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sceletaflores · 8 days ago

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HEY THERE SUGAR BABY!

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ೃ⁀➷ PAIR: Harry Castillo x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ WC: 10k

ೃ⁀➷ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, smoking, drinking, boss/employee relationship, reader is a personal/executive assistant, very much a work husband/work wife dynamic, inescapable sugar daddy tendencies, no actual sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship despite how the title and previous tag makes it sound lmao, harry castillo is a cool boss, romcom tropes cause i’m feeling romantic, slow dancing, first kiss, heavy petting in a limo, oral sex (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, p in v, porn with way too much fucking plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ NAT’S NOTE: i usually don’t like to write for a new character before i’ve watched the movie but you dangle the idea of a hot billionaire work romance in my face and expect me not to bite at it? i’m just not that strong. also i have zero idea what his actual job in the movie is, i think it’s a basic ass finance bro wall street type job and that bores the hell out of me so he’s an architect because i said so. he's my barbie i can make him do what i want! this whole thing was mainly an excuse to write about my satc, carrie and big vibe slash fantasy but way less toxic. hope y’all love it, mwah!

ೃ⁀➷ NAT’S HEADPHONES: MATERIAL GIRL - Phlotilla

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

an architect and his assistant walk into a gala…

You’ve been working with Harry Castillo for four years, two months, and thirteen days.

You know this because his calendar starts and ends with you.

Your name’s not embossed on the front of the seventy story building sitting pretty on 57th street, not splashed across the cover of Architectural Digest, not signed neatly at the bottom of those pristine renderings that get passed around in glass boardrooms and land multi-million dollar deals.

But you know the build order of every project in the past five fiscal years. You know which of the project managers can’t be trusted with deadlines, which board members need their egos stroked, and every single name attached to each of the contracts spanning across five continents.

You were three years out of school and six months into a soul sucking accounting job that felt more like glorified coffee-fetching with a minor in emotional labor when Harry called.

Well—technically, his HR director called, but Harry noticed you, or noticed your resume stacked with respectable internships and juicy recommendation letters. Or maybe it was the fact that during your third round interview, you corrected one of his junior partners on a misquoted quarterly budget breakdown.

Either way, two weeks later you were standing in a glass top floor office owned by one of the most powerful men in the city.

And yes, you knew who he was before he hired you, of course you did.

Harry had been New York’s golden boy since the early aughts, when his first building went up in Tribeca and every magazine with a spine declared him the second coming of Frank Llyod Wright.

He was a genius, innovative. One of the youngest Pritzker Prize winners in history who got the kind of press coverage that made people think “architect” was synonymous with “celebrity”.

Now, at 47, Harry Castillo is an institution in the world of design.

Castillo Atelier is the best firm in the city, maybe even in the world, depending on which Real Estate Digest cover story you read. His name alone makes most clients practically foam at the mouth and drop seven figures without seeing a single blueprint.

You’ve been his executive assistant longer than it took you to get your shiny Business Administrations degree from Colombia, and if anyone knew Harry better than his mother or his therapist, it was you.

You have every number of his black American Express card memorized, front and back. You have every password to every account imaginable tucked away neatly in a file labeled “BLACKMAIL MATERIAL” on your desktop.

You schedule his life down to the minute, from site visits in Abu Dhabi to dental cleanings in Midtown. You know his shoe size, the name of his best tailor's teenage daughter, which marble supplier he trusts in Verona. You know the entry code to his West Village brownstone and you’re on a first name basis with the doorman at his Fifth Avenue penthouse.

You know he drinks his coffee black but only before noon and he switches to espresso, that he smokes Marlboro Golds even though he swears up and down he’s quit, and that when he’s stressed, he starts sketching towers with spiral staircases that’ll never pass code.

It’s morphed into a strange kind of intimacy. Not romantic, but not exactly a normal boss-employee relationship either.

He's the kind of boss who makes you want to roll your eyes at the word, because it's not that simple—not that sterile.

It's late nights spent in his dimly lit office where he sheds his suit jacket and hands you a perfectly poured wine glass without asking when you're the only two left in the building. It's sitting shoulder to shoulder on a leather couch, going over zoning permits while his arm rests behind you, not on you, but close enough to count.

Harry’s careful with you, in a way that’s not always obvious. He buys you the books you idly mention wanting to read in passing and custom David Yurman earrings fitted with your birthstone. If he was ten years younger and you were ten years dumber, you might’ve mistaken it for something else.

