#this will be the first full week back after labor day and i feel so bad flfkfid the four day weeks were so good for her

[vulpixelates]

i miss the weekend already and it's not even technically over 😔

[shhhsecretsideblog]

For the birth denial asks, what about going to a play or performance and you're in labor the whole time, but you're sucking it up because it's your partners birthday and they really wanted to see it, but your water breaks/ you feel the urge to push just after the last intermission ends

Anon!!!! You beautiful person! This is my fav thing ever and I swear I’ve submitted this exact request to other birth fic writers on here before I started doing my own. So so happy to have gotten this ask. Thank you!!!!

Theatre Birth

We had booked the tickets a year ago; it was a limited run at our local theatre, guest starring our favourite actress, and it just happened to coincide with your birthday. We simply had to get tickets to see this play. So I offered to buy the tickets and we could make a celebratory night of it.

But then I got pregnant.

We completely forgot about the show with all the excitement of the pregnancy, until about two weeks beforehand when we received the tickets in the post. It was awfully close to my due date. You offered to cancel the tickets, or see if we could resell them, but we were both still desperately excited to see this limited performance while we could. I assured you I still wanted to go, it was your birthday treat and we would be fine. First babies are never early.

I didn’t tell you about the braxton hicks contractions that plagued me the day before, or the fact I’d lost my mucus plug that morning. You were too excited; it was your birthday, you had a baby on the way and you would be seeing your favourite actress that evening. I couldn’t spoil your joy, especially not for false and practice labour pains. I just had to ride them out and let you enjoy your day. I’d tell you tomorrow.

I’d managed to hide the grimaces of pain throughout the day, but when we got to the theatre the cramps were coming at such regular intervals I was forced to consider this might actually be the real thing. But we were here now and labour took hours before there would be any need to go to the hospital, so I didn’t say anything. You pulled my arm eagerly through the theatre, excitement sparkling in your eyes for this evening’s performance. Holding my heavy bump, I plastered on my best smile and waddled behind you to find the row with our seats.

The old theatre seats were upholstered in a rough red velvet that itched the backs on my legs and the size of the seats were not designed with pregnant people in mind. Needless to say I was far from comfortable. You flicked through the programme and opened your box of sweets, in a world of your own as we waited for the show to start. I shifted in my seat and rubbed the ache in my lower belly, my bump spread over the tops of my legs because the seat was too narrow to allow it to fully sit between my thighs as it usually did. Another contraction struck and I hissed through my teeth but at the same time the music started abruptly so my flinch was left unnoticed.

I’d thought seeing the play would be a great distraction from the aches and twinges, but as the waves of pain crashed with more and more intensity I couldn’t pay attention to what was happening on stage. The seat was agonisingly uncomfortable, I was sweating in my outfit, and I was regretting all my choices that had led me here. After a long hour and a half Act One eventually finished. You helped me up out of the low chair so I could make a quick dash to the toilet, with the baby so big and so active I was surprised I’d lasted the duration of the first act.

There was a long line for ladies, standard in the small theatre, but as I felt the telltale cramping of the next contraction I pulled the pregnancy card and skipped ahead of the queue. I just felt so full; my belly was tight, the baby was low, and there was so much pressure. I panted silently through the contraction as I sat on the toilet and just as it was coming to an end I felt something give and a splash echoed from the porcelain.

Oh my god, that was my waters… I thought to myself.

I sat there, a little in shock, breathing slowly to calm myself. It's okay. I’ll just clean myself up, head back to our seats to tell you, and then we could make a quick and subtle exit before the play resumed. By the time I had exited the bathroom and awkwardly shuffled along the row to get back to our seats the lights in the theatre were already starting to dim - the next Act was beginning. You offered a hand to help me get back into the chair and I don’t know why but I took it and sat back down on the itchy seat. The music started before I could tell you my waters had just broken, with everyone around us back in their assigned seats all sitting in the dark and facing the bright lights of the stage. Now completely stuck in the middle of a row I couldn’t bring myself to tell you - we couldn’t get leave now, it would mean asking about 15 people to move in order to allow my heavy and labouring body to exit the row and attracting all manner of unwanted attention. Rubbing my contracting belly, I took a deep breath. I just had to get through act two and then you and I could head straight for the hospital after the play. Everything would be fine.

~•~

It was not fine.

Without the cushioning of my waters the baby’s head was rammed against my dilating cervix. The contractions were hitting me every few minutes and I was surprised I hadn’t yet cried out from the pain. I tried to do little things to ease the pain, shifting in my seat or rubbing my belly, but the movement seemed to attract the annoyed glances from people around us. If I just stayed still and breathed through the pain, I was sure I could make it through. Occasionally you’d glance at me, checking I was enjoying the show, and I tried my best to smile through my gritted teeth.

But everything changed when the need to push presented itself. I pulled a sudden sharp gasp and my eyes widened with panic. You softly turned to look at me and your face fell at seeing the pained and panicked expression on mine.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You whispered in my ear.

“Hooo- nothing…” I breathed quietly, ignoring all my body’s cues that I might need to start pushing.

You placed a hand on my bump and felt the solid and tense surface beneath your fingers. “Are you having contractions?”

“I’m fine… hoooo… just- hold my hand.” I said, determined not to make a scene or attract attention.

Grabbing your hand I turned back to the stage, signalling you to do the same. I could do this, it wouldn’t be much longer and then we can leave quietly. Just breathe and don’t push, I told myself.

I managed to make it through half a dozen more contractions, breathing steadily and squeezing your hand whenever they hit. I could see in my peripheral vision your head turning anxiously towards me whenever I gripped your hand tight. The play felt like it was dragging on and on and on. Surely it had to end soon. The next contraction began to seize, I took a deep breath and released it slowly through the pain but the pressure was quickly building to astronomical heights. I was biting my lips to stop myself making any noise but the occasional whimper slipped through. Without control or permission I felt my body suddenly push. My fingers curled around your hand, my nails digging deep into your skin as I beared down.

Your head snapped towards me and saw my face scrunched and my chin on my chest.

“Oh my god are you pushing?!?!” You stuttered.

I could only gulp a breath as my body pushed again. The baby was right there and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My legs parted instinctively as I slumped in the chair and lifted my knees. I could feel my lips start to open, forced apart as the head pushed its way out. And yet I remained silent, with only the occasional muted grunt sounding from my throat from a baby that was desperate to be born.

“Stop… y-you can’t be pushing. You’re not in labour… are you?” You were frazzled, unsure what to do. The performers were still on stage, the show continuing, unaware of the new life that was soon to enter the world.

I let go of your hand and scrambled to pull the fabric of my dress up. Diving beneath the clothing I put a hand between my thighs and I felt through my underwear the large round shape of the baby’s head poking out. “Fuck….” I gritted under my breath.

Unable to fully speak or explain, I just grabbed your hand and placed it on the partially crowned head. “Baby’s-coming…mnghhhhhh….” I grunted and succumbed to another push, bearing down uncontrollably with a primal need to birth right here right now.

People around us were starting to notice, but I could pay them no mind. The baby slipped further and further out with every push, filling your hand that had remained between my legs. The full crown was reached in a matter of agonising seconds and then with a sudden loud grunt the head popped out.

It was only then I became aware of the silence and the fact the people on stage had halted their performance and were staring.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ⸻ 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

⌜HOW MR. MILLER STOLE CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST⌟

genre: enemies to lovers, romance, fake dating, minors dni

word count: 3.7k

chapter summary: hanging garlands around town goes horribly wrong when you decide to decorate one of the polls. luckily a stranger with a rather soothing voice talks you through it and helps you down. But much to your surprise, he doesn't seem to be a stranger at all but rather a reminder of the past you've been trying to escape from.

warnings: age gap, canon typical violence, reader having a fear minor fear of heights, some threats, a brief make-out scene at the end, drinking

**dividers by @saradika

Jackson is everything you never expected in such a cruel world.

It’s been only a week since your arrival, yet you already feel fully incorporated into the community. Tommy and Maria Miller had surprisingly taken a liking to you. Later on, you learned that, especially Maria, wasn’t that keen on newcomers. If you had to guess why she decided to take you in, it would be the fact that you were half-dead and a mile away from their doorstep. It was cold, very cold. You still remembered how the wind sliced against your cheeks. When you came to, you met Tommy Miller. His smile was genuine and vaguely familiar for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. He had shown you around, then led you to your new home.

A home. Something you’d thought wasn’t possible anymore. 

Something that you would protect to keep, no matter what. 

It was a bit rundown, but solid nonetheless, like most of the survivors. Despite being only one person, the home they provided had three rooms and two bathrooms. You felt spoiled. You’d told Tommy about it, he had just laughed it off saying that after everything you’ve been through you deserve a decent roof over your head. 

The words had stung at the time. He didn’t know who you were or what you’ve done. Jackson was a small community so you knew that Tommy Miller had been somewhat involved with the Fireflies but not like you. Never like you. 

You feel slightly nauseous thinking about it. Snow crunches loudly under your boots as you make your way to Tommy’s. It’s lonely not being able to talk, not being able to say what you’re thinking freely. Most of the time it just feels like you’re looking through the other side of the glass, never truly comfortable around people that you frequently conversed with. 

Standing in front of the door you take a deep breath, your skin tickles as your lungs expand with crisp cold air and you smile faintly upon the exhale. It’s hard, but you shouldn’t be complaining. You don’t have to fight to stay alive anymore. You don’t have cuts and bruises, you’re not a soldier anymore—you’re free. 

Your mind drifts off only for a second, to that day when you made your escape. You would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for the man who spared you. His vacant gaze is still vivid in your head, waking you from sleep from time to time. 

You follow your first knock with a second one. Heavy footsteps reach your ears and the door opens with a loud creak. Tommy’s eyes shine bright as he sees you, a half smile tugging at his mouth. If you had to call someone a friend it would certainly be him. 

“Hey there Pecan,” he says. “Ready for some decoratin’?” 

“Can I get out of it if I say no?” 

He scoffs, “Don’t be a baby. It’ll be fun.” 

“How is labor fun?” 

You grin broadly and upon seeing it Tommy rolls his eyes. Stepping forward, he closes the door behind him. “You’re the goddamn second person to tell me that, you know.” 

“Who beat me to it?” 

“My pain in the ass brother.” 

The two of you walk to the back to get the garlands. Everyone in Jackson had pitched in to make them, including you. “I keep forgetting you have a brother. Why haven’t I seen him yet? Does he hate you or something?” 

“I’d say the opposite,” he huffs, opening the door of the garage. It’s full of boxes with “Christmas” written in bold letters. Luckily you don’t have to deal with those today. Only the garlands. “He’s like a mother hen. Too overbearin’. His name’s Joel and if you decide on gettin’ a tree you’ll see his ugly mug.” 

You doubt that anyone related to Tommy would be ugly but you decide to keep that to yourself. “Why is that?” 

“Maria appointed him as Christmas tree farmer. You can imagine his joy upon hearin’ that.” 

“All by himself?” you ask a bit surprised. 

“Nah. He has a couple of helpers but they work in shifts, everyone is pitching in chopping down the trees and getting them where they need to go. You’re free to help him out if you’re so worried.” 

“I’m not,” you say a bit too quickly when seeing Tommy’s grin. “It just felt a bit unfair for an old man.” 

“He might be old but he’s a fuckin’ beast,” he answers, leaning down and picking up one of the boxes. You follow, you take two since garlands aren’t exactly heavy. “I’ve never seen anyone as resilient as him. Honestly, it scares the shit out of me sometimes.” 

“You can say that about a lot of people here.” 

“You’ll understand what I mean when you meet him.” He heads out the garage and so do you, both of you leaving deep footprints on the snow as you head to the heart of the community. “And do please call him old man in person. I wanna see the look on his face.” 

“I’m not going to sacrifice my well-being so you can laugh at your brother, Tommy.” 

“You disappoint me, Pecan.” 

Damn, Tommy Miller and his stupid stupid garlands. 

You have no idea how long it’s been since you started hanging them all around town. You and Tommy had split up, deciding that it would be faster. At the time it made perfect logical sense but now, as your heart rams into your chest while decorating one of the polls, you decide it was a stupid ass idea. 

You’re not exactly scared of heights but you’re not a fan of them either. Every time the ladder creaks, you have a miniature heart attack. You’d feel much safer if Tommy were holding the legs, even though you know it wouldn’t help much if the damn thing collapsed. You hear the faint chatter coming from below. Some people staring as you wrap the stubborn garlands around the cylinder wood. You hate this. Hate it, hate it, hate it. 

When you’re finally done and about to climb back down, you can’t move. 

“Fuck,” you hiss loudly, knowing that no one can hear you. You glance down—big mistake. Your entire body freezes over, your fingers tight around the poll. You have half the mind to hug the damn thing. Your throat tightens and you look up. This is it, after everything you’ve been through, you’re going to fucking die while hanging fucking garlands—

A strong gust of wind blows, swaying the ladder side to side, a sharp scream rips from your throat, and this time you do hug the pole. You notice a small crowd gathering. Another blow of wind and the unstable surface ceases to exist, you barely manage to bring your legs around the poll. 

Screams and shouts that don’t belong to you reach your ears and you hope no one got hit by the ladder. Oh god. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, sweat beading from every pore despite the cold. 

“Slide down!” you hear someone shout. A man, you register. A man with a deliciously raspy and deep voice. “Just slide down damn it!” 

“No!” you shout back. “It took me hours wrapping the damn garlands I’m not doing it again!” 

A weak excuse but still valid nonetheless. If you slide down all that work it rook the town to make these things would get destroyed thanks to your body. And even if it doesn’t, the damn things would slide down with you. There’s no way you’re climbing back up here. At least not until hell freezes over. 

“You’re gonna fall and the ladder is busted,” the man shouts back. “And from the quiverin’ of your legs, I don’t think you’ll last until Greg brings the other one!” You hug the poll tighter, he was right, your legs—especially your thighs—were about to give out. And as if he can read your mind, the voice shouts out once more. “I’ll hang the damn things myself and fix’em up, just slide your ass down before your legs fuckin’ give out!” 

You’re starting to get a bit lightheaded. Adrenaline and fear make your breathing uneven and quick. The disembodied voice is right. If you don’t slide down now your body is just going to give up and you are going to crack your head against the ground. A sharp exhale parting your lips, you finally start sliding down. You loosen your limbs, groaning every time you feel the needles of the garland ripping away and presumably falling above the snow. Fuck. You hope the stranger is good with his hands.  

“That’s it, atta girl,” you hear him say, ignoring the way your body slightly clenches at the praise. “Just go down, I’m right here.” 

More voices start to reach your ear the more you go down. You hear the voice of a girl, “I would’ve died if that happened to me.  Holy shit.” 

The man grunts, “Now’s not the time, Ellie. Keep your opinions to yourself.” 

By the time you reach the end, your breathing is ragged and you can barely feel your legs. The man who’s been talking you through it holds you gingerly from the waist and pulls you away from the poll. Your feet skip over each other and you end up tripping backwards, right into the stranger's chest. You feel the warmth of his breath tickling the back of your head as you both end up falling. His body breaks your fall, his large hands still holding you from the waist. A pleasant shudder runs up your spine and you find yourself relaxing. 

The crowd inches closer, a worried clammer coming from all directions. However, all you can focus on is the girl standing right across from you. She’s wearing a thick coat, her hair in a neat ponytail. She’s giving you a curious look, she also looks amused. 

Your brows furrow, the brown of her eyes familiar. 

“You plannin’ on gettin’ off me sweetheart?” 

You push yourself up, realizing you're still sprawled on top of the stranger. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you scramble to stand, muttering apologies. He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that sends a shiver through you.

"Easy there, no harm done," he says, getting up as well. The crowd disperses now that the crisis is averted, leaving you alone with the man and the girl, who's still watching you with that curious expression. “You a’right? That was quite a journey down.” 

“I’m. . .” You turn towards him, still feeling disoriented, still feeling a bit shaky. You’re about to tell him you’re alright, and possibly thank him right after, but the words die in your throat. You hear the loud beat of your heart. Thud thud thud. The world is turning, spinning. You open and close your mouth, over and over again. His eyes meet yours. The same brown eyes you’ve seen in countless sleepless nights. 

You don't forget the face of the person who determines your fate. 

And in his case, you don’t forget the face of the person who spared you. 

Recognition slowly flickers across his weathered features. It’s so subtle. His lips part ever so slightly, eyes in the midst of going wide but keeping his eyelids neutral. He blinks heavily and snaps his lips tightly shut. You do the same. Your mouth now a thin line as you take each other in. 

Then you see the recognition, the surprise, turn into anger. You’re a brutal reminder of his past and what he’s done to get here. 

“Joel,” the girl hisses, nudging him with an elbow. “Don’t be an asshole.” 

You blink, eyes snapping to the girl. . . Ellie. . . the immune girl. 

Despite her harsh warning, neither of you speak. You are eyeing each other like wild animals wanting to protect their territories. Your legs are still shaking, your body trembling. He looks different but at the same time not at all. There’s no blood on him, no weapons. And the vacant look you’ve grown accustomed to is now full of emotion. 

No one notices Tommy until he’s standing next to Ellie, his chest heaves as he tries to gather his breath. His gaze fixed on you, “You a’right there pecan?” 

You freeze once more. The familiarity you’ve always felt around him—

“He’s your brother,” you state. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as he nods. You feel sick. 

“I’ve heard what happened are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” You’re not. Joel is still staring at you, taking in every detail. You take hold of yourself and force some emotion other than fear to flicker across your face. “I’m fine thanks to your brother, the ladder collapsed and I had to slide down,” you turn to Joel, ignoring the taste of blood in your mouth. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

The playful lilt in his tone was completely gone. Ellie jumps forward, quickly taking your hand, everyone except you misses the way Joel flinches, jerking forward. “I’m Ellie and this caveman here is Joel.” 

You clear your throat, “Nice to meet you Ellie and. . . “ You meet his gaze once again and say carefully. “Joel.” 

He doesn’t say a word as you introduce yourself. Thankfully Tommy whistles and all eyes turn towards the ruined garland and the pine needles scattered above the snow. “Fuck. It’s gonna take days to fix this.” 

“We still have time don’t we Uncle Tommy?” Ellie asks. “Joel offered to help fix it and hang it.” 

Tommy’s head snaps towards Joel, a lopsided smile stretching across his lips as he shoots him an amused look, “Did he now?” 

Ellie’s look matches her uncle’s, “He did.” 

“Well then,” Tommy says, slapping his brother’s back. Joel glares at him, his brows knitted tightly together. “I’ll leave it up to you.” 

“We should go,” Joel says suddenly, grabbing Ellie’s arm and dragging her away. Both you and Tommy are left dumbfounded as you watch Ellie furiously waving. 

“Nice meetin’ you pecan!” 

“Good,” Tommy grins, prompting your sharp glare. “The nickname is catching on.” 

Alcohol buzzes in your system, making you grin like a fool as you lean back against the makeshift bar, enjoying the sight of everyone dancing and laughing. After a boring meeting of who would be doing what during the Christmas season, everyone had rushed out to get the bonfire ready. Faint music hummed in the background. Festive songs you’ve hadn’t heard since you were a little girl. You only recognize the melodies since you were a kid when you last heard them, the lyrics you can’t quite remember. 

You watch Tommy and Maria from the corner of your eyes, he had his arms wrapped snugly around her waist. They were happy. Deep inside you can’t help but be envious. You hadn’t met a lot of people since coming here, it was hard to make friends when you felt undeserving of the comfort you received. 

Your skin tingles as you remember Joel’s hands firm against your waist. You’ve felt something before recognizing him. Something sweet and playful. But it was ripped away thanks to your intertwined past. He was death. You can’t forget that. You wonder if Ellie knew what he’d done for her, you wonder if Tommy knew. 

Shaking your head you take another swig of your drink. All these thoughts were sobering you up. You can’t have that. You need to relax, to forget. But despite knowing that, a nasty feeling of worry brews in your gut. What if Joel tells them? What if he makes the case that you’re dangerous and did unspeakable things for the cause? Will Tommy and Maria throw you out then—or worse—kill you? Joel is Tommy’s brother after all. . . you. . . you are nothing. 

There’s a flicker of movement and a ripple amongst the crowd, lifting your head you see Joel giving Tommy a quick hug. He says something to Maria, a greeting you assume, and you notice Ellie heading off with Dina. Your heart skips a beat. You should go home, or at least stop staring at the man but you can’t. He’s the one you’ve been thinking about ever since you left the damn hospital. It was his eyes you’ve seen the nights you were jolted awake from the horrors the world had to offer. 

You can’t decide on what to do and because of that, you’re suddenly facing an icy cold gaze from him. His lips are downturned, shoulders raised. You think about smiling, maybe raising your drink but you decide it would only add fuel to the fire. 

A minute passes, a minute that feels like an hour, and he finally rips his gaze off of you, turning to Tommy instead. He squeezes his younger brother’s shoulder and quickly disappears. 

You feel an unwarranted rage at him leaving. Running away. And suddenly you’re on your feet, following him. You can see his footsteps in the snow. You’re not sure what you’re going to say to him but you have to say something. This is your home now too and he won’t be taking that away from you. You’re not leaving after finding some semblance of peace. 

You follow the footprints to a narrow space between two buildings. You notice moss in the cracks of the wood. You frown. Where the hell is he? There isn’t any place else to go from here, it’s a dead end. 

You turn on your heel, only to come to an immediate stop. 

