#thank you. from the bottom of my heart. ✩

[momenalmdhoun]

A Heartfelt Plea: Help Me Return Home🕊️

Dear friends, In the past few days, I've been grappling with the trauma of the situation and trying to figure out what comes next after the ceasefire. After everything we've endured, I am finally able to return to the north of Gaza, where our homes once stood, now reduced to rubble. I’m reaching out to you because I need help. The cost of transporting my family and our belongings is extremely high, and unfortunately, we can't afford it on our own. There are no tents in the north, and buying new ones there isn’t an option. I can’t leave our things behind; they are all we have left.

My heart is tied to that place, to the sky above our home, even if it’s uninhabitable. I miss it so deeply, and I need to be there with my loved ones, surrounded by what’s left of our life. I trust you, my friends, and I consider you my family. Please, if you can, help us cover the transportation costs. Every little bit counts, and your support would mean the world to us during this difficult time. If you can’t donate, sharing this with others who might be able to help would also make a huge difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. With love, 🌸

🌟 Our campaign is vetted by 🇵🇸 @/gazavetters List at #291

[sunboki]

⎯ for eternity longer. ⟡ featuring christopher bahng

🍼 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

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

WORD COUNT. 6.4k words ☆ 30 minute read

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

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

PLAYLIST.

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

or alternatively :

Blossoming beginnings, and the bump.

“Channie, baby,”

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

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

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

“‘S late.”

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

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

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

“Just love it.” 

Another kiss, then another.

“Love you, love this. I’m so happy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he’d said something? Forgotten something?

Birthday, anniversary, a family member passing?

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

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

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

A sharp inhale and then-

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

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

Pregnant.

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

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

As if he didn’t fret over you anyway.

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

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

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

“I’m.. hic.. I’m keeping it, okay?”

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

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

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

Plus the bump, of course.

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

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

Minus the dad-to-be.

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

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

It was true, every bit.

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

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

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

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

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

Well, after he hangs up.

”Hey sweetness, ‘sorry for waking you.”

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

Your smell, your warmth, touch.

He’s far too smitten to be healthy.

But then again, is there any remedy to adoration?

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

Of the many adjustments.

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

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

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

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

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

“Just love you.” 

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

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

A soft squeeze to your belly.

“How exciting.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah.

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

Gorgeous.

If not more.

Yet another reason why Chris has lost his mind.

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

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

“Hi, sweetness.” 

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

“Hi, Channie.”

Shoot him.

Joking.

Kind of.

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

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

“You headed out?”

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

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

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

“This one’s good.”

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

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

Then again, Minho has always been peculiar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The baby will look more like Chris.”

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

“What, balding at twenty-six?”

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

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

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

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

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

Of course.

The corner of your lips quirk into a grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.”

“‘M outside the studio, baby.”

“You’re what?”

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

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

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

Ah, right. 

The waddle.

Oh if it doesn’t make his heart soar.

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

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

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

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

“Come home,” does your eyes speak.

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

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

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

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

And then, just happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you, spoken amidst his subtle care.

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

“Ah? Really?”

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

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

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

You don’t mind.

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

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

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

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

Not fair.

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

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

Too good.

For a time again, not fair.

“Chris.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So let’s do something about it, hm?”

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

Habitual touch, comfort.

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

“Think I’ll be a good dad?”

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

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

“I just-“

He takes a breath, weighing the thought. 

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

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

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

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

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

Inhaling slowly, you roll over to face your husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you are going to eat eggs.”

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

“‘S good for the baby. ‘Just a bite.”

Another groan, swatting lightly at his shoulder in retaliation.

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

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

Now coming to be this morning.

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

“Chris.”

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

“It’s a girl.”

A sharp gasp, a choked sniffle.

“We’re having a baby girl.”

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

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

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

.

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t curse in front of the baby!”

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

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

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

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

A September baby, it seems.

“Corner guards? Do we have corner guards?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s so…Chris.

It’s perfect.

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

His world, he’d called the baby.

Fitting, isn’t it?

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

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

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

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

The gesture is appreciated, trust.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the blueprint went awry upon brushing your teeth.

Curse that damn toothbrush.

Kidding.

“Channie.”

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

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

This time, his peeking-in is greatly appreciated.

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

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

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

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

Right now, you would remain his sole focus.

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

An early present, it seems.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You FUCKER!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

His first surprise of the night.

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

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

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

And somehow, he knows that’s his.

Yours, together.

Chris’s second surprise.

His heart stops.

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

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

Pink blankets. 

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

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

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

His baby.

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

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

Precious.

“She’s.. hic.. so beautiful..”

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

And remarkably enough, she smiles.

This gummy, delighted smile.

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

“Your Daddy loves you.”

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

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

You were right. That time at the grocery store.

Oh to adore.

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

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

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

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

He holds you, for as long as you need.

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

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

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

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

It seems the Uncles are already smitten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Love, love, love.’

‘For eternity longer.’

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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

[yunjinstoy]

˖ ࣪ ‹ missing hours 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡

cho hyunju x fem!reader.

c/w: smut, phone sex, hyunju before transition, dirty talking, sub!hyunju x powerbottom!reader, needy hyunju, mentions of dick, full porn, sugarmommy kinda?? reader, little mention of breeding, and others things, lowercase intentional. hyunju rose dialogue.

a/n: guy's it's my first time posting something so please give me constructive tips!

you've been with hyunju for almost 5 months, and it was wonderful. she was the sweetest girl you could ever asked for, caring, lovely, understandable, comforting..and a nice cooker, of course. she was the first girl to not care about your money, even tho she knew that you have good amount of it, she never asked, and whenever she did for some reasonable and no doubts reason, she was so embarrassing to ask you for money, but you didn't care.

if you could, you would buy everything in your power to make hyunju happy, happy wife happy life, as they say.

୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧

some weeks ago, hyunju talked about how much she wanted to do the bottom surgery. it's not like it's anything new for her to talk about, she always did, she always showed how she wanted to be fully transitioned but she was also very afraid to do so. but since you guys got more comfortable and more intimate, she gained some confidence and desire to have surgery. it would be in thailand, she would say, because there's a lot of procedures well done there. so, the next day, you caught yourself searching for thailand travel flights and gender transition surgery clinics, and of course, you brought the best ones.

when you showed it to her, she almost cried of joy and expressed how much thankful she was for you by kissing your whole face (you loved it). but she also got feeling guilt because you spent money on her, but why wouldn't you? she deserves everything she wants. the girl was so happy but then reality touched her. you would not come with her since you had work to do that day, money doesn't come for nowhere, right?

she pouted while looking at you, sad that you would not be with her in such a beautiful and memorable moment in her life, and trust, you were so sad as she was, you wanted to go with her and give her all the love and comfort but you just... couldn't.

୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧

it's been two days since hyunju arrived at thailand, on the 3rd day, the surgery would be done. it's was fucking difficult for her not being with you, even if it was only two days since she saw you, she missed you so much like she was not seeing you for weeks. she mumbled from one side to the other with longing, she missed your sweet face to her, your soft hearted words for her, your touch which was always hot, since you had warm skin. urrgh, she missed you and she needed you so much. some hours passed, and it's has already 11pm for her, the time where you guys would call each other before hyunju passing out in sleep, so it wouldn't be long before you called her. she was waiting anxiously, and finally, she heard the phone ringing.

"hello?" you say, amazed at how quickly she responded.

"hiii baby! how was your day? busy one?"

"not really, it was fine. and you? how you doing? nervous about tomorrow?" you asked, already knowing the answer. how badly you wished you were with her right now. and so did she, your voice and genuinely concerned tone made her feel safe and loved, and that only made her long for you even more.

"mhm...but it's gonna be just fine.. everything is going to be as it should and it won't take long until you're with me tomorrow after the operation, right?" you could sense her nervousness through her voice but as she spoke the rest, she became happier and more relaxed.

"yes, baby. i can and i'm so excited to see you..and to see our future place to live in." a smile appears on your face when you remember all the promises of living together in thailand.

"thank god...i've been missing you so much."

"aw really? i miss you too."

"no, i really miss you badly. i can't stand not having yours slightly touch."

you paused for some seconds, not responding to her. you always loved when your girlfriend was needy, just because it was something rare to happen because she was an expert on containing herself. so in this case, she was really missing you.

"i need you here, sleeping with me, killing me with love and kisses. i wanted you to touch me until i sleep... it's so difficult here without you."

she continues confessing this and that, and you could tell she was imagining everything she was saying out loud as you hear her pauses and heavy sighs. you didn't know what to do or say, should i let her continue or should i respond something? you thought repeatedly.

"i need you, i miss you. i-i wanted to enjoy the last night together while i have...you know.." her voice trembles a little bit but you couldn't decipher whether it was desire or nervousness. you gulp hard as you got what she meant. was she for real?

"w-what?" that was the only thing that escaped from your mouth. how pathetic.

"i wish you were playing with my co...cock..." what came out of her mouth sent you to heaven, the shy way she said such thing. and she was not helping neither since you could clearly hear her panting heavily. you were trying to putting the dots in order, was this really happening? does she want it? should i risk it? but as you were thinking hardly, hyunju spoke.

"please...say something, help me.. somehow."

okay, fuck it. it's your girlfriend and she's extremely needy for you, so why would you deny her with your head bubbling up right now?

"what are you wearing?"

"a blue pajama-type dress, no underwear."

nasty, you thought. even without you, she would be still that naughty. and in some sense, you could feel your blood popping up thinking about her being like this, all alone. without you taking care of her.

"you're so naughty, hyunju. i know you really want me to suck your cock and feel your gland beating in the back of my throat but no underwear isn't resolving nothing, baby, you know that, right?"

"i-i know...It's just to stay relaxed at night because i always end up thinking about you and then i get hard...and it hurts when i have something rubbing down there.."

"my baby thinking about me at night? about what? me bouncing on your big dick already dirty with cum of both of us?"

"f-fuck yes, i want that so bad.." it was hard for her to control her breath while speaking and you could tell right away.

"how bad?"

"so so so fucking bad, i need you to r-ride my cock so badly... it's throbbing and craving for your pu..ssy..feels so good when i'm inside you, you make me feel so fucking go-good..please please let me-"

"let you what?"

"let me touch myself while thinking about you swallowing my cock, please please pleas...se, i c-can't anymore..."

"turn the camera on and touch yourself."

and hyunju did. she placed her phone right in front of her so you could see exactly how her face looked like at the moment. she was with her cheeks extremely red, same as her lips which were also wet from the times she bit her lips to contain herself. she was wearing what she told she was, and it suited her so well. her cock was full out, hard, juicy, and throbbing with need. she waited some time for you to admire her, because she knew that you would. and then finally, she placed the palm of her hand on top of the cock that had been begging to be touched for some time now. hyunju started to masturbate herself and you swear that the view was way better than any work of art. her free hand was glued to her mouth, being bitten to contain the louder moans and pleasure that hyunju felt, but she failef miserably since you could perfectly hear every sound that came out of her mouth, her eyes closed tightly and her eyebrows that the furrowed and moved with every movement that hyunju made on her own cock.

"just like that, baby...imagine it's me there, imagine your hand is my pussy taking care of your desperate dick."

"lo-ve...i'm gonna...i-" the hand that surrounded her cock began to make much faster movements. you could see her dick twitching.

"cum just inside of me, hyun."

and then, her orgasm arrived. the jets of liquid were falling down on her cock and hand. oh, how you wanted to lick that. her chest coming and going fast desperately, controlling her panting breath as she opened her eyes slowly as if she had just woken up.

"you did so well, my baby. you-"

she cut you off.

"i need...more, i want to make the most of my last day with a dick...and with you, please let me cum more."

reality hit you, this was going to be a long night and the best phone call you ever had, you should send her to thailand alone more times.

[dodgeball-of-apollo]

I never thought I’d see the day where dnd sold out MSG but here we are, and I was a part of it

I’m so glad that dnd has been such a uniting force that people from literally everywhere came together to chant, watch, and have fun

Thank you Dimension 20 and Dropout, but from the bottom of my heart thank you to everyone who loves Dnd, from the elders who have played since the 80s, to the newcomers who maybe haven’t even joined a campaign yet

Now I’m going to bed

[crowsofdarkness]

Soldat: Chapter One

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

A soft breeze came through the curtains in my living room as my eyes scanned the same sentence in the book that was placed in my lap. The sentence that I had reread four times now. Closing the book with a groan, I set it on the other end of the couch and grabbed my phone from the coffee table in front of me. 

No new messages. 

I pocketed my phone while pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Worry etched in my bones as I realized that I hadn’t heard from Steve in over 48 hours. He never went that long without sending some kind of message back to me. It was supposed to be a simple “save the hostages from a ship in the middle of the ocean. It’ll take a day tops.” Steve words. So here I was, two days later wondering what the hell went wrong. 

“Stupid ankle,” I cursed my sprained ankle as it was the reason I couldn’t go on the current mission. 

I had tweaked it a few weeks back and Steve wanted to make sure it was 100% before going back in the field. No matter how hard I tried to convince him I was fine, Steve could tell in the small limp that I was lying. 

I’d been on Team Captain America for almost a year now, Nick recruiting me because of my background. Three years on New York Swat and almost five as a secret agent for the FBI. There was more to my past, which helped mold me into the agent I was today but that was a part of my life that I kept hidden from everyone, including Steve. There was a time in my life where I was at my lowest and darkest; however, as much as that moment in my life caused me many emotional and permanent scars, I don’t think I would be where I was today. 

My finger ran over a small scar on my wrist as I thought back to that time, years ago, and my skin quivered as those memories came back. A dark, cold room with only one bed and the looming fear of when the next time would be when I would see him; would it also be the last time? Would my end be near?

“Christ, I haven’t thought of him in years.” I shuttered, pushing those thoughts away and tried to think of Steve.

In the year that I had been working side by side with him, Steve and I had become incredibly close. Soft touches, hushed conversions just between the two of us, and stares that never went unnoticed. We weren’t official, afraid of it getting in the way of work so we would never make it past first base; hell we never even made it close to first base.

Tired eyes read the clock that hung above the fireplace and a soft sigh left my lips. Calling him would be a waste of time because I knew he never kept his phone on him while on the field, it always stayed on the jet, so I decided to send him a text. 

I should have figured it would take you longer than a day without me.-Y/N. 

I didn’t even have a chance to set my phone down because a few seconds later it was buzzing and Steve’s face appeared on my screen, indicating he was face timing me. 

“Thank god I actually look somewhat decent,” I muttered before hitting the green button, accepting the call. 

Steve’s bright smile warmed my heart as I took in his appearance. Soot covered his forehead and chin, his typically styled hair was a mess, almost falling in his eyes as those tired blue eyes stared at me. 

“Hi,” I breathed. 

“Hey yourself. What time is it there?” Steve questioned. 

I looked at the clock before my gaze rested back on Steve. “Just past 6 in the morning. How’d the mission go?” 

Steve leaned back in the chair of the jet and ran a hand over his face, unbeknownst to him smearing the soot over his face. I suppressed a giggle, not wanting to let him know. 

“You’re cleared to go back on duty. Starting three days ago.” 

“I told you! We could have been finished days ago and you wouldn’t have needed me to water your plants.” I joked.

Steve shot up. “You have been watering them, right?” 

The seriousness in his voice made me roll my eyes. 

“Oh my god, grandpa. Yes, I did water your plants. You know, I forget that you’re 95 years old then you act like that and suddenly it all comes back.” I said with a small smile. 

“You love me,” Steve gave me a smug smile. 

My heart flipped. You have no idea. 

“So when are you going to be back?” I changed the subject. 

“The jet is landing at SHIELD in a few hours. I have to do a few errands but then I’m all yours,” the softness in his smile warmed my heart. 

“The usual?” I asked. 

“I’ve called in the pizza. It should be ready to go by seven.” 

“I’ll bring the beers then,” I smiled 

Every time we complete a mission, Steve and I would meet at his place for pizza and beers. It had been our tradition for the past year, no one else from the team joining. 

Just us. 

Steve’s lips moved as he was about to say something but a certain redhead appeared from behind him, coming into view. 