As it is, you just tell yourself he likes spoiling things that work well. Like his thousand dollar espresso machine. Like his Aston Martin. Like you.

You should feel like an accessory.

Instead, you feel like a centerpiece—like you’re the sun that his life revolves around.

You can’t tell which is worse.

Today, like most days, starts with you getting to the office an hour before him.

You take the elevator up to the seventy third floor, unlock his office, and flick on the lights. The space is gorgeous, minimalist in a way that doesn’t ever feel cold. Floor to ceiling windows, sleek dark wood floors, and exposed beams.

There’s an open notebook on his desk from the night before, a few handwritten notes scrawled in sharp, narrow pen strokes that he gave up on halfway through and started sketching in the margins.

You roll your eyes, smothering a fond smile as you walk out of the room and to your own desk. It’s less than six feet from his door, close enough that you can always hear clipped phone calls or the soft sounds of Prince playing from his sound system.

You drop your bag, start up your desktop, and begin triaging the day. Your inbox is in a constant state of full to the brim no matter how good you are at your job—bursting with emails from developers, calendar shifts, a client breakfast cancellation.

The whole office smells like bergamot and bergdorf. Someone sent over a Diptyque candle and Harry hasn’t stopped lighting it. Luckily for you, it’s strong enough to keep the scent of lemony luxury permeating long after it’s been blown out.

It’s still not enough to magically cancel out the stress of pushy demands disguised as business and city bureaucracy, but you can still pretend it is.

You’re bouncing between five open tabs and sending increasingly frantic texts to the head of operations about a late shipment of imported glass by the time you finally hear a soft ding from the elevator followed by crisp footsteps coming your way.

Harry rounds the corner holding a pastry bag, Ray-Bans on, hair still wet from the shower and curling around his ears. “Good morning, sunshine.”

You don’t look up from your screen. “You’re late again.”

“No,” Harry tuts, leaning his hip against your desk and dropping the bag in front of you. “You’re just early.”

“I work here.”

“Funny, so do I.”

“Do you?” You finally look up, brow arched. “I forget.”

He’s wearing that suit. The one that makes your job harder in the most inappropriate HR violating ways. Deep blue pinstripe with the burgundy Gucci tie you handpicked last year. It’s fitted like it had been tailored by the hands of God.

He tilts his head, peering at you over the edge of his glasses. “Is that any way to treat the man who bought you breakfast?”

Your eyes cut to the white paper bag, Mah-Ze-Dahr. You don’t need to look inside it to know what it is, a twenty dollar pistachio crunch croissant. Your favorite.

You don’t have time to respond before Harry drops his glasses on your desk, settling into the chair across from you. “Remind me never to take a meeting in Soho before noon again.”

You set the bag aside and continue typing with a soft shake of your head. “You said that last week, and the week before that.”

“And yet I keep doing it.” He rolls his head on his shoulders with a soft sigh. “That’s insanity, isn’t it? Doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.”

“That’s Einstein,” you say, pointedly ignoring the way he’s looking at you. “Maybe you just like the punishment.”

Harry huffs, amused. “I pay you too much to psychoanalyze me.”

You open a new tab, click on a high priority labeled email and turn your screen in his direction. “Yet you don’t pay me enough to deal with your ex-wife’s lawyer hassling me before seven.”

That certainly gets his attention, his spine straightening as he leans forward, squinting at your screen. “She didn’t.”

You nod, resting your chin on your palm as his eyes flit over the lengthy body. “She did.”

You watched the divorce unfold like everyone else. It was loud, expensive, and painfully public. She was a former model turned gallery owner with a sharp tongue and better connections than half the industry. When she aired Harry out in New York Magazine the tabloids had a fucking field day.

The headlines were vicious. Castillo’s Castle Crumbles. From Manhattan’s Favorite Power Couple to Demolition Duo. Architect of His Own Downfall?

“Christ.” Harry sighs, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. “She promised she’d keep you out of this.”

“She lied.” You turn your screen back around, grabbing a pen to quickly scrawl the lawyer’s number across the front of a Post-It. “She wants her name off the Lakewood project or she’ll go to the press about the Montauk property.”

He drags a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fucking hell.”

You slide the Post-It note across the desk. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

He doesn’t thank you, not out loud, but the way his eyes linger on the note before he tucks it into his jacket pocket says enough.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, and it’s almost a throwaway comment—but his voice dips a little, gets low in that way that always makes you want to chew glass or scream into a designer throw pillow.