His expression is dark, a harsh sneer on his face that makes you stop. You remember the stories, the ones about the things he’d done to survive. You swallow thickly and take a step back, but he reaches out and shoves against the wall. You gasp as Joel’s arm presses against your throat, your back hitting the wall with a painful thud.

"You’ve got some nerve, showin’ your face around here," he growls, pressing you harder against the wall. You can feel his warm breath against your face, his forearms causing you to struggle for air. But you refuse to back down, refusing to let him intimidate you. You stare right back into his angry eyes. “Tell me what you want.” 

“Nothing,” you hiss. “I just wanted to talk to you, clear the air.”

“Clear the air of what?” he leans closer, your nose almost brushing. “You’ll leave right now.” 

“No I fucking won’t,” you snap and claw at his arm. It’s getting harder to breathe. “Jackson’s my home too.” 

His eyes narrow and he presses forward, fully cutting the airflow. There’s a vicious throbbing in the back of your eyes and tears gather in the corners. “I should’ve fuckin’ killed you when I had the chance,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You don’t know what to do, you can barely speak, only whimpers leaving your parted lips. You attempt to kick at his legs but he simply moves out of the way. 

How can this be the same man who held you so gently before? 

“Take this as a warnin’,” Joel loosens his grip, your lungs filling with delicious oxygen. “If I see you anywhere near Ellie—” 

“Oi Miller, what the fuck are you doing?” 

You should be relieved. You really fucking should. But seeing the panic flaring in his eyes, a similar emotion starts coursing through your veins. You both tense and you feel your skin growing taut over your body. Your eyes shift between him and the two friends standing. You recognize them, one of them is Marc, and the other Steven. Twins. Your eyes move gradually back to Joel, he meets your gaze, your eyes drop to his lips, a plan forming in your head—an ill-advised plan, but a plan nonetheless. 

You kiss him. 

You fucking kiss him. 

The arm on your throat immediately drops and you fist the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until he’s flushed against you. His body feels solid against your own. Strong and tall. He hesitates, his lips still as stone. Not knowing what else to do to make it more convincing, you tilt your head, lick the seam of his lips, and moan absurdly into his closed mouth. Joel starts moving then. His hands trail down the sides of your body and grip your hips, squeezing as he moves his mouth. 

Everything about the moment lingers. The kiss, the closeness, everything. His hands twitch and you find yourself rolling your body towards him, feeling the semi-bulge underneath his pants. When a second moan escapes you it’s not for show. Heat licks the base of your spine, your entire being screaming for him to come closer and closer and closer— 

He stops. It’s sudden and cold. However, you take the hint and with a lazy smile turn to the men watching you with dropped jaws. Joel doesn’t bother to look in their direction, he’s still holding you, allowing you to use his shoulder somewhere to lean against. His grip on you is tight. 

“Sorry guys,” you make an effort to slur your speech. “I might’ve had too much to drink and couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Love it when a man is a bit rough.” 

You don’t know why but his grip on you instantly loosens. Both Steven and Marc look at you with utter shock. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Marc blurts out. “Get a room you two. There are families out.” 

With that they both leave, grumbling to themselves something about young people you can’t quite catch. 

When both of you are sure no one is near, Joel shoves you off of him. “What the hell was that?” 

“A kiss.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ pull that shit with me, people are gonna talk. They’re gonna think I can’t keep it in my pants.” 

“Better than them thinking you were gonna kill me,” you say. “You should be thanking me for saving your ass,” you answer, trying very hard not to look down at the front of his pants. “Don’t worry so much nothing is going to happen. They’ll talk a day or two and then it’ll just blow over.” 

He doesn’t seem that convinced, “Fine,” he grunts and you start to take your leave. Your mind is swirling with unidentifiable emotions. You need time to think. “I was serious, stay away from Ellie.” 

As if you were the dangerous one here. 

“Joel,” you turn to face him one last time for the night. Not prepared to see how his eyes were glossed over, the anger and hatred drained from them. He looks startled. “I’m not leaving my home.” 

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Kinktober Day 7 (& 8): Soft & Slow (Cockwarming)

pairing: college!miguel o’hara x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, smut, rivals to lovers, teasing

wc: 735

an: wrote this for the sweetest most lovely @campingwiththecharmings, i hope you enjoy bb 🥰

kinktober masterlist | misc. masterlist

“Are you giving up?” Miguel asks you after several moments of silence.

“What? No!” You glare down at him breathlessly.

Why does the man who grinds your gears like it’s job have to be so attractive? Smooth skin, deep brown eyes, the cheekbones of Adonis. It pisses you off, but at least he can make you feel good. That’s all this is, all you want it to be. It’s sex. Just sex. Or maybe that’s what you keep telling yourself.

His grip on your hips tightens, shifting them up and down slowly. The sweet drag of his cock makes your mind blank, a shiver skating down your spine. He watches you with hooded eyes, drinking in every expression and sound that leaves you. He loves you like this, warming his cock just on the edge of pleasure as he quizzes you over and over again on this week’s physics lecture.

“Then answer the question,” He says, eyes glittering with mischief.

“I-I’m thinking,” You insist, though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He’s been teasing you for a while now— keeping you pinned on his cock with a thrust or roll of hips here and there. You’re dizzy and needy, all you can focus on is him. On him making you cum.

“About how good my cock feels?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs beneath you, loud and full, and your breath catches at the way it sends him a hair deeper. “You can’t think that was a good comeback.”

You groan, swatting playfully at his chest, “Please, Mig, can’t we just get off first?”

He sits up in a move that makes you whimper, nuzzling his nose against yours, “Where’s the fun in that? You could just admit that I’m smarter. I’ll fuck you however you want after that.”

“You fucking wish.”

Snaking his hand between your slick bodies he presses two fingers to your clit as he continues to goad you, “We both know it’s true, c’mon angel, don’t you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes,” You moan, head falling to the side. You don’t care anymore, you just need more. You need him.

“Yes, what?”

“You’re smarter, just fuck me. Please.”

He holds you tight to his chest, pressing you into the mattress and pinning your hands down above your head. While he’s fucking you earnestly now, his hips grind against yours at a leisurely pace, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you. All you can do is gasp and groan beneath him, listening to the filth that pours out of his mouth.

I’ve got you. There you go. So cock drunk, look at you. Cum for me, honey.

You do just that, cumming for him with a high pitched wail that he cuts off with a kiss. Your mind whirls, so much so that you don’t notice when he joins you in your peak, or when he rolls to lay beside you, still holding you close.

“I take it back. You don’t play fair,” You quip once your mind returns to you, breath still labored.

He raises a brow at you, cupping your face with his hand to tilt your chin up, “When has this rivalry ever been fair?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“And clearly, you need some tutoring,” He teases, grin widening when you roll your eyes at him. “Stay— I’ll make us dinner.”

“Dinner,” You repeat skeptically, looking over at him to gauge his seriousness.

“Yes, two people eating a meal together at night. A common occurrence, querida.”

“Like…like a date?” You ask softly.

Miguel’s gaze flatters— something you’ve never seen before. He’s the spokesman for confidence, even if he’s wrong he’s always ready to assure you that he can do better. But right now…he looks shy. It throws you off.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, like a date.”

Silence spreads between you two. You have to be cautious about this— what if it’s one of his jokes? A way to get in your head.

“What happened to this being a rivalry?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m tired of fighting,” He looks up at you, and there’s something soft, something gooey about the way he’s looking at you.

Your mouth pulls up into a shy smile as you say, “Well. Dinner’s not gonna cook itself.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he rises out of the bed, shimming into his boxers. Leaning down he kisses you, murmuring into your mouth, “Stay put smart ass.”

oscar: @honeybrowne, @pastanoodles11, @steven-grants-world, @stevengrcnt, @greg-montgomery, @lesbianhotch, @mccn-bcys, @marc-spectorr, @whatthefishh, @simpforbritgents, @maisondenachtai, @silversprings-mp3, @flightlessangelwings

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Well in that case.... I’m gonna send you this idea... if it sparks inspo... sweet. If not or you don’t want to take such requests at the moment that’s totally cool too.

What about something where the reader is working a couple jobs like waitressing and bar tending or something while also going to college. During finals she’s working and studying and neglecting sleep and self care. Buck and Eddie start to get worried. So they convince her to come hang out at the station. She ends up collapsing (maybe on the stairs? And gets a minor concussion) due to exhaustion and dehydration. Once she gets home they both insist she just relax and nothing else. Lots of cuddles and bringing her food and water and basically only letting her up to pee. Ooh and maybe they give her a bubble bath... very spa like with candles and they do all the work and wash her hair for her and everything...

Over worked and under paid- Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley

Authors note: A few things.

1. I’m sorry this took so long. I’ve been so busy and I’ve only been able to write in short periods.

2. I know this isn’t my normal One Chicago content, but I love these boys too and you asked, so I (very lately) delivered.

Warnings: possible wrong medical jargon, passing out, over working, vomiting, concussion, FLUFF

———————————

The boys are nothing short of proud and amazed by you. You are working part time as a barista at the coffee shop down the street from the station and frequently bartend for a friend at the bar that the 118 goes to every now and then. On top of your busy work schedule, you are also going to school online full time, helping take care of Christopher when Buck and Eddie are at the station, and trying to make sure you do your part around the house. If you asked Buck and Eddie, they would say you do too much in the first place and the house is something they can take care of, but you feel obligated to do your part.

Finals week has always been tough for you, but this is the first year that you are working two jobs and going to school full time. Buck and Eddie have been trying to help you as much as they can, including making sure you eat and drink, but they have been having a hard time getting you to slow down and sleep. Your mind just goes and thinks through all the stuff you need to be studying, so you are often sneaking out of bed to do so, much to Buck and Eddie’s dislike.

One day, Chris calls Eddie while he is at the station to express his worry. You had picked Chris up from school and brought him home like normal, but you didn’t get him a snack and sit down to help with his homework like you always do. He always tells you that you don’t have to, but you always do it anyways. With you forgetting this, the parlor of your face, and the bags under your eyes, Chris is worried something is seriously wrong with you.

Eddie has Buck call you as he calls Carla to come hang out with Chris. Buck calls you an Uber, saying you’ll be staying at the station and they want to help with everything, so you’ll just ride home with them. You cave, thinking that they are all gonna help you study, but not knowing their plan to get you to sleep or rest at the very least.

You arrive with your book bag on your back, still in your jeans and black tee from work earlier. Buck and Eddie hear Hen greet you and go to meet you at the top of the stairs. They both go running down as they watch your eyes roll into the back of your head as you drop with a loud thud, your forehead smacking against the railing as you go down.

“Y/n!!” Buck, Eddie, Hen, and Bobby yell. Buck and Eddie run down to get to you as Hen grabs the kit from the ambo and Cap runs up the stairs, having just come in the side door after getting something out of his personal truck.

Bobby is the first to make it to you and carefully holds your head in one hand while checking your pulse with the other. “She’s tacky and has labored breathing.” Bobby announces to the room. “Hen, give me the collar and then go get the rig ready.” Bobby instructs, passing you off to Eddie to steady you as he calls for Chim. “Chim. I need you on the floor. Y/n’s down. We need to go to the hospital.” He says, then after hearing a quick copy, he switches the radio to the dispatch frequency. “Dispatch, this is Captain Nash with the 118. Do you copy?” Bobby says, waiting for the copy from Maddie at dispatch before continuing. “Maddie, Y/n just collapsed at the 118. We are loading her and taking her to the er. Take the house out of commission.” Bobby says, standing as Buck finishes putting the collar on you and Eddie helps him hoist you into Evan’s arms.

“Copy you. Keep me posted. Dispatch out.” Maddie says.

Buck gently lays you down on the stretcher as Eddie takes a towel from Hen to gently wipe the blood from your face. Your eyes flutter as you groan, trying to swat his hand away. Hen chuckles as Bobby shuts the doors and Chim takes off with sirens blaring.

“Baby. Baby. Shhh. Stop mi amor.” Eddie murmurs, cupping your cheek in his hand as Hen places a pulse ox on your right hand. “It’s okay. We gotcha. You passed out baby.” Eddie explains as Buck clutches your hand and tries to keep his cool next to Eddie.

“Mmmm. Ed-ddie.” You moan, leaning into his touch. “D-don’t f-feel well.” You murmur, trying to push yourself into a sitting position. You don’t even have to express the way your feeling as your face turns ashen and your eyes widen.

Buck immediately pulls a puke bag from the dispenser and puts it around your mouth. “Alright baby. I gotcha. Just do what you gotta do.” Buck says, taking your hand again as you reach for him. It pains him to see you in so much discomfort.

Your breathing gets faster as the nausea builds. You vaguely hear Hen talking to Eddie about you possibly having a concussion as you begin heaving, crying out in pain when you can catch your breath. Your hearing is equivalent to being under water, but you can tell that both Eddie and Buck are trying to sooth you as tears stream down your face. Once you push the bag away, Eddie gets onto the stretcher with you and puts a towel on his neck, allowing you to press your forehead into his neck as much as possible with the collar still on.

Once at the hospital, Eddie ends up having to ride with you into the ER since you won’t let him go. They basically force you to untangle as nurses and a doctor want you moving into a bed to begin assessing you. Buck and Eddie stand at the top of the bed, both lightly touching you somewhere to let you know they are still there, while the doctor examines your head and does a spinal test. After many tests are done, fluids are given, and you get well educated on concussion protocol and the importance of taking care of yourself, you are finally released into the care of Eddie and Buck again.

Bobby was thoughtful enough to grab the guys go bags and drive Buck’s jeep to the hospital. Once you are cleared, the 118 is back in service, but Buck and Eddie are relieved of duty for the time being so that you can be taken care of. Buck drives back home with you curled around Eddie in the back seat. They gave you a sedative in the er and something for the pain, so you are practically knocked out. That is, until you get home.

You sleepily clutch onto Buck as he takes you from Eddie’s arms when you arrive home. You immediately bury your face into his neck to hide from the street lights now that it’s pretty late into the night. Eddie opens the door and disappears into the kitchen as Buck sits down with you on the couch.

“Chris?” You murmur, wondering where your son is.

“Carla has him at her house. Just relax sweet girl.” Buck whispers, kissing you on the forehead.

“Mmm.” You hum, snuggling back into his embrace.

“Alright you.” Eddie says, coming in with a tray of food and drinks. “Toast for you ma’am. I put butter on both, just to help settle your stomach. I also got you your favorite flavored water.” He says, handing you the water first. “Drink.” He says gently, before turning back to the tray. “A sandwich and water for both of us too.” Eddie says, handing Buck his sandwich when his boyfriend makes to grab for it, but you whine at the shift, so Buck settles back down.

You lay on Buck’s chest, nibbling at your toast and drinking your water when prompted. He could care less that you are getting crumbs on him as long as your comfortable and eating. Once everyone is finished, Eddie goes to clean up, leaving you and Buck back on the couch. You yawn, rubbing your face into Evan’s shoulder, causing him to chuckle.

“Alright baby. Bath and bed for you.” Buck says, standing up with you once again. “Eddie! Gonna go get her cleaned up.” Buck calls, nodding as Eddie replies with an okay.

You started to protest, but Buck is quit to shut you down.

“No ma'am. You just chill out. You need to relax and let us take care of you for once.” Buck says, sitting you on the bathroom counter in the master .

“But I-“ you begin to say, but you are cut off by Eddie as he saunters into the bathroom.

“You will relax and let us take care of you.” Eddie says, coming to stand between your legs. “What happened today could have been avoided if we put our foot down. Now, you will allow us to pamper you and give yourself time to rest. Okay?” Eddie says, lightly connecting his forehead with yours.

You close your eyes and sigh gently. “Okay. I’m sorry.” You murmur, bottom lip trembling as you fight back tears.

“Shhh mi amor. It’s okay. We are just worried, that’s all.” Eddie whispered, gently capturing your lips in his.

“Just let us take care of you. Okay?” Buck adds, coming to your side and kissing the side of your head. “Now, let’s get you in the bath while it’s still hot and I’ll even light your favorite candle. Okay love?” Evan says, trying to get you in bed as quickly as possible given that your eyes are having trouble staying open.

You nod and allow Eddie to undress you. It’s definitely not easy to let yourself get taken care of. You’ve grown used to fighting through this rough patch and hiding it the best you can from your boys, but you love them and they love you. Luckily, that just might save your life.

That night, the boys gently wash your hair. Eddie sitting on the edge of the tub behind you, caging you in with his legs as he gently massages your scalp. Buck washes your body, gently rubbing your sore muscles as he goes. They don’t stop until you are practically asleep against Eddie’s knee. Buck scoops you out of the tub while Eddie goes to throw your pjs in the dryer to warm them up. They then both help dry you off, gently brushing and blow drying your hair. Once you are all dry, they put you in your pjs, which consist of one of their fire shirts and your undies. Then, they get dressed themselves before getting in bed with you and settling in for the night, knowing that you are safe and sound in their arms.

————————

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

@stellakiddsblog

@100yroldteenagers

@senjoritanana

@celtic-shadow-wolf

@starset21

@mrspeacem1nusone

[drunk-on-dk]

[Teaser] Over the Country Club | Yoon Jeonghan (M)

pairing: best friend!Jeonghan x afab!reader genre/tags: fluff, angst, smut (minors do not interact), friends to lovers, a bit of unrequited love, a slice of life au, college au, post-grad au rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~3k TEASER (estimated ~15-20k for full fic, currently this may be my longest fic yet and it feels so good to really be writing again) warnings: mentions of alcohol (underage is not condoned), future smut

Summary: Jeonghan and you have known each other for as long as you can both remember. From the years spent working at the country club, to your university days, there has always been this aching feeling that neither of you can quite understand. Someone falls first, but the other falls harder.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts on this teaser! I've been working hard to get back into writing in the new year and wanted to get comfortable with diving more into the plot. Things may change when the full fic is posted, but not much of what's in the teaser! I hope you enjoy it, and of course please message me if you'd like to be on the tag list for this fic!

I. 4th of July, the Summer Before the First Year of University

Just like every other high school student in your town, Jeonghan and you found part-time jobs at the oh-so-prestigious country club located in the next town over. One could argue it was practically a full-time job since most part-timers worked upwards of 40 hours a week due to how busy the club got during the summers. 

Not that you would complain about the hours; to be fair, you had to save up a substantial amount of money for the upcoming transition to college. The realization hit soon after graduating high school, you only had enough pocket change to fund some expenses,  which was not nearly enough to get you comfortably through the upcoming semesters. You had worked at the club most summers, but this year you took all the hours they offered. 

Plus, you’d be crazy to admit that summers working at the Lakewood Country Club weren’t some sort of fun. Plenty of your peers worked there, including Jeonghan, your longest lasting friendship due to the proximity of living next door to one another and growing up attached at the hip. 

Jeonghan worked as a caddie on the golf course. He’s gentlemanly in appearance, has just enough knowledge about what type of club to use at each hole, and has a never-ending spunk that entertains whatever group of golfers he’s assisting for the day. Jeonghan made decent tips working as a caddie, earning a couple of hundred dollars from some of his return golfers who specifically requested his assistance for an 18-hole outing. One could assume that most members of the country club were very well-off, or at least living comfortably. 

Luckily, you were stationed at the halfway house most days this summer. It’s located in the heart of the golf course, and the club consistently blasted cool air conditioning in the exposed, open bar area that was meant for golfers to stop by. Jeonghan, as scheming as ever, would ensure that his golfers stopped by for a quick refreshment at some point, knowing that he’d get to spend some time with you and help you earn some extra cash in tips from his already rowdy crew. 

You’d mix up some Manhattans or Old-Fashioned’s for the golfers, knowing the usual orders for each club member as if they had been engrained on the back of your hand (in hindsight, a freshly graduated high schooler should not have been pouring alcoholic beverages, but the country club didn’t care - your labor was cheaper than hiring a professional tender and you learned just the basics just fine). Nonetheless, your cocktails were a treat for the golfers who had been drinking beers for most of the course, most of them lukewarm or gone by the time they made it to the halfway house. 

Today is the Fourth of July, marking the mid-way point of your last summer before college. You had made your fair share of tips this summer working at the halfway house, especially due to Jeonghan’s consistent sourcing of clientele at your bar. It was a particularly hot day, one of the hottest of the summer and plenty of customers had stopped by, leaving hefty tips, feeling generous either from the heat or the holiday. 

Jeonghan approached the bar area with a heavy sigh, parking his cart hastily, but still had his typical mischievous smile etched onto his features as a crowd of familiar golfers followed behind him. Your nose scrunched in feigned disgust, a teasing smile mirroring his upon noticing just how tired and sweaty the group was from the relentless summer heat. 

Part of you thought he looked angelic from the way his sun-kissed skin gleamed, but you’d never admit that, nor would you dare to speak those thoughts out loud, not even to your closest friends who weren’t Jeonghan. However, the other part of you remembered he was just your silly best friend who smelled slightly like fresh-cut grass, sunscreen, and a hint of whatever remained of his tropical cologne. 

“The usuals?” You beamed, flashing your best customer service smile at the group, already reaching for the bottle of top-shelf whiskey displayed behind you. You received hoots and hollers along the lines of “Yes, please” from the group. Jeonghan slips behind the bar as you expertly begin to prepare drinks for the parched golfers. Normally, this was frowned upon, but Jeonghan had most of the country club supervisors wrapped around his finger. 

Jeonghan’s quick to sort through the fridge right off to your side, squatting and contemplating his options, but you have to smack his hand away from the cooler once you notice his deft fingers are reaching for a plastic shooter of whiskey.

“Y/N,” Jeonghan practically cries out, whining similar to a little boy being scolded, but he’s just your immature best friend who has a knack for trouble and stealing. You can’t always let him get away with everything. 