“NAT!” I yelled, “I miss you!” 

Her smile mirrored my own. 

“You are forbidden from ever taking leave again. This one almost forgot his shield.” Natasha pointed at Steve. 

“I did not!” He defended. 

“Oh Stevie, what would you do without me?” I cooed and noticed his cheeks burned red. 

We stared at each other for a few seconds and if feeling some type of tension between us, Nat shook her head before ruffling Steve’s hair. 

“You’ve got something on your face.” 

Steve looked closer into his phone and I swore, his cheeks were a deep crimson now. 

“You let me talk to you like this the entire time?” Steve questioned, quietly thanking Nat who gave him a towel. 

I shrugged. “I thought it was a cute look.” 

“Maybe if you stopped giving Y/N bedroom eyes, you would have noticed how dirty you were,” Natasha teased. 

“Nat!” I scoffed, feeling some warmth spread to my stomach. 

“What?” She shrugged, “Someone has to call him out."

Shaking my head with a laugh, I gave them a small wave goodbye and told Steve I would see him later. 

I ended the phone call with a sigh and felt excitement spread through my veins as the thought of being alone with Steve kept creeping in the back of my mind. 

“Where the hell are you Rogers,” I grumbled as I checked my phone for the fifth time since arriving at his apartment twenty minutes ago. 

I had called and texted him wondering when he would be home but was met with silence. My fingers slid over his door frame before peaking under the doormat hoping to find a spare key but nothing. 

“You’re damn lucky you’re cute,” I cursed when I checked my phone yet again. 

“Talking to yourself?” 

Spinning on my heels towards the voice, my heart leaped when I saw Steve ascend the staircase, wearing the brown leather jacket that looked so good on him. He had the box of pizza in one hand and was messing with his keys in the other.

“I left my spare key at home. You should really leave another one somewhere.” I noted. 

“I do,” he nodded towards his neighbor across the hall, “Kate has one.” 

“Oh,” I sighed. 

As if the Gods’ wanted to torture me more with the thought of Steve’s neighbor across the hall, she came out from her apartment. Adjusting the laundry basket on her hip, she smiled towards Steve. 

Jealous eyes watched as they chatted, Steve flirting almost effortlessly with her. She giggled at a lame joke he told and I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. My shoulders slouched in anger when Steve invited her over to join us. 

“I don’t want to impose,” she looked between Steve and I. 

Steve quickly shook his head. “No, we’re just friends.” 

My heart dropped to my stomach. “Yeah, friends.” 

“Maybe next time. I’ve got a load in the wash.” 

Steve agreed the next time and I had to turn away as he hugged Kate. 

“You could have been a little nicer to her,” Steve asked as he leaned against his door. 

“I’ve been waiting almost a half hour for you. I’m tired and hungry so sorry I didn’t feel like being friendly,” I snapped but immediately apologized when I saw the hurt flash across his face. 

“It’s been a really long day,” I sighed while pinching my eyes shut. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Steve pulled me into his chest and left a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was visiting a friend at the V.A center.” 

My brows rose. “The V.A center?” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Sam. I met him a few days ago. He’s nice, I can set you up with him if you want?” 

“No thanks,” I scrunch my face, “I can find a guy by myself.” 

“How’s that working out for you?” Steve joked. 

Scoffing, I gave him a slight push and I nodded towards the door. “My pizza is getting cold.” 

He laughed but his body froze leaning an ear against the door. 

“What?” I questioned. 

“My record player is on.” Steve glanced over to me. 

I leaned my ear against the door but shook my head, “I don’t hear anything.”

“You don’t have super soldier hearing,” Steve teased. “Did you leave it on?”

“I swear I turned it off when I left the other day.” I promised. 

Getting into Captain America mode, Steve shielded me as he slowly unlocked the door, pushing it open. I slipped my knife out of my boot as I followed close behind. The music vibrated off the walls as Steve grabbed his shield from its place on the wall. The knife flipped in my fingers with ease as we reached the living room and saw the slouched figure sitting in the chair. 

Nick Furry.

“I don’t remember giving you a key,” Steve sighed while leaning against the wall.

“Did you really think I would need one?,” Nick defended while sitting up, “My wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” I admitted. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Nick admitted.

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem,” Steve declared while turning on the light.

Goosebumps pricked my skin when I took in Nick’s appearance. He had a giant gash to the side of his head and blood was dripping down onto Steve’s chair. I wanted to ask what happened but he held up a finger to silence me while he turned off the light. Nick typed a message into his phone before showing us. 

Ears everywhere.

Steve and I shared a look before our eyes glanced around the apartment. Steve tensed up next to me, the anger of being watched rose from within and he cursed under his breath. All of his private moments suddenly weren’t so private anymore. 

“I’m sorry to do this but I had no other place to crash,” Nick showed us a new message on his phone. 

Shield Compromised.

“What the fuck,” I cursed. 

“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve continued to play along, in case it was true that his apartment was bugged. 

Nick stood with a groan and limped over to us, clutching his side. “Just my friends.”

Just us. The new message on his phone read. 

Steve scoffed. “Is that what we are, Nick?” 

“Steve,” I warned, “Now isn’t the time for whatever beef you have with him.” 

“That’s up to you,” Nick admitted. 

The floor beneath our feet shook as a scream erupted from my throat when the wall behind Nick exploded in gunfire. Steve grabbed my waist and pulled me into his chest as we watched in horror as Nick’s limp body fell to the ground. 

“What the fuck?!” I yelled. 

“Get away from the window!” Steve demanded, pulling Nick’s body in the hallway with us. 

He went to look out the window to see if he was able to see the shooter but Nick grasped his arm stopping him. 

He opened his hand and a hard drive sparkled from the light outside. 

“Don’t. Trust. Anyone.” Nick sputtered before passing out. 

“Steve, what the hell is going on?” My voice quivered with fear. 

Before Steve could answer, his front door busted open and Kate walked in, gun armed and aimed. 

“Captain Rogers, I’m Agent 13, Shield Special Service.” Kate said, walking further into Steve’s apartment. 

“Kate? What the hell are you doing here?” I questioned. 

“I’ve been assigned to protect Steve,” She defended. 

“On whose order?” Steve snapped. 

Kate set her gun down before nodding towards Nick. “His.” 

Steve and I shared a look and giving him a slight nod, I turned my attention towards Kate. “You should call it in, Agent.”

“Foxtrot is down and unresponsive. I need EMT’S.” Kate ignored me as she talked into the radio. 

“Do we have a twenty on the shooter?”

Steve peaked around the corner and grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. “Tell them we’re in pursuit.” 

Not asking any questions, I let Steve wrap his arm around my waist as we ran through the window, literally, and felt the ground vanish beneath our feet. Glass shattered around us as we landed hard on the floor of the building across the street. 

“Ow, that’s gonna leave a mark,” I groaned, rising to my feet taking off in a chase after the shooter.

Steve was just a few paces ahead of me while the shooter was on the roof above us, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty offices. Steve busted through doors and glass windows, making it easier for me to keep up with him.

“There has to be a staircase to the roof somewhere!” I yelled before I watched through the window in front of us as the shooter jumped down onto the roof of the building in front.

“We’re going through the window, aren't we?” I semi whined. 

“Yup!” 

Suddenly, Steve barreled his way through the window rolling onto his knees and threw his shield at the shooter. The broken glass crunched beneath my boots as I came to a sudden halt when my eyes landed on the man who had caught Captain America’s shield mid throw. 

Long brown locks. 

Blue eyes. 

A metal arm. 

My mouth ran dry while my hands shook, unable to move out of the way as the shield came flying back towards me. Ears rang in silence as the blood drained from my face, memories of that same metal arm slamming into me like a brick wall. The same man that I thought of earlier for the first time in years was standing right in front of me, in the flesh. 

“Y/N!” 

Steve’s voice brought me back as I fell to the ground with his body on mine. With the shield gripped tight in one hand, his other gently cupped my cheek. Steve pulled my face to look into his eyes; however, I couldn’t focus. I ignored the feeling that took over my body when Steve pressed his hips into mine, unknowingly, and licked my dry lips. 

My past life had just barreled into me; a private part of my life that absolutely no one knew about and suddenly, I was very terrified of them finding out. 

[maimohssen-mh]

"Dear friends,

Thank God, the ceasefire has been officially announced, and the Israeli army will withdraw completely from the Gaza Strip. The Rafah border crossing will reopen, giving us a glimmer of hope to start rebuilding our lives.

However, even though the war has ended, our suffering is far from over. Our home was completely destroyed, and my sick mother has no shelter. We need to start from scratch and rebuild a house to provide us with safety and stability, especially since we currently have no source of income.

My mother and brother are in urgent need of traveling abroad to complete their medical treatment, as the healthcare system outside is stronger and offers better access to the care they need. Their health conditions cannot afford delays, and our only hope is to find the support that will help us make this possible.

Despite all the pain we’ve endured, we’re still holding onto hope and relying on your humanity. Any help, no matter how small, can make a big difference in our lives. Even a single dollar or simply sharing our story can give us the chance to start over.

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts to everyone standing with us and not forgetting the people of Gaza. May God bless you and reward you with all the good in the world." you can donate by : 1. GOFUNDME 2.PAYPAL 3. OTHER PAYPAL

@1eos @beserkerjewel @rhythmlessgay @afro-elf @irangp @comintoyoulive @starboyfinn @vague-humanoid @bilal-salah0 @hehemechief @bahrmp3 @wutheringheightsfilm @autisticmudkip @dykedatasoong @wearywoes @armandmaxxing @danlous @biconicfinn @letshearitfortheuniverse @moonisneveralone @gloriousbodies @hoenngarbage @khanger @neechees @repressionrepresentation @shesnake @akajustmerry @diasdelasombra @lospajaritos @lilblckraincloud @batboybisexualism @lautakwah @yekkes @evilbisexualonline @socalgal @idontwikeit @ankhisms @onedollopofsourcream @guldaastan @lesbianmaxevans @mettaworldpiece @jaimeendured @womenintheirwebs @deepspaceboytoy @sawasawako @7bitter @capricornpropaganda @kibumkim @geminipdf

“The war may be nearing its end, but its impact still weighs heavily on us. Your support now is more crucial than ever to help us start again.” campaing vetted by : @90-ghost @bilal-salah0 @gaza-evacuation-funds The ButterflyEffect Project number : 1197 @dlxxv-vetted-donations @a-shade-of-blue

@imlizy @dirhwangdaseul @lesbianfriendly @lesbianchemicalplant @lesbianmaxevans @xxx-sparkydemon-xxx @neechees @tamamita @chokulit @3000s @apas-95 @pitbolshevik @ot3 @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @turtletoria @paper-mario-wiki @valtsv @omegaversereloaded @i-am-a-fish @catsgifsarefun @spongebobssquarepants @postanagramgenerator @feluka @nyancrimew @beserkerjewel @noble-kale @memingursa @certifiedsexed @afro-elf @11thsense @sawasawako @spacebeyonce @skipppppy @beetledrink @fools-and-perverts @dailyquests @evillesbianvillain @wolfertinger666 @taffybuns @ankle-beez @sabertoothwalrus @meshugenist @isuggestforcefem @hotvampireadjacent @marxism-transgenderism

[yourtypicalhuman09]

Same anon who gave the 5 ideas here.

I'm so happy you loved my ideas I'm so happy!🥹 (I feel a bit anxious about asking, I'm not good at social media cues so I normally just read in silence)

I do have some more ideas that I didn't want to put so my post will not be too long. And I want to share them with you.

1. (I don't know if I gave that one yet or not) Reader and their friend (s) being game development studio. it'll also make sense because Reader knows how to code and hack and because they know psychology, that will help them develop great characters and storylines that will touch people hearts in both good and bad ways.

2. If the Reader ended up teaching their friend to code and hack (especially hack) that will show a great deal of trust in them because in reality hackers don't trust each other and it's hard to make a hacker teach you hacking.

3. (Connected to 1) The first game reader and their studio made was bad (but the idea of it was good) because they were just training and trying and decided to let the world see it and judge, criticize, give advice. They even asked for advice on how to make games in the first place and it ended up with some cyberbullying, but more people given a lot of advice, from other game developers, authors, artists, and every random stranger on the internet you can find, Some were from the Batfam. The studio listened and made the game great in the end, making it one of the most downloaded games. And one of the biggest reasons is the fact that people love having a part in making something, it makes them feel connected to that thing. (Maybe that was the reader's idea using the knowledgeable psychology.) imagine the reader seeing Tim praising their game to one of the bat siblings not knowing that one of its makers are living with him. Imagine when he finds out.

4. When Alfred notes that reader doesn't seem to be chasing the families approval anymore and seems to find their peace of mind and healing he feels happy for them, because them being happy makes his job easier and he still cares about them somehow (even when they are at the bottom of his list of priorities).

5. I don't know if the reader will move out or not but imagine if the family of the friend help them move out, get a job if they don't have one? move to college?

6. Imagine the Batfam finding out that the reader spends every holiday and occasion one should spend with their family with the family of their friend for years apon years. Imagine them breaking into the house of the family of the friend and finding so many family pictures with Reader in them were either seem to fit in perfectly like this is the true family. Finding they almost have no picks with Reader, and even the only family photo reader was in with the Batfam, the reader is there at the corner, with some space between them and the batfam.

7. About the funeral of the father friend of the reader. Imagine the reader talking about the father stepping in the shoes their own father refused to step in. How he did teach them every single thing a father is supposed to teach his child, and more. And how even though this man is not their father by blood he is their father in every other way and no one can replace his place in their heart.

Thank you for reading I hope it's not that long

And can I be known as "anon 🌞"?

Ahhhh 🌞anon tysm for sharing more of your brilliant ideas! Like i said i love hearing from my readers whether its good or bad things because i know i can always improve and add onto my original idea and Jesus you don’t disappoint. thank you for another set of amazing ideas! Honestly don't be afraid to send in any kind of ask (though i do know its easer said than done��).

This totally makes sense and its a really good idea! I'd love to include this in my story but if it doesn't fit i can always write another fic later with this plotline.

This is really smart i never thought of it that way. You're so clever!

This is very detailed, I've said this to 🍰anon but you should definitely consider writing this! I'd love to write my version of your concept but you know the concept better than me and I'd totally read your idea! If you still want I can still write it for you after i finish my main fic!

This is a good perspective on reader and Alfred's relationship but I already have something in mind. thank you for sharing though!

Wow are you a mind reader or am i just that predictable😅. I was actually planning on doing this so good on you for figuring it out!

OMG as always you have such good angst ideas! I love the idea of the Batfam being jealous of friend's family.😂

Ahhh you did it again! I absolutely love this idea! Again if you don't mind I'll probably use it.

Don't you worry about the length of your asks I love your ideas! Feel free to ask anything 🌞anon have a good day/night!

[cheekycheesecake01]

WLW smut is so much more comforting than lesbian porn. WLW smut is real and raw... lesbian porn is repulsive cuz male gaze.... I'm genuinely so thankful I found a wlw space on here. It makes me more comfortable with the sapphic aspect of my pansexuality. As someone with a bad case of internalized homophobia due to their sexuality being fetishized for years... I thank you for posting this. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Reap What You Sow ~Post-S21!Daddy!Olivia Benson xFem Sub!Reader

Summary— Set in post season 21, where Liv is Captain. Reader decides to tease Olivia throughout the day and smutty punishment ensues later that night when Liv can finally do something about it…

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fingering, semi-public smut, spanking, daddy kink, degradation, praise, implied orgasm denial, degradation kink, praise kink, impact play, teasing, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

Your head hung low, over your shoulders and over the woman’s knees. It was after hours and you were bent over Olivia’s lap in her office. With another sharp crack to your barren ass, you jolted up slightly and let out a desperate mewl.

“Six—teen Daddy!!” You cried out.

You expect to feel another sharp smack to your ass, but instead you felt the woman’s hand gently rubbing your pink flesh.

“That’s it, such a good girl for Daddy.” Olivia cooed.

Pretty soon, her fingers trailed in between your legs and past your panties. She found your slick core, drenched in arousal, so wet it made you dizzy.