You shrug. “You say that a lot, but I don’t see any new raises.”

His grin is lazy, charming. “You know I’d bankrupt this company to keep you.”

You roll your eyes so hard it should count as cardio. “Please don’t. I like having dental.”

Harry laughs—really laughs—and it’s unfair how good it sounds, how it worms under your skin and stays there.

You turn away, forcing the warm feeling in your stomach to the back of your mind, and pivot. “You have a conference call with Dubai at eleven, lunch with the Fairstein developers at Cipriani, and there’s some plans in the Berlin file that still need to be signed.”

Harry nods once, shifting into business mode at the drop of a hat. “Well, I’ve got my marching orders.”

He checks his watch, stands, and straightens his jacket with a lazy kind of grace. You hate the way your eyes catch on the curve of his wrist, the way the cufflink glints in the morning light. Custom Cartier, a gift from some foreign diplomat client last Christmas. You remember because you signed for the delivery. Wrapped it, even.

Just before he steps into his office, he pauses. “I mean it.” His voice softens, and for a flicker of a moment, he looks at you like he’s trying to tell you something without saying it out loud. “This place doesn’t work without you.”

You glance up, heart skipping in your chest, ready with some practiced quip, but he’s already gone—door shut, his silhouette framed behind the frosted glass like a shadow you can’t shake.

This is how it always is—business talk sugarcoated in flirtation, or flirtation buried under years of knowing exactly how the other one works. If he weren’t who he is, and if you weren’t so damn good at ignoring how often he looks at your mouth when you talk, it might’ve gone somewhere dangerous already.

Instead, it lives in the margins. Like the ones he doodles spiral towers into. Like the ones in the secret planner buried in the very bottom drawer of you desk where you write down things like:

Remind Harry to eat something before 3.

Book flights for Hong Kong.

Don’t fall in love with your boss.

That last one’s underlined. Twice.

The rest of the morning floats by, you busy yourself with three different screens and sporadic bites of croissant and sips of coffee until one of the newer interns shows up with the mail.

You thank her and flip through the small mountain of envelopes until one catches your eye. A sleek black one with loopy silver lettering on the front. To Castillo Atelier, with a familiar logo stamped on the corner. You rip the gold seal, and slip the card out.

The AIA New York Chapter cordially invites Harry Castillo & Guest to the prestigious 2025 Architecture Gala | The Metropolitan Museum of Art | Black Tie.

You blink, and read it three more times before a deep sigh rips itself from somewhere deep in your chest. You skim the rest, going over fine print and steadily sighing louder the more you take it in.

You really should have known, it’s around that time. Award season, charity galas, old rich people stuff. Only this year, Harry Castillo and Guest are in separate states, in separate houses, and very much not on speaking terms.

Nor will they be on them in time for Friday night, or any other night in the foreseeable future.

You stand, letter in hand. Your heels click against the floor until you’re standing just outside Harry’s office, mulling over how bad it would reflect on your part if the invitation mysteriously found its way to the bottom of your trash. You knock anyway.

“Come in,” came the reply—his voice low, rough like it always is after the lunch rush, like velvet dragged over concrete.

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Harry is at his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, Dior frames perched halfway down his nose as he looms over the stack of blueprints you left on his desk a few hours ago.

You don’t let yourself look at the tan column of his neck as you lean against the door. “You got a minute.”

He looks up, relaxing in his chair. “For you? Always.”

You hold up the invitation like it’s a warrant, shaking it gently. “You’ve been summoned.”

Harry’s eyes bounce from your own to the thick card stock, you watch the recognition register in his eyes. He sighs, “The gala.”

You nod, crossing your feet in front of you. “You’re being honored.”

He shakes his head with a laugh. “I was hoping they’d forget about me.”

Who possibly could?

You arch your brow. “It’s a lifetime achievement award.”

“I’m not even fifty.”

“Apparently, they’ve run out of old white men to honor.”

Harry chuckles, but it’s a tired sound. He rubs slow circles over his temples, tousling the salt and pepper hair scattered there. “Tell them we’re busy, send a fruit basket.”

You can’t explain the feeling that floods your chest, a mix of something like compassion and pity. It makes your heart ache, just a little bit. Enough to make you really feel it, enough to make you bury it before you can really dwell on why it hurts so much.