“You kleptomaniac, don’t you dare,” you joke, routinely preparing the drinks, laughing at the puppy dog eyes that are flashed in your direction and then back to the cold fridge. You bend down next to him, whispering quietly so that no one but Jeonghan can hear. “Wait until later, today’s manager has been keeping inventory of the alcohol as if they personally own it all. I can sneak some after my shift when I cash out.” 

Jeonghan’s pout morphs into a smirk, a devious glint in his eyes as he holds out his pinky finger. You comply, wrapping your pinky with his to silently promise that you’ll follow through later. 

“Meet at hole 12? Right at the hill behind the trees? It’s still the best spot for fireworks.” Jeonghan speaks as if it’s a secret mission - as if it’s not the same spot you’ve met to watch fireworks for the last few years working at the country club. 

“Oh, I thought we’d check out the views at hole 17 this year,” you roll your eyes mockingly, Jeonghan knows you’re messing with him, but it’s your smile that betrays your teasing, “Duh, Jeonghan. I’ll catch you there later.” 

“You know hole 17 is where Mingyu and Arin lost their virginity to each other last year,” Jeonghan pokes, settling on bottled water from the fridge and standing back up, towering over your own figure. You feel your cheeks flush, a bit flustered he’d drop that information so casually, and sure as hell hoping he didn’t think that you were suggesting anything. 

You didn’t see Jeonghan in that way, he didn’t see you in that way. Plain and simple. You two were only best friends and that’s how it would always be. 

“That’s gross, Jeonghan,” you scowl, willing away the blush that is still burning your face as you finish garnishing the drinks. “Don’t air out people’s secrets like that. That’s personal. Plus, why would I know that?” 

Jeonghan chuckles, shrugging as he helps you carry the drinks over to the golfers who have made themselves comfortable among the shaded seating outside the bar area, an outdoor fan helping cool them down. They all clamor in delight as Jeonghan and you emerge from behind the bar with the chilled drinks, quick to "cheers" each other before savoring the first sip of their beverages. 

There are smacks and sighs of delight from the group, your pride growing as they approve of the drinks, and gather up some cash for a tip. Jeonghan nudges you, urging you to accept the bills from Mr. Choi, a polite older man who continues to take care of Jeonghan and you each summer. He’s never been creepy, and he tips very well. You still feel slightly guilty each time you accept cash from him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi,” you speak graciously, accepting the tip, quickly shoving it into your pocket without checking the amount, and earning an approving thumbs up from the man as he takes another sip of his cocktail. 

“Save it wisely, Y/N,” Mr. Choi chimes, humming in thought, and eyes flickering between where you and Jeonghan stand. “Jeonghan tells me you’re both attending the same university in a few months. Heard you’ve both received a pretty good scholarship, even one from the club?” 

“That is correct, sir,” you nod excitedly. Not only had you both received an academic scholarship from your university, but all your years working at the club have paid off in a way you wouldn’t have imagined, earning a scholarship from the Lakewood Country Club members' foundation. “I am grateful to have received such an award. Don’t worry, I’ll make good use of it. I know Jeonghan will too. You’d never guess, but he’s a straight A student,” you tease, hiding your mouth only for Mr. Choi to see as if Jeonghan can’t hear you, and elbowing your friend in the rib cage, earning a pained groan from him. 

Mr. Choi nods in approval, a smile creeping onto his face as he chuckles at the dynamic between you two. “Glad to know my money is going towards two bright futures.” Jeonghan is pushing your bony elbow away, annoyed at your enthusiasm and teasing, further amusing Mr. Choi. “Jeonghan, make sure you don’t lose sight of Y/N during University, all sorts of partners will be chasing her. She’s intelligent and beautiful. Don’t want her forgetting about you now, do you?”

Jeonghan would groan if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Mr. Choi speaking to him. He has to restrain himself from shoving you away as well, knowing that Mr. Choi has inflated your ego a bit too much with his praise. Nonetheless, Jeonghan plays into it. “Nope, she’s stuck with me, so don’t even worry about it.”

You almost laugh out loud, reminding yourself to remain professional on the course as you fire back. “As if, Jeonghan couldn’t get rid of me even if he wanted to.” 

“Valid point,” Jeonghan grumbles, teasingly pushing you back towards the bar as if reminding you of your duties, sick of hearing the constant praise that only you’re receiving, even though there have been no additional visitors since Jeonghan’s entourage of golfers arrived. He’s quick to enthusiastically round up the crew, realizing daylight will quickly dwindle by the last hole if they don’t start back up soon. “Welp, we better let Y/N continue to work. Ready for hole 10?” 

The men are quick to gather, knocking back the remainder of their drinks, and returning to their carts as Jeonghan helps you clean up the finished glasses, your shoulders bumping into each other as you two push your way back into the bar. Mr. Choi sends a knowing look Jeonghan’s way, neither of you catching it as he wishes you a nice Fourth of July. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi!” You wave to the man, bidding the rest of the golfing crew a nice holiday as well before turning to Jeonghan who’s finished carrying over the rest of the empty glasses. “Catch you later, Hannie?”

“Of course,” Jeonghan’s eyes lit up yet again upon hearing his childhood nickname, and is reminded of the nearing shenanigans later this afternoon. Maybe he’ll steal some snacks from the members gifting table for tonight. “I’ll see you then stay cool, Y/N!”

“You as well! Make sure to reapply your sunscreen,” you shout back, watching as Jeonghan hops in the cart with Mr. Choi and rolls his eyes at your nagging. Mr. Choi gets one final laugh before Jeonghan drives off, the entourage of golfers following closely behind. 

You’re finishing cleaning up the bar, pulling the cash from your pocket earlier and gasping upon realizing just how much Mr. Choi had tipped you. A five-hundred dollar tip. It was surely the most you’ve ever made in one round of drinks, absolutely unwarranted, and it made you feel a bit teary-eyed. You knew you couldn’t dare to return it, as Mr. Choi would definitely be offended, but you felt extremely lucky to have such nice members visit you at the halfway house, you’d have to thank him eventually. 

The rest of the day went quickly, and, much to your delight, you had made enough tips to support a chunk of your tuition and expenses for the year. Also, your manager had swapped shifts with another supervisor mid-day, who was not as hawklike. 

Leading up to the completion of your shift, you had snuck a pair of alcoholic shooters into your uniform skirt. Even in your attempt to be rebellious, you couldn’t just steal the shooters, using some of your tip money to cover the cost of the alcohol and you felt less criminal. You knew Jeonghan would tease you relentlessly about this if he was here, each shooter was no more than $3 each, but you had a knack for doing the “right thing,” or else you feared karma would get you in the long run. 

Upon reaching the end of your shift, you stopped back at the employee locker room to safely store your tips in your purse. The day had been hot, but it was cooling down now that night was approaching. 

Ultimately, you opt to throw on a sweatshirt, one that Jeonghan had purchased when you two had toured your university, which was the same one that he’d worn so many times that it’s the most comfortable piece of clothing you own. One that he couldn’t deny you of when you begged to keep it, secretly thinking that you looked cute in it even though you were practically swimming in the fabric. Disgusted that he’d even thought that, he dismissed you quickly and said you could keep it. 

The sun was setting minute by minute, meaning that Jeonghan’s shift would be finishing very soon, and you packed away the remainder of your items in your employee locker, double-checking that your skirt still had the tiny plastic alcohol bottles hidden away. 

After confirming you had said shots, you headed out to hole 12 with a spring in your step. It was a meeting spot you and Jeonghan had found your summer after freshman year of high school. There was a hill behind a bunch of trees that overlooked the valley where the main portion of the country club was located. No one was allowed on the course during after-hours, but this spot was so dark and secluded that you two hadn’t been caught yet. It was also the prime viewing spot for the club’s fireworks show, and it was your little secret. 

You were first to make it to the spot, plopping down on the hill and huffing in relief. Your legs ached a little from standing all day. The grass beneath you was dewy from the cool nighttime air, the humid heat from the day settling on the greenery, and it was almost enough to make you feel itchy. However, you don’t mind it, not when you have the fireworks show to look forward to. You would never mind the damp grass, especially not when you had a favorite summer tradition to share with your favorite person, your best friend. 

Jeonghan’s shift ended a bit later than yours, but he didn’t arrive at the spot much later than you. He meant to grab a bag of popcorn or something, but he didn’t want to leave you hanging for too long. 

Jeonghan tried to sneak up on you, but you’re too smart, too knowing of his antics. So when you turn around knowingly, with two opened Whiskey shooters in hand, he chuckles almost maniacally at your annoyed expression that doesn’t fully translate into your impish eyes. You two were one and the same. 

“What are you waiting for, Hannie? These shots aren’t getting any colder. Not when they’ve been in my skirt for the past hour.”

“Eugh, now you’re the one oversharing,” Jeonghan groans in disapproval, sitting down next to you on the grass, and gratefully accepting the shot regardless of your TMI comment. Your knees knock each other as you turn to face him, but a friendly touch isn’t foreign to either of you. “You’re the gross one, Y/N.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle, holding the shot out in front of him and teasingly shaking the plastic bottle. You sing song, “The night’s not getting any younger either.”  

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jeonghan smirks and shares a few words, “Cheers to our last summer before we’re miserable college students. Cheers to fewer hours spent in the heat at this country club. Cheers to our everlasting friendship.” 

With his final words, you’re both knocking back your shots, groaning in unison as the spicy drink burns and settles in your stomach, instantly warming your body at the sensation. Your face scrunches up at the taste and Jeonghan can’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Stop it,” you whine, your voice a bit hoarse from the alcohol but smiling nonetheless. “You aren’t any better than me. Anyways, that's enough for me tonight.”

“True,” Jeonghan contemplates, but he’s quick to poke you. “But I didn’t struggle as bad as you did.” 

“Touché,” you hum, nudging Jeonghan’s shoulder excitedly as a warning firework darts into the sky, indicating the show will be beginning shortly. “It’s starting!” 

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan is groaning at your bony elbow yet again digging into him, but he’s delighted by your excitement regardless, shoving you back as you begin to readjust for the show. “Calm down, it’s nothing crazy.” 

“No, Jeonghan,” you grin, turning your head to fully make eye contact with his wide eyes, joy flickering in your own as you peer at your best friend. “It’s nothing crazy, but it’s absolutely so special because once again we get to enjoy it here together.” 

Your emphasis on the word together almost makes him shiver, a foreign feeling rushing through him as you continue to gaze at him with those wild eyes of yours, gulping as he hesitantly nods, even though he wholeheartedly agrees it is special, but he’s not exactly sure why. “Very true,” and as if on cue, the fireworks show begins, relief flooding through him as you redirect your gaze and squeal in excitement. 

Jeonghan doesn’t understand why, but his heart pounds in his chest throughout the entire show. He thinks maybe it’s the alcohol (you and he rarely have dared to sneak alcohol before), maybe it’s the overstimulation of the fireworks, maybe it’s the thrill of knowing the golf course guards could spot you any year and escort you away, or maybe it’s the way your knee keeps brushing his thigh reminding him of just how close you two are. How much you are together here alone, just like every other summer. 

It’s a feeling he decides to ignore for the rest of the fireworks, letting himself lay back on the damp grass with you and listening as you enthusiastically point out your favorite fireworks, bickering with you when he thinks a different type of firework is prettier. 

It’s a feeling he continues to ignore as the finale comes and goes, chest fluttering at the way your eyes sparkle with golden reflections of the fireworks in the sky, and once again quickly redirecting his gaze to anything but you. 

It’s a feeling he tries his damnedest to ignore as you both continue to lay in the grass post-fireworks. Neither one of you making the first move to go home. Maybe you thought this would be the final moment of normalcy between you and Jeonghan before starting university, knowing that all friendships are bound to change with such a new chapter. Maybe he thought he’d figure out whatever it was he was feeling if he just stayed here with you a moment longer. 

It’s a feeling he struggles to ignore as you both fall into deep conversation. The one shot of alcohol makes you both loose-lipped as you reminisce on embarrassing high school stories. Reminiscing on your shitty boyfriend who broke up with you before the summer. Reminiscing on your years of friendship. 

It’s a feeling he no longer can ignore when you roll over, lips pouting and eyes teary as you start to feel emotional about your recent breakup. Something in him feels like it shatters when you ask, “Have you ever been in love before, Hannie?” 

[pearlahearts]

neuvillette ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

pairing | neuvillette/fem!reader

warnings | fluff, pregnancy, labor (non-descriptive), a baby 🥹, boy dad!! neuvilette, lowercase intended

words | 878

notes | pretty sure my heart and uterus exploded while writing this. i now have baby fever 😔

synopsis | neuvillette has his first son and fontaine has its first snow of the winter season

if someone told you five years ago that you would be married to a man like neuvillette and pregnant with his son, you’d laugh at them and call them crazy. but here you are, walking around fontaine, gift shopping for the upcoming winter holiday and unable to find anything for your perfect husband.

you had already gotten plenty of gifts for other members of your family and even your unborn son, but nothing had caught your eye for neuvillette yet. you wanted your gift for him to be perfect. something memorable. something charming, just like him. but you were ready to give up your search for the day.

you’d been shopping since the morning, and now it's almost the evening, and you really just want to go home, so you can put your swollen feet up. so, you trudged home, disappointed that you could find nothing for your husband.

but, an unfamiliar antique shop catches your eye, and that's when you see it. a beautiful gold pocket watch resting on a stand in the window of the store.

your face was almost pressed to the glass as you tried to get a better look. you could see an intricate swirling design with beautiful blue crystals dancing around the edge of the watch, but what caught your attention the most was the fact that the pocket watch could hold a photo in the case. it was absolutely perfect. without even thinking about the price, you opened up your purse to grab your pouch of mora and began to walk to the entrance of the shop.

but before you reach the door, an unfamiliar sharp pain strikes your lower abdomen causing you to drop your pouch onto the ground. the sound and mess of mora cause people to look at you with concern as you grip your belly. 

you knew that you were due soon, but you had thought your little boy would not be born for at least another week or so. but you knew you were wrong when you felt the tell-tale trickle of liquid run down your leg from there the rest was a blur.

you had been rushed to your home with neuvillette waiting for you and the doctor had been called. you had felt so unprepared for the early arrival of your son, but as neuvillette firmly held your hand while you lay in the birthing bed, you knew that everything was going to be fine

after almost 9 hours of labor, you finally hear your son’s cries as he enters the world. your eyes well up with tears as you revel in the sound of your baby boy's strong cries. you can feel neuvillette’s hand tighten around yours as he watches the midwife and nurses clean your baby up.

in a matter of minutes, he was placed in your arms and the room was cleared out, giving your small family privacy. neuvillette is now sitting on the bed, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you two look at your curious baby boy. his big blue eyes looking at his parents as you both gaze back at him in awe.

“i can’t believe he’s here now. here for me to hold and love him,” you say quietly as a lone tear rolls down your cheek. you look at neuvillette and reach a hand to his face, cupping his cheek to draw him in for a sweet kiss. though the kiss was short and sweet, it was full of passion, full of unconditional love.

“thank you for making me a father, my love,” he whispers against your lips before he rises from the bed. “may i hold him?” he asks just as quietly. you smile at him before you hand him your son.

as soon as neuvillette has him in his arms, the two quietly stare at each other, taking the other in. you can only smile as you watch your two loves familiarize themselves with each other. yet something in the window behind neuvillette catches your eye.

the sight brings more tears to your eyes as you see the glittering flurries of snow dance outside the window. your eyes travel back to neuvillette holding your son. you can see the trails of tears run down his cheek as his son holds onto his finger with his tiny, pudgy hand. 

you watch on as you think to yourself that you have never witnessed such a beautiful scene. your husband falling in love with his new son as the beauty of the season’s first snow paints the background. 

your son is almost a month old when the holiday finally arrives.

you're anxious as you sit on the couch with your son in your arms, watching as neuvillette opens his gift from you. your shoulders sag in relief as you watch a small smile form on neuvillette's face as he finally sees the golden pocket watch you've given him.

“it’s perfect love,” he compliments, his eyes now focused on you.

“look inside,” you urge him.

he follows your instruction and clicks it open, his smile growing wider as he sees the photograph of you and your son placed in the, there for him to see when he checks the time. now his beautiful wife and son will be with him wherever he may be.

copyright © pearlahearts

do not copy or repost my work

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Sprout [Pero Tovar x f!reader]

Read on AO3

Sequel to Seed.

Fandom: The Great Wall

Ships: Pero Tovar x f!reader

Tags/warnings: Pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, dirty talk, some angst and fighting but also making up with more sex, labor, you get it. Soft Pero!

Words: 5,999

Summary: After trying long and hard, you are finally pregnant. Pero is delighted, but now begins a time of waiting and fussing and, well, lots of sex. That's the plot.

When you finally become pregnant, you know it immediately.

It is eerie, almost magical, the way you just feel something take root in your womb. Not the presence of a person, but just something new, something growing. It is early morning, you awake before Pero, last night’s coupling still a warm, sticky memory on your skin along with his breath, his limbs so tightly wound around yours. You mean to rouse him with kisses and caresses, but then you feel it, and you just know. A blissful smile spreading on your face, you decide to relish this feeling for as long as you can, and so you just stay still and quiet, one hand on your lower abdomen. When Pero eventually stirs, hands and lips starting to claim you, you gently peel them off of you.

“I’m sore,” you whisper to him, accepting a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“Don’t be. I just need a rest.”

He pecks your lips again before releasing you to start the day. You hear him use the chamber pot, and when he comes back into the bedroom, he stops and looks at you, brows drawn together.

"What?" you ask.

"You look different."

"Do I?" You can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but in the same moment you decide not to tell him, not just yet. You want to be sure, live with this new presence by yourself for a couple of days.

"Yes."

He grabs his shirt and trousers, pulling them on while regarding you. You shrug innocently.

"Don't know what it would be."

That was all for that morning.

You tell him about a week later. The feeling of attachment deep within you had not diminished, and you have become more confident that it is real. During the entire week, you have gently turned down Pero's advances, citing tiredness and aches. Pero may be a loving husband, but he does not keep track of your monthly bleeding, and so he seems to have accepted that it's your time of the month, and been content with sweet caresses and kisses.

It's evening when you tell him. You're sitting together outside the house, facing the back garden. Surrounded by fragrance in the dying light, listening the first cicadas of the night starting the concertos, you feel that it is the right time to tell him.

"Husband," you start, lifting your head from his shoulder and facing him. "There is something I need to tell you."

His features are immediately painted with a wariness, like he is expecting bad news. Your sweet warrior husband, always ready for life to be full of hardships. You give him a reassuring smile.

"It's nothing bad, I promise."

"Then what is it?" he barks, hand squeezing yours like he's afraid you are going to get up and leave.

"I'm with child."

His eyebrows shoot up, leaving his eyes round and wide open, just like his mouth.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," you giggle now, his reaction too amusing not to cause you mirth. "I am certain, Pero, that you are going to be a father."

His face is as raw as it was on your wedding day, the joy shaving years off his scarred features. He raises your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles before pressing your hand to his heart, and then his lips are on yours. You feel him tremble a little, from nerves, happiness, or excitement you don't know, but you pull him in for the kiss, and he relaxes in your arms.

He carries you inside and lays you on the bed, never stopping to kiss you until he has to, in order to pose a question.

"Can we...?"

"I think we can," you answer breathlessly before pulling him in for more kisses. Pero needs no further permission: he lays down over you, stealing your breath away with him kisses before sitting up to get you undressed. When you're naked before him, he leans down to trail soft kisses over your belly.

"My child," he murmurs, looking up at you, eyes shining. "You will take care of my child, won't you?"

"You know I will," you promise, shivering from the goosebumps of pleasure induced by Pero's bristly skin.

"And I will take care of you, wife," he vows, trailing light kisses down between your legs, which fall open to accommodate him.

He’s more gentle than usual, more perceptive of your mewls, the way your legs twitch, your grip on the sheets. It may not be his intention, but he ends up tormenting you even more with his slowness. It is a stark contrast to the frantic fucking of the past few weeks. His seed, shot inside you on a daily basis, has finally taken root, and he seems determined to nourish that little sapling as best he can. Even if that means teasing you at the brink of release until you’re sobbing.

“Pero…!” You’re writhing, trying to push yourself against his mouth for the relief you need, but his arms tighten around your thighs, rendering your lower body immovable.

“Hush,” he admonishes you in a thick whisper. “You have to relax, my darling, you can’t get overexcited.”

You press the back of your head into the pillow and run your fingers through your hair.

“Please,” you whisper desperately, “please, Pero, I can’t bear it any longer.”

You know he’s smiling from the curve of his lips against your sensitive inner thighs, and then he finally takes mercy on you. The orgasm feels stronger than usual, maybe due to the prolonged, sweet torture, or because of your condition. When Pero presses a kiss to your inner thigh, you almost kick him, your legs coming together to seal in the pulses in your pussy, and you turn over onto your side to get away. He lets you be for a moment, hearing from your breathy moans that you are unharmed, but he soon takes a gentle grip of your arm, and makes you roll onto your back again.

“My love,” he hums, dipping down to brush his lips over yours. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” you manage, and that works as enough of a reassurance for him to press his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet enough, but you sense the urgency in him, and his cock is hard and leaking against your thigh.

“Come to me, husband,” you mumble, opening your legs anew. Pero is instantly between them, guiding his cock into you. He slides in easily enough as he lays down over you, and you brace yourself for his usual brand of frenzy. He does, however, stay still, sheathed deeply inside you, as he cradles your face and kisses you. You are full of him, so full, and yet you want more, so you raise your hips to urge him to move.