“Ooh Baby you’re soaked…” Liv purred, “Did Daddy make you this way…?”

You nodded vigorously, as one of her digits swiped through your folds.

“Yes yes all for Daddy, so wet for Daddy…!” You mewled.

After bringing her arousal coated digit up to her mouth and licking your juices clean off, the brunette gently caressed and squeezed your supple skin. Your body was left burning for more.

“Have you learned your lesson, sweetie…?” Liv condescendingly cooed.

You nodded vigorously.

“Yes Daddy yes yes please…!” You pled, “I’m sorry mm sorry—!”

“Sorry for what, baby…?”

“Mmm sorry for dressing up…! Sorry for distracting you!”

“You mean, you’re sorry for dressing like a slut, right…?? Daddy’s girl can’t just show up to work dressed to whore herself out… no matter whether Daddy will see her or not…” Liv spat.

You bit your lip and tensed up, as her digits dug into your left ass check possessively as she spoke. You let out a desperate mewl and nodded swiftly.

“Yes Daddy, I’m sorry please…!! I’m sorry I’m such a slut, can’t help it Daddy!” You babbled.

Your ass was smacked with a swift Crack!! again. This one went all to your core, as you felt your juices start to leak down your thighs.

“Oooooh Seventeen D-daddy!!” You cowled.

“Beg Daddy to give you mercy.” Liv demanded.

“P-please please Daddy— I… I need you Daddy!! I need your cock or your fingers or your mouth or anything Daddy please… I’ll be good I promise, Mmm so sorry Daddy pleaseee…!!” You begged.

In one fluid motion, two of Olivia’s fingers snaked back in between your legs and slid inside your gushing cunt. They pumped and curled inside you, making your toes curl and your mouth foam. You wanted to scream in pleasure, but you bit your tongue.

