious uniforms, the carpets were perfectly handmade and when you reached the top, two red-haired men were standing there.

One was taller, with fine makeup around his eyes and cheekbones. The other had messy hair, a crown with leaves, and a little monkey resting on his shoulder. Their names are Geta and Caracalla.

You wondered which of the two twins was the one that wanted you.

Promicia ushered you to wait behind. She walked towards the twins and knelt, talking in Latin with them. You understood she was saying you came from Egypt, that you could read, write, sing, play the lyre, and dance as well as speak three languages.

You had no desire to fall in love again but if Promicia could secure you would have a shiny future, with power and security, you would give in.

“Come closer, girl…” the old woman called you and you obeyed. “Kneel down in respect of our emperors…”

You do as she says, your cream dress pooling on the floor. You look down, completely nervous but eager to know what will happen.

The fabric with dark blue and embroidered golden details appear in your view. You understand it’s Geta the one that is interested in you.

“Look at me, says” You raise your head slowly, matching his brown eyes. “What do you want?” Emperor Geta asked, his fingers resting on your chin, with his cold rings sending shivers down your spine.

“Mercy I implore…” he smiles at you and it’s evil, but loving at the same time. Like he has found something he could win over his twin brother.

And to you, it meant leaving the sea foam woman behind. A mermaid was taken away from the island, her teeth sharpening, ready to sink in whoever’s men tried to defy her. Even when it was the Roman Empire.

…

The count was lost after the third fig you ate. It was hot and dry and it made you feel irritated.

One day ago Acacius returned to Rome after conquering Numidia. Which led to having a doting husband that was beyond happy.

“Today we’ll see the new gladiators in the celebration and tomorrow the games will begin” Geta announced stepping behind the chair you were sitting at. Your eyes wandered into the mausoleum that was visible from the terrace of the palace, but soon you were distracted by the lips of your husband, leaving a trail of kisses. From your cheek to your neck.

“You’re excited, vita mea,” you say, tilting your head, giving him more space to wander. He pretends to innocently stop his kisses near your cleavage. Making you huff.

“You seem excited too…” he said chuckling, oblivious that you cared for him, but what you enjoyed with him was far from being devoted. “We’re leaving early today, y/n. Just after the entertainment…”

You hated Roman entertainment. You couldn’t feel nor see the thrill of witnessing death, violence, and chaos. But your husband loved it.

It wasn’t perfect, both of you often argued. But you always find a way to make up: with sex.

“Sure, my dear,” you say, turning around to kiss him on the lips. He soon leaves with a giant smile on his face.

Geta was head over heels for you. Sometimes he would use you to show off, especially to his brother.

But he stopped getting involved in orgies or requesting whores just because of you. He was extremely possessive but tender. Always make time for yourself and value your opinion. Which you took advantage of.

Weeks ago, when you learned Geta and Caracalla would send their army to Numidia. You had to beg General Acacius to take a longer route. Only that way your message to Nessarea would arrive in time for her to escape. The General was hesitant but as soon you got naked he changed his mind.

Upon his return, you cherished him with a hot and steamy welcome, sneaking out of the strong grip of your husband.

You wondered if Hanno made it alive. He was always good at self-defense, but if he tried to go against the Roman Empire, he would lose. You even prayed for General Acacius to survive the attack, above your once dear Hanno.

And you had grown fond of Geta. A weak emperor like his brother. Often clueless about what to do with the power they had. Making them a naïve pair. But he was nice to you, treating you like an empress.

You barely looked at the gladiators fighting and tearing the fancy tables filled with food. You hated looking at violence with no point, no reason to be. So you moved away, sneaking through the people to get the side of your husband.

Geta praised the anger of the gladiators. And he was very interested in one brought from Numidia. You heard he was insatiable, biting animals and killing without mercy.

So hearing Geta applauding to the spectacle said man had done, made you roll your eyes as you passed through people that mostly made reverences to you.

You had no desire to look up and see who was the man that had half of Rome intrigued.

Until he started reciting poetry. It made your steps slower, it made you feel cautious and spied on.

“Smooth is the descent, and easy is the way…”

“Psyche followed a path to prove her love to Eros. Like a star chases the sun…” you suddenly gasp. Turning to where the voice came from. You look terrified when you meet the eyes of the gladiator speaking. Saying the story you always loved.

Hanno is there, breathing for air, sweating, with blood dripping. He looks hurt, tired, enraged. But he had eyed you before you did, transmitting some hope and shock to you.

And it didn’t go unnoticed by your husband.

“What nonsense is this poet saying?” Geta asks with anger well hidden, possessively hurrying to grab you by the waist.

“He bit a monkey, he might have caught a disease, Amica mea” you whisper, acting stupid, pretending to be careless and clueless, like you don’t know the bloody man steps away from you was never important to you.

Hanno looks disappointed by your reaction. He stepped back, looking lost.

“Hmm…” Geta is not convinced, but you calm him well enough to let the matter die.

But you are in shambles. As soon as the celebration is over, you send Geta to wait for you in the palace. But you go straight to Macrinus, who was almost gone.

“I would like to talk to your gladiator” he turns around and smiles proudly.

“He put on a show today. How did you like it?” you have to force a smile and pretend to be excited.

“Oh, it was marvelous. I can’t wait to see what he’s doing tomorrow on the first day of the games. Because you’re bringing him, right?” Macrinus nods. “Of course, your highness”

“Good. I wish to see him. The poetry he recited was very touching. I must know where it comes to that charm” Macrinus believes your lie and nods again.

“Of course, follow me…”

…

You ended up in a bathhouse. Macrinus said Hanno was given a private room since he won the fight. Also said he was having a meeting and then would come back for his gladiators. So you didn’t have enough time.

And with four guards that had the order of not letting anyone inside until you came out, you reunited every strength you had to step inside.

A door creaked and soon you heard the sound of water splashing. When you looked up, you pulled your cloak down and finally met the man who had you in crisis.

“Y/n…” his voice echoed, sounding deeper and hypnotizing.

“Why are you here?” Your clumsy steps made you look nervous, which Hanno quickly noticed. “Who sent you to Macrinus?”

“Numidia was conquered” he simply replied, eyeing at you. Realizing how much you had changed. Your once-free hair was trapped in a weird hairstyle and a crown of leaves and flowers. Your dress looked expensive and your skin was in perfect condition. Certainly looks like royalty.

“I know that”

“Perhaps because you formed part of the decision” that makes you frown.

“I’m not involved in the military issues of Rome” you coldly answer.

“You married the emperor?” He asks, mocking you. But you could also play the same game. Even if it didn’t have an effect on him. Or so you thought.

“Where’s your lady?” He looks down, visibly pissed off.

“She didn’t make it...” you cannot feel anything. “Your beloved General commanded her death under the call of your husband and his brother”

“I’m sorry” you lie.

“No, you don’t. You’ve joined their cause. You became empress of an empire that is ruled by violence and blood” You roll your eyes.

“You know who was in my head when the opportunity presented?” You ask sharply, causing Hanno to remain quiet. “Nessarea and Ajay”

Your statement makes the place turn into eternal silence. He is thinking and it makes you anxious.

“I would do anything to go back to that day and say what I actually wanted…” he doesn’t add more details because is not necessary. “And stop you from leaving”

“I wouldn’t be alive” you answer quickly, opting to not pry about what he wanted to say the day you left. You were unable to fight, and if Rome had attacked with you there, you would’ve died or ended up as a whore, servant or slave. “And my friend with her baby neither”

“Where is she?” Hanno asks with curiosity.

“She settled to the north. Where snow falls in the winter and foreign widows are welcome” With honesty, Hanno felt happiness for the woman and his kid. And that made him feel guilty. Because maybe, deep down, under the ostentatious look you carried, there was the sea foam woman he met. Forced to forget who she was.

“I never asked why you knew all that poetry…” Hanno smirks, ending with a sad smile. “You just know half the truth, y/n”

“That’s why you wanted my attention back at the celebration?” Your voice holds a lot of resentment towards him. Hanno can’t say he doesn’t understand why. But he was also mad at you for becoming a full Roman woman.

“I made you a promise. To always find you no matter what” You walk closer, but as soon as you realize he’s naked underwater, you stop and look away, to the stone wall.

“What’s the point? You’re basically a slave and even if you buy your freedom, I married an emperor” his blood boils. His visible hand forms a fist and it makes you question if he was jealous.

“He doesn’t love you” you chuckle, ignoring your previous shame and taking a seat on the edge of the pool. You would see if you could push some of his buttons.

“Oh, he does love me. He treats me like a queen and always asks for my opinion. He kisses me with adoration and fucks me with devotion…” his jaw tenses at your words and you have to hide your grin.

Both of you are killing each other with your looks. He taps his index finger against the warm edge of the pool, angered. And when you least expect it, his arms come out and drag you down into the water, making you gasp in shock.

“You foolish idiot!” He possessively grabs you by the waist and makes you straddle him, colliding with his chest.

Your dress and hair are drenched, you feel heavy but you don’t miss the way he was holding you. And you know it’s sudden but you have to know something.

“Tell me the truth. You’re the missing prince? The son of Lucilla?” you whisper in his lips, he nods, holding your hips in place. “Hanno is not your real name”

“No. My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius” The shock is great, taking you in the curve. “You have to be very careful”

“I don’t care. But I can’t stand looking at you by the arm of that witless man. I don’t want the General touching you, I don’t want that emperor claiming you his” you smirk.

“But I’m not yours…” he leans forward, eyeing you with a deep gaze that makes you shiver.

“You were mine since the day we met” and he kissed you. “I was a fool for not saying how much I loved you”

“What?” You ask, freezing. “What are you saying?”

“That I love you. I always did” he admits proudly, but also slightly shy. “I wanted to make you part of the home I built. Every time I saw you with Ajay and the other kids, I thought of a family with you. I came back after we argued, willing to break my engagement because I wanted to be with you. But you were gone”

It’s too much. You feel the tears rolling down and before you can clean them, Lucius does it.

“Don’t cry, satis. Now I realize it’s all my fault” his broken smile tears your heart, suddenly making you feel disgusted with what you have become. “But is the truth, my dear y/n”

“Damn you, Lucius Verus Aurelius” you curse between sobs, leaning to kiss him again. His hand softly traced your cheek and the other caressed the skin of your hips.

You let him throw the dress to the floor, the heavy wet sound drenching the carpet.

And as Lucius makes love to you, you realize you’ll never let him go. And you’ll hardly see him dying in the arena.

“I’ll come up with something. But we won’t die separated, love” you say before moaning, midway through his deep thrusts.

You realize no one felt the same way he did. No one filled you well enough, no one worshiped you like him.

He rests his forehead against yours, loving the way you looked on top of him, like an actual siren that gave him the luck of a passionate encounter.

Lucius is sure he will win his freedom. He will kill whoever he needs to make you free as well. He has no hopes of seeing you again but he realizes he had you saying his real name like a mantra. And he kisses you, swallowing your loud moan as you came on his cock.

“Gods, I love you, Lucius” you admit sighing, catching your breath and feeling how he spilled his seed deep within your walls.

“I love you too” he admits, kissing your lips with passion, and love and making a mess of saliva. He would’ve wanted to take you under different circumstances. In a bed, in peace, being free…

Soon a guard pokes his head and looks at the floor, keeping his loyal and respectful status clean.

“Your majesty, we must leave now before Emperor Geta suspects…” you sigh, looking back at Lucius.

“Hold on, Bellator meus” Grabbing his chin, trembling at the itchy feeling of his beard, he nods “Promise me to survive”

“Like a star chases the sun. I will always find my way to you, dear y/n” Giving him a quick peck, you get out of the pool. You put on the dress that was almost completely dry again.

“We’ll be together, Lucius” he nods leaning into the edge of the pool. “I know…”

“I’ll come back to see you tomorrow after the games” and with a last look, you reciprocate the smile he gave you and quickly leave the bathhouse.

That night, in his filthy cell, Lucius pleasantly sleeps, with his hand clutching the shell he kept from you. Knowing all of those nights thinking of you and praying to see you again without hope, were worth it.

_________________________________________________________

I need friends who love Paul and Pedro and Gladiator II in general. Specifically on twitter because no one appreciates the shitpost I post there

#lucius verus x reader #paul mescal #paul mescal x reader #gladiator x reader #marcus acacius x reader x lucius verus #marcus acacius x lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x reader x marcus acacius

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nebulaafterdark · 5 months ago

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The Blacks & The Greens

Summary: A marriage of convenience is not enough to bridge the gap between their warring houses. Y/N and Aegon pay the price for his crown. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

Roughish sex, Targcest, angst, depictions of stillbirth.

Y/N and Aegon marry out of convenience. To keep peace, to mend a house broken long before they were born.

Aegon does not mind bedding her, she is pretty enough. He does not mind watching her swell with his heir, he enjoys it even, paying special attention to Y/N as she grows.

“Does it hurt?” He wonders, tracing a little hand or foot across the skin of her abdomen.

“No,” Y/N smiles, passing a hand over his hair.

Aegon kisses her bump, bidding her and his child a good night before making his way down to the pleasure house.

Their first child, a son named Laenor, is Aegon’s pride and joy. His heart swells with something close to love for his wife, the first time he sees bits of her in their son’s features.

Y/N loves Laenor, carrying him about, showing him the Red Keep and all her favorite places in it. Aegon joins them, on occasion, sharing quiet moments with his little family.

Outside of Laenor, they exchange few words. Refusing to share apartments, but Aegon sneaks into her room more often than not, after nights spent in the company of other women.

“I could never fuck you like that.” He tells his wife, words slurred from his cups.

“I would let you.” Y/N assures him.

“You make my heart ache.” Aegon admits, “I hate when you do that.”

“I do not mean to,” Y/N sighs.

Aegon rests a hand over her beating heart. “I know.”

————————————————————————

When asked for another heir, they are more than happy to provide. Exchanging sloppy kisses and sweet words, but never love, it couldn’t be love. Not with the twisted, possessive way of it.

“Beg,” Aegon demands, fucking her roughly enough that air is punched from her lungs with each snap of his hips.

“Please,” Y/N wails, clinging to him desperately.

“Please what?”

“Fill me with your heir, I wish to bear you a hundred children.”

Aegon grins, brushing sweat damp hair from her forehead. “I adore you, you know?”

Her eyes shoot open, meeting his.

“My pretty, bastard wife.”

The princess’s breath hitches, her cunt clenching around him.

“Enjoyed that, did you?”

There is no point in denying it, she likes the way he says it. The way he acknowledges it without insulting her. “Yes.”

“I do not care who sired you. You are mine now, bastard. Mine to fuck and breed. Mine to love, until we are both cold in our graves.”

Love? “Aegon?”

“You heard me well and clear.”

“I love-”

Aegon seals his mouth over hers, swallowing the words. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, with big fat tears welling up in her eyes.

“You hold it inside until you burst or pour it over my cock as you milk me, but you do not say it.” Aegon sneers. He couldn’t be loved, he wouldn’t be, by her least of all.

The princess nods, allowing him to cradle her head against his shoulder. Whispering those forbidden words over and over, while she is never allowed to speak them. Her heart aches.

Like every other aspect of their marriage, this too is complicated.

————————————————————————-

Y/N’s term is nearing its end when her grandsire passes and Aegon is forced to usurp her mother’s throne. With blood running down her legs before Aegon is crowned in the dragon pit, she is rushed swiftly away to labor in her chambers.

Now that Aegon is king, he is allowed at her side without contest. Watching as their second child is brought into the world. The babe does not cry, something inside him knows….

The grand Maester is called to work on the child, a sweet little girl with silver hair.

Y/N begins pushing with the second, her tear stained face pleading for him.