“Patience, my love,” he reprimands you gently, kissing your forehead before moving his hips only enough to be able to push them into your again. “We have time.”

“I need you,” you pout, happy with how it makes him swallow hard.

“I know, wife, and you shall have me every single day, but we need to be careful. “ Another thrust, slow but so deep, makes you whimper. “We will make sure that the baby grows big and strong.” He thrusts again and your nails press into his back. “I will make sure that you are satisfied, my love, and that our baby is happy as it grows inside you.” One more thrust has you running your nails down his back. Hissing, he punishes you with a stab of his cock right up against your womb, and when you bare your throat to him, he dives down to suck his love marks into your skin. His hips move with more insistence now as he fucks you bruising deep, and when he releases his seed into you, he whimpers in a way you have never heard before. Your arms wrapped around him, you pull him down over you, forcing him to stay inside of you for as long as he’s hard. When he finally rolls off of you, he whispers his I love you first into your ear, then to your belly.

A couple of weeks later, you have your first morning of being sick. Pero had taken to a morning routine of greeting both you and your belly with kisses and caresses, but he barely touched you before you fly out of bed, barely making it to the slop bucket in the kitchen before your stomach turns inside out.

Pero hovers behind you, unsure how to help you as you retch into the bucket, but when you rise and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, he’s there to embrace you, combing your hair away from your face.

“Are you done?”

“I think so,” you tell him weakly, and he carries you back to bed and tucks you in before bringing you water. He then proceeds to building a fire, and making breakfast that he brings in to you.

“You don’t have to fuss,” you tell him, a little embarrassed at his extreme measures. “I’m perfectly capable of making us breakfast.”

“You need rest,” he tells you with a finality that you have never heard from him before. “Take it easy. You work so hard already.”

“No harder than you.”

“When I’m not escorting caravans, I don’t do much. Now eat, if you can stomach it.”

You can, and you’re suddenly ravenous.

After breakfast, you take your basket and go down to the marketplace to do your daily shopping, and when you return to find Pero outside the house, brushing down the horse, you sigh deeply as you put down the basket.

“Well, everybody knows now.”

“Knows what?” Pero asks, resting one hand on the horse’s strong neck. The warm sun has already turned his hairline damp, and he’s squinting against the light. You give him a what do you think? look, and he nods.

“I threw up the second I smelled fish,” you tell him, the sour taste still fresh in your mouth. “We’re having meat for the time being, husband.”

He shrugs, not having a preference one way or the other.

“Suits me fine. Are you well?”

“I’m fine.” You pick up the basket again and kiss his cheek, careful not to exhale what with your breath being so foul. “I’ll go in, put all this away.

“Leave the basket, I’ll carry it inside when I’m done with the horse.”

“I can do it, it’s not heavy.”

He glares at you then, clearly unhappy, but you kiss his cheek again.

“Don’t worry, Pero.”

But he does worry. And his worry grows with each day that starts with you throwing up. You are not showing, and the only sign of your condition, to him, is you being sick. He can’t feel what you feel, the presence inside you, although he tries every night, digging deep and slow into you until you’re begging him to cum because you can’t take it anymore.

That worry culminates one afternoon when he catches you carrying water from the well in your garden.

“Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” he glowers at you as you step in, burdened with one bucket in each hand. You stare at him, not even understanding what he’s talking about.

“What do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t be carrying something so heavy!”

“Pero – “

“You need to be more careful.” He makes it sound like you have been living irresponsibly, and it makes you furious because he has never spoken to you like this before. That scowl of his would scare anyone else in the village, but not you. You simply put down the buckets, your hands coming to your hips as you scowl right back.

“Now you listen to me, Pero Tovar! I am not frail, I am not ill, I am able to perform my chores! I may be pregnant, I may not be able to keep my breakfast, but there is nothing about my state that is abnormal!”

He seems a little taken back with your response but collects himself quickly.

“You should be resting more,” he insists, “and you getting this upset isn’t good for you, either.”

“I am not getting upset, you are making me upset!” you snap, heat rising to your cheeks. “I am doing fine and I would be doing even better if you weren’t so hell-bent on making me feel like I was dying!”

“It is precisely to stop you from dying that I am being so protective!” he bites back. You clearly hit a nerve there, and you’re angry enough to keep pinching it.

“So I cannot carry water during the day, but you can nail me to our bed every night?” you spit. “That’s a very strange way of protecting me, is it not?”

His jaws move, like he’s screaming something new at you, but then he casts down his eyes, his frown still prominent and neck muscles bulging. You cross your arms in front of your chest, waiting for his next move, but he just mutters something before storming out. You stare at the closed door, not expecting his departure. Pero has not survived by backing away from a fight.

You go on doing your chores, your blood coming down from its boil, and by the time supper is on the table, Pero returns. He stands by the door, leaning against it like he’s unsure that he’s welcome, but you gesture silently at his customary seat at the table, so he comes and sits down. You serve the food, you both eat it, and not until your plates are empty does Pero clear his throat.

“I’m sorry for earlier.”

You meet his soft gaze, seeing the regret – but also fear.

“Husband,” you whisper, but he shakes his head.

“I’m so afraid of losing you, my love.”

“I know.”

“I have never had anything as… good, and beautiful, as you, and the thought of losing you…”

“I know, my love,” you nod. You know this fear, but you have not known the same hard life as Pero has, and that helps you in not being ruled by that fear.

“Losing both you and our baby…”

“But you won’t,” you cut him off, softly but with conviction.

“You don’t know that. There is so much that can go wrong.”

“I don’t know that, no. I just believe it. I believe we will be okay in the end.” You reach your hand across the table, and Pero takes it. “Can’t you believe with me?”

A small, hopeful smile lights up his face. “I’ll try.”

Leaving everything on the table, you take him to bed. As you undo his belt, the belt pouch falls to the floor, and you hear the clinking of glass.

“Fuck,” Pero grunts. “I forgot.”

He bends down to pick up the pouch, pulling two bottles from it. He exhales in relief when discovering that they’re not broken.

“What are those?” you want to know, eyeing the two bottles, one larger, the other no bigger than Pero’s thumb.

“I went to the midwife,” he tells you, rolling the small bottle between his fingers. “She says that a couple of drops of this on your tongue every morning will help with your vomiting.”

You pick up the bottle and pull out the cork. The sunny, sweet smell of oranges wafts out. You quirk a brow and look at Pero, who shrugs.

“It’s worth trying, don’t you think?”

“It is.” You put the cork back and close your fingers over the bottle. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s been hard for me to see you be so sick,” he confesses, hand coming to a soft rest on your waist. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’s not so bad, husband,” you assure him. “It’s just in the mornings, and it’s not going to last.”

“I hope the tincture will help.”

“If not, you have another bottle?”

“Oh.” Pero holds up the bigger bottle, as if he had forgotten about it. “This is not medicine.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s oil for your belly,” he explains, and now his gaze turns soft. “The midwife said that as your belly begins to grow, the skin often turns dry. This is to help with that.”

You smile, your hand coming up to his bristly cheek.

“That’s so sweet of you, Pero.”

“I promise I’ll rub it onto you every night, starting now,” he vows with a mischievous little smile, and you giggle.

“I’m not showing yet!”

“The midwife said it’s important to start before the skin begins to stretch, so would you please take your clothes off, wife, and lie down on the bed.”

You laugh, but it’s not you who ends up lying on the bed, it’s Pero.

“You’ve been so good to me,” you purr, sitting astride him and teasing his cock hard by rubbing your cunt against it. “Let me take care of you now, husband.”

“Yes,” he swallows hard, “my love, please.”

You kiss the wet tip of his cock, nip at the head, trail the veins down his length with your tongue, make him whine and writhe and come apart for you. You give him only a moment to catch his breath before you take his cock in your hand and stroke it to keep it hard. Pero inhales with a hiss.

“Oh, fuck, careful…!”

“I am being careful,” you promise as you keep your touch light. “I just need to make sure that you are able to service me, husband.”

“Always,” he chokes as you sit astride him.

“My cunt is hungry for your big cock, my love.”

“Oh, please… please… ahhh!” You sink down on him, your wet cunt splitting open but taking all of him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you exhale in a loud moan. Your eyes have closed involuntarily, and when you open them, you see Pero looking up at you with awe in his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you bend down to kiss him.

“I love you, too.”

His hands splay over your lower abdomen. “And I love you.”

You kiss him again and start to move your hips. Your love life has been less frantic since you became pregnant, but it is not lacking in passion. Your slow, meticulous grind reflects that, and when Pero reaches for the oil bottle next to him on the bed, you sit up straight and let him rub the oil onto your skin.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighs as he circles his rough hand over your soft stomach. “And you will be even more beautiful when you start to show.”

“Will I”? you coax him, and he nods.

“I want you to ride me like this when you’re big and round, wife.” His voice drops, and the way it drips hot honey down your spine makes you clench. “I want you to take your pleasure from me likes this when you’re so big that you can hardly move, and your tits are leaking milk.”

“And if I can’t?” you breathe. His eyes are molten coal when he stares at you.

“Then I will help you.”

With that, he slides hand to where your bodies come together. His oiled fingers dance easily on your nub, and with his help, you ride him home, taking his load deep into your slick, warm cunt.

Your nausea does not bother you as much the following morning. Pero credits it to the tincture but you know that something has shifted in your relationship, become easier and more earnest.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

You squeeze Pero’s arm against your side. “It’s a little too late for that now.”

“I can still tell them – “

“They need you,” you remind him. “So many people depend on you.”

“You are the most important one of all of them,” he points out, stopping in the middle of the street and turning to you. His free hand, the one that’s not holding the reigns of the horse, comes to rest on your slightly rounded belly. “You, and the little one.”

“It’s only a week.” You cup his cheek, stroke your thumb over his lips. “It’s not a long time. You’ll make good money, and I promise that I’ll rest.”

He raises his brows, and you laugh at his skepticism.

“I promise!” you hold up your hand to your chest. “I promise, Pero, you know you can trust my word, right?”

“I know,” he nods, now smiling, before dipping down to kiss you softly. The horse snorts, and Pero ends the kiss with a quick peck on your lips, before you once again take his arm, and walk to the town square where the caravan is getting ready to leave. Pero was early on asked to provide security for it, and even though he was loathe to leave you for an entire week, both of you knew he would. Winter is on its way, trading will come to a stop, and he will be free to spend the rest of your time at home.

You nod at familiar faces when you reach the square, but soon have only eyes for Pero as he takes you in his arms. You expect admonition and reprobation, but only receive whispered assurances of his love for you.

“You will take care of yourself, won’t you?” he finally asks, when the caravan leader is announcing departure. You give him a naughty smile.

“Take care of myself how…?”

He grins back. “You know how. I left you the oil, and the memory of me.”

“My own fingers are nothing compared to you, my love.”

“As my hand is a meagre substitute for your warm, wet cunt,” he breathes against your ear. There is time for a hot yet subdued kiss, and a quick caress of your belly, before Pero has to mount his horse. He blows you a kiss and is off.

The week passes slowly and uneventfully. It rains a lot, which means you keep mostly indoors, and it makes you a little restless. The baby is restless as well; you feel it twitching and floundering almost every hour that you are awake. It is a comfort, knowing that you are not alone, but you still miss Pero.

It is late night when he returns. You are already in bed but the sounds of the wagons returning to the village draws you out of bed. You pull a shawl around your shoulders, but don’t get dressed, loath to leave the warmth of the house to go out into the late autumn chill. It does not take long before Pero rides into the yard, dismounting midstride when you come out onto the doorstep. He rushes to you, lips on yours before he’s even wrapped his arms around you. His lips are cold but his breath is warm, and his body fits to yours perfectly, shielding you from the cold.

“Are you well?” are his first words to you.

“We are both well, husband. How about you? How was the journey?”

“Uneventful. I am unharmed.”

He falls to his knees, hands tracing the roundness of your stomach through the nightgown before pressing a kiss to it.

“Hello, little one.”

You feel the baby move, and then a powerful jerk. Pero flinches, then looks up at you, mouth open.

“Was that…?”

“Yes,” you smile, hand coming to cup the top of his head. “That was our baby, my love, saying welcome home.”

“Was it really?”

You nod, your smile growing wider as you watch Pero stare at your clothed belly, hand circling it in search of another kick. A light breeze sweeps across the yard, and you shudder.

“Let’s go inside, husband.”

He has to put away the horse first, so you prepare a small supper while you wait for him to come in. When he finally does, he forgoes any food, instead taking you to bed. Balls deep in you and kissing your breath away, he tells you over and over again how much he loves you.

Winter slows down the entire village, although you feel slower than ever before with each passing week. Your belly grows, and with it your tiredness. Your feet hurt, your hips hurt, you back hurts, you feel clumsy, and you're hungry all the time. Pero takes all your griping in stride, helping you with your heavier chores that you finally relinquish to him. He rubs your belly and breasts with oil every night, and pleasures you with his mouth, fingers, and cock every time you ask for it – which varies from day to day. Some days you cannot have enough of him, others you can barely stand the thought of sleeping with him. Your patient husband takes no offense at your ever-changing mood.

You realize very soon that you have been incredibly lucky in your choice of husband – not that you didn’t know that before, of course. When going to the marketplace and meeting the village women, your growing belly gives you a new role in the group. The younger women titter, the older give advice or tell crude jokes that make you blush.

“Glowing skin, hazy eyes,” one comments one morning by the vegetable stand, “and him looking like the king of the world. Neither one of you goes wanting, that’s for sure.”

Your cheeks heat up. The comment is spoken without malice, and in a pleased tone, but it feels like the speaker had direct access to your bedroom that morning, seen you come apart on Pero’s cock, witnessed him fuck his cum deep inside you.

You mumble something, and the older woman chuckles.

“I’ve had five, and my husband serviced me with all five of them. A father’s seed will make the baby grow strong. Your child will be born big and healthy, I can see that.”

The baby moves in your belly, bringing a smile to your face. You look up at the woman, see her friendly face, and thank her, before slinking away and finding Pero at another stand. He takes the basket from you, offers you his arm, and you walk home together. As you put away your purchases in the kitchen, Pero breathes life back into the fire, and you sink down onto a chair with a sigh. He runs his gaze over you, a frown on his face.

“Are you okay, my love?”

“Just a little tired,” you promise as you rub your belly. The baby kicks against your hand before settling down, maybe to sleep. You look at your husband, crouching by he fire, and clear your throat.

“Pero?”

“Yes?”

“Do the men in the village talk about… pregnancy?”

He looks up at you again. “What do you mean?”

“The women – “

“Women talk a lot of rubbish,” he scoffs, and you grimace at his dismissal of your sex.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologizes, and you glare at him to let him know that he is only barely being let off the hook. “Tell me, my love, what do they say?”

“They talk about pregnancy, how the baby is carried, what sex it probably is, cravings, pains, aches… and intimacy. And I was wondering if men do the same.”

Pero directs his attention to the fire for a moment.

“They do speak of the pregnancy, but more of the children once they are born,” he tells you softly. “They speak of what it is to watch a child grow, how to provide for it, the way you worry about it all the time.”

“But nothing of the pregnancy?” you press, and he shoots you a teasing smile.

“A little, but only things I will not repeat to you.”

“Pero, I am no dainty little thing that you have to protect!” you roll your eyes, and Pero laughs before putting another log on the growing fire, then closing the hatch.

“I do know that, wife,” he acknowledges. Coming to his feet, he walks over to you, and sinks to his knees before you.

“I will tell you what they say,” he rumbles, his deep voice making your heart skip a beat. “Many of them speak of wives who become voracious when heavy with child.”

His hands, warm and large, rest softly on your knees, and start to carefully separate your thighs. You lick your lips quickly, leaving your mouth open as your breath turns heavier.

“They speak of wives who crave cock every single day.” Pero lifts your skirt up, leaning in to kiss the inside of your thigh. “They say that fucking a pregnant wife is the best feeling in the world.” He presses another bristly kiss to your sensitive skin. “To fill her already full womb even more…” Another kiss. “To have her sensitive cunt wrapped around your cock… how she mewls underneath you as you fuck your seed into her… it is heaven.”

He looks up at you, eyes dark, a smug smirk on his lips. “And they are right.”

“Pero,” you beg breathlessly, your cunt dripping from his words, your body ablaze for his touch.

“Come here, my love.”

He pulls you down on the floor, and you help him undo his trousers to get his cock out. Crouching astride him, feet firmly planted on the floor, you sink down his length, Pero supporting you with strong arms, even he can no longer reach around you. You ride him with impatience, one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping his leg behind you, your lips on his lips, his neck, his shoulder.

“My love,” he gasps, “take what you need from me, use me, just like that, use my cock…”

You whine before baring your throat and hanging your head back, chest out, Pero dipping down to suck a leaking nipple into his mouth. You moan as your body is in spasms from the sweet release, and Pero plants a hand on the floor behind him, and thrusts up into you, grunting with effort as he seeks his own climax. You encourage him with moaned filthy words of your own, choked out as he slams into you, again and again, until he grips your buttock hard to keep you still on his cock, and you feel him fill up your core.

He lays down on the floor after, pulling you down next to him to give you a sweet kiss.

“My darling wife,” he sighs before kissing you again.

“My darling husband,” you smile, a satisfied shudder running through you as his seed oozes out between your swollen lips. “I am utterly disheveled. I won’t be able to show myself at the sewing circle later today.”

“Good,” he yawns, pulling you closer. “It is a husband’s duty to keep his wife disheveled with his love.”

“I cannot argue with that,” you giggle, and he kisses you yet again.

It starts in the early hours of the darkest winter morning. You wake up from a sharp pain, and before you’re properly awake, you realize that your nightgown is soaking wet. As you sit up to light a candle, another stab of pain makes you whimper, and you drop the fire striker. Pero stirs and reaches for you, only to be awake and sitting straight almost immediately.

“It has started,” you whisper. “I’m all wet. Pero, light a candle.”

He does as he’s told, and you throw the covers to the side, finding that your water has broken. No blood, as you secretly feared, but only water.

“I’ll get the midwife,” Pero tells you resolutely, but you can hear the worry in his voice. “My love, are you in very much pain?”

“Not too much,” you reassure him, getting out of the bed as he springs up to get dressed. You pull your shawl over your shoulders and start walking around, as the women of the village have told you to do. The pains come in sharp stabs, but they’re manageable.

Pero looks desolate to leave you, but you wave him off with a smile and a kiss.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just go get her.”

When the midwife arrives, she gives you a quick examination before shaking her head.

“Go back to bed,” she tells both of you. “It’s going to be another day or even two before it starts, so get all the rest you can.”

“Are you sure?” Pero demands in his most imposing voice. The midwife does not even blink as she collects her things.

“Make her as comfortable as you can.” She turns to you. “Rest but walk around every chance you get. And if something seems amiss, come get me again.”

She takes her leave, and Pero grumbles about the lack of sympathy. You, however, have heard a lot more about labor, so you just shake your head at him.

“Help me change the sheets, husband, and come to bed. You heard what she said.”

“You are in pain!”

“It’s not so bad anymore,” you tell him truthfully, and start to strip the wet sheets from the bed. Loath to have you do it by yourself, Pero comes to help you, giving him something else to think about. When you’re back in bed, embraced and sleepy yet too nervous to rest, he caresses the roundness of your belly.

“I can’t wait to meet our baby,” he whispers to you.

“I feel the same.”

“What are you hoping for? A boy or a girl?”

“I don’t care,” you yawn, “as long as it’s healthy. Any child that is half you is going to be perfect.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Late in the following night, the contractions change, become more intense and frequent. You send Pero to the midwife again, and this time she stays. You have prepared during the day so there are linens and boiled water to be had. Pero is dismissed from the bedchamber, and you see that he wants to fight the midwife on that decision, but you just shake your head at him, and he heeds your wish. But when the midwife tells you that you are crowning, that the baby is coming, and the contractions are sucking all the strength from your muscles, you scream for your husband. He nearly takes the door off its hinges as he barges in, all but brandishing the sword he has not touched since his last caravan. He takes your hand between his and kisses it.

“My love,” he breathes, “my strong, beautiful wife. You can do it, I know you can.”

Your baby is born with a few pushes, and the first scream that cuts through the night makes your tears fall.

“You have a son,” the midwife announces as she wraps up the baby and puts it on your chest.

“A son,” you repeat, not really understanding the words.

“I have a son,” Pero mumbles, his voice thick. You glance up at him, but he is only looking at the baby.

“Pero…”

“I have a son.”

Suddenly, he spurts out of the room, leaving you to stare after him, mouth agape. You hear the front door slam open, and then Pero bellowing into the night:

“I have a son!”

You chuckle, tears streaming down your cheeks, and when Pero returns, his eyes are shining as well.

“My love,” he whispers. “My love. My life. I love you so much.”

You can’t speak, this is all too much, you are exhausted and hurting and happy and sweaty and bursting with joy. As the midwife retires to the kitchen, Pero lays down next to you, cradling the baby in your arms.

“My son,” he whispers, his voice thick. “We have a son, my love.”

“We do.”

“I will always take care of him, and of you, this I promise you.”