“Such a good girl for Daddy…” Liv cooed lustfully.

~~~

Olivia Benson Masterlist

[vifilms]

#EVENT! — 𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐘'𝐒 𝟑𝐊 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

⁰⁰¹ ︴here we are gays!

✶ this genuinely feels really crazy. it really blows my mind i have 3k people following me and my little blog. i've been writing for many years and finally started to post over the past year and the feedback has been overwhelming sometimes, but i cherish every single person who has ever had some kind words to share over my work. it’s really helped me process creativity and grow as a writer being in this space and i truly have so much gratitude for it. i'm so immensely blessed for all the friends i've made along the way, people who have impacted my life in ways i can't even explain, i love each and every one of you. from the bottom of my heart, thank you. i love y’all ♡

⁰⁰² ︴character list!

✶ tlou: abby anderson.

✶ arcane: violet, caitlyn, sevika.

schedule: jan 26th to feb 2nd.

✦ cum capuccino

fmk, would you rather, top 5, etc. common tumblr games, ask me about my wips, favorite movies, tv shows, just come and chat!

✦ thats that me, espresso

send me a character + a concept: (ex. violet + picnic date) and i’ll write a small blurb/drabble for it. optional, you can add any prompts front these lists below you’d like me to add!

option one, option two, option three.

✦ i love you, a latte

send me a character concept + a concept (ex. cowgirl!abby + farmers’ daughter) and i’ll make a moodboard for it.

✦ moots mocha

for my mootie patooties, send me [☕️] and i’ll make a special playlist just for you.

some of my mooties (no pressure tags): @sinstear @hypnagogics @ennabear @shouyuus @stars-for-circe @astralnymphh @maggiesglock @amourrs @flowrmoth

[balkanradfem]

Alright, this one is for all the people who read my 'spatula' and 'roommate emergency' posts. Because if you suffered trough those long whiny posts you deserve to know the insane continuation/ending to the story. Warning for high levels of drama and plot twists. Under cut because long.

So, after all of the emergency and spatula debakl, I was starting to feel slightly less warm to my roommate; not enough to be mean, but I decided to focus on my own stuff and not give her as much attention. We were still saying hi and casually chatting, but I wouldn't take food if she offered. She bought some fruit juice and told me to drink it, and I didn't wanna be mean so I just said 'you should drink it too', and ignored it. I will not be mollified with some fruit juice.

I felt happier focusing on myself, but I also started to get a little anxious, because what if the roommate gets mad at me, and then moves out? And then I thought, wait, that's an insane thought. Nobody moves out of a place because their roommate is a bit withdrawn and depressed, and doesn't give them tons of attention. Besides, I haven't done anything ever to cause her harm or distress, I'm just living my life and leaving her to hers. I'm fine.

So yesterday late evening, I went to the bathroom and noticed all of her shampoos and shower gels were missing, and immediately got worried about it. Why would she remove all her bathroom stuff, unless she is actually moving out? But she never said anything. It was already so late at night, I couldn't go bother her about it. It was 11 pm. I tried to not worry about it and fall asleep, but I couldn't. Thinking how maybe she's moving out, and then I'd be alone looking for a roommate in January when the bills are the worst, filled me with anxiety. How would I pay my rent? I heard her then, leaving her room and going into the bathroom. I made a split-second decision to get up and confront her about it. I needed to be sure.

I caught her in the hallway, and asked 'Hey, I saw you took all of your shampoos, are you leaving? If you're leaving I need to know.' She smiled at me and then reassured me that if she was leaving, she'd tell me. She then showed to me how a lot of her hair started falling out, and she thinks it's because of the shampoo, so she threw it away and now needs a new one. Oh okay, I thought, that's a relief. I told her thanks for explaining, and how I got so worried I couldn't sleep. She laughed at me for being silly and worrying, and I grumbled 'don't laugh at me' as I went back to my room and wished her a good night. She seemed so happy I talked to her, probably because I wasn't initiating any conversations lately.

Next morning, I woke up sad, so I was moping in my room, and at one point she stopped by my room asking if I was okay, and if I'm going to work. I replied weakly that I was fine (I wasn't, I was kinda sobbing and forgot my room door was open) and that I didn't have work that day. She said okay. I heard her leave.

After I calmed down from my sadness, I realized I needed to contact her employer, because she was supposed to pay her share of the bills, and even though I reminded her two days ago, she forgot, and I needed that money. I hate bothering people about money, so I just sent a little 'how about today?' message thinking that was friendly enough. Her employer responded with 'sure I'll send you the money via [roommate name], she still isn't at work.' I responded with 'she left, she should be there soon'.

And then I thought, maybe I was wrong when I heard her leave, so I got up, knocked on her door, and said her name to check if she was still there. No response. I pushed the door open.

My heart sank to the bottom of my feet.

The room was empty. The bed was empty. There was a mess on the floor but mostly trash. Her things were gone. Her clothes were gone. The key to the apartment was on the table.

I was immediately stricken with shock, and the realization that she lied to me yesterday, when I anxiously asked if she was leaving, she smiled and reassured me that she wasn't leaving while she was already packing her bags! But why?

I panicked then, thinking what I should do next. Was she okay? Was she safe? Did she go to a friend's place? Should I call her employer and check if she still went to work? But that's probably not what the roommate wanted, I needed to find her and ask her why, and what to tell to her employer, because I didn't know the right answer. I grabbed my bike and headed outside and tried to find her in the city.

No luck. After half an hour I understood too much time has passed, she could have been anywhere. She's left and cannot be found. I couldn't call her, because her phone doesn't have a real SIM card so calls don't work. I relented and called her employer to check if she was at work, and to try and find out what happened.

I needed to be calculated in order to get any kind of information, so I called and said 'Hi, just checking if [roommate's name] got to work safely?' And employer says 'No, she's still not at work'. So I go 'Did something happen yesterday? Something is wrong'.

Her employer was extremely evasive on what exactly happened. She started listing events like 'she wouldn't clean the windows, we had a media day yesterday and she had to talk to the cameras, she got mad about something, said she didn't want to work, that her head hurts, but wouldn't sign the form saying she's quitting, then she changed her mind and asked for a free day, but she already had two free days, she was unreasonable' it was a mumble-jumble of events I couldn't put together right. And then I finally told her that [roommate's name] is gone. She took her things and left the key. The employer didn't even seem that shocked. I was still in shock. I asked her to call me if she managed to get in contact.

I was still struggling to accept just what had happened. I then remembered that even though we never used it, at one point I added her on facebook, and maybe this could be our point of contact. I wanted to talk to her just one last time, to find out what happened at work that forced her to leave, and to say goodbye. I couldn't accept that she is just gone after all that, with no explanation, no goodbye.

I went to the park, connected to the internet and frevently searched for the little icon in my messenger. I found her. I sent her a message saying 'Hey, please tell me why you left. I won't bother you, I just need to know why.'

No response. She was online. I knew she saw it. But nothing.

I couldn't accept it. I tried calling her on facebook. She immediately blocked me.

I was left staring at my phone in disbelief. This was it. This was all I would ever get for closure. I'd never find out what had happened. Not from her employer, and not from her.

I felt heartbroken but at the same time had no time to deal with the emotional impact, because I had incoming panic about rent and bills! Her employer would definitely not want to pay her dues now that she was not even living there anymore, and I needed a roommate to stay afloat. Then I remembered, there was one person who viewed the apartment a month ago and wanted to move in, but wanted a solitary room – maybe she'd be interested in it still, since solitary room was now free.

I took my luck and called the woman. After I'd explained who I was and why I was calling, she was delighted. 'I thought about you every day!' she said excitedly. As a lesbian, I love a woman saying that to me, but, it was not the time. She's a 60yo divorced straight lady and I have to keep it together. She said she would move in tomorrow evening, and I said okay, not believing her fully because honestly who can you believe? 'I would tell you if I was leaving' was still ringing in my ears.

I knew now what I needed to do. Go home and... clean out the apartment.

It was as sad as you can imagine. I had to take down the christmas decorations that we had put up together, because the new person would surely find it odd to see a christmas tree at the end of January, and I just think it's nice so why take it down. I had to go clean out roommate's room, which had a fair amount of trash in it, and I realized, some stuff from her work, the key to her workplace, her working clothes. I understood I'd have to return those to her employer, who later called me to ask about it. I said I would bring it immediately.

Her employer wanted to talk to me, but only to convince me that the roommate was a lazy, messy, unmotivated and disobedient slob, which I didn't believe. I knew this lady was abusive and mean to my roommate and likely the reason roommate left. She was trying to paint my roommate as the villain so badly because she wanted to cover up her own abuse. I didn't believe any of it and I left. She didn't give me any money for bills. She promised to give it later.

I went home, and continued with my cleaning journey. I found some interesting things my roommate left behind. She left some random food items, like some oil and pasta, and then one transparent produce bag filled with something white. Rice, I thought? It was salt. Then, while clearing out her table, I found 3 pens, and realized all three were mine. Later I found a 4th pen, also mine. There was also some stationary paper from my desk. This explained why I could no longer find a pen in my room, they were all somehow ending up here. But I never invited her to just take my pens? It seems that every time she needed to write something down, she'd take a different pen from my desk, and never returned any. Well, that's not a horrible crime, I thought, it's just pens. None of them worked anymore, even though I made sure to only keep working pens on my desk.

I thought about what her employer said, about her being messy and leaving stuff everywhere, and even though I argued back and said to her my roommate was nice, some of it didn't feel so true anymore. She was leaving stuff everywhere, and created lots of messes. The first week she arrived we cleaned together, but that was the last time she cleaned. Every other time it was me cleaning alone. And she would sometimes spill stuff on the floor, or on the stovetop, and leave it. Or leave all counters cluttered to the point where I had to move her stuff before using them. But I thought she was just too busy to pay attention to things like that. Then while cleaning I found one of my fanciest kitchen cloths, with several holes burned trough it. That is a bit too chaotic, I thought. Why must you burn my cloth?

I was riddled with a lack of understanding of what happened; how could she have been here in the morning, talked to me like everything was okay, and now I will never see her again in my life, and never know why? Why would she do that? I have in the past, helped roommates flee from abusive situations, and if they had to quickly move, I would help them pack, lie to their abusers for them, hide their stuff they couldn't take with, so they could come get it later. Why would she find me unsafe to tell the truth to? I would have helped. I would have told her employer whatever she wanted me to. I've been on her side and advocating for her from the start. I convinced the employer when she was sick to let her off work, I held her hand when her eyes were sick, I bought her medicine, I offered to go anywhere and everywhere with her to translate and speak on her behalf when she needed anything. It couldn't have been just because I was moody and sad for a few days. I couldn't understand it.

The only reasons I could think of why she did that, was either she was worried I'd be mad she's leaving, worried I'd try to stop or follow her (which I wouldn't), or someone else instructed her on what to do and they spelled out to her to tell nobody.

The lady who wanted to move in called me again, and said she actually wanted to come and sleep here the same evening, and I now only had a few hours to clean everything out. I was exhausted, shaken, emotioanlly in shambles. But I washed all the windows, cleaned the fridge, washed the furniture and the floor, changed all the decor, put my spare cover and fresh bedding in the other room so the new roommate could sleep there without having to buy anything. The new lady has a list of red flags on her too; some of her behaviour is what I wouldn't want in a roommate, however, what choice do I have. I welcomed her, made her tea, explained all the rules, and then witdrew to my room to eat some peanut butter because I had forgotten to eat all day due to stress and shock.

And then I wrote this down! It's still the same day as I'm writing it. I talked to my roommate in the morning and now a new person I don't know is in that room, and I'm still stunned. What on earth happened today? I still want a phone call with an explanation. I didn't deserve to be left like that. I can't make out what to think of her now, this has never happened to me before. I had people leave on short notice, but never secretly, never while lying to me about what they're doing.

I still feel like she'll come here any second! Like I'll hear her voice again saying hi and how are you. But I never will again. It feels so weird. I'm both sad and relieved. She must be in a better place, far from her employer and with her friends who understand her and can help her find a better job. I'm relieved she's probably safer. But I'm sad about not getting a goodbye. Sad about being blocked, when all I wanted was an explanation. Sad about 'I would tell you if I was leaving'. How many times in life do you get anxious, then reassured that you're worrying for nothing, but then the anxiety turns out to be correct and the person purposefully lied? That doesn't bode well for future references.

I can't figure out if she was a nice person, and there were good reasons warranting her leaving like this, or whether I just misjudged her.

So yeah, unsatisfying as it is, this is the end of my Nepali roommate era, we sure had,,, times, and it sure did, end. I would like to apply for the drama free life from now on please.

[cursedwretch]

What Lurks Beneath - Chapter 5

GIF by featherlumina

Viktor x AFAB!Reader; Word count: 4948 Words; Rating 18+ MDNI

AO3 | Prev

The smut is here, the smut is here! Content warnings below: CW: A smidge of soft dom!Viktor/switch!Viktor if you squint, Vaginal sex, Vaginal fingering, praise kink

Chapter also contains canon-typical (implied) violence, and mentions of injury/blood.

In the cramped confines of Heimerdinger’s carriage, I avoid Viktor’s eyes at all costs. I ignore how his finger traces his lower lip as he stares absently out the window. Realistically, I should be grateful for ride home, but right now I’m half-convinced it was some contrived torture method.

Gods, help me.

Heimerdinger fills the air, ensuring there are no pregnant pauses throughout the journey, rattling off plans for the remainder of the month. Meetings, meetings, meetings.

One such meeting, uncharitably, is apparently taking place at 8 the following morning. Perfect. A board meeting, Heimerdinger informs me, so not one I can skip. Naturally. He’s practically immortal, I remind myself. I doubt he’s ever experienced a hangover, or even needed to sleep in a day in his too-long life.

“Thank you for the notice,” I clip, though it’s a struggle to come across neutral. I paste on a weak smile for good measure. From the edge of my vision, I catch Viktor’s shoulders silently shaking with laughter, shifting to face the window fully. The little shit.

It isn’t until Heimerdinger exits, hopping out with a bright ‘see you in the morning,’ that Viktor looks at me. His hand sliding from his lips as he turns my way.

Lidded eyelids and a lazy smirk. My heart lurches. And there’s something about the way he fixates on my mouth has me following that tug—stumbling across the distance to scramble into his lap. His hands meet my hips, holding me steady as he looks up at me, his head tilting back with a soft exhale. Whisky. Another taste wouldn’t hurt, would it? My hands float up to hold his face between them, thumb swiping across the mole on his cheek.

“I don’t live far,” he warns.

I dip down, pulling his lips to mine, watching as his eyes flutter closed. Strong hands pull me tight against him, one shifting to splay out flat against the small of my back. I trace the seam of his lips with my tongue. He gives me access with a groan, tongue running along mine.

The hand on my hip roams up, tracing along the side of my body, into the dip of my clavicle, before coming to rest on the nape of my neck. I breath in, deep, smiling against his lips as our teeth click. One of those little snags when things are still new. He laughs in turn as he pulls back, hand in my hair holding me in place.

My eyes fluttered open to find his earlier bravado replaced by a shy curve of his lips. “Almost there,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Would you like to come up?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He cranes up once more, pulling me into another kiss—slow and soft and heady. He sucks on my bottom lip and it sends my head spinning, whining softly into his mouth.

The motorcarriage jostles as it comes to a stop. I’m hesitant to break away. Greedy. My fingers clutch at his lapels, pulling closer.

“Up,” he smiles against me, guiding me off of his lap.

It’s an awkward scramble out of the carriage. Viktor’s the first to step out, leaning to the driver to shake his hand with a quick thanks. I’m fairly certain he slipped some coin his way as well. Good. I follow without decorum, stumbling out, taking Viktor’s hand as he offers it.

Its quiet. And something electric hums through the air as he leads me to his front door. The feeling thickens when we reach it. With a swallow, his eyes glance my way for a split second before he unlocks the door, propping it open.

Black currant tea, warm leather, and wood envelope me. It smells completely, utterly, like Viktor. Comforting, complex.

His apartment is messy; not health-risk messy, but certainly cluttered. Half-finished projects and knick knacks line the shelves, a discarded mug left on just about every surface. A daunting little pile of coats sits atop the chair at his writing desk. Clearly, he doesn’t pen many letters. I can’t help but laugh as I take a look around.

He regards me with a quizzical brow.

“I thought Jayce was the messy one,” I tease.

Color dusts his cheeks as he continues in, leaning down to set his keys on the table, haphazardly tidying what he could within reach. “He is,” he insisted, “in all fairness, I didn’t anticipate company tonight.”

I smirk, walking behind him, hands sliding around his waist as I press my mouth against his shoulder. His hands still, and his tense shoulders melt under my touch. His fingers intertwine through mine, and he peels them away, turning in my arms.

“So impatient,” he smirks, voice growing low and rough. I raise my eyebrow in a challenge he gladly takes.

The kiss he pulls me into is searing, bruising, as he ushers me backwards. He leads me blind through his apartment, my steps falter, stumbling, until the back of my knees hit something soft. A push, and I’m seated, his bedding a silken whisper against the palm of my hand. He’s out of breath already.

I reach up, tugging at the collar of his shirt; greedy hands fussing with the buttons, exposing more and more to my touch as his legs slot between mine. His hands traces along my thigh, knee nudging against my core and a white hot need curls in my stomach.

“So perfect,” he whispers against my skin, shifting his weight fully onto his knee. Another push, and I’m on my back. A vague clatter goes ignored as it rings through the room. My mouth parts.

He watches me, drinking in each hitch and gasp as his fingers trace up my bare thighs, pushing the hem of my dress up with the movement. His lips part. My heart skitters at the look in his eyes—focused, gentle.

His hand skates to my inner thigh. Tracing up, up, up; parting them with each inch. There’s a hitch, so soft, almost imperceptible, in his breath when he catches the first glimpse of the lace that lies beneath.

Dipping between, he presses his fingers against my still-clothed sex. I arch into his touch. More. He’s slack-jawed and sly, mouth quirking up as he watches his fingers slip beneath the side of my underwear.

“Gods,” he rasps, “you’re soaked.”

I keen. He’s going to be the death of me. I grind against his hand, shameless and desperate for friction. Any foolish hope of maintaining any demure air now cast to the wind as I reach forward, tugging at the button of his slacks, “off.”

He peels my hands away, pressing them down against the sheets; fingers twining through mine as he presses wet, hot kisses down my neck.

I gasp, “fuck.”

“Patience,” he chides.