Aegon goes to her, because that is all he knows how to do. He goes to her and holds her hand.

“Aegon,” she cries.

“Shhhh,” he hushes her.

“Will the babe live?”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, “I need you to calm yourself, dearest.”

“I can’t.”

“We must focus on this babe,” Aegon brushes a hand over her belly. “They need their mother to provide them safe passage into the world.”

“I want to see her.” Y/N cries, searching for her child.

“I am so sorry, sweetheart.” Aegon says, “so terribly sorry.”

Y/N bares down, sobbing as she does. The child is safe within her, the same cannot be said after it enters this cruel world. “I do not want to lose my child.”

“I will give you another,” Aegon promises, knowing that a thousand children can never make up for the one they’ve lost. “As many as you wish. Please, allow me to get you through this. You must live, our son needs you, I need you.”

“You must keep pushing my queen.”

Y/N brings her third child into the world, expecting the worst. But the little girl cries.

“Thank the gods,” Aegon lets his head fall against his wife’s chest. “Thank the gods.”

The child is laid against her.

“Healthy?”

“Kicking like a goat, my Queen.”

Aegon looks to his wife, their perfect babe in her arms. “I love you.”

Y/N nods, choking on her grief and joy and love for him.

“Say it, my heart.” Aegon feels it on the tip of her tongue, “it’s alright.”

“I love you,” Y/N laments, “I love you and I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“Our babe-”

“None of this is your fault. Please know that.”

Y/N nods, not entirely convinced.

The King and Queen spend days in that bed, mourning their loss, unaware of Rhaenyra’s similar suffering across the sea.

There is no war so hateful as a war between kin, they will all pay the price for it; the Blacks and the Greens.

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x you #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen smut #aegon smut #aegon ii #aegon imagine

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littleprinceabdullah · 2 months ago

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"Born into Hope Amidst Destruction: Abdullah's Journey from Gaza"

Hello, I am little prince Abdullah, and I am a six-month-old baby from Gaza. I was born into extremely difficult circumstances amidst war and destruction. Let me tell you my story from the beginning.

Daddy, Mahmoud, is a young dentist, 25 years old. Mom, Abeer, is also a dentist, and they were eagerly awaiting my arrival (their little prince as they called me), dreaming of a bright future for me.

My parents got married and moved into a new home, spending two joyful months there before everything changed drastically on October 7, 2023, when the war in Gaza began. Our home, and the clinic were all destroyed in an instant. They had to flee with only a few clothes, having nowhere else to go. The place that was supposed to be filled with love and laughter turned into rubble and ash.

Mom endured her pregnancy amidst the war, without enough food, water, or medicine. As I grew inside her, I could feel the stress and fear that surrounded us. Mom often went without proper nourishment, sacrificing her own well-being to ensure that I had a chance to come into this world. Every night, she would cradle her belly, whispering prayers and promises of a better life, even as bombs fell around us. She dreamed of holding me in a safe place, free from the horrors of war, where I could grow up surrounded by love and peace.

Despite the chaos, dad and mom clung to the hope that I would be a symbol of a brighter future. They imagined my first smile, my first tooth, my first steps, my first words, and the joy of seeing me grow up in a home filled with laughter. But the reality was far from those dreams. Mom faced countless sleepless nights, worrying if she could bring me safely into a world that seemed determined to tear us apart.

When the time came for me to be born (6th, Apr.2024), there were no hospitals with clean beds, no doctors ready to ensure my safe arrival. My parents faced this moment with courage and a deep, unyielding love, praying that I would be born healthy despite the dire conditions. Each day inside my mom's womb, I felt her love and fear. I heard her heart beat fast when explosions echoed nearby, and I felt her tears when she thought about the uncertain future we faced. She whispered to me that I was her miracle, her reason to keep fighting, and she promised to do everything in her power to give me a life worth living.

Now that I am six months old, my parents continue to face immense challenges. I have spent my first six months of life in a world of uncertainty and hardship. There are days when my parents struggle to find enough food and clean water for us. They do their best to keep me safe and healthy, but the lack of proper medical care and basic necessities makes every day a battle.

My parents' love and determination are unwavering. They look at me with a mix of love and desperation, knowing they are unable to provide the comfort and security every baby deserves. Each day is a struggle for survival, and the joy of my birth is constantly overshadowed by fear and uncertainty. They dream of a world where I can play safely, have a warm bed to sleep in, and grow up healthy and happy. Instead, they face the harsh reality of war, where every moment is filled with anxiety and the haunting thought of what tomorrow might bring. Their only wish is to see me smile, free from the burdens that weigh so heavily on their hearts.

Here is daddy's account telling his own story: @mah99moud

The pressures and burdens on our family continue to grow, so my parents decided to turn to the GoFundMe platform, seeking help from kind-hearted people around the world.

Your generosity can turn our darkest days into a beacon of hope. Please consider helping us rebuild our lives and give me a chance to experience the childhood every child deserves, and help my parents rebuild their lives. Please, help us restore hope for a better tomorrow and give me a chance to grow up in a world where dreams are possible, not destroyed. Every donation, no matter how small, will make a significant difference in our lives.

Thank you for your kindness and generosity.

#donations #star wars #gofundme #signal boost #freepalastine🇵🇸#gaza #free rafah #freedom #free gaza #free palestine #childhood #save the children #donate #donate if you can #gaza genocide #gazaunderattack #artists on tumblr #digital art #gravity falls

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stormhearty · 11 months ago

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Pushed to the Edge

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Trigger: angst, cheating, suicide, death

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You were the official seer of Night Court for nearly 500 years. the Inner Circle had always listened to you and your visions; however, when the Archeron sisters came and Elain started to show her powers, your family started to shift their attention to her visions. When you try to voice your warnings about the death-lord’s resurrection, everyone gave you the cold shoulder, ignoring your prophesies — this included your mate.

Note: no hate to Azriel or Elain, it just helped with the plot. and Also, I know it's completely unreasonable for Azriel to not have the Truth-Teller be with him at all times, just go with it for now. And I am working on “Reach Your Voice” Series, I’m still trying to figure out how to make sure each of our boys spends quality time with the reader.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“That sounds absolutely absurd… How many times will you try to warn about something that will never happen?”

Your voiced died in your throat as you watched Rhysand look at you with apprehension before focusing on the paperwork in front of him.

You had ran into his office, waking up in cold sweat after another vision of another Death God crawling it’s way back into Prythian. You had tried to forewarn your High Lord for weeks on end ever since you first saw that vision. However, your warnings had been ignored by Rhysand. You knew that it sounded impossible, you knew that, Prythian had just finished a war — one that almost destroyed the world.

After the war with the King of Hybern, Prythian was slowly returning to its normal … well, attempting to fix what was broken by the King. The Night Court was healing, trying to rebuild itself again to its glory, helping other Courts to fix the damages that the war caused. Rhysand had been through an ordeal, losing his life to save Prythian and you knew that your High Lord was still recuperating from that tragedy. You knew that your High Lady was as well, almost losing her mate.

They didn’t need another war to happen when peace had barely returned.

But you also knew there was another reason your High Lord had been ignoring your for forewarning. You looked to the side, one where the rest of the Inner Circle was watching the confrontation. Cassian and Nesta, sitting close to each other, a glass of wine in their hands, whispering to each other, mostly likely about you and your vision. You could barely pick up with your keen Fae hearing on what they were saying.

“Do you think what she’s saying is real? That Koschei is trying to come back?”

“Elain hasn’t seen it though…”

The whisper of the middle Archeron child echoed in your ears as you looked at the Made Fae. She sat next to the window, brown eyes that seemed to sparkle like the sun rested on you before turning over to the male that she was sitting with. Your gaze followed hers to Azriel — your mate— but you can see that he didn’t bother to glance in your direction, only to focus on the delicate female next to him.

It hurt. You watched as the two of them conversed, glancing back in your direction before focusing on each other.

It was no secret, not for you, on Elain’s growing infatuation for the Shadowsinger, and in turn his own growing affections for the middle Archeron child — and in turn, losing his love for you.

You woke up in an empty bed, your mate missing from his side. You tried to talk to Cassian about how his day went, on if he would still train you with the Valkyries if he had time. You tried to converse with Rhysand and Feyre, seeing if they were healing properly after the war, wanting to make sure your High Lord and Lady were safe. You sought after you mate, wanting to spend even a second with him.

But they disregarded you so easily. Especially after they had found out that Elain had similar powers to you, one that was gifted to her by the Cauldron — one that was deemed more powerful than your own.

Your role as the Official Seer of Night Court was granted to you after Helion had sent you as an emissary for Day Court. Helion had found you wandering around Day Court lands. You had been a wandering child, with no real attachment to any Court, abandoned in the streets by your family at the age of five when your seer powers started to come into light. Helion had taken you in when you were ten, helped you hone your powers. Being a seer had been a mystery, no one in your heritage (that you were aware of) was a seer. And it baffled Helion on why such a remarkable gift had been casted aside.

You had stayed with the Night Court, gaining their trust and friendship for five centuries, gaining your own little foothold in their family. You had been a pillar when Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain for nearly fifty years. You helped Mor and Armen with the official Night Court Duties, trained with Cassian to ensure you were strong enough to fight when neither he nor Azriel was there.

During your time protecting Valeris from the eyes of Amarantha, your mating bond with the Shadowsinger snapped. It had been difficult at the start, both of you were still struggling with the disappearance of your High Lord, along with the weight of protecting the very city he hidden from view. But during that time, you became each other’s pillar, each other’s comfort in such a dark time. Falling in love with Azriel wasn’t difficult.

But keeping his love, apparently, was the most difficult.

When the Archeron sister’s came into everyone’s lives, it caused a tip in the scales. You loved Feyre, you loved your High Lady. You would do anything in your power to ensure she was safe and well cared for. But for the Cauldron-Made sisters, it was difficult for you to accept them.

They were different. You couldn’t see anything about them, as if the Cauldron had masked them from you powers. It made you terrified of them. Feyre and Rhysand had tried to assure you that the Archeron sisters deemed no threat to the Night Court. And you trusted them — trusted your High Lord and Lady without a blink of an eye. And yes, while their words deemed true, you did not realize that they were a different type of threat. One that would eventually lose your foothold in the Night Court.

You swallowed, your throat parched as you glanced from the sight of your mate and Elain speaking to one another to Rhysand and then to Feyre who had stood next to him. She gave you a worried look, wondering what you were wanting to tell them.

The air was tense, the declaration from your High Lord seeming to echo in your surroundings — he had deemed your vision to be false. And he had never done that before.

“… But…” you whispered, your voice nothing but wind in such a large room, “… I’ve seen it so many times, Rhys. Someone is trying to resurrect him. That they need a piece of something from the Cauldron — -”

“The Cauldron is with Miryam and Drakon… in Creta. There is no way that anyone would be able to use that power again,” Rhysand’s tone was taut, as if trying to drawn a line between the truth and your vision, “Your vision must be wrong, (Y/N). There is no way that Koschei can be resurrected from that lake.”

Another swallow, “But what if it doesn’t have to be the Cauldron itself. It could be something that was Made from the Cauldron.”

Rhysand’s eyes snapped up from his desk, up to you, eyes darkening at the words you were insinuating, “—- What are you trying to say, (Y/N)?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes shifting down to your hands, fiddling with your fingernails — a habit that you’ve had ever since you were a child — one that would leave your hands raw from removing skin, ‘… Nesta and Elain were Made from the Cauldron. If it were to get word to the followers of Koschei, they… they could be in danger. The power that resides in them is the Cauldron… Nesta took something from the Cauldron and did not return it… They could be looking for that.”

It was already bad that you were trying to suggest a return of a Death God, months after a war with Hybern, but it was worse that you were even implying that the sisters were the center of being in danger again.

A dark shadow stood in front of you and you looked up to see Azriel. The golden string that connected the two of you sung, it had been weeks since Azriel went near you, but you knew that his side of the bond was shut, enshroud by shadows, completely shutting you out.

“Az—-” you said his name, as if it was a prayer, hoping he’d be the voice of reason. That he would back up you and your visions. As he always had in the past.

“How can we know that your visions are truth, (Y/N)? There are two Seers in the Night Court now, and yet you are the only one who sees this.”

Your ears rang, a high pitch noise echoing through them as disbelief shook your body. Azriel never distrusted you, never doubted your visions and your forewarnings.

The bond in you ached, as if it was burning you on the inside. Tears lined your eyes as you looked up at your mate, brows furrowing, “…How could you, Azriel?” you muttered, the pain lining your tone, “How can you not trust me?” your voice small.

“Because Elain hasn’t seen it,” was all he had to say.

Hot tears ran your cheeks, as you shakily stepped back from the male that had towered you. You glanced at Cassian and Nesta who looked at you, their eyes inattentive to the pain that you were feeling. You glanced at your High Lord, who looked at you with disinterest. You looked at your High Lady, the only person in the room that seemed to have noticed your pain and anguish, as she took a step towards you way, only to be stopped by Rhysand, his hand around her wrist.

“… So, just because the Cauldron-Made Seer hasn’t seen it, doesn’t mean that it is going to happen?” you asked, your question in the air for everyone to think, “… Just because I wasn’t a Seer Made by the Cauldron, that my visions and my words are not real? That I am a lesser of a Seer than her?”

“(Y/N)—-” Feyre, the voice of reason, called our your name.

You took a step back again, head shaking at them, “I’ve worked my life off for the Night Court. Ensuring that your city is safe, making sure that any danger would never step past the wards that you have put up. I have never hidden anything from any of you. I used my visions and my powers for all of you. And yet…” your voice shook at the end, not believing anything that was happening in front of you, “You disregard me… the moment a better Seer shows up. One that is Cauldron-Made… one that you…” eyes shifting to Azriel, “Deems more suitable for you.

“I’ve seen it. Not only in my visions but here with you all. You have decided to all turn a blind eye to it, decided not to tell me about it. Three sisters for three brothers, isn’t it, Azriel?”

Azriel’s form stiffed in front of you — he did not think that you would have heard that.

You were done, you were tired. You were tired of the lies and the deceit from whom you thought were family.

Feyre’s brows furrowed as she looked at you and then her elder sisters before the back of Azriel. Rhysand stood up as well, standing next to his High Lady at your declaration.

“… What are you talking about, (Y/N)?” Feyre asked, watching your form shake.

“Don’t you lie to me…” you muttered, glaring at your High Lady, “Don’t you dare lie that you have not seen it. Don’t you dare tell me that you have not noticed that Azriel and Elain have been together all this time. That you have turned a blind eye that a mated male would be infatuated, would fall in love with someone else that was not his Cauldron-bound mate. Don’t you dare lie to me you have not all seen it, and have ignored it and not tell me about it.

“You also have all disregarded me and my visions, ever since Elain started to show her own powers. You have all deemed, even without you telling me, that my powers are not worthy enough. That you all would listen to her cryptic visions rather than my own.”

Your words were rushed, you were hyperventilating to the point that your visions swam, but you shook your head, focusing on the scene unfolding — Feyre’s surprised look, Nesta and Cassian staring wide-eye at Elain before glancing at the Shadowsinger in front of you and your High Lord gripping the edge of the table, his violet eyes clearing as if he was in a trance, as if his mind has been cleared and he realized what he has done and what was unfolding with his family.

“No, (Y/N), that’s not what we meant…” he tried to reason, try to gain back your trust in the found family you had with them.