“You already do, my love,” you smile, and Pero kisses first your forehead, then the baby’s.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: more svech! just straight up fluff happening here. i loved writing this one so much! i was going to save this for svech’s birthday on sunday but i’m an adhd bitch and couldn’t wait lol so now we’re celebrating the canes clinching a playoff spot. (also fully exposing my mister svechnikov kink by adding it into every fic sorry not sorry)

word count: 7.2k (i am INCAPABLE of not blathering on about svech apparently)

tw: like super mild childbirth and more google-translate russian

summary: you and andrei welcome your first baby

“I don’t know,” Andrei’s hand is splayed flat over your stomach while he lies in bed next to you, “maybe I should talk to Rod. See if I can stay home until the baby’s here.” The baby rolls and kicks at his hand and Andrei’s lips turn up into a soft smile. His eyes are still a little cloudy and conflicted though.

You stretch out your legs, trying to ease the pain in your hip from having to lay on your side. “You’re only going to Nashville. It’s not far and I’m due in a week and a half. Plenty of time for you to get there and back without having to let your boys down.”

Andrei starts to protest, but you shake your head. “I know you don’t want to miss any games so close to the playoffs, Drei. And I also know that you’re not going to miss baby being born. We can do it all.”

He rubs at your stomach again, looking deep in thought. “Nashville is two days. To get there, to play, and to come back - more like three. What if you go into labor during the game?”

“Then,” you yawn, “I’ll have someone pull you off the ice and you can come straight to the hospital. Labor takes hours. Honestly, Drei, you’re not going to miss it.”

You know he wants to be there for you and for the team, especially coming down the home stretch of the regular season when the Canes are holding onto first in the Metro. You love that he’s so dedicated to his team and honestly, the thought of him sitting around and staring at you, waiting for you to pop, isn’t that relaxing. He’s attentive, but sometimes you need a bit of space.

Andrei rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. He huffs a sigh before rolling back onto his side to look at you. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you reassure him. “Plus all four of our parents are going to be here in a couple of days. There’s no shortage of people who can get me to a hospital and call you, if we need it.”

He looks a little more reassured now, remembering that his parents are flying in on Tuesday, just hours after he flies out to Nashville. Your parents are only a forty-five minute drive away, so the second labor starts, if Andrei isn’t around, you can call them. You kick the blankets off your legs, too hot and uncomfortable in the unseasonably warm early spring weather. All you want to do is lie on your stomach and stretch out, but thanks to the giant belly bump, that’s a no-go. You’ve always been aware that Andrei was big and tall, but you hadn’t really thought about it until your baby was all squished up in your stomach, your skin stretched uncomfortably. It really does feel like you’re snuggling a watermelon around, and especially now that the baby’s dropped in the last few days, you’re really feeling uncomfortable.

Andrei’s hand rubs soft circles over the peak of your stomach, tapping the spots that the baby kicks in a little game. He props his head up on his palm and traces his fingers over your skin. “I can’t believe he’ll be here in a week,” he says.

“Or she,” you counter cheekily. “But yeah, it’s feeling a little scary now.”

The nursery’s been done for about two weeks now - painted and decorated around Andrei’s travel schedule. You have your hospital bag packed and ready in the front hall closet. The freezer is stocked full of meals your mom had made and delivered last week. All that’s left now is to wait for baby to make their appearance.

You shift on the bed, your lower back sore and stiff. “Drei…” you pout, “will you rub my back?” You blink wide eyes up at him and he smiles, needing no extra begging or encouragement to help you into a sitting position.

He opens his legs and settles you in between them, warm, large hands coming to rest on your lower back. “Here, solnyshka?” He asks, thumbs already digging into the stiff muscles. You hum an affirmative response, leaning forward as much as your stomach will allow and enjoying the pleasant stretch of your back. His hands work out the knots smoothly and you melt, finally getting a little relief.

“I can’t wait to finally not have to carry around this watermelon,” you sigh, hands cradling your stomach.

Andrei’s hands work up your back to your shoulders, “I can’t wait to hold the baby all the time, to make up for the nine months you did all the work.” He kisses behind your ear and digs his thumb into a particularly painful knot by your shoulder blade.

“Oh,” you gasp, going limp as the muscle releases. You sag back against his chest, trapping Andrei’s hands in between your bodies. “That felt so good. Forget hockey, become my personal masseuse.”

“Isn’t that already my side job?” He teases, fingers fluttering against your back where they’re stuck. You shift a little and he pulls his arms out and immediately rests them on the underside of your stomach, lifting gently so some of the pressure is off your pelvis.

A strangled noise of contentment escapes your throat and you lean further back against him. “Full time, I need back massages and bump lifting full time, Drei.”

“Whatever you want, solnyshka,” he tucks your head under his chin and sits still so you can relax. He’s so warm and solid you find your eyes closing, finally in a comfortable enough position to sleep a little.

A sharp jab to your bladder - a little foot or elbow, most likely - startles you awake with a wince. You shift, Andrei’s arms still encircling your body. He’s snoring softly in your ear and you realize that he fell asleep too, holding you against his chest. His head is tilted back against the headboard and it can’t be comfortable, but he’s out like a light, even when you wiggle a little to try and get off the bed. The need to use the bathroom is urgent.

“Mmm, solnyshka?” He mumbles, waking up a bit when you gently push his arms off of you.

“Go back to sleep,” you whisper into the dark. “I just have to pee.”

Andrei hums another response, but swings his legs off the bed and steadies you with a hand on your lower back and the other on your hip. His eyes are shut the entire time and he’s snoring again by the time you’re halfway to the bathroom. His legs are still dangling off the bed and you shake your head a little. Once you finish in the bathroom, you take a minute to look in the mirror, turning to the side and smoothing your shirt over your stomach. In a week or less, this bump is going to be a baby in your arms. You can’t wait to meet it, to see which of your features or Andrei’s are stronger.

“Just wait until Daddy is home, okay, baby?” You whisper, rubbing your palm over a spot low on you stomach where the baby’s jabbed a limb. “That better be a yes, mom, whatever you say.”

Andrei’s still half hanging off the bed when you waddle - god, you’re sick of the waddling! - back into the bedroom. He’s exhausted, between the travel, the actual playing, and being there for you, no matter what you need. You wish there were a way to let him keep sleeping while putting him back on the bed properly, but there really isn’t, so you carefully crawl back onto your side of the bed and situate yourself with the giant body pillows wrapped around your body and then reach out to nudge Andrei’s shoulder.

“Hey,” you whisper, “Drei, baby, get back into bed.”

He startles, blinking into the dark, and rubs a hand over his face. “Huh?” He looks around and seems to realize that his feet are on the floor while his upper body is in bed. “Oh,” he mutters, pulling his legs back up on the bed and under the covers. He reaches for you, still clearly half-asleep, and you let him pull you closer. The body pillow is entirely in the way and Andrei grumbles. “I hate this pillow,” he mutters, doing his best to wrap his body around yours.

“Just a little bit longer,” you mumble, fully knowing that you may never sleep without the body pillow again. It’s just so damn comfortable.

You wish you could sleep in the next morning, but even though Andrei is doing his best to be quiet while he gets ready, the baby is apparently dealing with hiccups. It’s like a little alien in your stomach and it’s both weirdly endearing and also freaking you out a little. You’re awake by 7:30, but you just stay in bed, smoothing your hand over your stomach, watching the way it jumps around.

“So freaky,” you mutter. Eventually Andrei wanders back into your room, holding a protein shake and already a little sweaty.

“Morning, milaya,” he drops a kiss on your lips and you squint at him.

“Did you already fit in a workout?”

He ruffles the hair on the back of his head, a little sheepish, “yeah. I woke up early. Ah, I’m getting a little nervous.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and you reach out for his hand. You stroke your thumb over the ridges of his knuckles. He squeezes your fingers gently.

“I’m nervous too,” you admit. “But we’re the ultimate team, right? I don’t know what I’m doing and you don’t either. But we’ll learn together.”

Andrei lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the underside of your wrist. He rests his cheek against the back of your hand and you wiggle your fingers against his stubble, smiling slightly.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you say, one-hundred percent confident in your statement.

He chews on his lower lip, absorbing your words, and nods. “If I’m half as good of a dad as you will be a mom, then I think the baby will be okay,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. You sigh into his mouth.

“Glad we’re all on the same page,” you joke. “Now please help me up because I really can’t do it on my own anymore.”

Andrei obliges, pulling you to your feet and watching attentively as you go slowly about your morning routine. You shoo him out of the room after fifteen minutes, starting to get agitated with his hovering. “Drei, please, I’m fine. Just go shower and get ready to go to your skate,” you sigh, twisting your hair into a pair of messy braids and pinning them up into a milkmaid style so it’s off your neck.

“Okay, sorry, milaya,” he kisses the nape of your neck and ducks into the shower, leaving you time to change into a different lounge set and head for the kitchen. Nothing sounds appealing to you, mild nausea making your stomach roll. You settle for popping a slice of bread into the toaster and grabbing an avocado. You lean your elbow on the counter and prop your chin in the palm of your hand, yawning while you wait for your toast. Sleep quality really had declined the last few weeks.

Andrei’s back in the kitchen as you’re eating the avocado straight from its peel. He looks at you, raising an eyebrow and lips twitching in an effort to hide his amusement. You wrinkle your nose at him. “I didn’t want the toast,” you explain, gesturing at the butter smeared bread with your spoon. “You can have it, if you want.”

He snags the toast with two fingers and kisses the side of your head. “Spasibo. I’ll text you when I’m leaving the rink, if you need anything, okay?” He asks around a mouthful of bread.

You nod, “be careful. Love you.”

After he leaves, you tidy the kitchen and the living room, even though neither are all that dirty. You just mostly want to keep moving a bit - once you sit down, you’re basically not getting up for God or country.

By the time Andrei gets home for his pre-game nap and meal, he finds you curled up on the couch, sobbing at an episode of Bones. He’s immediately kneeling on the floor in front of you, running his hands over you thighs, “hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“We’re fine,” you wave him off with a sniffle. “It’s just…Bones and Booth danced around their relationship for so long! And I forgot how unsatisfying it was when they finally got together.”

Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy before schooling his features into a more neutral expression. He sucks his upper lip in between his teeth, clearly trying not to laugh. He rubs at your knee soothingly, “how about you come nap with me? Take a break from the TV.”

You nod, rubbing at your damp eyes like an overtired toddler. The hormones are fluctuating wildly today. Andrei gently helps you get to your feel and trails after you to the bedroom. “How was morning skate?” You ask, climbing into bed. Andrei wraps his body around yours, the big spoon to your little, and buries his face in your hair.

“Good, it was nice to get a little energy flowing before the game,” he mumbles into your hair. His arms are a secure cocoon of warmth around you and the baby kicks where his palm is splayed flat over the side of your stomach. “Hello to you too, little one,” he says a little louder.

You snuggle into his embrace and fall asleep easily, the hour long nap passing faster than you had thought. Andrei gets up and starts getting dressed, while you watch. He’s in game mode now, more serious than before, more in his head. You know he’s thinking about the plays that were surely drawn up during morning skate. He steps into his suit pants - a new plaid number that is a mild assault on the eyes, but he’s so damn handsome he makes it work - and does a little hop in place when he does up the button and fly. You’re blatantly ogling him when he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into the hamper.

“Creep,” he teases you, catching you looking.

“Don’t be so handsome then,” you shoot back, pointedly rubbing your stomach.

His smile turns a little feral and his eyes darken. “You look good like that, pregnant with my baby,” his voice is low and you press your thighs together.

You shake your finger at him, “no way, keep it in your pants, Mister Svechnikov, that’s how we ended up here in the first place.”

He laughs, eyes twinkling and dimple popping, finishing buttoning up his shirt. “I didn’t hear any complaints,” he says casually.

“Give it a week or so and I’m sure you’ll be hearing a few complaints,” you wince at a particularly strong kick lands somewhere in the vicinity of your ribs. “I know it’s cramped in there, but easy on the ribs,” you murmur to your stomach.

Andrei finishes getting ready, eats a quick meal, and is back on the road. He’ll be at the arena nearly three hours before the game, but you know it’s part of his routine. Besides, Brady likes to get there early too, so you know he won’t be alone. More likely, Brady will be alone while Andrei handles the puck by the boards before people start coming.

You send Andrei your usual pre-game text and make yourself a light dinner. The TV gets switched to the pre-game and you settle on the couch with your book and laptop. Your mom checks in with you, FaceTiming for a bit, and Elena is texting too, confusing you a little with the time difference, but she’s so excited to get into town tomorrow. The WAG group chat is buzzing too - asking how you are and sending pictures of the kids at the game. You doze off during the game, but wake up to a winning score for the Canes mid-way through the third. The score holds and Andrei comes home bouncy and full of energy.

“Four game point streak!” You grin, cheering for him as he comes into the house.

Andrei blushes and waves you off. “Team effort,” is all he says, even though he was a driving force on the ice. He drops to his knees next to the couch and rubs your stomach. “How’s baby?”

“Kicking away,” you card your fingers through Andrei’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He leans into your touch like a cat. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to kick her way out, like in Alien.”

“Gross,” Andrei pulls a face and then ducks closer to your stomach, whispering to the bump. And in Russian too, so even though you can hear him, you can’t understand him.

You nudge his shoulder with a foot. “Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you share them with everyone,” you tease.

He shakes his head, “it’s between a father and his child.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes affectionately, pouting a bit. “Take me to bed, Mister Svechnikov, it’s past my bedtime and growing your child is making me sleepy.”

“Whatever you want, Mrs. Svechnikova,” he grins.

All of his post-game excitement is worn off by the next morning and he’s back to worrying about missing the baby’s birth. “Please, Drei, go to Nashville,” you sigh, rubbing at your lower back. “You’ll be back Thursday afternoon. Your mom and dad are coming in this afternoon. There’s nothing happening.”

“I just don’t want to miss anything,” he protests. His phone is on the counter and his fingers twitch, like he’s going to snatch it up and text Rod any second. You bat the phone away from him and scowl.

“Go to the game, Andrei,” you say firmly. “If anything happens, and it won’t, I’ll make sure someone gets the message to you and gets you on a plane back here, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, clearly wanting to argue with you more, but catches sight of the look on your face and wisely shuts his mouth. Eventually, he’s all packed up and is kissing you good-bye so he can head to the airport. “I love you, milaya,” he says against your temple.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, starting to feel a little emotional. Damn hormones. “I’m sorry I keep snapping at you.”

He chuckles a bit. “It’s okay, you’re allowed. I’ll see you in two days, okay?” His hands come up to cradle your belly. “Keep mama company, okay little one?”

You sniffle and laugh a little wetly. “I’ve got a foot wedged in my ribs, I’m never alone,” you joke.

With one more kiss, Andrei is off and you’re alone. It’s not like this is the first time he’s been gone during the last nine months, and there have been periods where he was gone even longer than two days, but maybe it’s because you’re so close to your due date that you’re feeling extra emotional.

To distract yourself, you make sharlotka - an apple cake from a recipe Elena sent you a few weeks ago when your main craving had been apples dipped in honey. She and Igor are already en route to Raleigh and you invited them over for dinner when they land, mostly to keep you company so you don’t go crazy.

Andrei’s in Nashville and has texted you about fifteen times by the time his parents Uber to your place. You click over onto FaceTime and grin at him, “you can relax, my love. The calvary is here.” You turn the camera and his parents wave at him.

“We will take good care of her, Andreyusha,” Elena blows him a kiss.

“But we will not save you any cake,” Igor teases, holding up his plate, having immediately beelined for the dessert.

Andrei looks a little put out about the cake, but relieved that you’re not alone. “I thought you were going to relax?”

“A girl has to eat,” you tease. “We’re good here, focus on the game and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Elena and Igor end up staying in the guest room, exhausted from the travel, and you reap the rewards when you wake up to a full breakfast spread. “I couldn’t sleep,” Elena shrugs, her smile just like Andrei’s. “Besides, I needed to make sure my doch and grandbaby are well-fed.”

She pats your cheek and sets a plate full of eggs, toast, fruit, and bacon in front of you. You blink at the amount of food, knowing you’re definitely not going to be able to eat it all, but thank her effusively.

“I didn’t even think we had bacon or all this fruit in the house,” you comment, nibbling at a corner of the toast.

“You didn’t,” Elena laughs. “I went to the grocery store.”

“Oh, gosh! Elena, you didn’t have to do that,” you say. “You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

She waves you off, bracelets clinking together on her wrist. “This is vacation. With family, waiting for the baby? My girl, this is exactly what I want to do.”

“Oh, okay,” you slump back in the chair, trying to stretch your back. “If you’re sure…”

“I am sure, now eat some eggs. The calcium is good for growing the baby.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you jokingly salute and dig into the eggs. They’re actually really good - soft and creamy and definitely hitting the spot. You’re finishing breakfast when Igor comes through the front door. You do a double-take - you thought he had been upstairs this whole time.

“Can’t have breakfast without pastries,” he winks at you, setting a bakery bag on the counter. His mischievous smile is just like Andrei’s. Elena pulls out a box stuffed full of croissants, muffins, turnovers, and doughnuts.

“Oh, wow,” you grin, reaching for a chocolate croissant. “A girl could definitely get used to this treatment.”

After breakfast, you try to help clean up but are forced back down into the chair. They ask if you and Andrei have picked a name and that’s a big fat no. Neither one of you can agree on a name you like. You have a little idea forming in the back of your head, but you don’t want to say anything to Andrei until the baby’s born.

It’s a beautiful April day in Raleigh, so Elena hustles you all outside for a walk in the fresh air. It’s slow going since you’re hauling around the giant baby bump, but the fresh air feels good and the walk is helping the stiffness in your lower back. You assume the stereotypical pregnant woman pose, with your hands bracing at your lower back while you walk.

A little cramp ripples over your stomach and you wince, pressing your fingers into the spot. You wait, but it doesn’t happen again, so you figure it was probably breakfast settling. But you’re on alert for the rest of the day, just in case. The only thing still bothering you at dinner time is your lower back, but that’s been sore and stiff for two weeks now, so you assume it’s just from the weight of carrying the baby.

At least, that’s what you assume until it’s thirty minutes to puck drop and you feel a slight popping sensation between your legs, accompanied by a trickle of liquid.

You stand stock still for a beat and then mutter, “oh, shit. Andrei’s going to kill me.”

Elena looks up from her book and frowns at you, “what’s going on?”

“I, ah, think my water broke,” you grip the countertop tightly. Liquid continues to drip down your thighs and there’s a little cramp like the one you felt earlier. “Oh, yeah, definitely my water breaking.”

Andrei’s parents jump up from their spots on the couch and from there it’s a flurry of action. You call your mom and she has your dad in the car before you can even get a word in beyond “hey, mom, I’m in labor.” They’ll be at your place within the hour.

A stronger cramp grips your stomach and now you realize that you’ve been feeling contractions for the last day or so. Andrei’s going to be so annoyed that you made him go to Nashville. Warm-ups have started and you know that Andrei’s unreachable by phone for the foreseeable future. You still text him anyway (“hi sorry i said nothing was gonna happen but i’m in labor 😅😬”) and when another contraction hits fifteen minutes after the last one, you figure it’s about time to head to the hospital.

While Igor drives, you text Heather Staal, wondering if she can get ahold of Jordan or Rod to let Andrei know before he gets on the ice. She promises to try and get the message across, reassuring you that you’ll be fine and Andrei won’t miss a thing. You really hope she’s right, because you’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.

You settle a bit once you get admitted and changed into the flimsy hospital gown. Your parents get to the hospital just a few minutes after you do and your mom immediately joins Elena in your room, making sure you have everything you need.

Right now, you just really need Andrei.

Your dad and Igor are in the waiting room watching, ironically, the Canes game. They pop back into the room every few minutes to offer an update.

“He’s still on the bench.”

“Took a shift, had an assist on a Brady goal.”

“Still on the ice.”

“First intermission and he’s going back to the room. No one looks like they’ve told him anything.”

You huff through increasing contractions while they update you, getting irritated.

“Start of the second, oh, he’s still on the bench.”

“What the fuck,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and texting Heather again. She’s sympathetic, but had texted Rod and wasn’t sure what was happening. You’re halfway ready to call Bridgestone’s main line and start screaming.

Your dad skids into the room while you’re gripping your mom’s hand through a contraction. “He’s off the ice! Looks like one of the assistant coaches told Rod something and then Andrei was yanked off the bench.”

You start crying, relieved that Andrei is finally going to be on his way.

Not even fifteen minutes later, he FaceTimes you.

“I’m on my way, solnyshka, I’ll be there soon,” the words burst out of his mouth. He’s half dressed, shirt buttoned all wrong and sweaty hair mussed over his forehead. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, it hurts, obviously, but I’m okay. Just get here in one piece, okay? I’m so sorry I made you go to the game,” you wipe at the tears on your face, pressing your lips together to smother a shout as another contraction hits.

Andrei’s face is pale on your phone’s screen. “It’s not your fault. I’m on my way now, just hold on for a little bit.” He tells you he loves you and hangs up as he runs out of the locker room.

While you suffer through the contractions, Andrei texts you with updates. He’s booked on a flight out of Nashville that doesn’t leave until 10 and he’s clearly annoyed about it - there’s not a single emoji in his messages. You try not to freak out that he’s going to miss anything. At your last check, you were only 3 centimeters dilated, so there’s still hours of labor ahead of you. You pace the hallways, holding the IV pole keeping you hydrated, with your mom and Elena at your back for support. When you walk past a TV, it’s turned to the post-game and Rod is fielding a question about Andrei’s abrupt departure during the second.

Rod smiles on screen, “well, I’ll tell you it wasn’t for anything bad. His wife’s in labor back home, so as soon as we heard that, Svechy took off. Don’t think any of us could’ve stopped him even if we wanted to. We’re wishing the both of them the best of luck and can’t wait to hear about the newest member of the Caniac family. Next question?”