He takes his time with me—languidly pushing my dress up as his own mouth works its way down. Dizzying. I can feel his smirk with every strangled noise I make. When the hem of my dress pushes past my ribs, he pauses, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, pulling me to sit up before peeling it up past my head.

“Lay down,” he says softly, gesturing towards the headboard.

I slide my underwear off, and quickly resist the urge to cover myself, feeling suddenly bare at his hungry eyes roaming my form as I scoot back. My head hits the pillow. His own tilts to the side as he pushes his shirt down his arms, shrugging it off. His lips quirk at the face I make—pinched brows, lips parted—while I watch him make short work of his pants. He’s lithe, lean, with an elegant cut of muscle. As I drink him in, I spot the metal brace lining his leg. I wasn’t even aware he wore one. He smiles, a little shyly; color dusting his cheeks. Still, he doesn’t shrink away.

“I wanted to do that,” I pout. Which is true. I’d undress him with my teeth if he let me.

He laughs, half-crawling onto the bed, “another time.”

He collapses onto his side beside me, bed doing a little shake before his fingers are curling around my knee to part my legs. His unbraced leg hitches forward, holding mine open as his nails rake up my inner thigh. It’s torture.

“Viktor,” I gasp, a warning.

He hums, craning forward to watch his own hand intently as it slides higher. So close. I turn to look at his face, and I’m struck by just how long his eyelashes are, kissing his cheek with contented blink. When his fingers hit the juncture of my thigh, I whimper. He relents, thank the gods, amber eyes lifting to mine while his fingers brush against my core.

“Good?” He asks. He knows the answer.

My hips buck against his hand, “yes, please.”

His eyes widen, blown-black as his fingers sink inside. I keen, writhing at the delicious curl. Well-practiced. My own fingers find his hair, searching for purchase as he dips down, lips pressing against my ear. I can feel the heat of his gaze, watching my hips stutter and grind against his palm.

“That’s it,” a ragged groan tears from his throat as he whispers into my ear, “so perfect.”

I cry out, that familiar heat building in my core as a litany of praises fall from his lips. So fast. Teeth scrape at the skin beneath my ear, fingers curling within me in time with the roll of my hips.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

My hips stutter with another whine, “Viktor, please.”

He hums, but is cut short as my hand snakes down to his underwear, palming him. “Gods,” he chokes.

My fingers wrap around him through the fabric, thick and weighty in my hand. I let out a strangled noise. Gods. I tug at the waistband, a quick yank and his cock springs free. Gorgeous. I’ve never found a cock gorgeous before. I trace up the underside with a light touch, wringing a sharp breath from him.

“Need you,” I swallow, throat suddenly dry.

Another groan, and he’s falling onto his back, bringing me with him, tugging me forward until I straddle him. My legs quivering, I prop myself up with my palms flat against his chest.

For a beat, we catch our breath.

He looks so soft, wavy hair splayed out on the pillow beneath, staring up at me like a man starved. It’s nearly overwhelming.

So I break the spell; my fingers wrap around him.

His hips buck up into my hands as I give an experimental stroke, pausing to press my thumb against his cock to collect an errant bead of cum. I bring my thumb to my lips, bringing another lovely curse from his lips. He’s salty-sweet and intoxicating. My eyes flutter closed, making a show of it and—

Was that a growl? How interesting.

He grabs my hips, fingers bruising as he pulls me down against him, cock grinding against my clit. I fall forward, hips stuttering with a cry. How on earth does he keep pulling the rug out from under me?

“All this for me,” he rasps, rocking my hips against him, “and I haven’t even fucked you.”

I mewl his name, reaching down with unsteady fingers to line him up with my entrance. He slides into me with a rough, insistent thrust that makes me gasp. I clench around him, the unfamiliar stretch of him sending a dizzying wave of pleasure through my core.

“That’s it,” he gasps, guiding my hips to roll against him. His eyes burn into mine, rapt. There’s a flush to his cheeks, dusted pink as he pants up at me, fingers making their way up the length of my body.

It’s by the nape of my neck that he pulls me down into another crushing kiss, each thrust up into me stoking the flame. He’s all tongues and teeth as I cry against his mouth. A hand snakes between us, thumb circling my clit. With each motion I feel an aching pulse. Intoxicating. I could get drunk off the feel of his cock hitting that spot—that perfect fucking spot—alone.

“You take me so well,” he gasps, breath catching, “so perfect, so needy.”

Each word sends fire through my veins. Thumb brushing against the base of my ear, he presses my forehead against his, our broken breaths mixing in the air between. He gulps as I clench around him, “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

“Don’t care,” I shake my head, thighs shaking as his thumb picks up the pace against me, “me neither, fuck, Viktor—“

“You going to come for me, hm?” He hisses, his own thrusts growing uneven.

I nod, a feeble little motion as I moan out. He chases the noise with his lips, pressing to mine, drinking in each little noise that slips out. Every rough thrust of his cock up into me bringing me closer to the edge, that heat building until I’m mewling, babbling against his lips—

“That’s it,” he groans, “good girl, just let go.”

My back arches as I cry, waves of pleasure coursing through me as I fall apart at his command. He’s close behind, a high-pitched strangled noise tearing from his throat as he fills me, hips jerking erratically. He chants my name, holding me against his chest as I slump forward.

“Gods,” I pant.

With a content hum his lips brush against my temple, hand tracing soothing shapes along my back. I cant my head towards him, pressing a kiss to his jaw as I slide off of him—eliciting one last hiss.

He turns to his side to face me, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. Though his eyes hold something else—keen and alert, looking into mine like equations were written on a blackboard within. My eyes widen.

Too bare.

I stretch, retreat; eyes sliding shut. A chaste kiss to his cheek and I’m slipping out of the bed with a quick, “be right back.”

When I return he’s half-awake, heavy lidded eyes and a lopsided smile as I tuck myself beneath the sheets. His arms slide around me, tugging close to his chest, enveloping me fully. I sink into the feeling; safe.

As the clutches of sleep find me, I hear him mumble, “I am.. glad you decided to stay.”

- - -

I’m the first to wake. Surprisingly.

The rising light peaks through the windows of his apartment, setting those brown locks aglow—a halo of orange and gold. His mouth was slack, lips softly parted. I leaned in, admiring the way his long lashes kissed his cheek. He sleeps like the dead, which is, honestly, rather unexpected.

Birdsong—a loud, twittering call—rings through the room, as if on cue. Time to get up.

I have that blasted meeting a 8. And the academy was a twenty minute walk away. And I needed a change of clothes. And a shower. Shit.

I really needed to leave.

I pressed a kiss to Viktor’s cheek, murmuring, “gotta get up.”

He groaned, eyelids heavy as they fluttered open. His mouth tucked into a pout as I slipped from his arms. He mumbled, “mh, leaving?”

I nod, rifling through his closet. “Meeting,” I explain, shrugging on one of his shirts.

He’s all limbs, taught and elongated, stretching out. He takes it a hair too far, apparently, as his face pinches into a brief wince. I frown, fingers faltering on the buttons. There’s another muffled groan as he shifts to his side, hand slipping beneath his pillow to stare back at me.

I fish a pair of pants from the closet, slipping them on.

“Little thief,” his teasing voice is rough, warm and gravely.

“You’ll get them back,” I laugh, “walking home in a gown at 7 am feels a bit indecent.”

He hums, “eh, a convenient excuse.”

“Careful, I may pilfer more on my way out,” I pad over towards the bed, leaning down to pull him into a kiss. Soft and slow and sweet. He hums as I retreat once more. “See you, Viktor.”

- - -

The board meeting turns out to be, as always, entirely unnecessary. Bloviation and repetition. I continuously find my mind floating back to Viktor’s apartment: to soft brown hair and fleeting touches and gentle lips. I float through the rest of the day this way; half-present, swept up in the whirlwind that inevitably comes after Progress day.

I manage to carve out a moment for myself to pen a message to Cassandra, taking it alongside the veritable mountain of pending correspondence that’s grown throughout the day. It’s only a quick jog to the pneumatic tubes, thankfully. I’m half-surprised he didn’t have one installed in his office. A suggestion for later, perhaps.

When I return, I’m surprised to find Viktor and Jayce loitering in the office. The events of last night come flooding back at the sight, a fire licks through my veins, curling in my stomach. Low, needy. My face heats as my eyes meet Viktor’s, judging by the tug at his lips his thoughts are the same.

“Afternoon,” Jayce smiles.

He seems… unexpectedly oblivious. Nonplussed, at the very least. I raise a brow to Viktor before I turn Jayce’s way, “good afternoon, Jayce. Meeting with the councilor?”

At his nod, I smile, pivoting on my heels. “One moment, I’ll see if he’s available.”

For his star mentees? Of course he is.

Heimerdinger insists I sit in on their discussion—on next steps, which was, apparently, loosely scheduled the night previous—to take meeting minutes. From the spare seat in the corner of the room, I keep my eyes glued to the page, doing my best to ignore the fleeting glances Viktor keeps casting my way.

“We anticipate, mh, twelve months to complete construction on the Hexgate,” Viktor says, coolly crossing his ankle over his knee as he shifts in his seat.

Hm, interesting.

Heimerdinger’s eyes practically bulge out of his head, exclaiming, “that’s quite an aggressive timeline!”

It really isn’t. Still, I hold my tongue; I’ve learned long ago that it’s better to nudge Heimerdinger in the right direction from the sidelines, rather than advocate in public.

There’s a pause as Viktor’s tired eyes meet Jayce’s, a wordless little exchange that seems to say ‘you deal with it.’

“We’ve worked on these plans for years,” Jayce leans forward, eyes bright and full of promise as he speaks, “you have my word, sir, that we will continue to take every precaution.”

Heimerdinger narrows his eyes before sliding them closed in an animated little nod. “Fine, fine. It’ll have to be discussed with the council, of course. But, you’ll have my vote.”

Viktor is quick to stand, reaching forward to shake his mentor’s hand, “your support is.. appreciated, sir.”

His smile is pleased, peaceful, as he turns towards the door. I go to follow him and Jayce out, steps halting as the councilor calls my name.

“A moment,” he says.

- - -

Cassandra Kiramman is quick to respond, and a date is set for one week later.

Cassandra Kiramman’s estate smelled of freshly-cut lilac mixed with sandalwood and vanilla. Buttery and altogether intoxicating. I bring the tea provided—white with honey and some secret, delectable third taste layered within—to my mouth, savoring each sip. I very much doubt I’ll taste something so fine for a long time.

Her office is bright, ornate. Filled to the absolute brim with flowers and plants of every kind. All quite rare. All exceedingly difficult to keep alive in Piltover’s climate. This room, however, is warm, hospitable, and teeming with life.

Cassandra Kirraman, however, is quite cold. Not unfeeling. But, proper. A woman of process and propriety. Currently, her shrewd eyes are on mine, watching me take in the room.

“You’ve a lovely home,” I say, and I’m sure my smile comes out more grimace-like than I intend.

“Thank you,” she says, “and thank you for sending your materials in advance of our meeting.”

“Of course, I assume you have questions?”

Jayce, who was kind enough to help prep me for the meeting, warned me that she would be more hands on with her patronage. In recent years, at least. I can’t imagine why.

She nods once, curt and to the point, “yes. My primary point of concern lies in your ‘runoffmitigation’plans.”

Ah. As anticipated.

She continues, “You don’t have any sites determined yet, and I don’t expect you’ll find the industrialists of the undercity to be jumping at the opportunity to collaborate.”

“Of course,” I cross my legs as I speak, “but the benefits are great enough that I’d be remiss if I didn’t try.”

She nods, thumbing through the packet of papers.

The arduous pause that follows has me shifting in my seat, leaning forward to add, “nailing down where is my next step.”

She hums, “and your estimate on this? Will you have this determination made soon?”

“That,” I squirm, “is difficult to say.”

She tilts her head, “In that case. let’s aim for 3 weeks.”

Final answer, then.

- - -

It’s an aggressive timeline.

Perhaps it’s time to have a conversation with my boss—one thats been haunting the back of my mind these few months. On my return from my meeting, I march directly into his office; I’m fairly sure any delay would dry up the remaining dregs of my courage after my morning.

I clear my throat, propping the door open, “sir, may I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, my girl,” he straightens in his seat.

I reach down to pet his poro, who excitedly circles me, as I take my seat. I shift, throat suddenly dry—

“I’m fairly certain I can take an educated guess as to why you’re here,” he narrows his eyes.

I nod, a bit feebly. The words snag in my throat.

Charitably, he continues, eyeing me with his ever-shrewd gaze as he speaks, “time is about to become quite the premium for you.”

So he heard about my meeting, then. I swallow, “Yes, I expect so, sir.”

“Of course, it’s not lost on me that meeting minutes and correspondence are a waste of your talents—“

“Not at all, sir, I—“

He narrows his eyes at me, hushing me immediately. With a curt nod to himself, he continues, “I’m glad you came to me. I’ve been thinking it’d be prudent to adjust your role—let a student take over the mundane tasks for you to focus on your work. In exchange, however, I do have a request.”

I frown, tilting my head, “sir?”

“I’d like you to be a pair of extra eyes for me—primarily on any Hextech progress.”

Ah. I’ve had assignments like these as his assistant before, of course. I’ve never been a fan of them—hounding scientists to ensure they’re keeping to the ethos. Still, it’s a fair trade. I nod, “yes, of course sir.”

He fixes me with a neutral, if assessing, stare. I shift in place, finger carding through the edges of my notebook.

“Our boys have hit their fair share of snags,” he finally speaks, “I’m also aware you have grown quite close with Viktor, I expect you remain neutral.”

I nod, swallowing thickly. That was quite the emphasis. Did he mean that in a stay-away-from-my-star-pupil sort of way? Perhaps. Perhaps, I’m paranoid. Either way, I’m thrown. Something else scratches at the edge of my mind, and I ask, “Why, sir? Keep accommodating me, I mean.”

It’s a foolish question.

He blinks, mustache tucking into a frown as he considers my words. “It is the greatest importance, my girl, to focus on our future, to shape young innovators such as yourself.”

I’m not sure I enjoy the idea of being molded.

I chew on my lip, nodding. “Thank you, sir.”

- - -

The first two weeks pass far too quickly. I dive headfirst into my project, and visit the Hextech lab a few times. Okay, I’m fairly sure Heimer only meant for me to check in every so often. Call it an indulgence.

Viktor is keeping busy, as well. Relegating us to subsist on stolen glances and fleeting touches. The heat eats at me each time regardless, and I’m still a little unsure whether Heimer’s warning was purely about professionalism, or pursuit.

So, we’ve been careful.

It doesn’t stop the visits from being pure, blissful torture. It builds on it, really.

- - -

“Hello, boys,” I beam at the threshold of the Hextech lab.

Jayce’s greeting is warm, much warmer than Viktor’s—who opts for a soft ‘mmh’ with a wave of his hand, eyes glued to his notebook.

I scoff, teasing, “I’m doing fine, Viktor. Thanks for asking.”

His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“So, any interesting progress?” I turn to Jayce.

He readily walks me through their latest developments—planning, materials they’re sourcing, the few more tests left before construction kicks off. They’re moving fast.

“Why the hurry?” I tilt my head, finger tracing it’s way down the schematics laid out before me. Jayce has returned to his project, welding what appears to be two small metal sheets together.

He hooks a thumb in Viktor’s direction, “ask this one.”

“I would like to move forward,” Viktor pipes in with a sigh, “the Hexgates are just the surface of Hextech, and will likely only impact Piltover’s elite.”

I hum, he had a point. I step away from the table, crossing the room.

“The undercity will feel the effects too, V,” Jayce says.

“Eh, do we know that, Jayce?” Viktor stands, watching me as I approach his desk, “better to quickly satisfy our benefactors and move on to measurable, tangible impacts.”

His amber eyes shine, hopeful. Up close, however, I can see the purple kiss of dark circles blooming beneath his eyes. He’s been working too hard again.

Jayce hums in reply, not bothering to look up from the soldering iron in his hands, “I know, V.”

This was a regular conversation, then.

It’s quiet for a moment, Viktor silently watching the back of his partner’s head. I shift from foot to foot, drawing idle shapes against the desk top. The soldering iron kicks on.

Viktor’s eyes slide to mine, and my lungs stop. A careful step forward and he’s caged me between his arms, back against the table, breath hitching as he whispers against my hair, “you are incredibly distracting.”

His hips press against mine, driving the point home. My hands find his waist as I struggle to steel myself. I swallow, “I’m going back to the undercity soon.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of my jaw, voice low and amused. “Is that so? And do you require an escort?”

He seals his sentence with a nip at my skin.

“No,” I say, voice airy as I try to maintain an even reply, “I should be fine.”

Jayce clears his throat, “V.”

Viktor backs away, utterly nonplussed as he sits beside me on the table. I take the opportunity to step back, to put some distance between us.

Viktor looks at me, suddenly earnest as he speaks, “you’ve been going to the undercity a lot recently.”

I nod, blinking. I still have yet to find a suitable factory in the Undercity, each visit turning up fruitless. I murmur, “I’m on a tight deadline.”

Viktor stares at me for a moment, lips forming a thin line, “Careful.”

I shrug, giving him a lopsided smile, “of course.”

- - -

One such factory sits conveniently in the higher levels of the undercity, not-so-far from the very spot I ran into that odd man at. It’s partially why I’ve been avoiding it. The sigil lining the exterior of the building, however, was not the same. I’m still not sure if that is a boon, or not. The sense of unease twists in my gut.

I round the exterior of the factory, nose pinching. Smoke plumes up from one of the stacks towards the center, cloying and thickening the very air around me. There’s just enough space between the factory itself and the river, jagged rock and cobble smattering the land between. The ideal location for my work.

I cross around the back of the building, sticking towards the river. The closer to the other end, the more cumbersome the earth becomes: Manageable boulders turn to smaller, frail jagged shards. It’s a scramble. The factory itself is surprisingly quiet—windowless, devoid of most signs of life—save for the guard posted on the other side of the building. A silhouette in the distance, lax posture.

One wrong step. That’s all it takes to send me cursing as I tumble onto the sharp rocks below. A pain tears through my hands. Then, blood. I struggle to my knees with a hiss, investigating the source—broken slivers of shale embedded in my palms. I cry out as I peel the first away.

Swallowing, I manage to muffle the worst of it. My heart leaps into my throat. I risked a glance at the guard, paranoia singing through my blood. Had he heard me?

He shuffles on his feet, leaning against the wall.

I exhale, looking down to tug out another; this one deeper. I glance at the door to the factory, still closed. The guard still leaning there, unmoving. My nostrils flaring, I stand up on wobbly legs. I can deal with the rest later, when I get home. Was that a noise? No, I’m being paranoid. I stagger forward—

There’s a crunch of feet against stone behind me, and I whip around just in time—a glimpse of metal, a resounding crack, the tilt of the horizon.

Darkness.

[spideyjimin]

YOURE TOO ADORABLE 😭😭 i’m so glad you’re loving this series & i hope you’ll enjoy the upcoming parts 🫶🏼 thank you from the bottom of my heart 💞💞

Bloodlines entwined: III | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 7,460

—  warnings: mention of death, murder, and abortion, crying, kind of heartbreak, nervousness, a tiny growing sexual tension, and some teasing  

—  author’s note: sssooo this chapter finally explains a bit more about the werewolf universe, and i hope it’s a bit clearer for you. a lot more explanations will come throughout the series as i can’t reveal it all in one chapter. the next chapter is actually my favourite and i definelty can’t wait to post it 😊 hope you’ll enjoy this one & let me know what you think <3  

taglist is closed!

Chapter III: untold truth

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook spent the rest of the night thinking about you. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He couldn’t believe that you’re a werewolf.

Obviously, you’re not aware of it otherwise you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did when he revealed the existence of the werewolf word. Normally, you should have recognized him since he’s the king, but you didn’t. So, he strongly believes that you were adopted. That’s the only reason that could explain why you aren’t aware.  

Now, he needs to understand why you were adopted. A pack never gives up on their little ones. He can think of many reasons why, but he needs to figure out what happened to you. He doesn’t want to simply reveal your true nature without having any certainty.