You scrunched your face, shaking your head as you looked at your High Lord before back at your mate, “…That’s what you have meant for the months you have been ignoring my forewarnings. Been ignoring me. Because Elain’s powers are better than mine, you have casted me aside…” Another step back, glancing at the grand door behind you before you glanced back at the family who had lost you, to the mate that had broken your entire being, “You had decided, to your own conscious, to fall in love with someone else, who is bound to someone else, just because you deemed that the Cauldron was wrong. I don’t understand what I have done to you, Azriel… when I have spent nearly five-hundred years with you, fifty years with you as your mate. And you, knowing Elain for a mere five minutes, throwing all that away…”

Azriel looked at you, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes staring you down. He watched as tears continued to flood down your cheeks, your form shaking even further. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t just stand here and be the object that they throw away.

So, you ran, ran out of that room, your name echoing behind you as your dress swirled behind you. You climbed up the spiraling stairs to your shared room with Azriel, throwing up the strongest ward you can muster behind you and around you. You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the echo of the bond in your chest, you couldn’t handle the empty stare of your mated looking at you. You couldn’t handle the thought that you were so easily replaceable. A sob escaped your lips as you rummaged through Azriel’s drawer of weapons, pulling out the one weapon that he never is without — Truth-Teller. Dark tendrils of shadow gripped your wrist as you looked around you, Azriel’s shadows surrounding you.

That was where his shadows went — they had always disappeared when he was around Elain, yet they were here with you.

Frantic knocks startled you as you grasped the weapon close to your chest, your head whipping around towards the door. You heard them — Feyre’s panicked voice, Rhysand’s apologizes, Cassian yelling your name. But you didn’t hear that one voice that you had loved — you knew Azriel wasn’t there.

That had pushed you. Gripping the weapon, you moved to the bathroom, the shadows following your every movement. As you kneeled down on the marble floor, you felt the tug of the shadows against your hand, trying to will the weapon out of your grip — attempting you to stop at a take of your life.

You had always loved the shadows that surrounded Azriel, both physically and metaphorically speaking. They had always comforted you, protected you, always had been there for both of you when times were tough. But this was one of the times that you didn’t want them protecting you, comforting you.

“Please..” you begged at them. Whether or not they would listen or sprint off to their master, they backed off, though a few tendrils stayed behind, slithering around your wrist, holding Truth-Teller, as if a reminder not to do it. But you had made your mind — you couldn’t stay and be pushed to the side. Not anymore.

And with a last breath impaled yourself with your mate’s beloved knife, the very knife he had handed Elain during the war, was the last thing you remembered. As your body fell against the marbled floor, your soul leaving your body, you felt the tendrils of shadow frantically skim over your body, as if to try to find a piece of life still clinging onto you. Eyes looked and watched as the ward was broken and your High Lord and Lady skidding towards your body as your soul left for the skies above, the cool feeling of shadow never leaving your body.

A gasp escaped your lips, the dull ache on your chest making you rub at it.

“— - What…” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as if not used for a century.

“That Shadowsinger did not know what he had decided to let go, huh…” A voice, one so dark and so familiar echoing.

You knew that voice, that voice that haunted you in your visions for weeks — the same voice that you tried to warn your family about. Eyes opening, you were surrounded by the dark, the voice of the Death-God echoing around you.

“I should have died…” you voiced to no-one.

A laugh echoed around you, “You did, (Y/N), but you forget that I am a Death-God… And I can resurrect anyone I wish. Now, that your family has abandoned you, why don’t you join me. Show them what happens when a Seer of your capacity has been cast aside. I should have had you when that original family of yours stranded you, but that damn High Lord of Day found you first. Anyway… come child…”

You laid there, in the darkness, before you shakily reach out a hand, before spiny fingers grasped onto yours and pulled you out of that darkness.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar angst #a court of thorns and roses #( .one shot : pushed to the edge )

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seospicybin · 22 days ago

Text

TOO CROWDED.

Lee Know x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: Wrong crowd / In the crowd / Crowded

Synopsis: Years of marriage haven’t fully prepared Minho for the arrival of a new family member or the changes that come with his growing family. As he navigates these new challenges, he realizes that love and family are constantly evolving in ways he never expected. (19,3k words)

Author's note: To the Crowd enthusiasts, thank you for patiently waiting & hope you enjoy this one too ♡

It’s Saturday, yet Minho wakes up early as usual, his internal clock refusing to let him sleep past 5:30 a.m.

The first thing he does is shift closer to your side of the bed, slipping his arm around you and gently pulling you into his embrace. His lips press a soft kiss to your cheek, careful not to wake you. You deserve more sleep. For a moment, he enjoys the warmth of your body against his, spooning you, before placing another kiss on your bare shoulder and quietly slipping out of bed.

Next, he pads across the hall to your daughter’s room, slowly pushing the door open. Peeking inside, he smiles when he sees Byeol still fast asleep, clutching her blanket tightly. The sight of her peaceful face always fills him with a deep sense of contentment—knowing she feels safe and loved. He brushes a gentle hand over her cheek, then quietly leaves, letting her sleep a little longer.

Minho heads downstairs to the kitchen. As the coffee brews, he washes up, brushes his teeth, and makes his way to the rooftop to water the potted plants. Returning to the kitchen, he pours himself a cup of coffee and settles at the dining table, handling bills and a few business emails.

By 7:00 a.m., he’s pulling ingredients from the fridge to prepare breakfast, not forgetting to pack a lunchbox for Byeol. Halfway through stirring pancake batter, he catches sight of you wandering into the kitchen, your hair a tousled mess and a sleepy smile on your lips.

"Morning," you mumble, slipping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your face against his back. You cling to him for a while as he works over the stove, only moving to kiss his cheek before grabbing his mug and refilling it with more coffee for yourself.

Minho glances at the clock, then at you. "Enjoying your coffee?"

"Mmhmm," you murmur, savoring the warm drink.

"Can you go wake up our daughter?" he asks, focused on flipping a pancake.

"I thought we're cool parents," You groan playfully, holding your mug. "It’s Saturday. Let her sleep!"

"Today’s the school trip." He reminds you.

"Oh, shit!" you grumble, setting down your coffee. You tie your robe and shoot him a quick grin. "Wish me luck!"

Minho smiles as you head to Byeol’s room, knowing it won’t be hard to wake her. She’s been talking about the trip all week, and sure enough, it takes you less than five minutes to have her running to the kitchen for breakfast.

"Here’s your delinquent daughter, sir," you joke, pulling out a chair for her.

Minho places the last pancake on the growing stack. He brings the plate over to the table, feigning seriousness as he addresses Byeol. "Young lady, you’re sentenced to live with us until you're of age and eat all these pancakes without any maple syrup or strawberries."

Byeol doesn’t even blink at her father’s odd sense of humor. She knows exactly what it means: they’re out of her favorite toppings.

"How about bananas?" she asks innocently.

"We’re out of bananas!" you call from behind the counter, pouring yourself more coffee.

Minho pats his daughter’s shoulder. "Tough luck."

But you come to the rescue, placing a bowl of blueberries and whipped cream next to her plate. "We’ve got these, though."

Byeol beams, picking up her fork. "Thanks, Mommy."

It’s never a competition between you two when it comes to earning Byeol’s affection, but with work keeping you busy most of the time, Minho likes creating little moments where she can bond with you. It’s just another way he shows how much he loves his two girls.

Minho points his spatula at you, narrowing his eyes. "I’ll let you have this win."

You make a face at him, and he turns away to hide his laughter.

The morning quickly becomes hectic as you both scramble to get Byeol ready for her school trip. Minho helps her pack while you diligently apply sunscreen to her.

"We’re not going to the beach. Why do I need sunblock?" Byeol complains.

"Because I don’t want you coming home looking like a blob of slime," you reply without missing a beat, finishing her legs. "Do you want to be a blob of slime?"

"No," she mutters while giggling.

"Good!" You adjust her socks and tighten her shoelaces, then let her go.

Dropping Byeol off at school is usually stressful—other moms often stare at him—but with you by his side, he feels more relaxed.

The parking lot is packed as parents say goodbye to their kids. Minho carries Byeol’s backpack while you walk hand in hand with her. When it’s time for the trip, you kneel down to Byeol’s level, fussing over her ponytail and clothes, unable to help yourself.

"Be good, okay?" you say softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Listen to Miss Sara, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask."

"Okay, Mommy," Byeol nods.

You pull her into a hug, holding on like you’re sending her off to war rather than a school trip.

"Don’t forget to drink water, eat your lunch, and—"

"I’ll be okay, Mommy," Byeol assures you with a smile.

You sigh, reluctantly letting her go. "And have fun!"

Minho chuckles quietly at how grown-up your six-year-old is acting. He bends down, hugging her and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

"We’ll pick you up later," he reminds her.

"Yes, Daddy."

After a quick wave, Byeol boards the bus. You both stand watching until the bus pulls away, your hand slipping into Minho’s as you turn to head back to the car.

"It’s a beautiful day," you sigh contentedly, gazing up at the sky. "And we have the whole afternoon to ourselves."

He grins, watching how relaxed you suddenly look. "What do you want to do?"

You swing his hand playfully, thinking. "How about we grab some take-out and have a picnic?"

"Sounds good," Minho says, unlocking the car.

"We can get your favorite pudding for dessert," you add, already planning the afternoon.

As you buckle your seatbelt, you turn to him, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Or…"

"Or what?"

You place your hand on his knee and grin. "Or we stay home and make babies?"

Minho raises an eyebrow at the sudden suggestion, amused but not surprised. He doesn’t mind the idea at all, but with how nice the weather is, staying inside seems like a waste.

You squeeze his knee gently. "So? What’s it going to be?"

Minho glances between you and the road ahead, the decision already made. He pulls the car onto the street, heading in the direction of home.

Everyone in the parlor has asked for the weekend off to enjoy the summer, so Minho granted it, leaving the parlor downstairs closed until Tuesday.

This also means you and Minho have the whole building to yourselves and you obviously going to make the most of this rare moment. You push him onto the sofa, straddling him without hesitation, your mouth crashing against his. Your body moves on its own, hands frantically unbuttoning his shirt while your hips grind against his crotch. Your lips continuously press against his, breath heavy and hungry.

He holds you close, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other tangles in your hair, fisting it as he tilts your head to the side, giving him access to your neck.

“Honey, not a hickey, please?” you mutter breathlessly as his teeth graze your skin.

He drags his lips up to your ear, playfully biting at it. “Why not? You look good with one,” he teases, his words punctuated by a wet kiss on your jaw.

“We still have to pick up your daughter later,” you remind him, not wanting to give the other parents something to gossip about.

“Afraid they’ll be jealous of you?” he murmurs.

“You think you’re that hot, huh?”

His hand slips beneath your dress, fingers teasing your clothed sex, tracing over your clit. The pressure makes you gasp as he rubs slow, deliberate circles. His smirk is devilish, eyes dark with lust.

“I know I am,” he says confidently.

You can’t deny the heat pooling inside you as his fingers work their magic. “Honey…” you whine, though you don’t truly mind.

Suddenly, he shifts, gently lifting you off his lap and laying you down on the sofa. His shirt falls to the floor, exposing his toned chest. With a heated gaze, he pushes the hem of your dress up, tugging at the waistband of your underwear. He pulls it down slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. He parts your legs with his hands, lowering himself between your thighs without a word. His mouth trails wet kisses down the inside of your thigh before he dives in, pressing his mouth to your wetness.

A whimper escapes your lips as his tongue expertly teases you. You can’t help but close your eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation as he takes his time savoring every inch of you. Occasionally, you glance down to see his head buried between your legs, his tattooed arms wrapped around your thighs. The sight alone sends waves of arousal through you.

“Honey, oh…” you moan as he sucks on your clit, your body trembling with need.

Minho lifts his head, his mouth glistening with your essence. He flicks his tongue against your sensitive clit, his dark eyes watching your every reaction.

“Oh, God…” you moan loudly, unafraid, knowing you’re alone in the house.

His lips close around your clit once more, sucking gently as he slides two fingers inside you. The dual sensations have you gasping, eyes rolling back as your grip on the sofa tightens.

“Oh, honey… that feels so good,” you mutter breathlessly, barely able to think as pleasure overwhelms you.

Your noises only encourage him, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony, pushing you closer to your high. Your hands tug at his hair, legs trembling as he holds them open, keeping you steady as he pushes you toward the edge.

It doesn’t take long until you cum against his mouth, your body trembling as Minho eagerly drinks in your release. His tongue moves with precision, lapping up every drop of your essence as you ride out your climax, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. He doesn’t shy away, savoring you completely as you come undone beneath him.

Breathless, you feel the need to return the favor. Without a word, you push him back slightly and reach for his shirt. You peel it off, revealing his inked body, each line and curve of the tattoos forever captivating you. Your lips trail over his skin, kissing his chest, neck, and down to the waistband of his jeans, inhaling his natural, intoxicating scent along the way.

Dropping to your knees, you deftly undo the button and fly of his jeans, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room. His growing arousal is clear as you take his hardening length from its confines. You wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly while locking eyes with him, savoring the way his breath hitches in anticipation.

Minho leans back into the sofa, head resting against the cushions as his body relaxes into your touch. He gives you all the room you need, a silent invitation to take control. You waste no time, your mouth closing around his length, warm and wet as you begin to pleasure him.

His hand gently moves to your hair, brushing it out of the way as he watches you intently. "Keep going, honey," he murmurs, his voice soft yet commanding, his thumb brushing your cheek affectionately as you take him deeper.

Your lips glide smoothly along his shaft, your hand stroking the base while your mouth works the rest. His quiet moans and gasps fuel your movements, encouraging you as you bring him closer to the edge. You feel him tense beneath you, his release fast approaching.

Moments later, his body shudders, and he spills into your mouth, his cum spilling onto your tongue. A few drops land on your lips and chin, painting your skin. Minho gazes down at you, his dark eyes full of desire as if admiring his handiwork.

"I know it’s a lot, but I want you to swallow it for me, honey," he whispers, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw.

Obediently, you close your mouth and swallow, your throat working to take him in. You open your mouth again afterward, showing him that you’ve done as he asked, a mischievous glint in your eye.

A satisfied smirk plays at the corner of his lips, and he pulls you up to straddle him once more. His hands find your waist, holding you firmly as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he can taste himself on you.

For a while, the two of you simply sit there, your bodies pressed together, enjoying the rare and uninterrupted intimacy. There's no rush, no need for words—just the quiet, perfect moment shared between you.

This moment here is yours and yours only.

To cool down from the heat of the day, you grab two cans of cold beer from the fridge and hand one to Minho before plopping down beside him on the sofa. Without a word, you take his arm and drape it over your shoulder, snuggling in as close as possible. His presence is comforting, and today, you crave it more than usual.

“To making babies!” you chime, raising your can.

“To making babies!” Minho echoes, clinking his beer can against yours. You both take hearty gulps, the cold liquid instantly refreshing as it runs down your throats.

For months now, you and Minho have been trying to have another child, but despite your best efforts, the results haven't come. You both decided to stop stressing about it and just enjoy the process. And right now, enjoying the process is exactly what’s on your mind.

You softly trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips, feeling the light stubble there. “This mouth still knows how to make me feel good,” you mutter, your words laced with affection.

Minho smirks faintly at your compliment. “This mouth always takes me well,” he teases back, making you laugh softly.

You smile, leaning into him. “I think we’ve been working really well on this baby-making thing.”

“We make a great team,” he remarks, his hand snaking around your neck as he pulls you toward him, placing a kiss on your lips. His lips are warm, a reminder of the connection you both share.

“But honey…” he murmurs as he pulls back just enough to gaze at you, “We haven’t even started making babies yet.”

You narrow your eyes at him, catching onto the playful glint in his gaze. “Oh, yeah, you’re right.”

What happened earlier was just the warm-up, the teasing foreplay. The real fun, the true attempt, is still ahead. You take the can from his hand and place it on the coffee table, along with yours, before climbing onto his lap. Your arms loop around his neck as you straddle him, the closeness already setting your skin on fire.