You start crying again, overly tired and overly emotional. You just want Andrei.

The epidural is administered around 11:30 and you doze off for a bit, waking up confused when a particularly bad contraction hits. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel anything?” You whine, gripping the rails of the bed.

The nurse hums at you sympathetically, “they’re not totally 100% effective, hon.”

You glare at her, but she’s clearly used to worse, because it doesn’t phase her at all. She just continues taking your vitals and making her notes.

Once the contraction passes, you ask, “have you seen my parents and in-laws?”

“I think the dads left, saying something about the airport, and the moms are in the coffee shop downstairs,” she pats your hand. “Sounds like you might be getting your husband here soon.”

And you do.

Thankfully, Andrei’s flight was right on time and smooth, so he landed in Raleigh at midnight and with your dad breaking speed limits, is at the hospital and by your side before 1:30. He skids into the room, looking frazzled. “I’m sorry, mne zhal, I’m so sorry, my love,” he babbles, stopping at your side and stroking your hair off your forehead before leaning down to kiss you. “I’m here. I didn’t know, they didn’t tell me until the second…”

The tears flow easily and you grip Andrei’s hand like never before. “I don’t care, I’m just glad you’re here now,” you break off into a shout and curl up when the contraction hits. Stupid fucking epidural.

He keeps hold of your hand and strokes your hair, murmuring in Russian. With his other hand, he rakes his hair off his face. Once you let go, he takes off his suit jacket, tossing it on the spare chair, and rolls up the sleeves of his button down. “How long, do the doctors say?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Last check, I was like 6 or 7 centimeters.”

All four of your parents are hovering at the doorway and you wave them in with a sigh. Elena hands Andrei a coffee and a sandwich, kissing his cheek when he leans down. “Eat up, you are going to have a long night,” she says, smiling and barely hiding her excitement.

“Spasibo, mama,” he sighs, taking a long drink of coffee. Half the cup is gone and you watch him enviously. Your mom sets another cup down on the little railing tray table.

“That’ll be cold before you get to it,” she says, “but I’m sure you’ll need it.”

Andrei thanks her too and thanks the dads for getting him to the hospital so quickly. They both shrug him off, also barely concealing their excitement. Andrei laughs, “now, I think we’d like a little privacy?” He looks over at you and you nod tiredly. The four parents are kind of a lot to deal with all at once. He grabs the tangle of keys from his pocket and passes them to his dad. “Can you bring me a change of clothes and my car?”

Of course, Igor agrees and all four parents follow him from the room, debating on who will go and which cars they’re going to switch around. You honestly don’t care what they do, just that they leave.

Once they’re all gone, Andrei sucks in a deep breath and sits on the edge of the bed. “Okay, just us now,” he says, sounding a little dazed.

“Just us and the kid,” you reply, exhausted.

“Just us and the kid,” he repeats, smiling slightly. “The timing on this kid,” he shakes his head.

“I know,” you laugh. “I really didn’t think anything was going to happen.”

“It’s all happening now though,” Andrei holds your hand, barely flinching when you squeeze.

Your labor stalls briefly and then it’s nearly 3 a.m. and you’re pushing. Andrei’s at your side, holding one of your legs up by the thigh. He has the other arm wrapped around your shoulders and you’re nearly bent in half. The doctor counts down from ten and then you’re allowed to slump back against the pillows for a few seconds of a break.

“It hurts,” you sob, grasping for Andrei’s hands. He wipes at your tears.

“I know, I know, but you’re doing so good,” he croons. “You’re doing so good and we’ll have a baby soon.”

You’re instructed to push again and Andrei cheers you on, murmuring encouragement in your ear. You shriek, your entire body too hot and too tight and then there’s a release and a different cry.

“Oh,” you drop back against the pillows, suddenly empty.

Andrei looks down at you in shock and then at the baby that’s held in the doctor’s hands, bloody and screaming. He laughs and kisses you deeply, “it’s a girl! A little girl, moya koroleva. You did it.” He bounces on the balls of his feet, vibrating with excitement.

“A girl?” You cry, laughing with joy when the baby’s held up and placed on your chest. “Oh my god, it’s a girl.” Your hands wrap around the baby instinctively, cradling her little head, sobbing as you look at her features.

Andrei’s crying too, his eyes red. He wipes the back of his wrist under his nose and presses her forehead against your temple. “She’s beautiful. Just like her mama.” His voice is hoarse and tears are dripping onto your bare shoulder.

“Drei,” you whisper, full of emotion, and he gets it, kissing you deeply.

“I am so proud of you, my love. My two girls. My best girls,” he laughs, disbelieving. He settles one hand on the baby’s back and she looks impossibly small under his touch.

Time seems to blur from there and you’re allowed to keep the baby on your chest while the nurses run their tests. You hear snippets - she’s 6 pounds, thirteen ounces, twenty-one inches long - but otherwise you have tunnel vision on the gorgeous little baby that’s all yours and Andrei’s. Andrei gets her for skin-to-skin time while they clean you up and you sob again, watching him cradle her on one forearm. He looks up at you, hair flopping over his forehead, exhausted dark circles under his eyes, and beams at you, full dimple and missing tooth showing.

“I love you,” he mouths and then he looks back down at the baby, his expression soft and awed.

Before you know it, you’ve managed to feed the baby and get in a little nap in your private room. Andrei’s stretched out on the little couch, feet dangling over the edge. He hasn’t changed, even though his dad brought back clothes hours ago, so he’s still in his suit pants and dress shoes, button down shirt half-buttoned. He’s dozing too, getting in a nap since he’s been awake for over 24 hours at this point. At some point you know the four parents are going to be bursting down the door to meet her, but for now, they’re respectfully staying at your house until you call to give the okay to come by. It’s nice that they’re letting you and Andrei have time to bond with her, although from the amount of crying when Andrei had called to tell them it was a girl, you don’t think they’ll be able to hold off too much longer.

The nurse brings in the baby in her little plastic bassinet, cheerfully transferring her to your arms so you can feed her again. “Does she have a name?” the nurse asks, getting you all situated. It’s the second time you’ve been asked about her name, but you haven’t had a chance to run your idea by Andrei.

Before you can answer, Andrei’s voice cuts in. “Yeah,” he yawns, “does she have a name?”

You laugh, “no, not yet. But I did have an idea.”

Andrei looks at you expectantly, but you wait until the nurse leaves to speak. Without looking at him, you trace your finger over the slope of the baby’s nose - your nose - and it twitches, like a little rabbit. Andrei smiles at the sight.

“A little zaychik,” he says, watching her nose twitch again while she sucks at your nipple. “What name did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking,” you start, looking up at him, “she needs a name that means something to us. I’d like to name her after someone that means a lot to us too. A name that can inspire her and well, what do you think of Evgenia? Evie for short.”

Andrei’s face freezes and his hand is still against the bottom of the baby’s foot where he’s been stroking with his index finger. He coughs, swallows. “For Geno?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, “since he’s your best friend. I thought it might be nice to honor him.”

Andrei’s eyes well up and he runs the back of his wrist under his nose again while nodding. “I…yeah, solnyshka, yeah. I like that. I think he’ll like it too.” He sniffles and kisses your forehead. Looking down at the baby, he strokes her little hand where it rests on the swell of your breast. “What do you think, Evgenia? Are you an Evie?”

Evie’s little nose twitches again and you press your lips together to muffle a little cry. Seems like that’s settled.

“Evie,” you murmur, heart bursting with love. “She’s going to be the best adventure, huh?”

“We’ll definitely have a good story to tell her about her birth,” he laughs a little wetly, taking her from your arms when she’s done eating. He burps her the way the nurse showed him earlier, looking like a natural. Evie sighs and settles, falling asleep in his arms, her little lips pursed in a pout.

While she’s sleeping, Andrei pulls his phone from his pocket and FaceTimes Geno, clicking the volume lower so his brother’s shouted greeting of excitement doesn’t wake the baby. It’s well after breakfast in San Jose and Geno is outside, sun shining brightly behind him.

“Well? My baby brother has a baby?” Geno grins. “Mama called, but wouldn’t tell me if it’s a boy or a girl or the name. Said you two wanted to share that news. Although you didn’t have a name picked when she called.”

Andrei settles on the mattress next to you and you wave at Geno, a tired smile on your face. “That’s because we just picked it like ten minutes ago,” you laugh.

“You look good, mladshaya sestra,” Geno says warmly. “Now don’t keep me waiting. Uncle Geno’s dying to hear.”

Andrei angles his phone down so Evie’s face fills the screen and you can hear Geno’s exclamation of excitement. “Meet your niece, Evgenia Svechnikova. Evie for short.”

Geno’s speechless for a moment and then he starts rambling in Russian, his voice hoarse and clearly emotional. Andrei’s crying again and then you’re crying and the only one not crying is the actual hours-old baby.

“Evie,” Geno repeats. “She’s beautiful.” He pauses and then jokes, “clearly takes after her namesake.”

Andrei shifts the phone back up so it’s just the adults on screen and you can see Geno wiping at his eyes. You lean your head against Andrei’s shoulder.

“I love you guys,” Geno says.

“We love you too, Uncle Geno,” you reply.

“I’m hanging up before you make me cry again,” he laughs, waving and ending the call. Andrei chuckles and sets his phone down on the mattress near his leg.

“That went well,” he deadpans, a smile playing at his lips.

“I can’t wait to tell your parents her name,” you smirk. “I don’t think there’s enough tissues in the greater-Raleigh area for the flood that’s gonna come out of your mom.”

Andrei looks down at Evie, “are you ready to meet your babushki and dedushki, zaychik?”

Evie continues to sleep soundly, her little face twitching as she dreams.

“I think the question is if we’re ready for the babushki and dedushki,” you tease, holding onto Andrei’s bicep with one hand and tracing the shell of Evie’s ear with the other. She’s just so perfect, you could stare at her forever.

The grandparents are invited to come by after dinner, after you’ve sent Andrei home to shower and eat a real meal. The nurses take Evie to the nursery and you get a solid chunk of sleep. Andrei’s back before you know it, holding a takeout bag in one hand and a little shopping bag in the other.

“What’s that?” You sit up, curious, and set aside your phone. It’s been blowing up with congratulations from your family members and the team.

He sets the takeout bag in front of you, “sushi, as requested.”

You moan happily, “oh thank God, I’ve been craving a spicy tuna roll.” You dig into the food while Andrei sets the other bag on the mattress. He looks a little embarrassed, ears pink, so you wait for him to share.

“I passed by that boutique you like,” he says, pulling out a tissue paper wrapped bundle. “And saw this.” He unwraps it and a little beige onesie spills out, softly ribbed fabric extending up into a hood with a pair of floppy bunny ears attached.

“Oh!” You gasp, all thoughts of sushi forgotten as you take the little outfit. “Drei!” You start crying again. “It’s so cute!”

“Evie needs to be dressed in her finest to meet the grandparents,” he laughs.

“Dressed as a little baby bunny,” you cry, wiping at your face. “Dammit, these hormones are killing me. Ugh, Drei, I love this. I love it and I love you and I love her and I…” You break off into a choking little sob-laugh. “I can’t believe she’s ours.”

He wraps you up in a hug and you cry into his shoulder - he smells like laundry detergent and home. “I can’t either,” he agrees, exhaling in disbelief. Yesterday you were a duo and now you’re a trio.

Andrei pulls back from the hug and looks down at you, eyes twinkling. “Should I go get the little zaychik? Get her all presentable for the grandparents?”

When he brings her back, Evie’s dressed in the little bunny onesie, waving her hands in the air and you promptly start sobbing again. Andrei patiently rubs your back while you blubber about how adorable she is.

He settles her in your arms, already a natural at holding her. You knew he was going to be an amazing dad, but you could never have imagined this.

“Your dada is the best man in the world, Evie,” you whisper to her, kissing a little baby fist when she waves it around. Andrei just looks at you like you’ve hung the moon, a sweet, tired smile on his face.

Considering the fact that your entire lives have just changed, you’ve never felt happier.

[honeyhotteoks]

oh my god yesssss the most recent chapter of tnt had my tongue pressed to my teeth the entire time i was like entralllllledddd PLEASE !!!

not to be nosy (or pushy ><) but do you have any thoughts about rut for tnt? like for both the main trio and general world building im sure it would be a lot of logistics and potentially a lot of emotional labor to plot out (like one of them getting kicked out or something because the other is going nuts oof) but also its rotting my brain from the inside out and i need to tell someone else about it x_x

like for yunho, who is typically warm and affable, is now pushed to the edge when faced with the reality of his near insurmountable want. like he has such a finely controlled and cool grip on himself but its so obvious that hes like hungry for it in the force behind his grip. just imagining him like being an ever-present pillar behind mc, firmly talking her through what hes going to do as he chases after whatever his brain comes up with, that she can and will take his pace and whatever he gives because shes just the best and he just loves her so much because hes a romantic like that. yeah hehe haha hoo hoo lol maybe even an lmao im also tipsy and slamming my head into a wall over him have a good night

!! oh what a great question! but thank you for saying you loved the new chapter as well 💘

as far as yunho and mingi in a rut................ click below the cut for a few thoughts....

the lovely part about being in a pack, especially later on when they're actually bonded..... is that ruts wouldn't necessarily send the non-rutting alpha out of the house. with that being the case..... these are some of my rut headcanons for the boys.

yunho in a rut is possessive, protective and has a serious jealous streak. in the week leading up to his rut his hands are constantly on you, squeezing your hips, brushing along your back, and taking your hand in his. the only person that seems to be able to talk to you without him going just a little feral is mingi, even wooyoung isn't safe from his ire when he gives you a hug after practice. when his rut actually starts though, his resolve really starts to crumble, and you don't help him stay in control when you're begging him for a knot underneath him. he tries his best at first to be mindful of you, but he also knows that's what mingi is here for. he's watching over so that you can both lose yourself, and when yunho finally lets go it's with a bruising grip and his cock endlessly inside you. you stay stretched on his knot for days, his cum spilling into you over and over again, promises of pups on yunho's lips.

mingi in a rut is needy, times a thousand, but it doesn't start that way. it starts with him fussing over you in the week or so leading up to his rut in a way that you just know what's in store for you. he's cooking, he's refilling your water, he's trying to get you to sleep more, eat more, relax more. he's following you around constantly and subconsciously in an effort to prepare you for the week to come. ruts can be hard on omegas not in heat, and he knows this, so of course he's going to make sure you're as healthy and hydrated as possible before getting locked in bed. once it hits? he's a grabby mess, he needs every inch of his pack's skin against his. he wants yunho holding you open for him so he can see you both, feel you both. he kisses like its the last time he'll ever get to, and he alternates between coming deep inside you with a knot and painting your skin with rope after rope of his cum. he needs to see you covered by him, full of him, and fully owned by him for his rut to break.

[maverickbabes]

Neteyam taking care of you while you're pregnant

a/n: this is based off my fic 1 +1 =3

When you told Neteyam that you were pregnant, he was excited and elated that you were carrying his child.

"Ma 'teyam, I'm pregnant" You tell him, butterflies in your stomach as you didn't know what his reaction would be.

"Pregnant? As in you are with my child" He asks, shocked written all over his beautiful features as his tail swishes back and forth excitedly.

All you could do was nod as tears streamed down your cheeks and he lets out a chuckle before running over to you and lifts you up into the air, a huge smile on his face.

The first few weeks you guys kept the pregnancy to yourself, wanting to enjoy the feeling for just you two a little while longer.

When you told his family, everyone was happy for you two and Neytiri grabbed you to the side and began helping you plan everything for the baby while Jake talked to Neteyam about fatherhood.

The first trimester was full of mood swings, morning sickness, body aches, many naps and weird food cravings.

The second trimester was a little easier and you were able to get back into your tsahik role which was temporarily filled by Mo'at.

Even though Mo'at told you to go easy on your pregnancy like no flying your ikran, no doing heavy lifting, etc etc; You decided to still fly your ikran as it still needed your love and care.

By the third trimester you were glowing. Your bump was adorable and Neteyam loved giving it kisses whenever he could get the chance too.

"Hi there little prrnen. Daddy can't wait to meet you. Your mama looks stunning by the way" Neteyam coos to your stomach while he lays his head on your tummy.

"I do not look stunning ma 'teyam" You murmur as you run your hands through his braids, playing with the beads.

He looked up at you with a serious face as he placed his hand on your stomach, smiling when he felt the baby move and kick.

"You always look stunning ma yawne, and since your pregnant it just makes it show so much more" He tells you before leaning up and giving you a gentle kiss.

With the help of Mo'at, you did your tsahik tasks while Neteyam did his olo'eyktan tasks.

You unknownly went into labor one day while helping Mo'at with gathering some herbs and flowers.

When the pain got to painful, you both went back to the hut you and Neteyam lived in, Some of the clan members immediately telling their olo'eyktan that his mate was in labor.

You were worried that he wouldn't be there for the birth but he made it just in time while Mo'at was preparing you to give birth.

After what seemed like forever, You gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby girl and you two couldn't be happier.

Sorry this was little long, I got a little excited writing lol

[rukia-writes]

Hercules x (fem) reader

Author’s note: Er… I noticed the phones the god had and thought of Hercules tattoos..🫨🫢 so now y/n has a modern phone in ancient times.

“Did it hurt?”

Tattoos.

Hercules had returned to Thebes, his hometown, completing his twelve labors, after some years had passed with a red fire like tattoo that went from across his torso from his right shoulder to the lower left side of his abdomen.

“Not for me, I have a high tolerance to pain.”

Smiling Hercules gladly showed his tattoo to his childhood crush as she slowly made her way over to the now tall and muscular who was known as one time as Alcides feeling his muscles and getting a close up of his tattoo.

“Well, I think they look…”

Between the muscles, the red hair, with the design of the tattoo (Name) couldn’t help but smile and fangirl inside. Hercules could pick up on the fact that she liked his supposed make over and couldn’t help but blush a little as he did like the attention that stroked his tiny ego a bit.

“…Amazing. How far does the tattoo go?”

“Hm, pardon?”

Due to the excitement Hercules’ childhood crush kindly asked a personal question, that surprised Hercules at first but he quickly got over his shock and answered her question.

“The tattoo stops at my hips. However, the more labors I use the more my tattoos spread…”

Kindly lifting his lion fur kilt exposing his upper thigh making (Name) eyes widen in surprise, eyes not taking off Hercules well toned thigh as he pointed to his upper thigh.

“…I think it stops here. I think. I’m not sure.”

“Hmm… interesting-“

“Hey! If you two are going to be doing that get a room!”

Both Heracles and (Name) kindly jumped a bit at hearing a voice unexpectedly and even worse at recognizing it to be Castor. From behind a tree, a sly smile and pretending to cover his eyes knowing full well the two weren’t doing anything naughty.

But it did look like it from Castor’s point of view.

“We weren’t doing anything! I was just showing (Name) my tattoos.”

The nervous tone in Heracles’ voice made Castor all the more convinced Heracles was shy about being caught. Add in the fact, that (Name) also stuttered over her words just made Castor all the more convinced the two could have been one step from something.

Maybe.

“Nothing goes better together than tattoos and muscles.”

- Unknown.

“How did you do that?”

“I think it was this-Ah!”

A few weeks later, Heracles returned to (Name) back in Thebes to show her a strange device. A device that seemingly captured moments, a cellular phone in modern times. After pressing the screen and capturing Heracles looking at the device in a confused manner the two were surprised.

“Oh, look. That’s me.”

Going from confused to a bright smile Heracles looked at himself on the screen with (Name) also smiling as well. Thinking to herself how wonderful it was to capture moments.

“Okay! Stand right there and pose.”

“Right here?”

“Yeah, yeah. Right there.”

Before long the two were taking pictures all over Thebes, most were relaxed and fun pictures. Some were sneaky pictures of Heracles muscles and tattoos.

The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day, why wouldn’t one capture the loveliness of Heracles smile , muscles and tattoos. While (Name) thought she was sneaky taking the pictures Heracles was aware she was taking pictures and of course made sure to pose when she asked him to do so.

Weeks later.

“It went thru? Oh, Hello (Name)! I can see you!”

“You can?! I can see you too!”

A sweet moment as the two were able to see each other thru two way communication, using the same device Heracles gave her weeks ago. The two talked back and forth, catching up what happened to the in the following.

Ares would catch Hercules sometimes talking on the phone with a smile on his face while seemingly vacuuming the wall, Ares was beyond confused until he realized that Hercules was talking to his crush…

Which seemed to happen a lot.

Hercules vacuuming the wall one day, or the ceiling,walking around his home, changing a completely fine light bulb.

Completely normal.

“You changed your wallpaper again?”

“I did. Isn’t she pretty?”

Not one for shying away Hercules kindly showed off his new wallpaper of him and (Name). Making an “awe” sound Ares smiled at the cute photo, then once the phone received a video call from a familiar woman and wasting no time Hercules quickly snatched his phone away and began talking to the woman on the phone with a smile.

Minding his own business Ares kindly made his way to the door to leave until Ares heard (Name)’s, “What are you wearing.” Proceeded by Hercules becoming flustered as he quickly changed the video call to a phone call. Face as red as his hair Hercules kindly pushed Ares out of the room, Ares’ face was also red.

Hercules tried to come up with an excuse but Ares was able to get the message.

“She wants to see my tattoos-“

“I’ll come back in a hour?”

“An hour is fine.”

❄️Rukia-Writes❄️

[octuscle]

Life in France is amazing ! I couldn't be happier with my handsome boyfriend Claude, holding hands and kissing not caring what people thought of us, living the life in Amiens.