However, what concerns him is the fact that you haven’t turned yet. Normally, around fourteen years old, under a full moon, you should have experienced your first transformation. Maybe the fact that you ignore everything about that has caused your wolf blood to be dormant.

The next morning, he started looking into every record he has access to about the Shadows. The blue eyes are a characteristic specific to the Shadow pack. Every pack has its own eye color; it’s the way to distinguish every wolf. Jungkook’s pack, the Bloods, has red eyes. However, his eyes have a darker red shade. This is a trait specific to the king; he inherits it the second he goes from heir to king.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung, his best friend makes his way inside his office.

The man looks up at his best friend before a bright smile appears on his face. It’s been a little while since they last saw each other. Taehyung has been traveling a lot lately; he said he wants to discover the world before settling with his mate. However, it looks like he doesn’t want to settle down at all.

“Hey, Tae,” he stands up to greet his best friend. “What are you doing here? I thought you were lost somewhere in France.”

“Well, I needed to come back,” he replies with a smile. “Couldn’t stay forever in France.”  

Both men start talking about what has been happening for the last month. Jungkook doesn’t go too much into detail. He only mentions he contacted a fertility clinic, and that he’s right now concerned about something happening in the Shadow pack.

Taehyung, on his side, tells his friend about all the places he went to. He was in Europe, discovering a lot of different countries. He definitely adored going around and discovering new cultures, new food, and meeting new people. For sure, his favorite place was Paris.

“Do you need any help with those Shadows research?” Taehyung asks casually although his sharp gaze indicates that he already knows the answer.

Jungkook nods, his shoulders visibly tense. He’s never been one to ask for help, but this time he definitely would need some.

“I wouldn’t refuse it,” he answers to his most trusted friend.

Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning against Jungkook’s wooden bookcase.

“What exactly are you looking for?” he frowns while grabbing a book.  

“I don’t really know,” Jungkook says. “A record, a mention, a trace of a couple that died or disappeared,” he explains.

Taehyung looks up at his friend before looking down at the book again. By pure coincidence, the book he’s holding is an old one about the different werewolf packs. It’s one of the first books he read; it details the characteristics of each pack.

“A couple who died or disappeared?” he repeats his friend’s words. “Is this by any chance related to a girl?”

Jungkook freezes for a split second, but it’s enough for Taehyung to catch. He’s been very observant, especially when it comes to Jungkook.

“No,” he lies, his voice steady and firm.

Taehyung isn’t convinced; his eyes narrow as he studies his friend. He knows Jungkook better than anyone else, and while he’s very good at hiding his emotions, there’s something in his posture, something in the way he’s looking at Taehyung, that betrays him.

 “You’re unreadable when you want it, you know that?” Taehyung finally says, walking closer to his friend who is standing behind his desk. “But something tells me this isn’t just about finding old records. If you’re diving into the Shadows' history, there’s a good reason behind it. You don’t waste your time on anything without a reason.”

Jungkook sights while running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, Tae.”

“You know I’m here, right? Whatever this is, whatever you’re digging into, you don’t have to do it alone.”  

The werewolf king would love to tell him everything, but he doesn’t want to involve anyone at this stage. First, he needs to make sure you’re a werewolf, and only then, he’ll reveal it.

“I know, Tae. I just need to be sure before I tell you anything,” his voice lowers. “Before I tell anyone anything.”

Taehyung nods, understanding that his best friend will share when he’s ready.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll start digging into the Shadow Pack archives. See if I can find anything about missing couples and unexplained disappearances.”

Taehyung’s aunt is married to a Shadow alpha so it will definitely help. As a king, he for sure has access to a lot of records, but not everything. Each pack has its own secrets, and that’s the beauty of it. If Jungkook knew everything, his job would be boring. There’s always something new to unveil. Like your past.

Taehyung disappears a little while after, leaving Jungkook alone with his eyes fixed on the flames in the fireplace. The shadows dance across the stone walls, but his mind is somewhere else, on you, and on the fragile heartbeat growing inside you. He can still hear it perfectly.

He runs a hand down his face before letting out a deep breath. This was never supposed to go down like that. This mistake was never supposed to happen. But the raw and undeniable truth has already sunk its claws into him.  

How can he turn away from this? From you? From the baby?

He remembers the flicker of blue in your eyes. It’s been replaying constantly on his mind, but what is deeply engraved in him is this connection with you. He constantly feels your presence around him, something he’s never felt with anyone else.  

Even though he’s been deeply sorry to have brought you to his world, this flicker of blue made him realize that he brought you to your world. A world you didn’t know existed until he revealed it. His duty has been telling him to stay away, but he can’t.

The thought creeps in quietly, yet with unshakable certainty: This was never a mistake.  

The world may call it an accident, but Jungkook can feel something deeper, something ancient, something undeniable. Fate, destiny… whatever name it might have, it brought the two of you here. Together.

Every choice and every moment has led to this point. To you.

Now, standing quietly in his study, he feels the truth settling deep in his bones. This child growing inside you was always meant to happen. Jungkook leans against the edge of his desk.

“I can’t abandon this child, my child,” he whispers to himself. “I can’t abandon yn.”

It isn’t about duty anymore. It’s about you. It’s about the fragile life caught between two worlds, and the bond he can already feel forming. Whether he’s ready to admit it or not. Jungkook straightens up, shoulders squared, and jaw tight. The king in him knows what needs to be done, but the man knows what he wants to do.

“I’m staying,” he runs his hand over his hair.

This isn’t just a choice. It’s the acceptance of what was always meant to be. Whatever challenges await, Jungkook knows one thing with absolute certainty: This was always supposed to happen.

For the past five days, Jungkook and Taehyung have been trying to find anything about missing couples and mysterious disappearances, but it’s been in vain. There’s absolutely nothing. Thirty years ago, nothing special happened.

However, Jungkook asked Sungmin, Taehyung’s uncle to meet. Records are one thing, but Jungkook knows better than anyone that there might have been something off records that happened. Some secrets are kept hidden, locked away in the minds of those who lived them.

“Thanks for having me, Mister Song,” Jungkook says as he enters Sungmin’s house.

“I couldn’t refuse my king’s visit,” he replies with a warm smile.

Many people believe that the Alphas of every pack refuse the authority of a king, but those closest to the throne are often the first to kneel. For sure, Jungkook’s natural leadership certainly helps. However, the truth is that the werewolf hierarchy isn’t just a tradition; it’s more than that. Every werewolf deeply holds onto it.

“I could say that I’m surprised, but it’d be a lie,” he admits while he guides Jungkook towards the terrace. “I was expecting it after Tae’s request.”

“I imagine,” Jungkook responds.

The covered terrace is a serene and private space. Jungkook’s eyes quickly scan the surroundings. It’s a little but pretty space. Plates, cups, and a selection of biscuits are neatly arranged on the modest wooden table.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Sungmin gestures for Jungkook to sit.

“A coffee would be fine,” Jungkook answers.

The man takes one of the porcelain carafes on the table and carefully pours the drink into a cup, placing it in front of Jungkook.

“I was originally looking for a couple’s death or disappearances in your pack, but I couldn’t find anything documented,” Jungkook is straightforward.

Sungmin nods thoughtfully. “When do you believe this event happened?”

“Around thirty years ago,” he says.

Tae’s uncle freezes for a brief moment at his answers. His eyes flicker with something that Jungkook recognizes instantly: recognition mixed with hesitation. This is it. This might be the key to understanding your past.

“Something did happen thirty years ago,” Sungmin admits. “But we didn’t keep any trace of it out of respect to the family concerned.”

Jungkook is definitely very intrigued about this.

“The eldest daughter of an estimated member of our pack fell in love with a human. Despite our objections, she decided to run away with him. We all knew why,” he shakes his head as he remembers the sad story. “She was pregnant with that human child.”

The werewolf king listens patiently, absorbing every word.

“We didn’t inform your father immediately as we thought we could handle it ourselves. Involving the king into this would have drawn unwanted attention to this. For us, Shadows, discretion is everything.”

Jungkook nods, knowing perfectly the Shadow’s reputation. They are the ghosts of the werewolf world, unseen and often unheard, but fiercely loyal and deadly when necessary. The Shadows blend into their surroundings, disappearing when needed.

“We looked for them for years but couldn’t find them,” he seems really affected as he recalls what happened. “They were clever. They stayed hidden, and after nine years, we had no choice but to involve your father.”

Jungkook nods, understanding that after all that time, it’s normal to be reaching out to the king. “And he found them.”

Sungmin sighs deeply. “Yes. Your father had better resources than us. Within a year, he found them. Thankfully, this stayed between us and the king. He let us deal with this internally,” he explains.

The air feels heavier now, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on the two men.

“They were living in a totally different city. And they had indeed a child. A ten-year-old kid…”

Jungkook notices how hard it is for Sungmin to remember this terrible event.  

“It was very hard to end their lives, but we had to. The woman, her human mate, the kid, the life they had built… all of it was extinguished.”

Sungmin pauses, his throat tightening. For a moment, Jungkook sees the weight of guilt appearing on the older Alpha’s face.

“Killing a child was way too hard, but hybrids are forbidden. A child of two worlds, carrying both human and werewolf blood could destabilize everything. We told ourselves it was necessary.”  

Jungkook grips the edge of his coffee cup, his jaw clenched. The thought of such a decision sits uneasily within him. He’s not sure he would have had the strength to do that. It is one thing to terminate a pregnancy, but killing a ten-year-old child is totally another story.

“Did anyone else know about this? Anyone outside the pack?”

“No, only your father, and now you.”

“Do you think it’s possible that the child survived?” Jungkook asks, his voice steady but intense.

Sungmin looks directly into his king’s eyes. “We are certain they didn’t.”  

Jungkook leans back in the chair, his mind racing. If the child had somehow survived, if they had slipped through the cracks of fate, then everything changes. And if that child was you… He shakes his head, not sure that it’s possible.

“Thank you, Mister Song. This has been illuminating.”

Jungkook steps away, his heart beating fast. There are too many resemblances between this story and your story.

To yn: hi yn, could we meet tonight or tomorrow?

Barely a minute later he receives an answer.

From yn: hi Jungkook, tonight is fine. Same place as last time?

To yn: sure

As you’re walking towards the location you agreed with Jungkook, you try to understand the reason behind his sudden need to talk to you. This is unexpected for you, so it definitely makes you nervous. Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind about the baby? Is he going to pressure you to abort considering the hybrid situation? Or even worse, has something happened? Your mind races through every possibility.

“Calm down, yn,” you mumble to yourself.

You take a deep breath, your eyes closing for a brief moment. The beating of your heart drums in your ears, and slowly, you can hear it calming down. You can’t start overthinking before you even get to listen to what Jungkook wants to tell you. Maybe it’s nothing serious or something you have to really worry about.

When you arrive, you notice you’re the first one; Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet. So, you decide to sit on the closest bench. You look at the passersby walking around you with ‘Tití Me Perguntó’ from Bad Bunny playing in your headphones. It’s one of your favorite songs.

After a couple of minutes, you feel Jungkook’s presence. Your eyes stare at the surroundings to check if he’s indeed nearby. Your senses are right, you see a man walking in your direction. Even when he walks, he has such an imposing posture.

This presence feeling grows stronger as he gets closer to you, and you can’t seem to look away, as if your eyes are glued on him. Weird things have been happening with Jungkook since you’ve met him, and you can’t quite explain them.

Once he’s in front of you, you stand up, a smile naturally growing on your face. He’s incredibly handsome and charming. Once again, he has opted for a casual look: a white shirt layered under a leather jacket completed with loose, brown suede-like pants.

His strong presence near you soothes you in a way you never experienced before. All the nervousness you were feeling minutes ago is completely washed away. His strong and bestial scent fills the air and calms down your racing thoughts.

For a moment, you remain in silence, but it isn’t an awkward one. It’s actually quite the opposite. His gaze holds yours, and the intensity of his eyes draws you even more. It feels like none of you needs to speak. It is as if the two of you are communicating on a deeper level that doesn’t need language.

“Hi,” you break the silence.

“Hey, yn,” he takes a step closer.

By the way he approaches you, you sense he’s about to hug you or something similar. You prepare yourself for such, but he ends up not doing it. Jungkook just stands there, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“How have you been feeling?” he asks with evident concern in his voice.

As always, being around him comforts you. It makes you feel like you don’t need to hold anything back. There’s no need to hide your thoughts and feelings behind a mask. You can be entirely honest, saying what you truly feel without the fear of being judged. It’s part of the weird things you’ve been experiencing with Jungkook. It’s something you never felt with anyone else, not even an ex. This makes you wonder just how much this connection truly means.

“Very much torn apart by the decision I need to make,” you admit.

“Have you already considered one of them?” he questions.

You decide to sit down on the bench, your hands rubbing your face. Should you be telling him that you’re very much inclined to keep the baby? Isn’t it better if he doesn’t know anything? In any case, he won’t be around anymore. He said he’d walk away.

“I’ve kind of made a decision,” you try to be as vague as possible.

Jungkook takes a seat next to you. This time around, he doesn’t seem to try to look away from you. His deep dark orbs stare straight into your eyes. As usual, he’s pretty much unreadable, but he has that soft expression on his face. It almost looks like he truly cares and worries about you.

“In case you…” he seems to hesitate, but he doesn’t look away. “If you keep the baby,” he continues, and your heart starts hammering in your chest. “I think I won’t be able to step away.”

You close your eyes while taking a deep breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to be feeling right now.

“I thought stepping away was the right decision,” he starts explaining. “Every time I tried to pull back, I find myself being drawn to you… to our child.”

The word ‘our child’ sends shivers down your spine.   

“I can’t turn my back on this—not on you, not on them.”

As he says those words, his eyes look down at your stomach, where a precious life is growing. Even though your eyes are closed, you can feel his gaze on you. You can feel it on your baby. You can simply feel Jungkook. His entire being calls for you, and your body responds to it by being completely drawn to him.

“Why now?” your voice trembles as your eyes open to look at him. “What has changed?”

This doesn’t make any sense. Almost a month ago, he told you that he couldn’t father this child because you aren’t a werewolf, and that this child's existence is completely forbidden. Things are still the same, nothing has changed since then.

“You said you couldn’t have this child because of the whole werewolf thing,” your voice tone is slowly getting higher.

Jungkook’s face now seems to soften and it looks like he carries an emotional weight. There is definitely something going on that you can’t quite explain. And it’s scaring you.

“I think…” he runs his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you’ve started to recognize. “You’re not just a woman carrying my child,” he seems to struggle to express what’s inside his mind. “I think you might be one of us.”

His words hand in the air, your entire body freezing. For a moment, it feels like the world completely stopped moving. You blink at him, trying to process the enormity of what he just said. At this stage it feels like, Jungkook likes to make cruel jokes. First, it’s the werewolf world, and now, it’s this. How on earth can you be a werewolf? It’s simply impossible. If that was the case, you would have already turned or something like that.

“What are you talking about?” the sharpness of your voice even surprises you.  

Anger grows inside you, but it masks the deeper emotion of fear that you can feel. Your heart starts pounding erratically in your chest as the air grows heavier. How dare he? How dare he turn your world upside down with this unbelievable claim? You stand up, trying to calm yourself down.

“That’s impossible,” you say with a trembling voice.

You rest a hand on top of your heart, trying to anchor yourself, but the panic bubbling beneath your surface is relentless. The thought of upsetting the baby crosses your mind, but it doesn’t help to calm you.

Jungkook stands as well, hands raising as if he’s about to reassure you, but as he does so, he watches you disappear before his eyes.

“It’s incredible,” he whispers to himself.

Now, he has solid proof that you’re indeed a werewolf, a member of the Shadow pack.

“Yn, listen to me.”

“No, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “I am not a werewolf. That’s ridiculous. If I were one, I would have transformed or something like that.”

“Maybe,” he says quietly. “But you didn’t know you were one so things might work differently in that case.”

“Stop!” you scream. “Just stop. Do you even hear yourself? Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

Jungkook stands there, looking somewhere, but he doesn’t even know where you are.

“Take your phone, yn,” he tells you.

“What?” you say with evident surprise, and your anger turns into confusion.

“Just take your phone,” he repeats, his tone calm but firm.

Still breathing heavily and with shaky hands, you look for your phone in your purse. You’re not sure why he’s saying that or what to expect when you look at your phone.

“Now, pretend like you’ll take a selfie.”

As you look at him, there is something in his expression that compels you to obey. Slowly you lift your phone, positioning it in front of your face. The moment your screen comes into view, your breath catches in your throat. Your reflection is completely gone.

Your mind struggles to understand what is going on. The town square is visible in the background, clear as day, but your face is missing. It’s as though you’ve been erased from existence.  

“What is happening?” you almost scream. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

Your gaze remains glued to the phone, your hand trembling so much that the image blurs. You’re gone. Completely gone. Your hand instinctively goes to your face, touching your skin as though it might bring you back into view. But when you glance at the screen again, even your hand remains invisible. This can’t be true. How can you even disappear? How is that possible?

“It’s not sorcery,” he calmly replies. “It’s you. It’s your nature. Only a werewolf can do that.”

“No! That’s not true. That’s not who I am. I’m human. I’ve always been human,” you shake your head before putting your phone back in your purse. “But I’m carrying your child so that must be it.”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“That’s not how it works, yn. I swear,” he’s trying to look for you, so it makes him look like a crazy man. “Pregnancies only bring out even more any abilities someone has,” he explains. “This pregnancy is simply revealing your true nature.”

Tears stream down your face while your heart hurts.

“Have you been experiencing some weird stuff lately?” he says. “Like heightened hearing or smell or night vision or superhuman strength or even super speed.”

Then, your body freezes once more.

“No,” you answer, and for a moment, you hesitate to reveal the truth. “But I’ve always had heightened hearing and smell, and I perfectly see in the dark.”

This all confirms what he says. You’re a werewolf.  

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you add. “I can hear everybody's heartbeats, even the baby’s.”

You close your eyes, the truth violently hitting you. All this time you’ve been a werewolf, and nobody told you anything. You’re not sure Felix knows it, but it hurts to realize that your parents hid something so big from you. It’s your nature after all. 

“You have your answer, yn,” he responds.