Minho’s hands are quick to move, his fingers finding the zipper at the back of your dress. He tugs it down, the soft sound of it parting filling the quiet space. You help by pulling the dress over your head, tossing it onto the floor before pressing your body against his, skin to skin.

His lips capture yours in a slow, deep kiss, one that sends shivers down your spine. His hands roam your body, one sliding down your back until he reaches the curve of your rear, giving it a firm squeeze. You melt into his touch, sighing against his mouth.

“Let’s make cute babies, mmh?” you whisper, your lips brushing his before kissing him again.

“Yeah, let's make another little shit,” he jokes, a playful grin on his face as his hand lands a firm slap on your ass.

“Honey!” you shriek, though your sly smile gives away how much you’re enjoying it.

Maybe it’s the rare freedom of having the house to yourselves that makes Minho loosen up more than usual. He’s rougher, more intense, and you don’t hold back from showing how much you love every moment. Your moans fill the room as he thrusts into you, deep and purposeful, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you.

But then he slows down, deliberately pulling back just as you’re nearing your release, letting the tension slip away. He’s done it more than twice now, and it’s starting to drive you crazy.

“Minho, quit playing,” you grumble, gripping his shoulder, your frustration clear as your body aches for release.

“What?” he asks, playing dumb, a smirk plastered on his angular face.

“We have to pick up Byeol soon,” you remind him, your voice breathless. “We can’t be late.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” he reassures you, his words followed by a hasty kiss as he continues thrusting into you. “We’ll finish just in time.”

Minho always has his way, and you know it’s impossible to stop him when he wants something—especially this.

Later that night, you stand in the kitchen, watching the microwave hum as it cooks the popcorn. Your eyes drift toward the living room, where Minho and Byeol are sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a movie. Byeol, as animated as ever, is eagerly explaining something about the plot to her dad, her little hands moving in excitement.

It’s such a simple, everyday sight, yet it fills you with a deep sense of contentment. You can’t help but smile. Moments like this remind you of how lucky you are to have this life. But at the same time, a small voice inside asks: Do I really deserve all of this?

The microwave beeps, snapping you out of your thoughts. You grab the bowl you’ve prepared and carefully rip open the package, letting the freshly popped kernels spill into it. The warm, buttery scent fills the air as you carry the bowl to the living room.

You place the bowl of popcorn on Byeol’s lap, earning a sweet, “Thank you, mommy,” from her.

“You’re very welcome, honey,” you reply, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head before settling down next to Minho.

One arm wraps around his back as you nestle closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. You’ve always loved the way his tattoos curve along his neck, but what you love even more is kissing him there. So you do, placing a soft, lingering kiss on his skin, breathing in his familiar scent.

“How do you do it, honey?” you ask in a low voice.

Minho slightly turns his head, meeting your gaze as his hand moves to rest on top of yours, which lies comfortably on his chest. “What?”

“Act like you didn’t rearrange my guts hours ago on this very sofa?” you tease, a playful giggle escaping your lips.

He narrows his eyes at you, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. You can tell that the memory of your earlier activities is playing through his mind just like it is in yours. Instead of answering, he leans in and kisses you, his tongue sneaking past your lips in a move that’s definitely risky considering Byeol is just a few feet away. But Minho loves to push boundaries, and you love him for it.

Just as the kiss deepens, Byeol speaks up, her voice pulling you both back to reality. “Mommy, you have to watch this!” she pouts, her tone full of urgency. “This is the best part!”

You break the kiss with a soft laugh, one of those inevitable interruptions that come with being parents. You grab a handful of popcorn and turn your attention to the screen. “Okay, okay, Mommy’s watching,” you promise, your voice light as Minho keeps his hand laced with yours on his chest.

In moments like these, you realize something important: whether or not you ever have another child, you’re already blessed. Byeol is everything you could have ever asked for, and Minho—he’s been more than a great partner. He’s been a wonderful father and an unwavering source of love. Your marriage has been nothing short of bliss, and every day with them feels like a gift.

This is your family. Your little slice of forever. And you love them more than words can ever express.

It’s another day in Minho’s life, waking up early as usual. He stretches with a groan, then instinctively scoots closer to your side of the bed. His arm snakes around you, and he places a soft kiss on your neck, but something feels off.

Frowning, he props himself up on one elbow and gently moves the hair away from your face. The sheen of sweat on your forehead makes his concern grow. Minho presses the back of his hand to your neck, confirming what he fears—you’re burning up with a fever.

In an instant, he’s out of bed, hurrying to the medicine cabinet to grab the thermometer. When he returns, he presses the tip to your ear, waiting until the beep confirms it—you definitely have a fever.

“Honey,” he calls softly, his voice laced with worry as you shift under the covers. “You’re burning up.”

Your eyes flutter open, wincing as though it’s painful to wake. “I don’t feel well,” you croak.

“I’m going to get you some aspirin, okay?” Minho says, already half-jogging back to the cabinet, grabbing both the medicine and a glass of water.

He helps you sit up, watching closely as you take the aspirin and wash it down with a big gulp of water. Gently, he tucks you back into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chest.

“You’re not going to work today, okay?” Minho says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nod weakly, your eyes already closing as you curl up, trying to get more rest.

Minho sighs, hating to see you like this. Looking so pale and fragile, it makes him feel helpless. But all he can do is be there for you.

“Just rest, mmh?” he murmurs softly, patting your head tenderly. He fixes the blanket again before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. As he closes the door, he hopes you’ll get the peace and rest you need.

His morning routine is thrown off, but he shifts focus, knowing he needs to get Byeol ready for school. He moves through the kitchen, preparing breakfast and her lunchbox, making sure everything’s packed and ready.

“Where’s mommy?” Byeol asks, noticing the absence at the breakfast table.

“Mommy’s not feeling well,” Minho explains, making a mental note to call your assistant and inform them that you won’t be able to work today.

“Mommy is sick?” Byeol’s face is full of concern, even with her mouth full of food.

“Yes, honey.” Minho places the lid on her lunchbox and tucks it into her bag.

Before leaving, Byeol insists on checking on you. She tiptoes into the bedroom, softly resting her head on your arm and placing a kiss on your hand, even though you’re fast asleep.

“Bye, bye, mommy,” she whispers. “Get well soon!”

If only you could see it, you’d know how much your little girl cherishes and loves you.

Minho follows suit, bending down to kiss your head. “I’ll be back soon, honey,” he whispers.

The whole morning passes while you sleep, and by the time Minho returns from his work downstairs, he finds you sitting up in bed, talking on the phone, probably informing the office about your sick day. He checks your temperature once more, relieved to find that the fever is starting to subside. Sitting next to you, he feels your head rest on his shoulder the moment you hang up the call.

“Feeling better?” he asks softly.

“Still feel like shit,” you mutter bluntly.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Minho gently scolds. “Want me to make you something?”

You nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, taking a moment to think. “You know, I suddenly crave your fried rice.”

“Fried rice?” He raises an eyebrow, expecting you to want soup or something light.

“Mm-hmm,” you confirm, “and make it a little spicy.”

“Spicy fried rice?” Minho asks, slightly surprised, considering your low spice tolerance.

“Yes,” you insist, and he can’t help but smile.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, giving in easily. He lingers a little longer, enjoying your warmth as you snuggle into him.

As he cooks in the kitchen, Minho is surprised when he sees you walking out of the bedroom. Slowly, you make your way to the sofa in the living room.

“I was about to bring it to you in bed,” he says, pouring the freshly made fried rice onto a plate.

“It’s okay,” you wave him off, sitting down with a sigh. “I needed to go to the bathroom anyway.”

He brings the food over, along with another aspirin and a glass of water. Sitting beside you, he watches as you take your first bite.

“Oh, God! This is so good,” you gush, as though tasting his fried rice for the first time.

“It’s not too spicy?”

“Actually, it’s not spicy enough,” you tease, which makes him laugh since he knows how low your spice tolerance usually is.

Time passes quickly, and soon, it’s almost time to pick up Byeol from school.

“Don’t forget to take your medicine after,” Minho reminds, kissing your head before standing up.

“Honey,” you call sweetly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask for more fried rice before you leave?” You flash him a playful grin.

How could he say no to that? “Of course, honey.”

When Byeol arrives home, she runs straight to you, burying her face in your chest, clearly happy to see you looking a little better.

“Mommy, don’t be sick!” she mumbles with such concern, it tugs at your heart.

“It’s just a fever, honey. Mommy will be okay,” you assure her, rubbing her back softly.

Minho watches the scene, understanding just how much you mean to Byeol and how much it affects you to see her worry. He heads back to the kitchen, preparing some snacks for her before his next appointment at the parlor.

“Take care of mommy while Daddy’s working, okay?” he says, giving Byeol a little responsibility.

Two hours later, Minho returns to find the two of you still in the living room. Byeol is busy working on her homework while you’ve fallen asleep on the sofa.

“Shh... mommy’s sleeping,” Byeol whispers as soon as she notices him approaching, her finger pressed to her lips.

Minho steps back with his hands raised. “Okay, sorry,” he whispers with a chuckle.

Still speaking in a hushed tone, Minho asks, “What do you want for dinner?”

Byeol thinks hard, a hand under her chin just like you do when making decisions. “Hmm... soup dumplings?”

Minho smiles. “Okay, soup dumplings it is.”

“Can Mommy eat soup dumplings when she’s sick?” Byeol asks, her thoughtfulness touching his heart.

“I think so. Mommy would love them,” he assures her.

Byeol smiles, content with the answer, before returning to her homework.

As Minho watches the two of you, he feels that familiar sense of determination. There’s nothing he loves more than taking care of his girls, but seeing one of you get sick? That part he hates. And it only makes him more resolved to do everything he can to keep you both safe and happy.

The next morning, it’s as if the fever never happened. You wake up a little later than Minho, feeling refreshed after a shower and getting dressed for work. There's a bounce in your step as you head to the kitchen, the scent of coffee drawing you in.

"How do you feel?" Minho asks as you nonchalantly steal his mug and take a sip of his coffee.

"I feel good," you reply with a smile, leaning in to press a lingering kiss on his lips before heading off to Byeol’s room.

You help your daughter get ready, brushing her hair and helping her pick out clothes. Together, you return to the dining table, where Byeol beams up at Minho, already dressed and ready for school.

"This looks delicious, daddy!" she chirps, eyeing the breakfast spread.

"Then you'll have no problem finishing it, right?" Minho teases, earning a giggle from her.

He serves you a fresh plate and pours another cup of coffee before sitting down for a quiet breakfast together. You take your first bite of scrambled eggs, but something’s off. Almost immediately, you feel your stomach turn, and you slap a hand over your mouth, quickly excusing yourself to the bathroom.

"Is mommy sick again?" Byeol asks, her voice tinged with concern.

"Daddy will check on mommy," Minho reassures her, getting up to follow you.

He finds you bent over the sink, splashing water into your mouth, trying to calm the nausea. Worry flickers across his face as he steps inside.

"Honey, are you okay?" he asks gently, handing you a towel.

You nod, still rinsing your mouth, though the nausea lingers. "I’m fine," you manage, though the look in his eyes tells you he’s not convinced.

You snort, spitting water into the sink as a small smile breaks through. He rubs soothing circles on your back, but the concern doesn’t leave his face.

"You didn’t have any trouble swallowing the other day," he jokes, his voice low and teasing.

"Maybe you should take another day off work," he suggests.

"I’m okay," you say, more to convince yourself than him.

"You sure?"

"I’m sure," you nod, smiling faintly.

Still not entirely convinced, he squeezes your shoulder. "I’ll drive you to work today."

You stay in the bathroom for a moment longer, trying to shake off the odd feeling, while Minho returns to Byeol, who’s nearly finished her breakfast. He packs her lunch, sliding it into her school bag just as you call for him from the bedroom.

"Minho…" Your voice trembles slightly, and he’s at your side in seconds, worry clouding his eyes.

"What’s going on?" he asks, noticing the strange look on your face.

You raise your hand, holding something small and unmistakable—a pregnancy test. "I’m pregnant," you announce, the words filled with joy as a slow smile spreads across your face.

This is the moment you've both been waiting for, what you’ve been hoping would happen after months of trying. You should be celebrating together, but as the realization sinks in, you notice something shift in Minho’s expression. There’s happiness there, but it’s shadowed by something else—uncertainty, perhaps—and it’s enough to make your smile falter.

You look away, turning to Byeol instead. "Mommy is having another baby," you say, keeping your tone light and cheerful.

Byeol looks as confused as Minho, though hers is an innocent curiosity. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Mommy doesn’t know yet," you chuckle softly, kneeling beside her. "But you’re going to be a big sister."

"Who’s going to be a big sister?" Felix’s voice echoes from the doorway. You turn, spotting him leaning against the frame, his eyes bright with curiosity.

It’s a conversation you know will be public knowledge soon enough, so you smile and tell him, "Byeol is going to be a big sister."

Felix gasps, his eyes going wide. "Oh! You’re pregnant?" he asks, just to make sure he’s hearing correctly.

"Yes," you nod.

"Oh my gosh! Congratulations!" Felix exclaims, immediately pulling you into a hug. Heis genuinely thrilled, his excitement infectious, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy it. But in the back of your mind, the comparison stings—this was the reaction you had hoped for from Minho.

A deafening silence fills the car on the ride to work, an unspoken tension hanging heavy between you and Minho. After dropping off Byeol at school, neither of you speaks, and the quiet lingers, almost suffocating. It's only when the car pulls up outside your office building that you finally break it.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face him. “Minho,” you say softly, your voice carrying a weight that makes him immediately focus. He lets go of the steering wheel, giving you his full attention.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to work without us talking about it,” you admit, addressing the elephant in the room. Your fingers find his, loosely lacing them together. “You can tell me what’s really going on.”

Minho shifts, clearly aware that his earlier reaction might have come across the wrong way. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “It’s not that I’m not happy,” he starts, his voice quiet, “I’m just… worried.”

Your brows furrow, and he continues, his eyes softening as he speaks. “You remember when you gave birth to Byeol? You went through so much pain, and… you lost a lot of blood.”

The memory seems to weigh heavily on him, and you can almost see it playing out in his mind as he talks. “Seeing you sick is enough to make me worry, but I can’t bear the thought of you going through that again.”

For a split second, he lets down his guard, allowing you to glimpse the deeper, more fragile part of him. The part that cares for you more than anything else in the world.

“Oh, honey…” you sigh, the sadness in your voice mixing with a fond smile as you lean closer. “You just love me so much, don’t you?”

Minho shrugs in that nonchalant way he does, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. But you can see through it.

You chuckle softly, squeezing his hand tighter. “Honestly, I’m scared too,” you confess. “But I’m not when I’m with you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in deeply, letting the warmth of the moment settle between you both. “With you, I feel like I can do anything.”

You shift slightly, meeting his gaze with a smile that’s full of reassurance and love. It’s a smile that tells him you’re ready for this, that you both are.

Minho looks at you for a moment, then, unable to help himself, he jokes, "When it comes down to you or the child, just know… I’ll choose to adopt Felix."

Your eyes widen in playful disbelief, pretending to stammer, "Uh... okay?" before you both break into laughter.

He cups your face gently, his thumb brushing your cheek as he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s not just any kiss—it lingers, slow and deep, conveying all the love he has for you, the excitement that’s starting to bubble beneath the surface now that his fears are laid bare.

When the kiss ends, you whisper, “Just close your eyes, Minho and I'll tell you when the scary part is over.”

And for the first time since the news, Minho lets go of the weight on his chest. He chooses to believe in the good things, in the joy that’s coming, and almost can’t believe it—his family is getting bigger.