We were on our daily walk around the city when a random sprinkler broke and completely soaked us with water ! The landcapist, a thirty-ish man started to apologize in spanish though I couldn't understand a thing. Luckily Claude had taken some classes after work and after a bit of laughing and joking around everything was fine.

José, as he was called, offered us some exchange clothes, Claude refused but as I was completely wet, clothes heavy and shoes filled with water, I gladly accepted. He gave me some of his spare clothes : thin work pants and a simple white shirt. Both were way to big for me but I wouldn't be wearing them for long, José even offered me to change in the back of his van which I gladly accepted too.

Claude and I rapidly walked back home so we could clean ourselves. He told me I was quite handsome in the Gardening clothes and went right to the bathroom, while I stayed back, thinking about what my boyfriend just said. With a malicious grin I took his phone and opened the app he had shown me last week. We had used it once to have some fun but remained cautious since a single wrong manipulation could seriously mess with our lives.

I selected myself as a target, and activated "Change to fit environment" and set the timer for three days. I then went to Claude's profile and made him oblivious to all the changes. This will be fun ! I took my working clothes off and joined my boyfriend in the shower.

The next day I woke at 5 am, Claude was still sleeping and I myself didn't manage to go back to sleep. That's when it hit me ! I was supposed to work for a big client today ! I knew this memory wasn't mine but I didn't care, I just had to get along and the changes would happen themselves ! Claude was in for a big surprise once I made him aware of the changes again !

I put on my working clothes which were still too big for me and went on my way taking the bus to one of the nicer parts of Amiens where all the rich people lived. On the ride I noticed how my muscles were swelling the closer I got to my destination, my feet were nicely filling my work boots and my shirt was stretched by my chest. My hands and fingers got thicker and meatier, callouses formed on them like I had done a lot of manual labor. I couldn't help but explore my bigger face, pressing my fingers on my plump lips, feeling my shorter hair.

I flexed my swollen arms and stretched my legs, noticing how nicely I fit José's clothes like they were almost made for me. Speaking of José, I could see him stationing our van in front of this massive property. The client wanted us to install a massive colorful flowerbed for some marriage of one of his grandsons. I managed to overhear some bits of conversation, his grandson was gay, and will be marrying another man called Claude, how odd !

José and I went ahead and started digging up the ground. I remembered applying at his company for an apprenticeship, it was hard to communicate at first since he spoke little french, but he was impressed how fast and well I could get the work done, so after my apprenticeship he hired me as a full time employee.

As we were planting the last flowers, the sun was already setting and it was too late for us to drive across the city to go home, so we simply slept in my car, that I had parked there this morning. I sent a rapid text to Claude, letting him know I'd not come home tonight since I needed to finish some work.

The next morning I woke up in José's arms. He held me tight against him and I started panicking a little, we weren't clothed ! But he didn't seem to mind, he just stroked across my stomach, ruffling through the thick hair growing there. This seemed to calm me a little as I turned around and to him in my arms too, resting my head on his. Our legs entangled and we fell asleep again for another hour.

When we woke up again we rapidly changed for work, my body was stretching the pants and the shirt but I didn't mind showing off. In fact I found it quite exciting as I chuckled dumbly. José started to explain to me what needed to be done today and I answered in a lacking french, some Spanish words finding their way in my speech.

As we were trimming hedges big beads of sweat started appearing on my darkening skin, I was now properly tan, as my hair changed from brown to thick black strands. More hair covered my arms, and my legs, making me progressively look more and more like José, except that I was still ten years younger than him. I wanted to let Claude know that I was coming home early today as we had been particularly fast with work today, but then I thought about surprising him with some fresh flowers from the florist around the corner. José told me he wanted to finish watering the flowers we planted yesterday, and told me to go home before him since he didn't need more help. Thanking him, I took my car and drove back home.

The apartment I opened wasn't the one I knew. It was more messy but bigger, tools were lying around here and there, while fresh clothes were strung all around our apartment. I went straight to the bathroom and took a shower first, Claude didn't seem to be home so I then made myself a fast microwave dinner before dropping down In front of the TV. Everything was in Spanish, I had a hard time understanding what all the different characters were saying, but it became more clearer as time went by, I could grasp more and more words and even found myself laughing my ass off at the different jokes that were being made. Soon José came home, kissing me on the lips before going to take a shower. Wait ? Where was Claude ?! I took out my phone and wanted to write to him but it suddenly got smaller and smaller before folding in on itself and becoming one of these older Nokias !

I started to panic as I tried to find his number in the smaller phone ! I couldn't find it anywhere ! I tried to explain the situation to José but he just told me to stop trying to speak French, and that I should stick to Spanish, he couldn't understand a bit ! Not knowing what to do, I lay myself on the couch before rapidly falling asleep.

The next morning I woke up next to my fiancée. Wait, no ! I'm supposed the be with Claude ! I went out of bed but stumbled as my body had changed again overnight. My legs were thick as tree stumps, my arms and biceps had swollen again. I had developed a slight belly too, hiding my abs under a slight layer of fat ! Looking in the mirror revealed an older face, like I had aged ten years during my sleep ! I need to find Claude's phone before the day is over !

I first started to look for our old place, but instead of finding Claude's apartment there was an old lady living there, telling me the last tenant had moved in with his rich boyfriend three years ago ! That's when I remembered the wedding !

I went to my car, speeding to the property we had last worked on, not noticing my vehicle becoming bigger, whiter, transforming into a big van. When I arrived back at the villa I saw Claude holding hands with another man ! I tried to cross the gate but they couldn't understand me ! They didn't even want to let me through ! I need to get to my employers phone before the timer reaches 0 ! I don't want to be stuck as a gardener !

Sequel from @gkutfdvnn to https://www.tumblr.com/octuscle/721304900555915264/my-french-roommate-is-going-through-a-tough?source=share

Whew! This is by far the longest request I've ever received…. And accordingly, it took a bit longer to process. But I'm afraid I can't do much more here either. Claude is as good as married. And José and you, you love each other. I must also say that the result of your transformation is pretty cool. Hermano, ¡te ves bien!

I just changed a few little things on you so that you and José can have a lot of fun.

José is a really good catch! Hermano, hold on to this one as best you can. But since you've been working out more and taking care of your diet, that shouldn't be a problem. Nobody can get out of your arms so easily…

And what you can't do with your arms, you can do with your smile. I admit, this was probably all planned quite differently. But make the best of it. You are an even more beautiful couple than Claude and you were.

[covid-safer-hotties]

As new school year opens, COVID-19 surge forces abrupt classroom closures in the US

In the opening days of the 2024-25 school year, at least two schools were forced to shut down due to SARS-CoV-2 outbreaks. This is only the tip of the iceberg, as 1.3 million Americans are currently being infected daily, and most US schools have yet to reopen. For instance, in New York, Michigan and many other northern states, districts typically start after Labor Day.

On Monday, August 12, Jefferson-Abernathy-Graetz (JAG) High School in Montgomery, Alabama closed, moving to remote learning. Fifteen educators reported COVID-19 infection after last week’s two-day orientation. Officials said they would reassess the situation and possibly reopen the building by Friday, at which point they said masks and disinfectant wipes would be made available to students.

The same day as the Alabama closure, Humboldt schools in western Tennessee called off classes at Stigall Primary. Officials informed parents by letter that the school would be closed for “sanitizing” due to an “uptick in COVID.” A later report said an undisclosed number of students and staff tested positive for COVID-19, while others were symptomatic.

“Everyone’s like, ‘COVID is back, COVID is back’,” said Jessica Williamson, a parent of a first grader at Stigall. “I just feel like it didn’t really go anywhere,” she told local media. “Those are little kids. They’re the most prone to put things in their mouths, to touch each other, to just share germs,” Willamson said.

Why, indeed, is “COVID back”? The response of the Tennessee school to the outbreak provides a partial answer.

The district said it was carrying out a “deep clean, disinfecting every surface,” according to Ginger Carver, the communications director for the school district. She added that teachers and staff would follow protocols to keep the classrooms and common areas disinfected. “When students move from class to class, teachers will be wiping down the desks, the desktop surfaces. They’ll be using disinfectants. Basically, the protocols that we were doing back when COVID was full blown,” she said. Humboldt schools reopened on Wednesday.

In other words, COVID is returning with the new school year because no action is being taken to combat the main cause of COVID transmission, the aerosolization of the virus. Furthermore, schools are being reopened almost immediately despite high community spread.

As scientists have demonstrated and nearly five years of COVID deaths have underscored, the key to fighting COVID is disinfection of the air. Without the use of HEPA filtration in all indoor spaces and other mechanisms, including Far-UV light, schools will dramatically exacerbate the spread of the disease. Despite the use of these methodologies by the ruling elites to protect themselves—at the Davos Economic Summit or at the White House, for instance—no such measures are in place for millions of schoolchildren.

The Biden administration, with the full support of the Republican Party, has deprived schools of the funds necessary to make schools safe and prioritized spending for war. The Elementary and Secondary School Emergency Relief (ESSER) funds allocated to schools beginning in 2020 were purportedly aimed at counteracting COVID. However, they fell far short of addressing the urgently required but costly upgrading of air quality in schools. ESSER amounted to a financial band-aid to districts reeling from decades of budget cuts and inflation.

A House of Representatives study prior to COVID showed that US school buildings were so antiquated and dangerously unsafe that outlays of $145 billion per year were required to modernize and maintain them. The costs of air disinfection would no doubt significantly increase that figure. For its part, the Biden/Harris administration allowed ESSER to end while funneling more than $1 trillion into its rapidly expanding wars against Russia in Ukraine and its military build-up against Iran and China.

Death and disease have been normalized, while mitigation measures as important and effective as masking have been demonized by the right wing among both Republicans and Democrats. This is another reason COVID is back to greet returning students.

An important new study in The Lancet has shown the critical importance of face coverings to prevent transmission in indoor spaces. As Bill Shaw reported on the WSWS:

Face coverings dramatically reduce the load of SARS-CoV-2 in exhaled breath from infected persons. The reductions reached as high as 98 percent, with variations according to the type of face covering worn.

Despite this clear research, neither these schools nor others will require masking when they reopen, spurring new outbreaks of COVID.

Reacting to the new school-related outbreaks, healthcare expert and data analyst Greg Travis posted on X/Twitter Wednesday, “FYI since 2020 more children have died of their SARS-CoV-2 infections … than from all other infectious pathogens COMBINED Stop pretending that SARS-CoV-2 spreading in schools is only a problem for parents, teachers, bus drivers, etc. It is killing kids.”

It is killing and disabling parents, staff and family members as well. JAG High School in Montgomery was the workplace of beloved school custodian Morris Pitts, who died of COVID on November 29, 2020. Pitts was one of eight educators from Montgomery whose lives were taken over a matter of weeks. State, local and federal government officials turned a blind eye to the rampaging virus to keep students in school and parents at work.

The criminal “let it rip” policy of the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) and Biden’s ending of the Public Health Emergency in May 2023 has left the working class abandoned to the ravages of the disease and the growth of Long COVID.

In that vein, Montgomery parents were also instructed—in the most milquetoast language—that when their children develop symptoms, “it’s best to keep them at home.”

Education unions, including the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) and National Education Association (NEA), have said nothing about the inevitable superspread resulting from the beginning of a new school year in the midst of a record summer surge. As their websites testify, the AFT and NEA are instead hyperfocused on getting out the vote for Harris/Walz in November in order to maintain their lucrative role as labor contractors and government partners.

Clare, a member of the Alabama Educators Rank and File Committee who protested the unsafe conditions in schools on the Montgomery County Court House steps in October 2020, denounced the failure of schools and health authorities to protect children. She noted that she is herself currently recovering from the virus and had been told by a Veterans Administration nurse, “Just treat the symptoms.” She angrily related that the nurse “had the nerve to say the common cold is just a variation of coronavirus, an extract of COVID. She refused to test me, telling me people are not dying as before and that I’d be alright. They denied me a test. I think they just don’t want to pay for tests anymore.”

Referring to the Montgomery educators who formed “No Plan, No Personnel” and then the Alabama Educators Rank-and-File Committee, Clare said, “This was the problem from the beginning, they have no plan. They should know we might have to go remote at any time because nothing has been done to make the schools safe.”

Clare said a recent family funeral resulted in at least eight members of her family contracting COVID in the summer surge. Bitterly refuting the claims that the virus has mutated to a mild, non-threatening disease, she said, “I felt like I was dying, I never felt like this before. On my third day, it was not a headache—it felt like a migraine. I had body aches from my head through my spine to my feet. I couldn’t breathe and was nauseous. It’s been two and a half weeks now, and I’m fatigued from just doing simple things. It’s debilitating. I get so tired I can’t even pick up the phone.”

While these two schools have been forced to close, right-wing administrators around the country are vowing to keep schools running no matter the cost. On July 31, Arizona State Superintendent of Education Tom Horne told ABC News that despite the surge across his state, “If anybody talks about closing school, I will fight it as hard as I can.” He added, “Closing of the schools that occurred last time was an unbelievable disaster.” His contemptuous disdain for the health of students and their communities was buttressed by his referencing of the CDC’s prescription to treat COVID “like a common respiratory virus.”

While the fascist right is pushing for prohibitions on school closures and outright anti-vaccination policies, the dismantling of the public health system has been bipartisan. It began with Trump but was then spearheaded by the Biden administration. Both ruling class parties insist that workers should report to work, whether or not they are sick. Under the Biden/Harris administration over 800,000 Americans died from COVID, while millions more suffered debilitating Long COVID, for which the long-term generational impacts of annual reinfections will not be fully grasped for years or decades to come.

The two schools in Tennessee and Alabama are the only sites currently reporting outbreaks, but this has more to do with lack of media coverage than lack of COVID. For instance, in a San Diego high school, the administration sent a cart around with free COVID tests (although well past their 2022 expiration dates).

Another reason for the return of COVID arises from the years of right-wing disinformation campaigns to spread confusion and conspiracy theories within the population, cultivating the most backward and fascistic conceptions. This has resulted in a terrible decline of vaccination rates for all preventable diseases, not just COVID, which will continue to worsen the impact. The share of kindergarten children with a vaccine exemption has increased in 36 states since the pandemic began. Twenty-one states have banned student COVID-19 vaccine mandates, both Republican- and Democratic-dominated states, including Michigan, Ohio, and New Hampshire.

WSWS writer Benjamin Mateus reported on the declining rates of vaccination:

As of May 11, 2024, only 22.5 percent of adults have received an updated COVID vaccine since September 14, 2023. However, for children six months of age through 17, that figure is a deplorable 14.4 percent.

He noted the social impact of these abysmal numbers:

Including the complete abandonment of all mitigation measures, the ongoing surge of infections is being driven by the waning immunity in the population.

The pandemic has revealed the contempt of the ruling elites and both of their political parties, Democrats and Republicans, for the working class. It has exposed the role of the pro-capitalist AFT and NEA, which continue to insist educators work in an unsafe environment and children breathe unsafe air.

Every day, countless people continue to die or be sickened needlessly while mankind has the capacity to end this and future pandemics. The working class must end “Forever COVID” by ending “Forever Capitalism,” taking health and safety into its own hands, and ending the subordination of social life to private profit. Join or build an independent rank-and-file committee at your school or workplace today.

[quitealotofsodapop]

(resending this cuz it seems like some of my asks got deleted)

thank you for posting this ver of the ask, and thanks for the extra responses!

[Macaque having the mega-regret when he finds out all those years later about the Stone Egg, feeling like a dad who wasn't around for their (ex)partner and unborn baby and barely having enough time to adjust when baby arrives.]

considering he just finds out about the baby mere weeks before their born, and only actually starts the path to reconciliation the day before if not the day Wukong goes into labor depending on how long it is between the final battle ending and the campsite scene, he really didn't have a lot of time to get used to the idea of possibly being a dad (not even knowing if he wanted to rebuild his relationship with Wukong until he was un-possessed) until their was already a baby in his arms, but he is forever grateful he made the decision to stay.

that being said, I feel like with him feeling like he missed a lot causes Wukong to have to reassure him often that what really matters is that he's here now, and that as long as he makes the effort to be apart of Yuebei's life now Wukong wouldn't have it any other way. I think Macaque (even if a little wistfully) loves to listen to Wukong telling old pregnancy stories of funny or fond moments he missed. he probably likes hearing stories of bad moments too, so he gets a more full understanding of Wukong's pregnancy experience.

[likely responding to the Samadhi fire like it would consumable dao like; "Hey, can I eat that- OOO NO SPICY!!!").]

Yuebei trying to eat the Samadhi fire is absolutely hilarious, so is Yuebei describing a world ending fire that can tear apart the fabric of reality "spicy" in baby terms. as a baby she tries to chew on Red Son hair "because the spiciness has gone down."

[Wukong's mental health was not good after the ritual]

Wukong def doesn't leave Ao Lie's side for weeks after the ritual to make sure he's okay (I like to think that the fourth ring wasn't a problem at first, but as time passed symptoms started cropping up and then they started getting worse and worse). When the affects of the ring start becoming noticeable and then beginning to worsen Wukong only becomes more distraught. he tries everything to help Ao Lie, but he just keeps getting worse, Wukong apologies at least 200 times everytime they see each other, Ao Lie never blames him for anything. Wukong is there when he dies, Wukong's mental health obviously takes an even worse turn.

[Wukong risked his own baby for them, and the couple don't learn this until centuries later.]

they are both all the more grateful when they finally learn, especially PIF who understands that putting his own baby at risk for hers must have been a difficult decision, so he also has more respect from her because of that. they also chastise him for putting his own baby at risk.

but imagine how they (and Ne Zha) would feel upon learning the reason he slipped was his baby reacting badly to the fire, considering losing control and slipping was something he got a lot of flack for because of the danger it posed.

[Spider Queen turns, only to see Guanyin/Kuan Yin glaring her down like the vengeful goddess she is.]

Spider Queen is losing her mind because of her loss, she turns her attention on her own minions for a moment, they don't react at all because they are used to her temper. all of a sudden, they do start shrinking back and acting scared, Spider Queen's yelling falters as a shadow falls over her. she turns, looks up, and finds herself being stared down by a very angry Guanyin.

SQ gets her ass handed to her.

LBD stays hidden until Guanyin leaves, ot wanting to risk being seen by the vengeful goddess and risk their wrath. SQ trusts her a little more than in og canon because when LBD comes out of hiding she also brings a healing item of some kind to heal SQ from injuries sustained from her beat down from Guanyin.

[Instead of the infamous "OH WUKONG!" while flying overhead at the end of S2, Macaque instead announces hos presence to MK specifically.]

so blatantly ignoring Wukong's presence while the bone demon is practically hovering over his shoulder would be too obvious. he fixes this by only seeming to attack when MK starts trying to talk about him. MK's got Wukong alone on the deck of the airship about to tell him about the shadowplay? "ooooo MK!". Wukong and MK meet up while trying to escape the east sea palace and MK once again tries to warn Wukong about the shadowplay incident? I don't think so. MK: *running out of the east palace* Monkey King, there you are! are you ok? SWK: I'm good bud MK: good, I know I didn't get to explain earlier about Macaque but he- MK: *Macaque's staff skims his hair and embeds itself in the wall behind him* MK: STOP INTERRUPTING ME! MK: *a shadow clone comes out of nowhere to punch him, causing both MK and wukong to scramble* MK: on second thought, maybe I'll just stop talking.

[Wukong gets the drop on him cus it's such a paradoxial offer. If he agrees, his baby will be a lonely little cub in the world like he was + he'll lose all his found family and the world at large. If he refuses, LBD might just decide to aim for the Egg directly, taking away something Wukong has been incubating/nuturing for centuries away from him and using the energy accumilated within to fuel her mech.] + [LBD does not think about feeding Wukong in this timeframe ofc, since in her mind he's an immortal self-sustaining puppet now. It's ultimately what leads to her demise...]

the thought of losing the found family he's managed to gain after spending so long alone makes him falter, he pushed everyone away for centuries until now and he's just started relearning what it's like to have his loved ones around again, he doesn't want to lose them now.

but on the other hand the thought of LBD targeting his egg and using their dao to fuel her mech makes him feel physically sick. he can't afford to lose his egg, not after this long. he'd never recover.

funny, how it ends up being LBD who gets consumed by the egg. how the tables have turned.

as concerning as the egg consuming her initially was, Wukong can't help but smirk and call it hubris.

[You know when the Mayor gets un-possessed by LBD? Think that, but the soul energy is getting eaten like a string of noodles and slurped into Wukong's body.]

that is terrifying, I'm gonna have to draw that now. (as of you seeing this, the drawing has already been submitted)

[The Egg needed Wukong to gain a couple few more family members before it could "hatch" into Baby. XD]

egg was like "troop is here? mate is here now? food is sufficient? now these are prime birth conditions!" *sends Wukong into labor*

[Mac's crying cus he's finally coming to terms with why Wukong hurt him all those years ago + he's meeting his former mate's little cub who looks like him!! He makes a sound akin to a dying squeaky toy when he's asked how he thinks of little Yuebei.]

seeing Yuebei look like him and the joy that brings him and Wukong both is def one of the things that makes it finally click. he so easily could have lost this by his own hand, he could've cost Wukong this. in that moment he not only gets over the whole dying thing completely in an instant, he almost feels glad that Wukong did whatever he had to to ensure little Yuebei's safety, even if it was Macaque himself Wukong had to keep her safe from.

Wukong def thinks Macaque's "dying squeaky toy" reaction to being asked about what he thinks of Yuebei is adorable.