Now, you’re crying because the world is collapsing underneath your feet. Your life has been filled with lies, and you’re only discovering this now. It hurts even more that it’s the father of your child who’s revealing this and not your parents.

Jungkook follows the sound of your tears to come closer. You fall in his arms, holding him as tight as possible. He tries to hold you back in his arms, but he doesn’t see you at all. The only thing that can make you reappear is for you to relax. Your emotions are the keys to your powers.

“Focus on the baby’s heartbeat,” he murmurs in your ear. “Focus only on that.”

While tears keep running down your face, you try to search for your baby’s heartbeat. It’s super faint, but you quickly find it. This little sound has rocked you to sleep so many times, and it’s one of the most comforting sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Tudum, Tudum, Tudum,” Jungkook starts mimicking the sound of the baby’s beat.

You close your eyes to only focus on that sound. Slowly but surely, you reappear which reassures Jungkook, and he holds you tighter in his arms. His warm embrace and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat calm you down. He presses a gentle kiss on your head while his hands start to soothe your back. Seeing you like this is heartbreaking, and he hates the fact that he was the one delivering this news.

For a little while, you both remain like this, and his arms feel like the safest place on earth. Even if you hate this entire situation, his presence reassures you. Everything about this moment right now appeases your soul. There is absolutely no doubt that the reality you now have to face is devastating, but you feel like you’ll have Jungkook by your side. And strangely, it seems like it’s the only thing that you need.

Today was a hell of a day!

Everything was simply awful, and it felt like it was a never-ending day. Your mind was constantly thinking about the words Jungkook said. ‘I think you might be one of us.’ You swear you could hear them on repeat all day long.  

Due to how you’ve been feeling, you’ve left everybody on read—even Jungkook. Dealing with this strange reality is too heavy, and you need space. You need some time to digest the news. You need time to simply breathe.

Once you’re at home, you wrap yourself in your Harry Potter robe, lay on the couch, and play the first Harry Potter movie. Right now, all you need is to find comfort in something, and Harry Potter is your escape.

Although the movie is playing in the background, you’re not really watching it. Your thoughts are totally lost somewhere else, somewhere that includes werewolves. You can’t believe that this is your new reality. It hurts deeply that your parents never said anything to you. How could they keep something so monumental from you? Were they intending to let this part of themselves, this part of you die in silence?

Things would have been completely different if they had informed you about that side of you. Maybe you would have sought answers earlier. Maybe you would have explored what it means to carry this legacy. There is a whole culture, heritage, and part of yourself that you’ve missed out on for thirty years. And what hurts the most is that you hate your parents right now. For years, you’ve been hating your parents’ murderer, and now, the tables have turned.

You hate them for what they withheld, for what they never gave you a chance to understand.

This whole journey of becoming a mom has been a complete nightmare. This hasn’t been going as planned. This has been anything but easy. And now, it leaves you wondering if you should really keep the baby. Maybe, you should simply terminate the pregnancy and leave this all behind. But will this be so simple? Obviously, not.

Terminating the pregnancy won’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that Jungkook came into your life to completely wreck your world. Cutting short the life growing inside you will probably just make you feel guilty for doing it. Jungkook won’t disappear, and neither will your wolf side.

This isn’t fair.

Fairness has never been part of your life. It feels like your life has always been robbed. Everybody has been controlling it, making you feel completely powerless all the time. This pregnancy was about gaining control again, but even like that, it wasn’t. A big part of you wants to keep this baby, and you’re very much inclined to keep them. But you don’t know. Jungkook’s revelation still needs to be processed.

“What am I going to do, baby?” you whisper as your hands naturally caress your stomach.

In the end, this baby isn’t a hybrid one. They’re fully a werewolf. You can understand why Jungkook changed his mind. He didn’t want the child because he believed it was a hybrid, something completely forbidden in his world. But now that it’s not the case, he wants to be part of his child's life, if you keep it.

It makes perfect sense, but the hurt remains. He gets what he wants, doesn’t he? The chance to raise his child. But what about you? What about what you want?

“You’re a wolfy,” you continue saying. “So, your daddy wants you now.”

However, if you keep this child, you’ll have to teach them what it means to be a werewolf. You’ll have to guide and prepare them for a life you know nothing about. You’ll have to learn everything with them; every instinct, every tradition, and every secret. You’ll develop your wolf’s abilities together. This life inside you isn’t just a new life; it’s a symbol of your own transformation. This child represents the end of your human life and the beginning of something different.

Are you ready for that?

You’re not sure. You’re not sure if you want to embark on this new journey. A journey where you figure out who and what you are. A journey where you’ll have to dig into your parents’ past. A journey where you’ll have to face your ghosts. A journey where you might find all the answers you’ve always desired to have.

Jungkook seems to hold the key to all of that. The truth, the answers, and the future. You need him, more than you want to admit. He’s the only werewolf you know, and he might as well be your guide on this.

Even if everything scares you, this is what will help you to figure out what happened to your parents twenty years ago. This is the key to finally getting to truly know them. This hasn’t been going as you planned it, but it has been going the way you need it.  

For now, you’re simply going to enjoy this comforting and reassuring movie before truly facing this new reality of yours. Tonight is your last night as a human, and tomorrow, you’ll start to understand what it means to be a werewolf.

For the millionth time, you check that your apartment is perfectly cleaned and tidied. Jungkook is coming tonight; you’ve invited him over to discuss this werewolf thing. You’re incredibly nervous as you’re very scared of how things could go. Are you going to learn some unpleasant truths about your lineage?

Also, you can’t forget to tell him you have your first ultrasound tomorrow. He’ll probably want to come as he’s expressed his change of mind concerning this child. Your child. Instinctively your hand cradles your stomach.

Before the doorbell echoes in your apartment, you sense Jungkook’s presence behind the door. This thing of sensing him is definitely extremely weird, and you’re not even sure you’ll get used to it. But you guess, it’s part of being a werewolf.

You take a deep breath while opening the door to him. As he comes into view, his beauty takes your breath away. His hair is perfectly pushed back, only a strand of hair falling on his forehead. This time around, he’s dressed in a more formal outfit. Like the first time you met him at the clinic, he’s wearing a suit. Only this time, it’s a dark blue one.

And it fits him so well.

A smile grows on his face when his eyes lay on you. It warms your heart, and you can’t help but smile back at him.  

“Hi, yn,” he says.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you reply. “Come on in,” you take a step back to let him in.

Jungkook steps into your cocoon, his gaze briefly wandering at the entrance. With practiced ease, he shrugs off his long black coat, the movement accentuating the subtle play of his muscles. Your curious eyes can’t help but follow the way his shoulders shift and his arms flex as he removes his coat and slips off his shoes.

A little grin shows up when he realizes you’ve been staring at him. However, you both pretend you didn’t notice what the other was doing. It’s like you’re pretending you don’t feel drawn to each other.

“Would you like to drink or eat something?” you politely ask.

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “I’ve already eaten and drank enough for today,” a little giggle escapes his pretty lips. “I had a long and exhausting meeting this afternoon.”

“Oh,” you simply say. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to eat a bit because I’m quite hungry.”

His eyes inevitably look down at your stomach, the sound of the child’s heartbeat resonating in his ears. It’s such a comforting sound.

“No,” he answers. “Eat as much as you want.”

You drag him to the kitchen so you can eat something while you discuss about the madness that your life has become. You open the cabinets to check what you have, but then, you remember you bought your favorite yogurt two days ago. Without no further hesitation, you move to the fridge, grab it together with a spoon, and start eating it.

While you do that, Jungkook’s eyes are glued on you. His stare carefully follows you as you move through the kitchen. Honestly, he’s glad to be here with you; he finally gets to see you in your comfort zone, and you definitely seem to be glowing in this place.

“Can I ask you what you do for a living?” you ask while bringing the spoon to your mouth.

His eyes follow your hand before looking up. He leans on the cabinets while never looking away from you. Jungkook crosses his arms on his chest and heavily considers what to tell you.

“Well…” he seems hesitant to reveal it. “I’m not sure you’re going to believe me.”

You tilt your head, wondering what it could be. Is he working with the mafia like you thought before he announced his wolfy side? Or is he some kind of criminal? Or is it the opposite, like a doctor?

“Try me,” you tease him.

Jungkook didn’t know up until now how much he needed to hear the teasing tone in your voice.

His eyes never cease to follow your hand’s movements with the spoon. It’s mesmerizing, holding him captive as if he’s unable to look away. The way your lips wrap around the spoon sends shivers down his spine. Jungkook shakes his head, pushing away those weird thoughts. It’s inappropriate.

“I’m a king,” his tone is firm, leaving no room for doubts.

You almost choke with the spoon in your mouth. Of all the jobs you considered, this one definitely wasn’t on the list. This is beyond unexpected and by the way he looks, you know that he isn’t joking. You’ve seen his serious face so many times now, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“A king?” you repeat to make sure you heard it right.

Jungkook nods, and then, you can’t unsee it. This entire outfit breathes power—and money—, his charisma is beyond magnetic, and he has a strong presence. Let’s not forget about the unreadable face he always has on. There is definitely something royal about him, and he definitely looks like a king.

“That makes the child in my belly a future king or queen then?” you ask half-jokingly.

“Yep,” he answers. “And as a king, I’m expected to give the perfect heir, so the hybrid child wasn’t really one.”

When he explained the situation a month ago, everything made sense, but now it makes even more sense. This child carries royal blood.

“I’m not carrying anyone’s kid,” you playfully say. “A king,” you whisper.

This definitely changes your view of the situation. Now that he wants this child, it makes them the heir to the werewolf throne. The baby growing inside you will one day be a king or a queen. It makes you feel important but scared as well.

“It’s crazy,” you look up at him while bringing the spoon to your mouth once more.

Right there and then, your heart skips a beat when you realize the way he’s looking at you, or should you say, the way his eyes are devouring you. You can’t remember the last time someone looked at you in that way.

“It is,” he admits.

“And what does a werewolf king do exactly?” you curiously ask.

“Many things,” he smiles at you. “I’m the supreme leader of the packs which makes me the bridge between them. If any issue arises between them, I have to resolve them and also make sure the werewolves follow the rules. I’m also their protector. I must ensure the laws are respected and nobody reveals our secrets. And do many other things, but those are the most important ones.”

You nod, wondering if these responsibilities aren’t too much of a burden for him. It mustn’t be easy to be the one making decisions, and it definitely sounds like the entire werewolf world relies on him.

“And you?” he asks. “What do you do?”

A bright smile appears on your face. “I’m an Elementary teacher.”

Thinking about the little kids you see every day simply makes you happy. Being able to give those little humans the tools they need to grow in this world is one of the most fulfilling things. This job has been healing your inner child because teaching those young children has allowed you to guide and give them a stability you never had in your childhood.

“Oh, nice,” he says.

The yogurt is now over so you suggest going to the living room. This way, you’ll be sitting comfortably on the couch while discussing the hot topic. Werewolves.

Last night, while in bed, you were mentally going through all the questions you might have for him. There is so much for you to know about this new world, this new heritage. For sure, last night, you didn’t know he was a king, but now that you do, you believe that he might help you a lot more than expected.  

Jungkook sits down next to you, and you decide to face each other.

“So,” you start saying. “I guess you can imagine why I invited you.”

The man sitting next to you nods. “Your wolf blood.”

“Indeed,” you nod as you speak. “I have a lot of questions.”

You don’t even know where to start.

“You said there are packs,” you begin. “Would you know to which pack I belong?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “The Shadow pack,” he pauses for a couple of seconds. “Each pack has a wolf eye color. Mine is red as you’ve already seen, which indicates that I’m the king and member of The Blood pack. The Shadow’s eye color is blue, and for the third and last pack, The Lunar, it’s white,” he explains. “A week ago, I saw your eyes turning blue, that’s how I discovered it.”

The Shadow, The Blood, and The Lunar. Three packs. You mentally register the information he gives you. There is so much to discover about this new reality.

“The Shadows also have unique abilities, one of them being the fact that they can blur into their surroundings.”

That’s what happened to you two days ago after he revealed your true nature. It was just the confirmation of who you are.

“As far as I can remember, I’ve only had heightened senses, but I never came to shift into a wolf. How is that possible?”

“That is something I ignore,” he admits. “You’re the first werewolf who didn’t grow up with her pack’s member. My first guess is the ignorance of your nature prevented it from fully revealing itself.”

You look down at your feet on the couch. It seems so weird that only a part of your abilities has revealed itself throughout your life.

“I’ve tried to find something about you, but I couldn’t,” he admits. “I even reached out to an Alpha of the pack, but nothing.”

“Oh,” you simply say, your eyes meeting his. “Do you think I could meet that Alpha?”

“Yes,” he smiles at you. “I’m sure he’d be happy to meet you, and he might probably help you more than me with your past and even your abilities.”

Jungkook then proceeds to explain how the werewolf world works. There is a hierarchy. Alpha, Beta, Delta, and Omega. Alpha being the highest rank, and you only achieve it once you fully master your powers. Logically, you’re an Omega as you barely know what you can do. Jungkook is an Alpha which makes sense since he’s a king.

If you keep the baby, they will automatically become an Alpha when they become king or queen. Things work a bit differently for the royal family.

Normally, a werewolf experiences their first shift on the first full moon of their fourteenth anniversary. The difference with the royal family is the fact that they experience that at ten years old. It’s quite early in life, but that allows them to master their abilities a lot earlier than any other werewolf.

Obviously, the parents and the family remain by your side throughout your first full moon. They guide you through the pain when transforming, and they stay with you while you’re a wolf. Jungkook tells you that the first transformation is very hard to handle. The pain is unbearable and once you’re a wolf, all your human senses disappear. You’re just a beast. A hunting beast. Having your family by your side prevents you from killing anyone or anything. Slowly and with a lot of work, you are able to control that primal urge.

The question left hanging is when and if you’ll transform. If this pregnancy brings out your wolf blood, there are higher chances that you’ll experience your first full moon. But Jungkook doesn’t have an answer to give.  

Then, he informs you that you can’t transform someone by biting them, that’s an absolute myth. Being a werewolf is genetic. You inherit it from your parents, and you’ll give that gene to your children. Thus, the importance of maintaining pure blood.    

 “For now, I guess that’s all,” you tell him once you’ve asked all the questions.

“Since the next full moon is in two days, I’d like to be with you in case you transform,” he says.

Well, you don’t have much of a choice. There’s this unknown about you, and you wouldn’t like to be alone during your first full moon, especially if it’s painful and bestial.

“Thanks,” you mumble while looking down.

Jungkook offers you a little smile.

“I’m by your side now, yn,” he places his fingers under your chin to slowly lift your head. “I won’t let you navigate this alone.”

His eyes shine with sincerity. You’re thankful that, in the middle of this chaos, you found Jungkook. This man brings so much comfort and seems to have one of the prettiest hearts you have encountered.

“And I’ll support you no matter what you decide with the baby,” he adds.

You remain in silence for a moment, your eyes scanning his soft face. You’ve never seen him this close. You’ve never noticed that little mole under his lips, or the little scar on his cheek, or how perfectly round his nose is. He looks even prettier this closely.  

The decision about your child has already been made, but you haven’t said it out loud yet. Jungkook will be the first one to know, and it makes sense since he’s the father.

“I’m going to keep the baby,” you reveal.  

[chaotic-orphan]

hello there!

ive been scouraging whumpblr end to end and stumbled across your masterpiece of a story- heroic betrayal. I have become rather deeply obsessed with your beautiful writing, and was merely wondering, if you would, perhaps, by any chance, write another wonderful part to the story, perchance? >o<

Heroic Betrayal (XI)

Read part one // Masterpost // continued from here

A little Flynn centric chapter? Mind into the betraying, backstabbing bastard?? Hmm?? More likely than you think👀 also… so sorry it’s late, I was on an adventure today <3

[whoops sorry, I meant to publish this in reply to the ask - which, thank you Nonny for reaching out, I'm delighted you enjoyed and you found it at a great time because the next part was to be updated today! XD]

*~*~*~*~*

Flynn led Morgan with his hand in hers, an arm around her waist in case her legs buckled or a sudden drop in energy gripped her. He wanted to be sure she stayed standing and if he she couldn’t, make sure she was close enough for him to catch and keep her on her feet.

Halfway up the stairs Morgan stopped walking. Flynn looked at her.

“Why— I thought we were watching a movie,” she said with a pout, her pupils nearly eclipsing the beautiful colour of her eyes. It turned Flynn’s stomach.

“We are,” he told her, forcing a smile on his face. “I have a TV in my room.”

Morgan stumbled back a step with a shake of her head. Her eyes widened as she almost slipped off the step with a startled sharp breath. Flynn hooked his arm tighter around her waist, pulling her flush against him before she could fall backwards.

Her wide eyes exposed her blown pupils, her brows crinkled in relief as she gazed up at him. “Thank you,” she breathed.

Flynn’s heart stuttered in his chest. He cleared his throat. “Of course.”

He started making the way up the stairs again when Morgan protested again. Her brows furrowed. “But… the movie,” she said, her voice pained.

Flynn nodded. “We can watch it in my room,” he repeated patiently. Morgan shook her head and went to pull back again. Flynn’s grip tightened. “Morgan—”

“Please,” she said, her voice light and airy and painted with a deep sadness. “Please, I don’t want to go back to a room, can’t we— can we…” she trailed off, her brows forming a groove over her eyes, casting them in shadows. Her eyes themselves glazed over, losing her trail of thought. “I…”

Flynn didn’t need her to explain what she was about to say. He could feel her confusion, the fogginess of her mind clouded by the painkillers Supervillain gave her. He clenched his jaw, hands tightening around Morgan. She didn’t… fuck, she didn’t deserve this. Any of this.

“We can watch it downstairs,” he said softly. Morgan’s confusion cleared, replaced with a light happiness like the sun that revealed itself from the parted clouds after a storm.

“Really?” She asked, excitement replacing the fog. Flynn swallowed.

“Yeah. Really.”

They started their descent which was more difficult than their ascent, but they made it to the bottom without Flynn having to carry Morgan down. Something he knew she would hate him for when she sobered up tomorrow. God, what a mess. He never… he never thought that Dad would take it this far, that he—

Flynn never saw him as terrifying as he did today. When Morgan just had to keep pushing until he snapped. Flynn should have… he should have done more! Done something, stopped him. If he knew— if he knew what the result would be he—

He almost scoffed at himself. Those were a cowards thoughts, something he and Morgan could agree on tomorrow when she was herself again and hating him. But he didn’t want her to hate him. He wanted to be like how they were, even though he knew it was impossible as he led her past the basement and across the front door into their giant living room.