Four months have passed, and your baby bump has grown. Minho can't help but admire how your pencil skirt hugs your figure, accentuating the curve of your belly. It’s a constant reminder to him that you’re carrying his child, and the thought stirs something primal in him. Moreover, you’ve been carrying the pregnancy well, glowing with that unmistakable maternal aura that only makes him fall for you more. But beyond admiration, it also ignites a deeper, more physical desire in him.

The rooftop of the tattoo parlor, where the Oddinary crew often gathers, is buzzing with laughter as they celebrate Yoon’s birthday. Pizza boxes and cans of beer are scattered around, though you and Byeol stick to bottles of juice.

"This is from us," Minho says casually, handing Yoon the gift as if it's no big deal.

Yoon lights up as she accepts it. "Thank you so much!"

"Happy birthday, Yoon!" you add with a smile, comfortably sitting on Minho’s lap.

"Can I open it?" Yoon asks, her excitement barely contained.

"Go ahead!" you encourage. "We hope you like it."

Yoon eagerly tears through the wrapping, revealing a brand-new iPad. Her old one had seen better days, and she’d often complained about needing a new one for her tattoo designs now that she was taking on more clients. Her eyes widen, and she clutches it close to her chest. "Oh, thank you! I really needed this."

Felix, with Byeol on his lap, glances over with a playful pout. "You guys didn’t get me that game console when I asked it as a birthday gift," he mutters.

"That’s because you already play too many video games," you scold, slipping effortlessly into a motherly tone.

Felix turns to Minho for support. "Hyung?"

Minho grins. "I’m afraid she’s right."

Felix lets out a dramatic groan, "Not fair!"

Meanwhile, Sujin hands Yoon a necklace, adding to her growing collection as she likes to stack multiple necklaces around her neck on daily basis.

"So, where are we going out tonight?" she asks, likely already texting her husband with plans.

Minho shakes his head, his decision firm. "I’m sitting this one out tonight."

"Why?" Yoon asks, her brows knitting together.

Minho retrieves his wallet from his back pocket and hands Yoon a credit card. "You all have fun. It’s on me."

Yoon pretends to consider. "Great! I’ll use this to pay my phone bills then," she jokes, holding the card with both hands.

Sujin steps in with a playful roll of her eyes, taking the card from Yoon. "Don’t worry, I’ll keep everyone in check."

After tucking Byeol into bed, Minho joins you in the bedroom. He finds you in the bathroom, already dressed for bed, applying lotion to your arms as part of your nightly skincare routine. Without a word, he slips behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as his hands rest gently on your baby bump.

"You know, I don’t mind if you went out tonight," you say, catching his gaze in the mirror. "Or any night, really."

Minho nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling the soothing scent of your skin. "It’s okay. I have something better to do anyway," he replies, his voice low.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you lean into his touch. "And what’s that?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

His lips brush against your neck as he murmurs, "You."

For the last few months, Minho has been cautious, knowing it wasn't safe to be intimate in the early stages of your pregnancy. But tonight, the careful distance he’s kept melts away. He needs you, craves you.

Later, you lie at the edge of the bed, propped on your elbows, your eyes locked on him with the same hunger that burns in his. Minho stands, positioned between your legs, moving with slow, deliberate care. His hands are planted on either side of your waist, and he leans down, pressing soft, heated kisses on your skin.

"Honey…" you moan, your voice a breathless whisper as his lips trail over your neck.

You tilt your head, seeking his mouth, and he gives in, kissing you with an intensity that feels like a lifeline. His movements are measured, filled with restraint and passion, but you can feel him starting to lose control, both of you teetering on the edge.

"I’m so close," you whimper, your hand gripping his arm tightly.

Minho threads his fingers through yours, his voice a soft promise. "I’ll give it to you, honey," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

With one last push, the tension between you snaps, and Minho groans deeply as he releases, filling you completely. His lips find yours in a deep, breathless kiss, his body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

As you both lie together afterward, the room quiet except for the sound of your breathing, Minho pulls you close, his hand resting tenderly on your belly. He peppers your skin with soft, fluttering kisses, his heart full, his love for you overwhelming.

"I love you," he whispers, the words carrying a weight that fills the room.

You smile, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "I love you."

And that’s how Minho ends his day—wrapped up in you, content and at peace, his heart overflowing with love for the family you’re growing together.

In the middle of the night, Minho stirs from his sleep as he feels the bed shift. His eyes blink open just in time to see you slipping out of the bedroom. A wave of sleepiness pulls him to stay put, but curiosity wins over. He pushes himself out of bed and follows you.

Quietly stepping into the kitchen, Minho catches sight of you standing by the fridge, sniffing a jar of pickles. "What are you doing?" he asks, his eyes squinted in the dim light.

Startled, you nearly drop the jar, letting out a sigh of relief when you realize it’s just him. "Minho, can you not—" you begin, a little exasperated, but the words trail off.

Minho approaches, his footsteps soft, mindful not to wake Byeol, who’s fast asleep in her room. It’s not the first time he’s found you sneaking into the kitchen for a midnight snack, and he understands it. Pregnancy cravings don’t adhere to normal schedules.

"Are you hungry?" he asks gently, placing a hand on the small of your back.

"Yeah," you reply sheepishly, setting the pickles aside.

"What do you feel like eating?" Minho opens the fridge, glancing at the contents inside.

You scratch your chin, reminding him so much of Byeol when she’s deep in thought. Then, with a grin, you suggest, "Grilled cheese?"

As Minho works in the kitchen, keeping the noise to a minimum, you curl up on the sofa, munching on some of Byeol’s leftover snacks and catching up on your favorite show. It’s comforting, the familiar routine of it all, even at this hour.

Soon enough, Minho walks over with a plate in hand. You reach out eagerly, but the sandwich is still too hot to touch, causing you to hiss in surprise. "Honey, can you—" you begin to ask, but Minho, anticipating your next request, hands you a bottle of honey before you can finish the sentence.

"Thank you," you beam, wasting no time drizzling the honey over the grilled cheese.

Minho watches with a mixture of amusement and fondness. You didn’t have any unusual cravings during your first pregnancy, but this time around, honey seems to find its way onto everything—toast, fruit, milk, even pizza. It’s strange, but as long as you’re happy and eating, he’s not about to question it.

"Good?" he asks, eyes twinkling.

You nod, unable to answer with your mouth full of food. He can’t help but smile as he watches you enjoy every bite.

"Do you want me to make you another one?" he offers as you near the end of the sandwich.

"If I keep eating like this in the middle of the night, I’m going to get so big," you grumble, pausing to add more honey to the toast.

Minho tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Why is that a bad thing?" he asks, his voice soft. "That just means there’ll be more of you for me to hold."

His words make you smile, and with a playful glint in your eyes, you shove the last piece into your mouth. "In that case, I’ll take another one."

While waiting for the second grilled cheese, you switch up your approach, tearing it into pieces and dipping them in honey. Your attention shifts between the food and the TV, but then you suddenly blurt out, "We don’t know the baby’s gender yet, but I think we should have a pet name."

Minho chuckles. "Got any ideas?"

You pause for a moment before laughing at your own suggestion, "Honeypot?"

Minho grins, playing along. "How about ‘little shit’?"

You surprise him by laughing and agreeing, "I like that. Because he’s being a greedy little shit right now," you say affectionately, your hand resting on your baby bump.

Minho watches you with a warm smile, finding it adorable how you scold your bump with such endearment. It hits him, too—this little one is his little shit as well.

"We’ll have to be careful not to say that around Byeol though," you add with a grin.

Third trimester is where things get a little rough.

Your baby bump has grown even larger, and your protruding belly button makes it nearly impossible to find a comfortable sleeping position. Swollen ankles and feet, constant trips to the bathroom every hour or two, and an aching back keep you tossing and turning through the night. Worse, your body radiates heat, and Minho, sharing the bed with you, often wakes up drenched in sweat. But no matter how uncomfortable it gets for him, he knows you’ve got it much worse.

It’s the weekend, and Minho’s first thought is to let you and Byeol rest. He starts cooking breakfast a little later than usual, hoping you’ll get some extra sleep. The smell of food wafts through the apartment, and soon, you shuffle into the kitchen, sleepily rubbing your eyes.

"Morning," you mumble, slowly making your way to him, one hand supporting your belly as you lean in for a soft morning kiss.

"Morning," he replies, still whisking the batter for French toast.

"What’s for breakfast?" you ask, wrapping your arms around him from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder.

"French toast," Minho answers, focused on the task at hand.

"Yum!" you hum, your voice filled with satisfaction as you gently let go of him to patiently wait for breakfast on the dining table.

Sitting down, you grab your phone and begin to check work emails, your mind briefly occupied. As you concentrate on typing, a sudden sneeze bursts out of you.

"Oh?!" You gasp, feeling something unexpected. Your eyes widen, and you glance toward Minho. "I think I just pissed my pants."

Minho freezes, whisk in hand, turning to you with wide eyes. "Are you serious?"

"I don’t know," you laugh, frustration mixing with amusement. "I can't see it."

Your belly is too big to check on your own, so Minho walks over, pulling your chair back to give himself a better view. He bends down and takes a look.

"Nice!" he says, chuckling as he spots the wet patch on your shorts.

You narrow your eyes at him, clearly unamused. "You're having a good laugh, huh?"

Minho’s grin widens, unable to hold back the laughter. "Want me to help you clean up then?"

"Just hurry up with breakfast! I'm hungry!" you huff, half laughing, half exasperated, giving him a light push back toward the kitchen.

He turns back to the stove, still smiling as he flips the French toast, and a few minutes later, he places the plate in front of you. You can’t help but eye the delicious breakfast with anticipation.

Minho leans down and presses a quick kiss on the top of your head. "Eat well, pisspants," he teases, smirking.

You groan but can’t help smiling as you take a bite of the French toast. Even with the little mishap, moments like these make everything easier to handle—his teasing, his care, and the love that fills your home.

Minho only has one appointment today, and once he's done, he heads up to the third floor. He finds you napping on the sofa, the TV still on in the background. The sight makes him pause, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He knows better than to wake you—you’ve been struggling to sleep at night, and the rest is much needed.

Settling down beside you, Minho glances at the TV. It’s one of those shows you love, the kind that he could never get into, but he watches it anyway because you do. After two episodes, though, he starts to get bored. He leans closer, unable to resist the urge to press soft kisses against your cheek, then your forehead, and finally the tip of your nose.

"Honey, wake up," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he playfully tugs your nose between his lips.

You stir in your sleep, letting out a groggy groan as you weakly push at his head, trying to go back to sleep.

"Wake up," Minho tries again, this time burying his face into your neck and planting a series of ticklish kisses along your skin. "I’m bored."

"Go play with your daughter," you mumble, eyes still closed, your voice heavy with sleep.

"Your parents are taking her fishing, remember?" Minho reminds you, his tone soft but teasing. "You’re stuck with me."

The words sink in slowly, and you finally crack your eyes open, squinting up at him. "What do you want to do?" you ask, half curious, half resigned to whatever he’s planning.

Minho grins, shifting on the sofa to make himself more comfortable. "We can ride a roller coaster."

You chuckle, still drowsy. "I don’t think they let pregnant women ride roller coasters."

"Okay, fine. Haunted house?"

"Also, pregnant," you remind him, closing your eyes again.

He huffs, feigning frustration as he thinks. "How about a horror movie?"

You consider for a moment before mumbling, "Sure, put one on. I’ll watch it with you."

"No," he counters, shaking his head. "We’re not watching it here."

That gets your attention. You open one eye, giving him a suspicious look. "You want to go out and watch a horror movie?"

"Yup," Minho nods enthusiastically.

You sigh, staring at the ceiling as if contemplating how you ended up married to someone this persistent. "Fine, give me a minute to get ready."

The real reason Minho wanted to take you out wasn’t just boredom. He knew things would change soon, with a second child on the way, and he couldn’t remember the last time it was just the two of you. You deserved a break, and he wanted to give it to you, even if that meant taking you to see a horror movie you’d likely sleep through.

Later, after the movie, Minho waits outside the women’s restroom with your bag slung over his shoulder. When you emerge, you’re grumbling under your breath, your face scrunched up in discomfort.

"My feet," you mutter, pausing to adjust your swollen ankles in your shoes.

Minho glances down and sees how tight the shoes have become, your feet swollen from the pregnancy. Without missing a beat, he suggests, "Let’s get you a pair of sandals, yeah?"

You nod, grateful, as he leads you to a nearby shop. Inside, he doesn’t hesitate to kneel down, taking off your shoes and replacing them with a more comfortable pair of sandals. While he’s down there, he gently rubs your ankles, soothing the swelling.

"Better?" he asks, looking up at you with a smile.

"Much better, thank you," you sigh, relief washing over you as you take his hand, helping him to his feet.

On the way out of the store, you pause to admire a cardigan on display, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric. Minho notices, stepping beside you.

"You want that one too?" he asks, already reaching for his wallet.

You hesitate for a moment before slipping it off the hanger. "Does it look good on me?"

"I think it fits you well," he simply answers.

Minho buys it without a second thought, handing it over to you with a smile. He knows you can buy it for yourself, but he enjoys spoiling you in little ways when he can. It’s his way of showing his love, in gestures that remind him how lucky he is to have you.

As you both make your way to your favorite Italian restaurant, Minho buys a flower from an elderly lady selling them on the street. He hands it to you with a soft smile, the simple gesture making you raise an eyebrow.

"Okay, you can tell me now," you say, taking the flower but eyeing him suspiciously.

"What?" he laughs, feigning innocence.

"You know I wasn’t suspicious until you gave me flowers," you tease, poking at him with your free hand. "So what’s this all about?"

Minho grins, leaning back in his chair, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh. "I just felt bad for the elderly lady," he explains with a shrug.

You narrow your eyes, skeptical. "The last time you gave me flowers, you were apologizing for lying to me."

He chuckles, taking a sip of water as if stalling.

Leaning in, you lower your voice conspiratorially. "Did you sell the building to pay for your secret gambling debt?"

"No!" Minho laughs, shaking his head at your wild guess.

"Did you kill someone and need my help to bury the body?" you continue, your tone playful but serious.

His lips twitch into a smirk. "You’d help me bury the body?"

"Depends on who you killed," you joke, tearing a piece of bread and popping it into your mouth. "Whoever it was probably deserved it."

Minho’s laughter fades into a thoughtful smile. There was, in fact, something he needed to tell you, something he’s been holding back. After a moment, he clears his throat, turning more serious.

"You remember Hyunjin?" he asks.

You tilt your head. "The beautiful, tall guy with long dark hair and a rose tattoo on his finger?"

Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at your baby bump. "Be careful, you're already cheating on me with that little shit."

You laugh and put all of your attention on him, "Go on, what about Hyunjin?"

"He invited me to do a guest spot at his parlor," Minho says in a rush, blurting out the words.

You blink at him. "You want to do it?"

He nods slowly. "Yeah. I think it’d be... fun."

You smile softly, seeing how much he wants it. "Then you should do it."

Minho hesitates, his hand tightening slightly on your thigh. "But I can’t leave you. Not when you’re…"

"Yes, you can," you cut him off gently, placing your hand over his, "And you will."

"But I’ll be away for two weeks," he protests, his voice softening with worry.

"That’s fine. I’ll be on maternity leave anyway," you remind him, tearing another piece of bread. "It works out."

Minho stares at you for a moment, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. "You’re okay with it?" he asks, still unsure why he hesitated so much in the first place.

"Look, Minho," you begin, squeezing his hand, "You’ve done so much for me, for us. I want you to be able to do your thing too."

The simplicity of your words hits him harder than he expected. He looks at you, feeling overwhelmed with how lucky he is to have you as his partner, someone who understands him without him needing to explain. You give him the freedom to be his own person while still being a devoted father and husband.