Harry puts on a spectacular front, but you know him too well. You know that the divorce has weighed on him, that’s it made him question himself. You know it was a massive shot to his self esteem, as both a person and as a company.

You also know deep down it’s not the company that you care about.

“No.” You shake your head, making your way over to his desk.

He looks up at you, brow raised. “No?”

“No,” you emphasize, setting the invitation down on his desk. “You may think this is pointless, and that you’re too young—”

“Watch it.”

“—But you deserve this,” you finish, tapping a manicured nail on the card. “You deserve a whole room full of people fawning over you for no reason other than the fact that you’re you.”

Harry's eyes find yours again, slower this time. He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you—really looks at you. And for a second, it’s too much. Too focused, too quiet, too…tender. It’s the kind of look that makes your skin prickle, your stomach twist.

But you don’t flinch under the weight of his stare. You never do.

He leans forward, resting his arms on the desk. “Okay.”

You blink. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He nods, lacing his fingers together. “I’ll go.”

It feels anticlimactic somehow. You expected more of a fight—more pushback or maybe even a snide comment about black tie events like this becoming less about the accolades and the charity and more about new wave firms bustling around like show ponies scuffling over who signed the best contract with the most zeros tacked neatly on the end.

Instead, he just says okay. Like it’s simple. Like you aren’t the reason he’s saying yes.

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “Just like that?”

“You make a compelling case." Harry shrugs, reaching for the invitation. “Besides, you know I love it when you compliment me.”

You huff, shaking your head, but you can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth as you lean on his desk. “You’re ridiculous.”

“So I’ve been told.” Harry nods, but he’s smiling wide enough to outdo your own.

He looks down at the invitation, scanning over the text languidly. He hums as he reads, dragging his thumb across the raised font.

You let yourself watch him, cataloging all the details you’ve already memorized a thousand times. Your eyes trace the shape of his brows, the deep set lines that fan out from the corners of his eyes, the strong arch of his nose, the soft curve of his lips.

When he’s done, he taps it against his palm once and looks back at you. “And who, pray tell, is coming as my guest?”

You tilt your head. “I can get you someone,” you offer, even if the words make your stomach churn as you say them. “You want blonde or brunette? Bashful debutante or discreet NDA?”

Harry doesn't answer right away.

He leans back in his chair, looking at you like you're a puzzle he’s not quite finished solving. Like you’re a building he’s still sketching, still drafting, still trying to figure out if the foundation can handle the weight of what he wants to build on top of it.

“I don’t want someone,” he says finally.

The words land softer than you expect, but they still hit like a hammer to the chest.

“You should bring someone,” you deflect, professional, clean. “It’ll look good. The press will be there.”

“I’m aware,” he says, still watching you. “Which is why I don’t want just anyone.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Not with the way his voice sounds—quiet, certain, threaded with a dangerous kind of warmth that makes your pulse kick.

Harry reaches up to slip his glasses off his face. “I don’t want someone,” he says again, voice even. “I want you.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like your pulse doesn’t trip itself up three times over.

You blink. Once. Twice. Then scoff, forcing a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“Come with me.”

It’s too sincere, too heart stoppingly warm.

Your stomach drops. Then flips. Then rises again in the same way an express elevator does at fifty floors a second. “Harry—”

He cuts you off. “Don’t make that face.” He points at you with his glasses, shaking his head. “You’ll look incredible in black tie. And I trust you more than any PR wrangled plus–one they’d set me up with.”

You shake your head, brows pinched. “This isn’t just some client dinner at Nobu I’m playing third wheel at, Harry. This is extremely important. It’s the goddamn Met for architects.”

Harry just smiles, squinting at you. “When have I ever let you feel like a third wheel?”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

You just stare at him, lost for words. The city buzzes beneath you, the familiar noise of traffic and life blending together.

Harry doesn’t look away, he keeps your gaze, quietly drumming his fingers along his desk. It’s infuriating, the way the setting sun bathes him in a soft golden light, illuminating the smile on his face. A smile that makes it clear he knows he’s already won.

It makes you hesitate, the weight of it. Because it would be a date. Maybe not on paper or by any certain labels—but in every meaningful, messy, deliciously complicated way it matters, it would be.

Harry Castillo and guest, you filling the role perfectly.

You hold his gaze for a few moments longer, dragging it out just enough to make it seem like you’re putting up a real fight.

Finally, you cross your arms over your chest with a low sigh. “Okay.”

He cocks his head, smug grin on his lips. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat, raising a shoulder more casually than you feel. “I’ll go.”