[DBK holds it together until he has Yuebei in his palm. Smaller than even Red Son was as a baby. DBK does one deep breath... and quickly has to pass the baby to PIF cus his eyes have turned into waterfalls. She's so small!!] + [... but holding Yuebei is the first time in a long time she makes a joyful snotty sob. The baby monkey is confused by the bodhisattva's reaction, and tries kissing her tears away. This only makes her honorary aunt/grandmother cry even harder with pride and joy.] + [+Not to mention how hard MK cries when Wukong introduces him to Yuebei as "your honorary big brother". Mei has hundreds of timelapsed photos of MK as his face contorts into an ugly cry as he holds Yuebei for the first time.]

Wukong and Macaque as DBK's sworn brothers def joke that they always knew he was a big softy.

Wukong is laughing at Yuebei trying to kiss Guanyin's tears away whilst also giving Guanyin a big hug.

MK loves that he's being referred to as the big brother, even if only honorary. Mei def has hundreds of photos of everyone's reactions.

[He reminds himself to say sorry to Wukong for not checking if the Buddha's punishment was Stone Monkey friendly. Wukong and Mac laugh him off cus the Gold Star of Venus is currently having his beard nearly yanked off by the playful newborn cub.]

all in all, Gold Star is very happy that it all worked out for them in the end. they are too.

[Azure: "What do you think little cub? Am I not a fine Emperor and guardian? Do you think your mother will warm to being at my side?" Yuebei, hungry, frustrated, and bored: *glares and makes a distinctly "Macaque"-sound as her ears glow* The Brotherhood: "..." Peng: "She must be hard to impress. As any princess ought to be." Azure: *feels a little better* :'3 Yellowtusk the Wise, internally: "I'm telling Guanyin. I am not going to be held responsible for what nonsense Azure gets up to regarding Wukong and the infant."]

it would be even worse considering Yuebei likely has Azure as a "bad voice", so him talking about her Baba would not make her feel any better, even if she can't actually understand what is being said.

Yellowtusk looks at Azure talking about having Wukong at his side at last with an infant (that he was being neglectful of) that so very clearly belonged to Macaque, with Macaque and Wukong seeming to be on good terms these days if Macaque's anger at Azure for imprisoning Wukong in the scroll was anything to off of, and start seeing just how possessive and obsessive Azure really was and just goes "oh, you are a terrible person, actually" and decides that his brothers aren't actually the people he wants to associate himself with.

[If Azure still had a tail, Yuebei would have taken it as a chew toy long before the MKrew (love that name) got there. And Wukong would have let her keep it as a trophy.]

they'd have it like, preserved or something so they could keep letting her use it as a chew toy. if not that then they would have hung it only the mantle place where they've also been keeping LBD's skull for the time being.

Referencing this Slow Boiled Au post.

[considering he just finds out about the baby mere weeks before their born, and only actually starts the path to reconciliation the day before if not the day Wukong goes into labor depending on how long it is between the final battle ending and the campsite scene, he really didn't have a lot of time to get used to the idea of possibly being a dad (not even knowing if he wanted to rebuild his relationship with Wukong until he was un-possessed) until their was already a baby in his arms, but he is forever grateful he made the decision to stay.]

Once Mac learned that Wukong got possessed trying to take down LBD, the shadow monkey almost 99% decided that he wasn't going to lose his King to that bony biotch. And depeneding on how messy the Samadhi Fire ritual goes, the last thing Wukong says to Macaque is along the lines of "You ruined everything!", and Macaque doesn't want those to be the last words he hears his King say...

And ofc the protective Stone Monkey instincts kick in once he sees; 1: His pregnant mate being forced to fight, 2: LBD tossing her human-cub host aside like trash, 3: The kids almost dying trying to control the Samadhi Fire etc...

And soon Macaque started to remember how much him and Wukong discussed Having a family once the war on heaven was over, and how much they both wanted to be parents...

And soon there's a newborn monkey in his arms, and Macaque can't stop smiling and crying at the same time. He's so excited and overjoyed and scared that he isn't sure how to feel.

[that being said, I feel like with him feeling like he missed a lot causes Wukong to have to reassure him often that what really matters is that he's here now, and that as long as he makes the effort to be apart of Yuebei's life now Wukong wouldn't have it any other way. I think Macaque (even if a little wistfully) loves to listen to Wukong telling old pregnancy stories of funny or fond moments he missed. he probably likes hearing stories of bad moments too, so he gets a more full understanding of Wukong's pregnancy experience.]

Macaque says something like: "Sorry I wasn't here for alot of it.", and Wukong just replies like "Eh. You got plenty of time to make it up."

Macaque often asks Wukong "how it was" to be carrying the Stone Egg. especially for so long, and he's always glad to hear Wukong's rambling stories about his odd symptoms ("You couldn't eat peaches?! How did you survive?") and the tales of the many gods and demons that shrunk away nervously when they discovered his condition. Macaque is still shocked that Wukong managed to keep the Egg a secret from PIF and DBK (and most of Heaven) for so long too - and might give him the stinkeye for risking himself and the baby during the Samadhi Fire ritual.

Its also around the time Macaque really has it sink in that; "Oh sh-t. I attacked the Monk and fought Wukong when he was pregnant. No wonder he killed me." He isn't sure how to build himself up to discussing this fact with Wukong yet, but he'll get there.

[Yuebei describing a world ending fire that can tear apart the fabric of reality "spicy" in baby terms. as a baby she tries to chew on Red Son hair "because the spiciness has gone down."]

Red Son holds Yuebei for the first time (after a lot of encouragement from his parents and MK), and the first thing the baby does is tug Red's hair from his ponytail and try chewing it. Red's hair is ruined with baby monkey drool by the time someone gets Yuebei off of him.

Wukong, snorts out a laugh at the sight: "She must like hot food. She tried eating the Samadhi Fire the first time around." Nezha: "She what?!" Wukong: "Oh yeah... didn't tell you that part yet." Nezha, angry flames flaring up: "You mean to tell me that you were "with Stone Egg" during the ritual to separate the Samadhi Fire!? She could have suffered the same fate as Ao Lie!" Wukong, guilt-ridden: "Yeah. Don't remind me. She kicked me non-stop for days afterwards." Yuebei: *tries grabbing Nezha's skates to test the "spicyness"*

Red makes sure to keep his hair covered the next time he sees the cub.

[Wukong def doesn't leave Ao Lie's side for weeks after the ritual to make sure he's okay (I like to think that the fourth ring wasn't a problem at first, but as time passed symptoms started cropping up and then they started getting worse and worse).] + [Wukong apologies at least 200 times everytime they see each other, Ao Lie never blames him for anything. Wukong is there when he dies, Wukong's mental health obviously takes an even worse turn.]

Even being a dragon that could handle flame magic, Ao Lie was ultimately just *one* dragon. One that rarely used his fire magic at all save for the time he acted out at his father pre-Journey. He practiced great self-control in making sure that the Ring he held within didn't start a blaze that spread outwards to hurt his friends.

But in supressing his symptoms, Ao Lie inadvertently hid how much pain he was in from his dearest friends. Wukong knew something was wrong immediately when the infamous White Horse Dragon no longer had the strength nor will to carry even one of his pilgrim brothers. The weakness, the pain, the burning in his joints; it was all to obvious how hard the dragon tried to hide it.

Wukong cries for months after Ao Lie leaves them/passes away. And the dragon's last words to assure his friend that he never blamed him for the accident, nor his baby. Ao Lie was just sad that he'd never be able to meet the cub in this lifetime. He just wants Wukong to stop being so hard on himself for it. If only the dragon he tell him that in person.

[they are both all the more grateful when they finally learn, especially PIF who understands that putting his own baby at risk for hers must have been a difficult decision, so he also has more respect from her because of that. they also chastise him for putting his own baby at risk. but imagine how they (and Ne Zha) would feel upon learning the reason he slipped was his baby reacting badly to the fire, considering losing control and slipping was something he got a lot of flack for because of the danger it posed.]

OH the second PIF hears that Wukong put himself at risk of the Samadhi Fire whilst pregnant - she's flying straight over to shout how "stupid and reckless it is!". But she soon calms down and pulls him into a soft hug, whispering with a single tear (out of range of the kids); "Thank you for saving my baby. Now allow me to protect yours." Wukong was confused but very touched that the Princess recognised the risk he took in helping lil Red Son all those years ago. She knows it was a tough call to make.

When the lotus prince overhears that Sun Wukong has been pregnant "since at least the Journey", he just crumbles at the realisation that Wukong was in fact pregnant during the ritual. Nezha blames himself for not recognising that Wukong was carrying at the time, and even more so how he blamed him for "screwing up!" the ritual whilst distracted. He now realises that the baby was likely reacting to the sudden surge of fire magic and Wukong was in great pain. He def makes an awkward apology once they run into eachother at the start of S3. He refuses to let Wukong get into danger or exert himself tho - Nezha's a momma's boy at heart after all.

[Spider Queen's yelling falters as a shadow falls over her. she turns, looks up, and finds herself being stared down by a very angry Guanyin. SQ gets her ass handed to her.]

Spider Queen hears the sounds of a thousand knuckles cracking and realises that she's looking at the person who might as well be the Monkey King's Mama. SQ ain't even mad by the end of it. She would have done the same (she'd def the kinda mom to beat up her kids' bullies).

I love the imagery of the rest of the Spider Gang just... watching it unfold. They only need a single glare from Guanyin to not step in. LBD is hiding far away atm cus she knows the goddess would recognise her magic at a glance. Or recognise her host as being a possessed little girl and reverse-kidnap her for an exorcism.

LBD only comes out to heal SQ's injuries from the Divine butt-whooping once Quanyin has left. And although SQ kinda trusts the demon a little more, she's far more hesistant to step on the Monkey King's toes than before if his Mama's gonna respond. SQ is a lot more scheming for the rest of S2.

[so blatantly ignoring Wukong's presence while the bone demon is practically hovering over his shoulder would be too obvious. he fixes this by only seeming to attack when MK starts trying to talk about him.]

I can almost imagine Macaque's demeanor becoming especially cold towards the crew, particularly MK. He can't risk Wukong knowing that MK told Macaque about not only the baby, but also how Wukong was pregnant during the Journey. He just wants to grab the Kid, give him to LBD, fufill his contract, and maybe make up for it later when this all blows over.

Macaque from MK's perspective during S3;

But by ignoring Wukong and focusing solely on MK, he still draws Wukong's attention. His sunlight isn't a dumb monkey. He knows what Macaque ignoring somebody looks like (thinking back to the Brotherhood days when Macaque would pretend not to hear Peng's criticisms). And he's still protective over "his cub" whenever MK dodges a shadow attack.

Eventually it comes to a head when they meet just after Lantern City. Macaque is clearly in pain from an icy curse, and isn't saying anything to him. He's aknowledging Nezha sure, but it's like he's pretending Wukong doesn't even exist right now - even as he leaves the King untouched by the powers lended to him by LBD.

Wukong, shouting: "Why are you doing this!? Don't you know that Lady Bone Demon will kill everyone if she gets her hands on the Fire!? Macaque: *silently tries to fly past Wukong towards the ritual sight* Wukong, flying infront of him: "STOP! You've been like this, this whole road trip! Are you possessed? Or are you too much of a coward to look me in the eye!?" (*a small one-sided mid-air fight happens as Wukong beats the everloving crap out of Macaque, slamming him into the rocks below*) Wukong, crying: "C'mon! JUST TALK TO ME!!!" Macaque, sad frown as the ice spreads: "I don't... want to make you choose again." Wukong: "What!? That makes no sense!" Macaque: *goes silent again. Escapes Wukong's hold via shadow portal and books towards the ritual altar*

Odds are Macaque doesn't even force Tang to do the ritual, the ice on his body having spread so much that he can barely whisper "Do it." before the scholar catches on the severity of the situation. Wouldn't be surprised if the shadow monkey stayed with the group afterwards as a "my bad" once the curse was lifted.

Wukong only realises after he confronts LBD and gets her ultimatium what Macaque meant by "choose again"...

[the thought of losing the found family he's managed to gain after spending so long alone makes him falter, he pushed everyone away for centuries until now and he's just started relearning what it's like to have his loved ones around again, he doesn't want to lose them now. but on the other hand the thought of LBD targeting his egg and using their dao to fuel her mech makes him feel physically sick. he can't afford to lose his egg, not after this long. he'd never recover. funny, how it ends up being LBD who gets consumed by the egg. how the tables have turned. as concerning as the egg consuming her initially was, Wukong can't help but smirk and call it hubris.]

In the question of his new family vs his Egg; Wukong would always be left stalling. Wukong def sees LBD'a hubris as her downfall, but admits that she really threw him for a loop when she made the offer. He especially laughs at the fact that the Egg consumed LBD almost in the same fashion it tried absorbing the Samadhi Fire so many years ago - guess his baby found the ancient demoness "less spicy".

BTW I love the art you did for this scene!! Stone Egg had enough of LBD's nonsense and was Hangry, and Bama had spoken some sense into Baba, and now Nom NOM NOMNOM.

[egg was like "troop is here? mate is here now? food is sufficient? now these are prime birth conditions!" *sends Wukong into labor*]

Be post-battle Wukong thinking all his aches and pains are just from his injuries/possession, and not from his baby sending him into extended labor. >:3

Stone Egg knows when the Time is Right. And the troop is all here so... being born time.

[seeing Yuebei look like him and the joy that brings him and Wukong both is def one of the things that makes it finally click. he so easily could have lost this by his own hand, he could've cost Wukong this. in that moment he not only gets over the whole dying thing completely in an instant, he almost feels glad that Wukong did whatever he had to to ensure little Yuebei's safety, even if it was Macaque himself Wukong had to keep her safe from. Wukong def thinks Macaque's "dying squeaky toy" reaction to being asked about what he thinks of Yuebei is adorable.]

Oh gosh Macaque realising that the baby looking like him brings Wukong joy too would make him cry even harder. He almost cost his mate everything by risking the world over his own debt to the Bone demon. Mac would gladly have died all over again if it kept the baby safe.

Wukong, petting Yuebei's big fluffy *glowing* ears: "So cute. What do you think, Plums?" Macaque: *blubbering, dying squeaky toy sound* Wukong, laughing softly: "Me too." *kisses Yuebei's face* Yuebei: *grumpy sleepy coo*

Its a very sappy moment between the pair.

[Wukong and Macaque as DBK's sworn brothers def joke that they always knew he was a big softy. Wukong is laughing at Yuebei trying to kiss Guanyin's tears away whilst also giving Guanyin a big hug. MK loves that he's being referred to as the big brother, even if only honorary. Mei def has hundreds of photos of everyone's reactions.]

PIF isn't far behind her husband either. The tiny precious thing in her arms nearly died in a bid to save her own baby. She plants a big kiss on Yuebei's forehead, forgetting that her lipstick stains. Her husband chuckles, still teary-eyed, at his wife's embarassment at planting a big kiss mark on the baby's head.

Guanyin is at Wukong's bedside, still crying at how beautiful and healthy the long-awaited baby is. And Yuebei is just "why you crying? lemme do the thing everyone did to me when I was crying" and tries planting big wet kisses below Guanyin's eyes. Wukong is just beaming with how sweet the sight is.

MK is having unknown instinctual urge to curl up with Yuebei (his honorary sister) next to the other monkeys. Pigsy laughs that MK did the same with his fave plushie for years.

[it would be even worse considering Yuebei likely has Azure as a "bad voice", so him talking about her Baba would not make her feel any better, even if she can't actually understand what is being said.]

Yuebei has very vague memories of Bad Sounds, like the three Brotherhood hurting her Baba a long time ago. The birdy (Peng, who captured Wukong in the Yin-Yang vase that nearly killed him) gets the fastest response of anger - which only proves to the trio that Macaque is the baby's other parent.

Peng: "Hmph. With these ears, we don't need any guesses on who the other-" Yuebei: *screeches like a banshee when Peng comes closer!* >:O! The Brotherhood: "..." Peng, amused smile: "Though, she's certainly braver than he was." Yuebei: *most intimidating hiss she can muster* Azure, thinking it's like a kitten spitting: "Aww."

Also, Mac is def the kinda guy to use exaggerated versions of the Brotherhood's voices when narrating villain characters in Yuebei's books. The little raspberry noises (or "Boos" as Mac likens them to) she makes at the voices encourages him even further.

With the Brotherhood, Yuebei keeps hearing them talking about her Baba and Bama, and the rest of her troop, but its all in tones that sound super negative and she *hates* it. She just wants her parents!

[Yellowtusk looks at Azure talking about having Wukong at his side at last with an infant (that he was being neglectful of) that so very clearly belonged to Macaque, with Macaque and Wukong seeming to be on good terms these days if Macaque's anger at Azure for imprisoning Wukong in the scroll was anything to off of, and start seeing just how possessive and obsessive Azure really was and just goes "oh, you are a terrible person, actually" and decides that his brothers aren't actually the people he wants to associate himself with.]

By this point Azure is also corrupted by the Emperor's power, so a lot of what he's saying is a mix of geniune yearning, and maddened desire. In the old days, Azure would at least keep these thoughts hidden and focus on the bigger picture. Now he's spiralling down a Caligulan rabbit-hole with Wukong's increasingly-distressed infant in his grasp.

Yellowtusk immediately catches on that this Azure Lion is not the man he called brother anymore. He makes the quick decision to alert someone outside the Celestial Realm for assistance, even if it compromises their successful coup. And considering Yellowtusk is the only one with the sense to feed and bathe the hostage infant, he's not surprised when she turns on Azure and Peng specifically.

[they'd have it like, preserved or something so they could keep letting her use it as a chew toy. if not that then they would have hung it only the mantle place where they've also been keeping LBD's skull for the time being.]

Oh they would have. Wukong def would preserve Azure's tail like a dog's chew toy if Yuebei wanted to keep it. But I think Azure canonically doesn't have a tail - it's not in his design, though in Jttw its's described as "long as a broom". If it were I def see Yuebei throwing Azure around by it like plush toy.

Some of Peng's feathers are stolen too (Yuebei had a mouthful of them) and Macaque and Sandy turned the feathers into a cat toy. Mo and Yuebei both adore it.

[seris-circle]

My Humps

Drew Starkey x femreader

Summary: on his way back from a meeting, Drew finds y/n having a little party.

Warnings: swearing, pregnancy, fluff

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“Whatcha gon' do with all that junk. All that junk inside that trunk?” Is the first thing Drew hears as he opens the front door. He continued to follow the music to the source, leading him to the kitchen where he found you singing along and dancing. He began recording while trying to keep his laughter hidden behind a tight-knit smile.

“My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely li-” you’re cut off when you turn around and realize that Drew is standing there. You cue the alexa to shut off and turn your attention to your fiance.

“Hey babe, didn’t know you were standing there,” you said, sounding a bit out of breath. It wasn’t a surprise since you were now 7 months pregnant. You walked up to him, stepping on your toes to reach for a kiss.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you. I liked the little concert.” He said after you pulled away.

“Yeah, just got a burst of energy and decided to clean.” You smiled. “The music just got me going I guess and distracted me from the task at hand” you continued pointing at the still full sink of dishes. You attempted to walk back to the sink but drew trapped you by wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“You didn’t have to clean, I would’ve done it when I got back” drew responded, nestling his chin on your shoulder and rubbing the bump. He said that because he promised the night before to take care of it because you’ve been feeling sick almost this whole trimester but also because he may feel slightly guilty too. Drew would be leaving for Italy to film for his new movie in a couple days, leaving you alone and pregnant for the next two months. You’ve been ordered for bed rest due to difficulty during the final trimester so far, so going to another country was out of the question. He didn’t know how he was going to do it; being in a different country away from his fiancé, the woman carrying his child, long enough that she could go into labor while he was away. But they have talked it through a dozen times to relieve the stress of the two. You weren't due until the middle of July and drew would be finished by 4th of July, the following week if anything. Your mom is already coming to LA in June, so you won’t be alone and drew already made sure with the directors to leave on the first plane out of Italy at any word of you having contractions, real or not.

“No, I wanted to.” You replied. “I know you said you would last night but this win today felt so refreshing after all the losses the last couple of weeks. I feel alive” you continued, throwing her arms up in the air. Drew released you and you turned to face him.

“You say that now but in a couple hours when little bug here kicks the shit out of you after you just ate another jar of pickles, you are going to be regretting it.” Drew responded , poking your bump. He was right though. Your craving the whole pregnancy has been dill pickles and it has gotten serious, to the point where you’re spending $30 a week on jars. Once you start eating, you can’t stop. Topping a whole jar off in one sitting. Though they were good, the heartburn was crazy. You would feel it rise and the gerd pillow still couldn’t help. It wasn’t until the baby would kick you during this experience that you would get out of bed to chug water. Complaining to drew about how much you are suffering from your own doings would just make him laugh and you get all clingy.

You send him a glare after that remark, “you know what? I think I will stop and let you clean this up just for making that comment.” You said with a cockiness in your tone. He was right which irritated you slightly so you just gave up at this point. “You finish the dishes and make dinner while I burn this energy in another way” you said turning the music back on.

‘Humps’ continued to play and you got back to dancing and singing along. You rubbed your bump to the beat of the part where it was “My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump My lovely lady lumps (lump) My lovely lady lumps my lovely lady lumps (lumps)” You danced in circles around drew, making funny faces to over exaggerate the lyrics. Feeling him up and down as he sat still laughing. As the music kept playing, you got him to join in and you two were dancing in the kitchen. The dishes never got done and you had just ordered takeout instead of drew preparing dinner. You savored moments like this because you knew it would last for a couple of months.