"I don’t want you to hesitate to tell me the next time you have something you want to do, okay?" You add, your voice soft yet firm.

Minho nods, the smile that spreads across his face filled with love and gratitude. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

The apartment feels quieter than usual with Byeol spending the weekend with your parents. Despite the peace, a slight ache of longing tugs at your chest, so you call her to hear her voice. After a sweet chat, you hand the phone to Minho so she can talk with her dad.

“We’ll pick you up tomorrow, okay?” he says softly to your daughter. He smiles at something she says, his voice tender as he adds, “Sleep well. Goodnight!” He hangs up, and you sigh, shifting for what feels like the hundredth time beside him.

“The little shit won’t stop moving,” you mutter, rubbing your belly in frustration.

Minho puts your phone away and leans against the headboard, patting the space between his legs. “Come here.”

You shuffle over, leaning your back against his chest. His arms wrap around you, and his hands instantly find your swollen belly, rubbing gentle, soothing circles over it. His touch has always been your comfort.

“I think little shit can’t sleep because of the horror movie we watched earlier,” you murmur, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

He chuckles softly, his fingers tracing patterns beneath your camisole, feeling every tiny kick and movement. “No, I think little shit is just excited.”

The sensation of his hands on you, tender yet firm, is grounding. Slowly, the tension eases from your body. You melt into his warmth, your eyelids growing heavier with each caress. Minho presses a series of soft kisses along your temple, quiet and full of affection. His hand reaches for yours and he slips his fingers in between.

Knowing that he's noticing your swollen fingers, you say, "I need to take the wedding ring off."

Without saying anything, Minho takes it off for you and slightly struggling doing it. Once he successfully takes it off, he safely places the ring on the bedside table.

“How can I leave if you’re like this, mmh?” he whispers, his lips brushing your skin.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Minho," You smile sleepily, your eyes barely open. "I’ll be okay.”

"No, I mean, leaving you and you're not wearing the wedding ring..." he says with a playful smirk.

Your laugh vibrates through him, "I don’t think people would try to flirt with pregnant woman."

"I do," he shamelessly admits.

"That’s because you're deranged," you teasingly say and look over you shoulder at him, "my deranged husband."

His arms tighten around you, and though he knows you’re right, the thought of leaving still tugs at him. But as he feels you relax completely in his embrace, he remembers that if there's one thing he learned from years of being married to you is that you're stronger than you look.

It's 3 a.m., but Minho can’t bring himself to move. He lies there, watching you sleep peacefully beside him, your belly softly rising and falling with each breath. Part of him wishes he could stay, to spend the whole day with you. After a while, he reluctantly leans in, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your cheek before carefully pulling himself away.

He slips out of bed, moving quietly around the room, trying not to disturb you. The first flight out of the city awaits, and he needs to be at the airport in less than an hour. Minho takes his suitcase downstairs, leaving it by the door before heading back upstairs for a proper goodbye.

He steps into Byeol’s room, pausing at the edge of her bed, watching her little form snuggled under the blankets. She looks so peaceful, and it tugs at his heart.

“Daddy will be back,” he whispers, brushing a few stray hairs off her forehead. Leaning down, he places a soft kiss there. “Love you, my little star.”

He makes a quiet exit from her room but freezes when he sees you standing in the doorway of your bedroom, your hands resting gently on your growing bump, a sleepy but warm smile on your face.

“You think you can get rid of me that easily, huh?” you tease, your voice low and playful.

Minho grins, walking over to meet you, and together, you head downstairs just as the taxi pulls up outside. The driver steps out to help with the luggage as Minho turns back to you, double-checking everything.

“Got your wallet? Flight tickets?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Got them,” he confirms, patting his jacket pocket.

“Are you sure you’re not forgetting anything?” You ask again.

There’s a sly smile on your lips, and Minho hesitates, trying to remember. You squint, holding up his phone that you’d swiped without him noticing. He smiles, taking it from you and tapping on the screen, only to see that you’ve changed his lock screen to a photo of you and Byeol.

“So you remember you’ve got a wife and a daughter waiting for you at home,” you say with a playful smirk.

Minho laughs, but when he unlocks the phone, he finds another surprise—a rather provocative picture of you, posing in a way that makes him flashing you a mischievous grin.

“Just a friendly reminder of what you’ll be losing if you even think about flirting with anyone,” you warn him, your tone teasing but with an edge of seriousness.

Minho tucks his phone away, stepping close to you, though your belly stops him from getting as close as he’d like. He places a hand tenderly on your bump, rubbing it in slow circles. “Keep this little shit inside until I get back, okay?”

You chuckle, your hand covering his. “I’ll try.”

His other hand cups your face, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss. There’s something tender, something a little desperate about the way he holds you, as if this moment is too precious to let go.

“I love you,” he whispers between kisses, his voice low and full of feeling.

“I love you,” you murmur back, your smile soft against his lips, your forehead resting against his.

With a final kiss, Minho lets go, though his hand remains intertwined with yours. He traces his thumb across your cheek, as if memorizing your features one last time.

“Take care, and be back safely,” you say, your smile bittersweet.

He nods, but his legs feel heavy. This is the first time he’s leaving his family, and it’s harder than he anticipated. His body doesn’t want to move, like it’s rooted to the spot, not ready to let go.

“And don’t forget to enjoy yourself too, mmh?” you add with a warm smile.

Minho swallows the knot in his throat, forcing a smile. “I will.”

Finally, he turns toward the taxi, walking slowly as if each step pulls him further from you. He doesn’t look back—not yet—because he knows he’ll run straight back into your arms. Only when the taxi starts driving away does he glance back, watching you wave until he disappears down the street.

The red traffic light seems to stretch endlessly, making every minute feel like an hour. You glance over at the passenger seat, where the carefully packed dinner is growing colder by the second. As soon as the light turns green, you press down on the gas, navigating through the streets at the maximum speed allowed. There’s no time to waste, but you remind yourself that it’s better to make it home in one piece.

With a deep breath, you haul everything out of the car and begin your slow ascent up the stairs. Each step is a challenge with your swollen baby bump, and by the time you reach the third floor, you’re panting.

"Felix, I’m so sorry," you blurt out the moment you open the door to the apartment, "The traffic was horrible..." You trail off as you hurriedly place the bags on the dining table, relieved to finally be home.

The balance between work, pregnancy, and taking care of Byeol has become a juggling act without Minho around, and everyone in the parlor has been taking turns in helping you doing one of them.

As you catch your breath and turn towards the living room, you can’t help but chuckle at the sight before you. Byeol is perched on the couch, happily tying Felix’s long bleached hair into tiny ponytails, adding hairpins and colorful stickers to his face.

"It’s okay, we’re having fun," Felix says, staying as still as possible so Byeol can work on his hair. "Right, rockstar?"

"Mm-mmh," Byeol hums in agreement, her focus entirely on securing a final hairpin in place.

You laugh softly, “You two look like you’re having a blast.”

Once she finishes with Felix’s hair, Byeol runs over to you and hugs your waist, her small arms barely reaching around your bump. "Mommy’s home!" she giggles.

You smile down at her, stroking her hair gently. "Let’s have dinner first, alright? You must be hungry."

Her eyes light up as she eagerly asks, "What’s for dinner?"

"It’s your favorite—soup dumplings," you announce, watching her face brighten. "Go wash your hands first!"

Byeol scampers off to the sink as you turn back to Felix, who’s gently pulling the last hairpins out of his hair.

"Are you staying for dinner?" you ask while unpacking the food.

Felix shakes his head, running a hand through his now free-flowing hair. "I’ve actually got dinner plans with a friend, so I’ll head out."

"Sorry for keeping you," you say apologetically, glancing at the mess of stickers still plastered across his face. You step closer, helping him peel the last of them off.

Felix chuckles, grabbing his jacket. "It’s no problem, really."

"Byeol, say goodbye to Uncle Felix," you call as she finishes washing her hands.

"Thank you for playing with me, Uncle Felix," she says sweetly, running over to give him a hug.

"You’re very welcome, rockstar," Felix replies, hugging her back before standing up to give you a hug as well.

After he leaves, you feel the weight of the past week without Minho settle in. It’s been tough managing everything, but tomorrow marks the start of your maternity leave, and the relief is almost palpable.

"Have you done your homework?" you ask, wiping some leftover sauce from Byeol’s mouth as she finishes her dinner.

"Mommy, I don’t have school tomorrow," she giggles.

"Oh, right! Mommy forgot," you chuckle, realizing it’s school break. "Do you want to do something fun tomorrow?"

Byeol’s eyes widen with excitement. "Mommy’s not working?"

"Nope, no work!" you confirm with a smile.

Her face lights up even more. "I want to go to the aquarium!"

You pause, recalling that she’s already been there recently, but you quickly realize she’s asking for something more—time with you. With another baby on the way, your one-on-one moments with Byeol have been scarce.

"You know what? Tomorrow, we’ll go to the aquarium, and we’ll do whatever else you want. How does that sound?"

"Really, mommy?" she asks, her voice full of wonder.

"Really," you reply, smiling as you brush a hand over her hair.

The next morning, Byeol wakes up buzzing with excitement. She puts on her best clothes and even helps you pack a few things for the day. When you arrive at the parlor downstairs, Byeol is bursting with anticipation.

"Where are you going, superstar?" Sujin asks, opening her arms for a hug.

"I’m going to the aquarium with Mommy!" she declares proudly.

Sujin playfully pouts, "Can Auntie Sujin come too?"

"No," Byeol shakes her head, giggling as Sujin pretends to be offended.

Felix joins in, "What about me? Can I come?"

"No," Byeol repeats, still giggling. "It’s just me and Mommy!"

With everything packed and Byeol bubbling with excitement, you wave goodbye to the parlor crew and head out for a day that’s all about your little girl.

At the aquarium, Byeol is in awe of everything, dragging you from tank to tank, her tiny hand gripping yours as she points excitedly at the sea creatures. "Mommy, look!" she exclaims every few minutes, her eyes wide with wonder.

After hours of exploring, you stop for a quick lunch, letting Byeol take charge of ordering for both of you. She confidently hands over your credit card at the window, beaming with pride.

"So, what do you want to do next?" you ask between bites of fries.

She thinks for a moment before asking, "What about you, Mommy? What do you want to do?"

Caught off guard by her question, you blink a few times, then chuckle. "How about we get our nails done? Or we can watch a movie, or go shopping. What do you think?"

"I want to paint my nails too!" Byeol says, her enthusiasm never faltering.

You smile at the thought. "Alright, why don’t you pick the color, and we’ll have matching nails?"

No one knows your daughter best than you, she likes playing soccer instead of with her dolls, she always prefers to look scary for Halloween instead of dressed as princesses and recently, she mentioned that she wants to take a taekwondo class, you always thought she leans toward such things but you realize that there's so many sides of her that you just haven't discovered yet. A person can be so many things, there's no limit to what they like or what they interest in, for all you know, Byeol can be anything she wants.

Byeol takes the task seriously, carefully scanning the color options before choosing a vibrant purple. The two of you sit side by side at the salon, giggling as your nails are painted, Byeol opting for colorful flower designs on hers.

By the time dinner rolls around, you’re both exhausted but happy. As you head back home, Byeol suddenly dashes toward the elevator.

"Please hold the door! My mommy is pregnant, and she can’t walk fast!" she calls out to the person inside.

The lady smiles kindly and holds the door open. "What a thoughtful little girl you have," she says, patting Byeol’s head as you finally catch up.

"I’m lucky," you reply, pulling Byeol close as the two of you step inside.

As you reflect on the day, you can’t help but feel immense pride in your daughter. She’s growing up so fast, learning and becoming her own person in ways you hadn’t even noticed. You smile to yourself, knowing that no matter what, Byeol is already shaping up to be someone wonderful—someone strong, caring, and unafraid to try new things.

As you enter Byeol’s room, the weight of the day settles in, the ache in your feet reminding you of just how much you walked. Still, your little one inside won’t let you rest, kicking incessantly since you got home.

"Ready for bed, starshine?" you ask, watching Byeol eagerly climb under her covers.

"Yes, mommy," she replies, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

You wince slightly as you sit down beside her, gently tucking her in, and she notices immediately.

"Are you okay, mommy?" she asks, her voice full of concern.

"Mommy’s okay," you assure her with a smile. "The baby just keeps kicking."

Byeol, curious and excited, places her small hand on your belly, waiting. Her eyes widen when she feels a kick, and she grins up at you.

"So, did you have fun today?" you ask, softly brushing her hair back.

"I had so much fun!" she says, cuddling into your chest, her voice brimming with joy.

"We can do it again tomorrow," you say, leaning down to kiss her head.

"Mommy’s not working tomorrow?" she asks, her wide eyes hopeful.

"No, mommy is on maternity leave," you explain.

"What’s that?" she questions, her confusion evident.

"It means mommy doesn’t have to work until this baby pops out," you explain simply.

She brightly smiles when she hears it. She throws her arms around you and hugs you tightly as she says, "I love you, mommy."

Your heart shakes from hearing the earnestness in her words, you feel tears forming on the corner of your eyes. You blink them away and put on a smile as you say back, "And mommy loves you too."

You pull the blanket to cover her body and softly pat her head, "You must be tired. Let's get to sleep, yeah?"

She nods as drowsiness starts taking over her, "Goodnight, mommy."

"Goodnight, my shining star," you murmur with a lingering kiss on her forehead.

In your bedroom, you take a moment to sit on the bed and just process everything until you get overwhelmed by the emotions of the day. Tears prick at your eyes, but they’re a mix of joy, exhaustion, and love. Just as you start to wipe them away, the phone rings, and Minho’s name flashes on the screen. You quickly take a deep breath, not wanting to let him hear your tears, and answer the call.

"Hi, honey," you greet him with forced cheer.

"Hey, pisspants," he teases, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"How are you?" you ask, smiling despite yourself.

"I’m surprisingly fine without you," he jokes, and you roll your eyes, "Byeol?"

"All tucked in, not a chance of escape," you say with a playful chuckle.

"And the little shit?" he asks, referring to the baby.

"Practicing kickboxing in here," you say, rubbing your belly as the baby kicks again as if on cue.

"How was your day?" you ask, settling deeper into the bed, "No, wait, unless you tattooed someone’s buttock, I don’t want to hear it," you add with a laugh.

"Sadly, no," Minho replies with a grin in his voice.

"Then ask about my day," you demand, feeling a little more playful.

"Okay, how was your day?" he caves, amused.

You launch into the story of your day, telling him every detail from the morning to the aquarium trip, to Byeol ordering food at the drive-thru, and you can hear his smile through the phone as he listens. He interjects every now and then, keeping up the light banter, and for a moment, it feels like he’s right there with you.

"That sounds fun. I’m jealous," he says when you finish.

"It was," you sigh happily.

It’s moments like these, his teasing, his calm presence, that you miss the most. Your chest tightens with the ache of missing him.

"I miss you," you admit quietly, the tears from earlier creeping back up your throat.

"I miss you too, honey," he says softly, and you can feel the sincerity in his voice.

Even though he’s miles away, in that moment, you feel connected to him, the distance fading as you share the quiet agony of longing for each other.

The moment Minho steps off the plane, the cool airport air hits him, a welcome contrast to the hours spent in the stale cabin. He rolls his stiff shoulders, grateful to be on solid ground. He pulls out his phone, ready to text you, expecting to wait for a ride.

But as he walks toward baggage claim, he stops in his tracks, his eyes widening. There, standing just past the barrier, are you and Byeol.