Morgan paused again, gasped. “Holy… what the…” Flynn looked at her and he wished he didn’t. The child like awe on her face at seeing Flynn’s favourite room in the house was something he wished he could picture and frame and hold forever in his head.

Morgan was always stunning, but looking at her without any of the stress of life on her shoulders, without any hatred or pain in her expression Flynn felt his chest tighten at the sight. The sun shining in from the floor to ceiling windows bounced off her silvery white hair, making it glow like a halo around her head. It bounced off her pale skin too, making her radiant and other worldly as she took in everything.

Flynn turned his head to follow her line of sight, hoping to find the wonderment she felt, but his gaze always trailed back to Morgan. She was far more stunning to look at.

“Your TV is massive,” she said with a soft laugh, as if in disbelief. She started walking and Flynn walked with her, but it was as if the room had steadied her, like it put her under a different trance and lured her towards the beige leather couches a few feet in front of the TV.

She giggled as she settled into the couch, her eyes taking a mischievous glint that Flynn registered too late. She pulled at his hand and yanked him down. Caught by surprise, Flynn lost his balance. One hand shot out to the back of the couch so he didn’t fall straight on her while Morgan laughed under him, grinning as he steadied himself with a knee on the couch beside her hip.

“Morgan,” he said, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. She grinned up at him, eyes glinting with the same mischief as before. She wrapped her legs around his hips and moved him until he was lying on top of her on the couch, supported by his elbows. “Morgan, I—”

She shook her head. Her expression softened as she reached a hand up to cup his cheek. Flynn swallowed as he felt the calluses from her palms stroke his cheek from years of training with her blades. He should get up, he should get up.

He should really get up.

He didn’t want to get up.

“I missed you,” she whispered. Quietly, almost imperceptible, but Flynn heard it and it may as well have been thunder cracking across the sky for how loud her words were. His brows furrowed over his eyes, eyes pained as he looked down at her.

“Morgan…” Flynn said, his voice cracking with emotion. He knew the subtle shift in her expression that she wore when she was going to kiss him. She leaned up but Flynn stopped her. He grabbed her wrist, gently pulled it from his face and pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he sat back on her hips, knees straddling either side of her.

A look of hurt flashed across her features and she turned her head away, a tinge of red bloomed on her cheeks. Flynn swallowed the lump in his throat as he climbed off her. She curled in on herself as he did, staring down dazed at her right hand that was wrapped in thick bandages.

“What kind of movie would you like?” Flynn asked, grabbing the remotes and coming back to the couch to sit beside her. Morgan just stared, slightly flexing the tops of her fingertips.

“He stabbed me through the hand,” she murmured, her voice distant, faraway. Flynn closed his eyes. Gods. “I… I can’t feel the connection to my blades.”

Her eyes flashed to Flynn’s, ensnaring his attention within her gaze.

“I… I feel empty, wrong. Like he… he- severed—” her bottom lip trembled as she cut herself off and she turned back to look at her hand, at her twitching fingers. The only movement she could make. “I can’t feel them.”

Flynn stood and turned to kneel in front of her. Watery green eyes met his, looking more like glass that was so thin even a breath could shatter them.

He grabbed her good hand in his. “Morgan, it’s just whatever painkillers he gave you, okay? Your body is exhausted and it probably doesn’t have any energy left to use your powers.”

“But… but I can always feel them,” she whispered. And her voice. Oh gods, she sounded so scared. “There’s-” she gasped, shaking her head as she started to sit up. “No, no, no. There’s something wrong. He… he—”

Flynn followed her up into her sitting, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand.

“He… oh gods, Flynn,” she said. She couldn’t contain the tears anymore as she broke down. Tears that had pooled in her eyes spilled over her eyelids and down her face in sudden, swift streams. She lurched forwards and wrapped her arms around Flynn’s neck and pulled at him, pulled him closer, sobbing into his shoulder as he held her. He put his hand over her shoulder to avoid her bandaged head and pulled her from the couch into his lap.

“I can’t— I can’t… I can’t, Flynn, I- I…” she whimpered while Flynn held her as tightly as he could without hurting her. He felt his own face burn with shame as he heard her cries and the violence of her back convulsing with the force of her wails.

“I know, I know. It’s just the drugs, Morg—”

Morgan pulled back sharply, her eyes glistening with tears as she shook her head. “No, I can’t… I can’t stay here anymore. Please… please, I can’t. I- I-”

Flynn was glad when Morgan closed the distance between them and buried her head in his shoulder again so she couldn’t see the expression on his face. If she could she would have seen his heart break on his face, his guilt draining all colour from his cheeks followed by the familiar sharp, burning red of shame.

He tightened his arms around her. He reached for her mind, and regretted it instantly. It was all jumbled chaos and fretful, fleeting thoughts. If he could just… just lessen her pain for a little while, so she didn’t have to feel so—

No.

No, gods fucking no. That was so wrong. So sick. It wasn’t Morgan he cared about if he did that. That would only be good for him. She deserved to express her emotions exactly as she felt them.

How many times had he thought to carelessly traipse through her head like he was welcomed there? Even before this, Morgan barely tolerated it, but now… in her state, it would be a betrayal more monstrous than bringing her here.

He felt so helpless to soothe her. What could he say? I’ll help you escape? I’ll get you out of here? He… he couldn’t…

He…

Morgan needed to be out of the way if Supervillain’s plan was to go ahead, and it must. It would only be a few weeks, a couple months at most and then Morgan would be let go. She would be released and all this would be like a bad dream.

Flynn could… he could make it seem like it was just a bad dream she had. If she wanted, and only if she wanted. He couldn’t— no he wouldn’t use his power on her again without her permission. Dad and Villain took what they wanted from her, and forced her to do what they wanted. Flynn had to be different.

If she was to ever trust him again, he had to be better.

Morgan lay boneless against Flynn’s chest, her sobs died and gave way to heavy deep breaths. Flynn held her tight, cradled to his chest like a child his chin resting on her head.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Flynn blinked surprised. She drew lines with her fingers over his breastbone, tracing invisible patterns over the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m sorry for what I said about your mother… I was… I was angry and I—”

Flynn tightened his arms around and let out a sigh. “You don’t have to apologise, Morgan. I know. I understand.”

“I shouldn’t have said it,” she said, her voice clogged with the thick, viscous emotion that sticks to the throat like toffee and early morning grogginess that follows crying. “Especially in anger, I knew it would hurt you.”

Flynn said nothing for a moment. What was there to say? Should he apologise for all the awful things that he’s said and done to her, they’d be here for hours.

“You were hurting too, Morgan,” Flynn said softly. “It makes sense that you’d lash out with words. It’s the only thing you can do here.”

“It was below the belt.”

“And what Dad did to you isn’t?” Flynn asked with a scoff.

Morgan let out a breath of a laugh. “I guess, but I—”

“You don’t have to apologise to me, Morg. I’m sorry that I was distant and cold. I know that I’m your only friend here and I should’ve—”

A rough palm on his face silenced him. He looked down at Morgan, into her crystal clear green eyes that were as magnificent as the dead sea. She didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

Her lips were salty from tears and Flynn wanted nothing more than to kiss her back fervently but she was high on pain meds and she would hate him if they—

She pulled away after a short, sweet moment and Flynn stared down at her, his shock evident on his face. She smiled warmly at him.

“I won’t give out to you tomorrow for it,” she said softly. “I just… needed to. I don’t want to fight anymore. I—”

She glanced down at her bandaged hand, wiggled her fingertips. “I understand now. I get it. I’ll stop fighting everything.”

She looked at him through her lashes. “I’ll stop fighting you. We can… we can go back to how things were, can’t we?”

Flynn stared at her, lost for words as her eyes glazed with tears again. “Please, I’m— I need you to—”

Flynn cut her off by pressing his lips to hers, fiercely. Wet tears hit Flynn’s cheeks as he stood, catching Morgan’s legs under the knees. She pulled back and gasped at the sudden movement, as Flynn turned and lay Morgan down on the couch. Her smile twitched at the sides, drawing up at the corners into a smirk, hands hooked around his neck and pulled him down on top of her again.

Flynn grinned against her lips, hand on her hip as hers wandered into the back of his hair and pulled him down further. They pulled away, breaths mingling between the inch of space between them.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her and Morgan swallowed.

“I missed your hair,” she said with a giggle, twirling a piece of his fiery red hair between her fingers. Flynn smirked.

“Is that all you missed?”

She hooked a leg around his thigh and pulled their bodies impossibly closer. She laughed at the surprise that blanketed his expression before smashing her lips to his again, smiling against them. He tightened his grip on her hip as his other hand travelled to her cheek before he broke the kiss.

“No,” she said. “I missed your smile.” Flynn swore his lungs stopped working as she reached up and traced her thumb over his bottom lip. Something shifted in her expression as she stared up at him, her eyes suddenly faraway. “Your real smile.”

“Morgan…” he said with a sigh. She closed her eyes as he took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips.

“I know,” she whispered. “I… I know. I know now, I do. For you, for Sidekick,” she glanced at her bandaged hand. “For… for myself, I know now. I promise.”

Flynn had the sudden urge to break something. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t have to know. She shouldn’t have to be here, but she… if he could ask her to stay out of it, and she would, they would have never have had to go to these extreme measures.

Flynn didn’t say any of that. Instead he gazed down at her and smiled, exposing his dimple. “What movie do you want to watch?”

She grinned up at him.

Flynn closed his eyes, his head hanging. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes!” She said, her eyes alive with mischief. “I get to choose. You asked me, and Supervillain said I can’t sleep so…”

“Anything but that, Morgan, please.”

“If I have to suffer here, so do you.” Flynn laughed as he climbed off her and grabbed the remotes.

“Fair enough.”

They watched Twilight. Halfway through New Moon, Morgan was cuddled up to Flynn’s chest, buried under a thick blue throw blanket, her bandaged head resting on his shoulder.

Flynn sensed Supervillain before he walked in. Flynn unconsciously tightened his hold around Morgan’s waist. He checked his watch that Villain and Flynn got him for his birthday when Flynn was sixteen.

“It has been long enough. She should be fine.” Flynn kept his eyes on the TV as he spoke. “I see you’ve made up. That’s progress.”

“You went too far today, Dad,” Flynn said, his voice hard. “Stabbing her through her hand—”

“I went as far as I had to.”

Flynn turned his head, eyes narrowed as he caught Supervillain’s impassive stare. He knew where Villain got that look from, and he hated it.

“You could’ve just threatened—”

“Her beloved Sidekick?” Supervillain asked, raising his brows. Flynn scoffed and glanced back at the TV. “She is… a very spirited girl, Flynn. Anything less than what I did today wouldn’t have gotten through to her. You and I both know that.”

Flynn clenched his jaw, a surge of helpless fury ran through his veins like a bush fire. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I said that I would do whatever is necessary to ensure she doesn’t interfere.” Flynn glared at the television as Supervillain walked towards the couch. He stood directly in front of the screen so Flynn’s glare was on his chest instead. “Don’t forget what side you’re on, son.”

Supervillain’s eyes slid to Morgan who slept peacefully while they spoke. “She is a very beautiful girl. I understand your love for her… it was the same I had for your mother,” he said softly. His eyes found Flynn’s again, a glint in his eyes like metal threatened to cut Flynn. “But just know, that if I had merely threatened her today, she would still despise you for what you did to her. Remember that while you’re scorning me in your head.”

Flynn blinked at him, like a toddler caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Supervillain’s lips twitched and he shot Flynn a wink. “A parent always knows. I’ll leave you both.”

Flynn looked down at Morgan, his expression heavier than before. “And Flynn, for the record,” Supervillain added. “I am happy to see you’ve made up.”

Flynn didn’t reply.

Happy for me, Flynn thought bitterly, or happy for you.

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call: (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @xenlust @books-are-everything @micechomper @shywhumpauthor @aarika-merrill @0eggdealer @watermelonrandom @tippytappytyping @swift-perseides @gloriousqueen101 @isnortkoolaidpowderteehee @jumpywhumpywriter @bitter-space @lumpofsand

@xxgalgurlxx @silentpotat0 @ladygwennn @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@sunflower1000 @whump-till-ya-jump

[esteemedbastard]

@wolf-feathers12

(Like my writing? Check out my Ao3 or my writing tumblr! There's some more Guilliman smut over there~)

Transmasc Guilliman abounds here; if that's not your flavor, please click away.

You hadn't planned on Lord Commander Guilliman taking you up on your offer of "relaxation." But after watching him come out of a meeting with a diplomat, looking like a beleaguered falcon having to wrangle a flock of unruly pigeons, your heart went out to him.

Apparently he felt the same way, as he accepted your offer almost immediately.

Being in Roboute's quarters felt like stepping into a divine temple, especially when your eyes landed on the sight of Roboutein a soft cloth robe. It was an honor that he trusted you with such vulnerability, and you hoped that you didn't lose this precious trust.

He shucked his robe and laid on the bed, waiting your presence. Withdrawing the bottle of oil you brought, you slick up your fingers before joining Roboute on the bed.

Silence reigns between the two of you before Roboute looks over one broad shoulder and nods at you. Your hands massage the oil into his skin and a light citrus scent fills the air. He has so many knots in his left shoulder alone, that you spend three minutes working it with your hands.

But your effort is rewarded with a deep groan from Roboute that vibrates the bed. With every rub and grope, you feel the knots in his shoulder loosen until you can move on to the next shoulder and then down his back.

You're thankful that Roboute is currently on his stomach, as your body is starting to have a...reaction to his sounds and the touch of his skin. A pink blush decorates your face and you bite your bottom lip, especially after a particularly deep, guttural groan when you press on the small of Roboute's back.

You clear your throat. "My Lord, could you please turn over?"

He does, and after some shuffling, you get situated on the bed. Roboute's red face forces you to do a double take, and for a second, you both merely stare at each other's flushing cheeks.

"I think it would be easier if you straddled me," Roboute breathes, and you nod eagerly. You do straddle Roboute, though your knees don't even touch the bed. Despite your arousal, you try to at least properly massage Roboute's pectorals, assiduously applying oil to the scars underneath them.

He watches you with a hooded gaze as you massage his chest, belly, and thighs; the coarse golden hair turning soft and glistening with oil. When you sit between his thighs, facing his pussy, you look up to Roboute with a hopeful expression.

"Go on," he murmurs, smiling--almost shyly. Roboute bends his legs at the knee and plants his feet on the bed so you can maneuver between them without fear of being crushed. You wriggle onto your stomach and place a hand on his pelvis while your other hand spreads his pussy lips.

The wetness of his pussy and the oil on your hand makes things slick, but the sound of Roboute's deep sigh awakens something warm in your bones. Leaning in, you kiss his clit before moving down to his pussy and licking a long stripe up it.

His grumbling moan encourages you, and you bury your face in Roboute's pussy. Your tongue plunges inside of him, feeling the warmth that greets you and clenches around your tongue. Roboute is tense inside here too, and you wonder if you're the only person to touch him like this.

Has he ever touched himself? The sudden image of Roboute fingering his flushed, dripping pussy fills your mind and you moan, buzzing his clit unintentionally.

But when he moans in response, you do it again. And again. And again.

"You tease," Roboute huffs, charmingly exasperated. When you do it again, just to egg him on, he whimpers. "If you keep doing that, I won't last much longer."

It's not a warning. It's a challenge. Rubbing your nose against Roboute's clit, you devour his pussy until his whimpering turns into sobbing. Though you don't slow down, you do look up at him.

"Don't stop!" he begs you, "please don't sto-hooohhh,"

Warm wetness hits your face as he cums, and you close your eyes. You don't stop, continuing to tongue Roboute through his orgasm, listening to his ragged sobs interspersed with "thank you's."

Pulling away, you wipe your hand on your sleeve and crawl up to Roboute on the bed. Tear tracks glisten on his cheeks like stars and you kiss them softly, taking particular care to kiss the one on his trembling chin.

His hands reach for you, but you push them away. "This is for you," you whisper, and he sobs your name.

"Thank you."

[joeyalohadream]

Find the word

How it works: I search for the words prev assigned me in my latest WIP and then choose four words for you to search for in your WIP.

Thank you @rambleonwaywardson (truly so excited to see new words from you! 💕)

My words: earth, sky, slow, luck

All from Chapter Four of Let your heart be light

Earth

It’s John’s turn to laugh at the message and he does so, trying to picture a grouchy Gale, maybe with a pout on his pillowy lips. It’d be a sight and it’s added to the list of things to look forward to. [11:04pm] John: Well, we can’t have that. [11:04pm] John: Are you in bed? [11:05pm] Buck🎄: I am. He hasn’t seen the upstairs of Gale’s little cottage yet and wonders what his bedroom is like. Filled with wooden furniture and creature comforts? Earth toned walls and soft bedding? A book on the night stand and a blanket on the foot of the bed? Is Bailey curled up on him? Have the dogs moved from their beds to his? He knows that he’ll learn all of these things with time and it sends his heart thudding along to put himself there, even just in his mind. [11:05pm] John: Snug as a bug? [11:06pm] Buck🎄: Yes, John. [11:06pm] John: Sleep tight, baby. Only good dreams allowed Dots appear and disappear for a full minute and John lets his thumb smooth over Gale’s name again.

Sky and Slow

The air is crisp and cold but the biting chill that had been in the wind since the snow blew in two days ago is not present this morning. The sun is out, shining in a cloudless sky and Gale’s having a good day. He’s sold eight trees, had two cups of coffee, one that he’d mixed with the peppermint hot chocolate Brady had greeted him with. He’d woken up to a text that John had sent just after midnight telling him he was home safe and sent a good morning message in return. Gotten back a simple ‘good morning, sunshine’ text back two hours later that had him smiling into the collar of his coat as he salted the sidewalks. And now John’s on his way again. For the fourth day in a row, John’s on his way to see him. To spend time with him and buy him a hot chocolate and maybe put one of those strong arms around him as they walk the farm and look for a tree for him to take to work. He wonders if John will notice if Gale goes intentionally slow on their search to stretch out the time. Will he kiss him hello when he gets out of his truck? Is that a thing Gale gets to have now? He hopes so.

Luck [10:59pm] Buck🎄: Think I might like dancing if it’s with you John pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkling, stomach fluttering again. [11:00pm] John: I’ll start brainstorming for a good song. Gotta find the perfect one to hold you close to. [11:01pm] Buck🎄: Just google, ‘longest song in the world’. He barks out a laugh, head shaking, feeling warm inside and out because of this sweet man. He’s never been a lucky guy so how did he find him? How can he make sure he gets to keep him? [11:01pm] John: You gotta stop being so damn adorable when I’m not there to see it in person. It’s not fair [11:02pm] Buck🎄: As you wish. I’m falling asleep anyway, better let it happen. John frowns down at the message. [11:02pm] John: 😞

NO PRESSURE tagging @swifty-fox , @heretoobsessstuff , @stars-remain2 and @pinenutpbj

Your words are: heat, step, heavy, light

[illumanarchy]

The video lies when you deliberately remove the previous part...

Musk: "From the bottom of my heart I thank you."

Musk: *Places hand on heart*

Musk: "My heart goes out to you..."

Musk: *Hand goes out from heart, gestures to the 'you' in the crowd*

Musk: *Repeats additional thank-yous*

Musk: *Repeats 'heart goes out to you' gesture*

The Left: "nAzI sALuuutE!"

The video doesn’t lie. It was very clear and he repeated it.