His heart stutters, caught between surprise and overwhelming joy. He wasn’t expecting you to come all this way, especially with your swollen belly and how much you’ve been juggling at home. But here you are, and you’ve brought Byeol, her small face lighting up the second she sees him.

"Daddy!" Byeol yells, her voice cutting through the hum of the crowd as she breaks into a run toward him.

Minho barely has time to drop his carry-on before she’s in his arms, her little body crashing into his with all the force her excitement can muster. He lifts her easily, despite the weariness from the long flight, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

"Hi, honey," he murmurs, pressing his lips to her head, his heart swelling in his chest.

Then, his eyes lift to meet yours. You're standing there, smiling softly at him, looking beautiful and tired all at once, your hand resting on your rounded belly. The sight of you—the woman he loves, the mother of his child, the one carrying their second—hits him harder than he thought it would. Something about seeing his family, all here, waiting for him, fills his heart to the brim. His throat tightens, and before he can stop it, he feels the burn of tears behind his eyes.

"You came to pick me up?" His voice cracks, and he immediately feels a bit ridiculous, blinking away the moisture threatening to spill over.

You nod, your smile warm and knowing as you step closer. "We couldn’t wait to see you," you say softly, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek.

He closes his eyes at your touch, leaning into it, savoring the warmth of your skin against his. Byeol wriggles in his arms, pulling back to look at him with a beaming smile.

"We missed you, Daddy," she says, her bright eyes reflecting her joy.

"I missed you too, shining star," Minho says, his voice thick with emotion.

You step into his other side, wrapping your arms around both of them, and he feels it—the peace, the love, the sense of home that he’s been missing. His arms tighten around you both, holding onto the moment, grounding himself in the comfort of your presence.

It’s not just relief from the long trip or the exhaustion of work; it’s the realization of how much his heart aches when he’s away from you two. Being here, now, with his family, everything else fades.

"I’m home," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the hum of the airport.

"And we’re so glad you are," you reply, your lips brushing against his cheek as you pull him into a deeper embrace.

For a moment, he lets himself feel it all—the happiness, the gratitude, the love. His family, his home, right here in his arms.

Minho is finally home.

Everything feels familiar, but there’s an undeniable shift in the air. His eyes sweep across the apartment, noticing the small yet significant changes—there’s a crib in the corner of the bedroom now, baby clothes draped over the armchair, bottles, and toys beginning to clutter spaces that once held nothing but the quiet simplicity of your shared life. A reminder that soon, his family will grow by one more.

He makes his way into the bathroom where you're standing at the sink, gently rubbing cream on your face. He watches you through the mirror for a moment, taking in how radiant you look, despite the exhaustion he knows you've been feeling. You catch his gaze and smile softly.

"Getting bigger," Minho comments, his eyes tracing your reflection as he walks up behind you.

At first, you assume he's talking about your growing belly, especially with how close you are to your due date. But when his hands slide around your front, you burst into laughter as they make their way up to cup your breasts.

"Just how you like them, huh?" you tease, glancing at him in the mirror with a grin.

He smirks, placing a sweet kiss on your neck. "Always," he murmurs against your skin. But then, with a softer smile, his hands move down to your belly, cradling it from underneath, lifting it gently as though taking some of the weight off you.

You let out a small, relieved moan, closing your eyes as you lean back into him. "Why can't you do this for me every day?" you joke, though the gratitude in your voice is clear.

It’s been months of carrying this weight, of swollen feet and sleepless nights. And yet, somehow, in these small moments with him, it all feels worth it.

Minho presses his lips to your shoulder, lingering in the warmth of your skin. "I missed you," he whispers, but it’s not just missing you physically. There’s a depth to his words, like he’s been holding his breath, and now that he’s back, he can finally exhale.

His lips trail down to the crook of your neck, and before long, you find yourself in the bedroom, lying on your back, your head resting on the pillow as he hovers above you. His movements are gentle, careful, as he enters you. Not too deep, just enough to feel you, to remind himself of what it’s like to be with you this way.

You laugh softly, a contented sound that fills the room. "I can’t see it, but it feels so good," you say, your hands tracing the lines of his tattoos, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers.

Minho smiles, his heart swelling at your touch, your voice. He moves slowly, cautiously, not wanting to push too far, not wanting to hurt you or the baby. His hands brace beside you, propped against the mattress, keeping himself steady.

Your hands find his face, pulling him down to kiss you, and he’s lost in the sensation of your lips against his, the sound of your quiet moans urging him on. He missed this — missed the intimacy, the connection, the feeling of being one with you.

"Honey," he breathes, his voice thick with longing. He presses his lips to your neck, your chest, savoring every inch of you.

You moan his name softly, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at him, and that’s all it takes for Minho to reach his release, his body tensing as he comes, his seed spilling inside you. He pulls out just a second too late, but he doesn’t care. In this moment, all that matters is you, the life you’ve built together, and the one growing between you.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leans down to kiss you deeply. When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, your eyes locked on his. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that surprises you, and it hits you just how much this moment means to him.

The weight of his emotions threatens to overwhelm him, but Minho lets it all out, lets himself feel it all as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice low and raw.

"I love you too," you reply, your voice filled with all the love you’ve carried for him through the years, through the ups and downs, the changes and the constants.

Tears slip down your cheeks as you kiss him again, both of you lost in the tenderness of the moment, the unspoken promise that no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

Minho doesn't have much to do around the house as you’ve already tackled most of the chores. He knows you like to keep yourself busy, but watching you move around, especially with the baby almost here, makes him a little anxious. Seeing you now, carrying a full laundry basket down the stairs, only increases his concern.

“Slow down, or you’re going to piss your pants again,” Minho teases, leaning against the doorframe.

You chuckle, setting the basket down on the carpet. “I’m doing alright, honey,” you assure him, lowering yourself onto the sofa with a small sigh.

Before you can start folding the laundry, Minho steps in and grabs the basket from you. “Nope. Not today,” he says, replacing the basket with a plate of sliced fruits. “Take a break. You can do the laundry later.”

You sigh in defeat but take the plate from him, nibbling on a piece of apple dipped in peanut butter. While you sit back and relax, Minho quickly handles the laundry, but when he returns, he catches you making another attempt to escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to piss my pants again,” you shout with a laugh, already halfway to the bathroom.

Minho shakes his head with a grin and waits in the living room until you come back. But when you return, your expression isn’t playful anymore—it’s tense, and there’s a weird look on your face.

"You didn’t make it to the bathroom right on time?" Minho jokes, trying to keep things light.

You sit slowly on the sofa and lean back, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I’m not sure… but I think… I just lost the mucus plug,” you say, biting your lip.

Minho feels the tension in his chest as your words sink in. Though he stays calm, he knows what this means. It’s one of the first signs that labor is near, and while he doesn’t want to alarm you, he’s on high alert now.

He moves closer, his hand gently resting on your belly. "Are you okay? Do you feel any pain?"

"My back is always in pain,” you answer with a sigh, “but I’m good for now."

"Should we get ready to go to the hospital?" Minho asks, his hand moving to rub your lower back in soothing circles.

“It could be a false alarm,” you say with a faint smile, “but just in case, yes.”

Minho nods, appreciating how calm you’re trying to stay. Luckily, thanks to your meticulous planning, the hospital bags were packed weeks ago. All he has to do is grab them from the closet and put them in the car.

"Do you want to go now?" he asks as he notices that you've been getting contractions.

You nod but don’t say anything, your expression showing you’re trying to breathe through the pain.

The drive to the hospital feels like an eternity, even though Minho is breaking every speed limit. He glances over at you, your hand resting protectively over your belly, your breathing uneven as you try to power through the contractions. He reaches out and takes your hand, squeezing it gently.

“We’re almost there,” he reassures you, his voice is calm but tight with worry.

Minutes later, you’re arrived at the hospital. Nurses are already waiting with a wheelchair, and Minho quickly helps you into it. His worry is more apparent on his face now.

"It’s going to be okay," you tell him as you squeeze his hand.

"I know," he says, flashing you a faint yet genuine smile.

Your journey through labor has begun, and Minho is right by your side, ready for whatever comes next.

After labor, you drift in and out of consciousness for what feels like hours. It isn’t until the nurse enters your room to check on you that you start to come around, your senses slowly gathering themselves.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” the nurse apologizes softly, noticing your eyes flutter open.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” you say with a weak but warm smile. Your body feels heavy, but there’s a lightness in your heart knowing what’s coming next.

Shortly after, they bring you a meal to help you regain some strength. Hospital food is always hit or miss—sometimes it’s surprisingly good, other times it’s bland. But today, the pudding is exactly what you need, a small but satisfying comfort.

Minho had to leave to handle a few things at home and will return soon with Byeol. For now, you’re alone, savoring the quiet until the nurse returns, this time pushing the bassinet small into the room. Your heart skips, and a soft smile pulls at your lips, knowing you’re about to meet your baby again.

When you first met your little one in the operating room, it had all been a blur—tears, sweat, and a whirlwind of pain. You hadn’t been able to focus through the intensity of it all. But now, as the nurse gently settles the bassinet beside your bed, the moment feels much more real.

“You might want to start with breastfeeding initiation,” the nurse suggests kindly, helping you get comfortable before carefully placing the baby in your arms.

“Thank you,” you mutter, your voice soft, eyes fixed on the tiny bundle in your arms. His little face is peaceful, his cheeks flushed and warm. As soon as the nurse leaves, it truly hits you: he’s yours. This little boy was inside of you just hours ago, and now, he’s here, cradled against your chest.

“So it’s you, huh?” you murmur in awe, brushing your finger along his tiny hand. “The one who’s been kickboxing inside mommy’s tummy?”

His tiny forehead crinkles, and your heart swells as a tear slips down your cheek. He’s so beautiful. Fragile, yet so full of life. You can’t stop smiling through the tears, utterly captivated by him. Then, he lets out a soft cry, his little face scrunching up. You remember what the nurse said about breastfeeding and shift him into position, unsure if you’re even producing milk yet.

It takes a moment, but he begins to nurse, and the world seems to still around you. You forgot how intimate this moment feels—how sacred it is to have your baby so close, sharing this connection. As he feeds, the overwhelming emotions settle deeper into your chest, filling you with love, gratitude, and an inexplicable sense of completeness.

Not long after, the quiet of the room is broken by a familiar voice.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Byeol calls, her excitement spilling into the room as she bursts through the door.

You glance up and see her little feet moving quickly toward you. “Oh, honey, you’re finally here!” you exclaim, a broad smile breaking across your face. “Mommy missed you.”

“I missed you too, Mommy!” Byeol beams up at you before holding up something in her hands—a small, stuffed bunny.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously, your heart swelling as Minho steps into the room behind her, his eyes locking onto yours. He’s holding your hand before you know it, the unspoken emotions passing between you as you both look down at the baby in your arms.

“This is for the baby!” Byeol announces proudly, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“That’s so nice of you, honey,” you say, feeling tears prick your eyes again, this time from the tenderness of the moment. “Come sit next to Mommy.”

You shift over on the bed to make room for Byeol, and Minho helps her climb up. Once she’s seated beside you, her gaze locks onto her baby brother, her little hands twitching, eager but hesitant to touch him.

“He’s so tiny, Mommy,” she giggles, eyes wide with wonder.

“Do you want to hold him?” you ask softly.

Byeol glances at Minho as if seeking permission, then nods at you, her smile growing. Together, you and Minho help her hold the baby carefully, cradling his weight between her small arms and your supportive hands.

“Meet your little brother, Haneul,” you whisper, introducing the two of them for the very first time.

Byeol’s eyes light up as she gazes down at him, the gentle awe never leaving her face. After a moment, she bravely reaches out and pokes his chubby cheek. “He’s so squishy!” she declares, making you laugh softly.

“You can kiss him if you want,” you encourage.

Without hesitation, Byeol leans forward and plants a sweet kiss on Haneul’s cheek, giggling as she pulls back. “He’s so cute, Mommy,” she whispers, resting her head close to him, her protective little arms still cradling him carefully.

Your heart feels like it might burst at the sight of them together—your children. You squeeze Minho’s hand, overcome by the love you feel for your family. As you turn to look at him, tears glisten in your eyes, but they’re happy tears—grateful, joyful tears.

Minho smiles softly, a quiet understanding in his eyes. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

In this moment, everything feels perfect. Your family has grown, and with this new little life, your world feels more whole than ever before.

For the rest of the day, both your families come to visit you at the hospital, offering congratulations and warmth to the new addition to your family. As the evening settles in, the Oddinary arrive, right after the tattoo parlor has closed for the day. Their familiar presence fills the room, bringing laughter, chatter, and of course, food. They even bring pizzas to celebrate the occasion.

As Sujin gently holds little Haneul in her arms, she studies him with an appraising look while Felix peers over her shoulder in awe.

“Babies are ugly, but this one…” Sujin starts, narrowing her eyes playfully as she shifts Haneul in her arms, “…this one is beautiful. Props to you, girl!” She flashes you a proud, almost approving smile.

“Thank you,” you manage to respond, cheeks flushed as you take another bite of pizza, appreciating the warmth of her compliment.

Minho, feeling somewhat left out, leans back in his chair and shoots Sujin a mock offended look. “No props to me?”

Sujin doesn’t miss a beat, throwing him a teasing glare. “She’s the one who carried him for nine months.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Which is kind of unfair,” you add. “I carried him for nine months, and he came out looking just like his dad.”

Minho had never been overly concerned with whether the baby was a boy or girl—he’d love them no matter what. But when he saw Haneul for the first time, he was struck by just how much the baby resembled him. It had been a delightful surprise, one he hadn’t expected but welcomed wholeheartedly.

Felix, ever curious, rubs a tattooed finger gently over Haneul’s cheek, marveling at how soft the baby’s skin is. But Haneul’s reaction is immediate—his tiny face scrunches up, and he starts to cry.

Felix’s eyes go wide in surprise, his hands freezing in place. “Why did you touch the baby with your greasy hands?” Sujin hisses at him, swatting at his arm.

“I— I didn’t mean to!” Felix stammers, holding up his hands in surrender, his face a mix of guilt and panic.

“It’s okay,” you laugh, waving off the commotion. “It’s about time I feed him anyway.” You finish your slice of pizza quickly and hold out your arms, signaling for Sujin to hand Haneul back to you.

Sujin carefully places the still-crying baby in your arms, and as you begin to unbutton the front of your shirt, everyone else takes it as their cue to leave the room.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” Sujin announces with a smirk before gathering the rest of the Oddinary. Felix, still looking slightly guilty, waves awkwardly as he trails behind the others.

Once Minho sent everyone off on their way, he takes a minute to call his parents to check on Byeol. She’ll be staying with them until you’re discharged from the hospital. When he returns, he’s greeted by the sight of you cradling Haneul in your arms, a soft, loving expression on your face. In this moment, with the room bathed in the gentle glow of the hospital lights, you look absolutely radiant to him. He’s struck by how serene and beautiful you seem, completely immersed in your maternal role.

Without a word, Minho moves to tidy up the room, throwing away the empty pizza boxes and soda cans before washing his hands. Then, he comes to sit beside you on the bed, leaning in to get a closer look at your son.

“He’s so beautiful,” you whisper, your eyes glancing up at Minho with a smile.

“He has your eyes, your lips…” you murmur as you gently caress Haneul’s cheek with your knuckle. You pause, then give his tiny nose a playful boop. “Even your nose.”

A wide smile spreads across your face as you bring Haneul a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I think I’ve fallen in love…” you admit, your voice filled with quiet wonder.

Minho watches you closely, recognizing that you’ve been wearing that same smile ever since you first laid eyes on Haneul. He knows he feels the same, though he’s always been better at concealing his emotions. Still, he can’t hide the warmth that spreads through his chest as he watches you with your son.

Just then, Haneul begins to coo softly, his tiny hand rubbing at his face, his features scrunching up again as if he’s about to cry.

“You want Daddy, mmh?” you guess softly, glancing up at Minho before carefully handing Haneul over to him.

Minho quickly sits beside you, taking Haneul into his tattooed arms. It’s only the second time he’s held his son today, the first being the moment of skin-to-skin contact just after Haneul was born. As Minho holds him now, he’s struck again by how small and delicate the baby feels in his arms.

You wrap your arm around Minho’s waist, resting your chin gently on his shoulder. Together, you both gaze down at Haneul, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude for this little life you’ve brought into the world.

You press a soft kiss to Minho’s neck and murmur, “We made that.”

Minho turns his head to look at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “We made it,” he echoes softly.

As Minho holds Haneul close, a sense of responsibility settles over him. The weight of being a father to two now, of being a husband and the head of a growing family—it all becomes real in this quiet moment. He knows that he must strive to be the best father, the best husband, the best version of himself for you, for Byeol, and now for Haneul. And as he looks back at you, the love he feels for you both is unmistakable, filling him with an unshakable sense of purpose.

It's another day in Minho’s life, except that his routine has shifted just a bit, revolving around the new addition to the family. For Minho to keep up with the tattoo parlor during the day, you insisted on taking care of baby Haneul during the night, allowing him the rest he needs. Yet, Minho can’t help but sacrifice some of his sleep to wake up earlier than usual, cherishing these moments with his newborn son.

As always, he begins his morning by cuddling up to you. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek before slowly slipping out of bed. His first stop is Haneul’s crib, where the baby sleeps soundly, his tiny mouth making faint sucking motions as if he’s dreaming of breastfeeding. Minho smiles at the sight—how peaceful, how precious.

After washing up, Minho moves to prepare a bath for Haneul. His hands, trained from years of precise work as a tattoo artist, move skillfully as he fills the tub. His calm and steady touch proves invaluable during moments like this. Even when Haneul wakes up, startled and crying from the disturbance, Minho remains calm.

"It’ll be done soon," Minho murmurs softly, his voice soothing as he bathes his son.

Once Haneul is clean and dressed, Minho already has a bottle of breastmilk prepared to settle him back down. He cradles him gently in his arms, swaying and lulling him back to sleep as he feeds, planting a gentle kiss on his son’s cheek. Soon enough, Haneul’s little eyes flutter closed again, and Minho carefully places him back into the crib, brushing a hand over his soft hair before moving on with his morning routine.

Minho heads to the kitchen, starting with a cup of coffee to fuel the rest of his tasks. He waters the plants, then begins cooking breakfast. His steady rhythm in the kitchen feels like second nature now—cooking for the family has become one of his favorite parts of the day. He doesn’t forget to prepare Byeol’s lunch either, tucking in a little note with a doodle like he always does.

Just as he’s finishing up, you emerge from the bedroom, looking sleepy but determined to join him for breakfast.

"You stopped asking what's for breakfast," Minho remarks with a smile as he plates the food, setting it on the table for you.

"At this point, I’ll just eat whatever you give me," you reply, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

Minho chuckles, leaning down to place a kiss on your temple. It’s these little moments, the small exchanges that feel so intimate and warm, that fill him with a sense of contentment.

Soon, Byeol comes bounding into the dining room, full of energy and eager to tell you both about her excitement for school. As she slides into her chair, she chatters on about her favorite subject and what she can’t wait to learn today. Minho listens, glancing over at you with a small smile, feeling like these moments of normalcy are truly where life happens.

When it’s time to leave for school, Byeol rushes over to give you a big hug and kiss before heading to Haneul’s crib to say her goodbyes to her little brother. Minho watches the scene with pride swelling in his chest. He’s always been amazed by how naturally Byeol has taken to being a big sister.

Minho doesn’t leave without his own goodbye. He pulls you close, pressing a quick but loving kiss to your lips.

“See you soon,” he murmurs softly, his forehead brushing against yours for a moment before he stands, guiding Byeol towards the door.

"Bye, bye, Mommy!" Byeol chirps, waving as Minho holds the door open for her.

"Have a great day at school, my shining star!" you call back, waving with a smile that’s tired but full of love.

As Minho buckles Byeol into the car and starts the drive to school, he finds himself reflecting on how different his life is now. It’s not the grand gestures or the monumental events that have shaped him, but rather the small, quiet moments like this—breakfast with his family, goodbyes before school, the peaceful early morning routine with his son.

These little slices of heaven, day after day, are what fill his heart with gratitude. And in these moments, he knows there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Motherhood is exhausting.

It’s not just the lack of sleep or the endless list of physical discomforts. There’s the emotional rollercoaster no one warns you about—the way joy and sadness seem to come in waves, sometimes crashing over you when you least expect it. After Haneul was born, you were overwhelmed by the strangeness of no longer carrying him in your belly, missing the sensation of him kicking even as you held him in your arms. It’s a bittersweet adjustment.

But Minho makes it easier. He’s always there, making sure you never feel alone. He doesn't hover, but his presence is steady, and the little gestures of love—his way of checking in on you, or simply wrapping you up in his arms—give you a sense of comfort. Today is no different.

As you change your clothes, Minho catches you in the act, watching from the edge of the bed. You’re in the middle of swapping out a blouse, frustrated as your breast milk has leaked through again.

"You look good today," Minho says casually, a sly grin forming on his lips as he admires you.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I smell like a mix of sweat, barf, and diaper disasters.”

His smirk is playful. “Exactly my type.”

You finish buttoning your blouse and turn to face him. Despite everything your body’s been through—stretch marks, swollen feet, exhaustion—he looks at you like he always has, with a mixture of admiration and affection that never wavers. It’s comforting.

"Come here," he beckons, arms outstretched in invitation.

You don’t need to be told twice. You move into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you close. His lips find yours, a slow, affectionate kiss that lingers, melting away the day’s fatigue.

"I guess you also smell like desperation," Minho teases as he places a kiss on your neck, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

You gently slap his chest in protest, half-heartedly. "You’re so annoying."

He only smirks and kisses you again, this time more softly. It’s moments like these that remind you why he’s your partner through all of this—his humor, his warmth, his ability to make you feel like yourself even when motherhood makes you feel anything but.

"How about I make lunch?" he asks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "What do you feel like?"

"Hmm... I’m starving," you sigh dramatically, leaning your head against his chest. "A big sandwich would be perfect."

"Big sandwich, got it," he replies with ease.

"And make sure you add lots of love." You laugh softly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Then it’s going to taste sour," he jokes, his hands sliding down to your waist.

You laugh, enjoying the easy banter. "I don’t mind that at all."

Minho kisses your cheek and makes a move to get up, but you tighten your arms around him, not ready to let him go just yet.

"No, stay," you whine, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "Let’s stay like this for a bit longer."

He chuckles softly and gives in, holding you closer. His tattooed arms wrap securely around you, the warmth of his body grounding you as the two of you sit quietly in the calm of the moment.

It’s surprising how often your baby boy needs to be fed throughout the day. As Haneul stirs in the other room, his soft cries reach your ears, and you let out a tired sigh.

“Alright, alright, give mommy a second,” you murmur, hurriedly unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re just as impatient as your daddy, huh?”

Minho enters the room again, Byeol trailing close behind him. She immediately clambers onto the bed, settling next to you and watching her baby brother feed.

"Honey, do you mind if I go out for a bit?" Minho asks, grabbing his wallet from the bedside table.

"Where to?" you ask, opening your arm for Byeol to snuggle into.

"Need to grab something from the convenience store," he answers, pulling on his jacket.

"Okay," you say, a bit distracted by Haneul feeding.

"I won't be long," he assures you, walking over to plant a kiss on the top of your head and giving Byeol a quick tickle, which sends her into giggles.

Once Minho leaves, Byeol settles beside you, gently playing with Haneul’s tiny fingers.

“Mommy, the baby’s here now,” she says thoughtfully, her small fingers brushing over Haneul’s tiny hands. “Does that mean you’ll go back to work soon?”

“Well, yes,” you answer carefully, “but not too soon.”

She looks up at you with wide, curious eyes. “Can mommy stay home every day?”

Her innocent question tugs at your heart. You hadn’t realized how much she missed these moments with just the two of you. You blink away the sudden sting of tears and stroke her hair gently.

“There’s nothing I’d love more than staying home with you and your brother, but there are people out there who need mommy’s help,” you explain softly. “And if I can help them, I should, right?”

Byeol contemplates this for a moment, her young mind trying to understand the bigger picture. Finally, she nods. “Right.”

You lean in and press a soft kiss to her forehead as you say, “But no matter what, mommy will always be here—driving you to school, watching your soccer practices, getting burgers at the drive-thru, painting our nails together.”

She beams at that, her smile making your heart swell and you continue with the most important thing you want her to know, “And mommy will always love you. So much.”

“I love you too, mommy,” she whispers, resting her head against your chest.

You hold her close, savoring the tender moment. “You’ll always be mommy’s brightest star.”

When Byeol finally drifts to sleep beside you and Haneul’s feeding comes to an end, you find yourself unable to move without disturbing them. Minho comes back into the room, his smile softening when he sees you snuggled with both children.

“I’ll carry her to bed,” he whispers, gently lifting Byeol in his arms and carrying her off to her room.

Relieved, you carefully place Haneul in his crib, your body aching from the long day. As Minho returns, he notices you massaging the back of your neck and quickly steps behind you to help, his strong hands working out the tension in your shoulders.

“Honey, I know you’re tired, but...” he begins, his voice low and soft, “Can we talk for a few minutes?”

You tense at his words, immediately wondering if something’s wrong. “Depends on what you want to talk about,” you joke, trying to mask your unease. “Is it about a secret gambling debt or a dead body you keep in the trunk of your car?”

Minho laughs, burying his face in your neck. “Close, but not quite.”

Curious, you follow him to the kitchen, your tired mind racing with possibilities. It’s not until you see the cake sitting on the table that you realize—it’s his birthday. And you forgot.

"Oh no, it’s your birthday," you whisper, feeling a wave of guilt crash over you.

"It’s not yet," Minho reassures, pulling you into his arms. His smile is soft, teasing, but without any hint of disappointment.

You bury your face in his chest, tears of exhaustion and guilt welling up in your eyes. "I’m so sorry," you sob, embarrassed that you, of all people, forgot his birthday.

Minho holds you tight, his hands gently stroking your back. "There’s nothing to be sorry about, honey," he murmurs against your hair. "I just wanted to celebrate with you."

He tilts your chin up, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "Are you really going to cry on my birthday?" he asks with a playful smirk.

You sniffle, managing a small smile. "No."

Together, you light the candles, your heart swelling with gratitude for the way he handles moments like this—with patience, understanding, and love. When the clock strikes midnight, you cheerily announce, "It's officially your birthday!"

Minho closes his eyes and makes a wish, his hand still holding yours. After he blows out the candles, you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.

"Happy birthday, honey," you say, planting a long, chaste kiss on his lips and when you pull back, you softly apologize, "I’m sorry I don’t have a gift for you, yet."

"You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for," Minho whispers, pulling you even closer.

His hands cup your face, and you can see the depth of his emotions in his eyes. "You gave me a family, two beautiful children... I can’t thank you enough for giving me this life."

His words are simple but filled with so much emotion that tears well up in your eyes again. You kiss him softly, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you—the love, the gratitude, the life you’ve built together.

"Oh, honey," you reply, your voice trembling as you cradle his face.

Minho kisses you again, slower this time, savoring every moment. "I promise I’ll always make you happy," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours.

"You already do, Minho," you whisper back. "Every single day."

His lips press against yours once more as he mutters, "I love you."

"I love you," you reply, your heart aching with happiness.

He kisses you again, the moment full of tenderness and gratitude but when he pulls back, he gives you a cheeky grin. “So... can I blow you next?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes at his predictable humor. “Be careful, or you’ll be a father of three on your next birthday.”

Minho smirks, pulling you closer. “I'm okay with that.”

As you hold him, encased in the warmth of his love, you realize once again that no matter how hard motherhood or life gets, you could only do this with him by your side. With Minho, you can weather any storm, face any challenge, and still feel like you’re the luckiest person in the world.

With him, you can do anything.

The parlor has just closed when the Oddinary guys barge in, loud and excited, with a birthday cake in hand. Minho knows he can’t stop them—even if he wanted to. Once they set their minds to something, there's no talking them out of it. After all, they’re his family, long before he made and built his own.

He sighs, watching as they gather in the living room, the cake’s candles glowing warmly. Felix takes charge, lighting them with a wide grin. Minho leans back on the sofa, not exactly thrilled to be the center of attention on a day he prefers to keep low-key. The only reason he even humored celebrating last night was because he didn’t want you to feel bad for almost forgetting.

You plop down next to him, startling him out of his thoughts. Without a word, you hand him a fresh bottle of beer, and he gladly accepts it, his arm naturally wrapping around you, pulling you close to his side.

The noise in the room fades into the background as you nestle against him, the warmth of your presence grounding him. Your eyes flick to Sujin, who’s sitting across from you, gently cradling baby Haneul in her arms. You smile softly, a thought forming in your mind.

“I don’t want to impose, but Sujin...” you begin, your tone casual yet filled with meaning. “I think you’re ready.”

Sujin’s brow furrows in confusion as she shifts Haneul slightly, the tattoo on her neck straining as she leans forward. “Ready for what?”

Minho chuckles lightly, his voice laced with amusement. “You know what she meant,” he quips, shooting a playful smirk at Sujin.

Her husband, seated beside her, grins. “As for me, I’m just waiting for her.”

Sujin’s head snaps toward him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. A slow smile begins to bloom on her face, softening her features as she glances back down at Haneul.

Minho shifts his focus to his daughter, Byeol, who’s sitting on the carpeted floor, caught between Felix and Yoon as they try to win her over. These two are in an animated debate, vying for her favor.

“Do you like Auntie Yoon more or Uncle Felix more?” Yoon asks, her voice filled with childlike curiosity, blissfully unaware of the intensity behind the question.

Minho knows this is one of those questions none of them is ever truly prepared to hear the answer to.

Byeol giggles, taking her time as if she’s carefully considering her options. After a long minute, she finally answers, “Uncle Felix!”

“I knew it!” Felix cheers in triumph, throwing his arms around Byeol and pulling her onto his lap.

Yoon, feigning disbelief, shakes her head. “No, I think Byeol isn’t taking enough time to think. I demand a retake!”

Felix, quick to defend his newfound title, presses his hands over Byeol’s ears. “No, you’re just jealous. Boooo!” he teases, sticking his tongue out and making silly faces at Yoon.

Minho fights the urge to smile, watching them act childish as usual. This kind of chaos—this kind of love—is something he cherishes, even if he’d never admit it out loud. Then, he turns his head, his gaze falling on you.

You haven’t changed. Not really. But at the same time, you have. It’s something subtle, something only he can see. A kind of growth and quiet strength that has always been there but now shines even brighter.

Some things will never change, though. Like the way you’re his anchor, the force that holds him down and keeps him steady. You’re the source of his strength and his love, the one person he trusts with every part of himself—and he knows you feel the same about him. And best of all, you’ll always be his.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask, sensing the intensity in his gaze.

The noise around them swirls, but for Minho, in this moment, it’s just the two of you. He shakes his head slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, letting the kiss convey what words can’t.

With the new addition to his family, the house feels crowded—maybe even too crowded. He glances around the room, taking in the sight of his daughter laughing with Felix and Yoon, his son sleeping peacefully in Sujin’s arms, and the people who have been by his side since the beginning. His home is growing. It’s crowded, noisy, chaotic—but it’s home.

For now, this is enough. This is everything. This is home.

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