“Really?” His tone is suspicious, but his smile doesn't budge. “There’s no catch?”

“You made a compelling case." You push off his desk, smoothing your hands down the front of your pencil skirt. “Besides, you know I love it when you compliment me.”

Harry laughs, a rich, warm sound. “I should’ve known.”

“I’ll need a dress,” you say, slowly making your way to the door. “I think the rest of the evening off should give me plenty of time to find one, don’t you agree, boss?”

Harry shakes his head, easy as anything. “I’ll take care of it.”

You pause, hand on the doorknob. “Tell me you’re not trying to play sugar daddy, the interns are already gossiping.”

He arches a brow. “If the shoe fits.”

“Harry.”

“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands in surrender, another laugh spilling from his chest to make the room just a few degrees warmer. “I’ll handle it. Trust me.”

You roll your eyes, pulling the door open before you do something stupid like smile back. “Do I really have a choice?”

Just as you go to leave, he calls your name—softly. It stops you mid-step.

You glance over your shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything else right away. Just looks at you like you’re something he’s still trying to figure out how to know, even after all this time.

“Thank you,” he says finally. Quiet. Sincere.

Your throat tightens. Not because of the words—even if you give him shit for it, he’s said them before—but because of the way he says them now. Like he means it for more than just the RSVP. Like he means it for staying. For putting up with the late nights, and the stress, and the divorce fallout, and the birthday gifts he forgets until the day of.

You nod, once. “You’re welcome.”

And then you slip out the door before the silence swells too much and gives you away.

You’re not in love with him. Not yet, but something about the way he looked at you—like you were both a solution and a problem—makes your chest ache in a way you don’t quite know how to ignore anymore.

You’ll go to the gala. You’ll wear something ridiculously expensive, if Harry has any say on the matter. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll let yourself enjoy it.

Just a little.

The package arrived that same night.

A man in a suit knocked on your door and had you sign for a box bigger than your work desk. He had to help you drag it into your hallway and denied the tip you tried to give him, assuring you it was already taken care of.

There were no labels on the box, no receipt or return address or anything other than an obnoxiously large gold bow wrapped neatly around all four sides.

Well, that and a note taped to the front.

Your name was written in a familiar, looping handwriting that you’d recognize by touch alone. You peeled it off with careful fingers, and with more ceremony than necessary, flipped it open.

“Make them think I built you myself - H.”

You stared at it for an embarrassingly long amount of time, not bothering to stifle the smile on your lips as you ran your thumb over the ink. You were alone anyway.

The box groaned a little when you finally opened it, layers of black tissue paper rustled softly as you peeled them back.

And there it was.

Midnight blue. Backless. Heavy silk. The kind of thing that knew how to behave under dim lights and the weight of eyes.

You could already feel it—how it would cling to your waist, slip along your thighs when you walked, turn your skin into something luminous. You didn’t even need a mirror.

Of course he picked this one. Of course he knew your size.

You reached for it, fingertips grazing the fabric like it might evaporate, still slightly dazed. There was an overwhelming aura about it—like this wasn’t just a dress, but a thesis.

A statement. An intention, signed and sealed in French seams.

And somehow it still smelled faintly of him. Not in a creepy way. In a way that made you wonder if he’d touched it before it left the boutique. If he’d looked at it and pictured you, just for a moment too long. If he’d smiled when he imagined what you’d say.

You unfolded it like you were handling a newborn, held it against your body and turned toward the hallway mirror, half laughing at yourself, heat rising to your cheeks.

You turned this way and that, staring at your reflection in the dim light, pretending—just for a second—that he was behind you, watching.

Your phone buzzed on the counter. One sharp vibration, tearing you out of your little fantasy world and back to the present.

You crossed the room still holding the dress to your chest, and bit your lip when you saw his name at the very top of your screen.

Hairy

Try not to cause a scene unless you want to make headlines. I’d like to keep your promotion rumor free, for now.

You laughed softly, thumb hovering above the keyboard for just a moment before you started typing.

You know this is deranged behavior, right?

You hit send before you could overthink it, watched the read receipt pop up a second later before the three little bubbles came to life.

They vanished, then reappeared.

Hairy

I’m aware.

But I have impeccable taste. That absolves me of quite a lot.

See you at 8.

You swore softly under your breath and set the phone down like it was overheating.

You looked back at the dress. At the mirror.

God help you—you were going to wear the hell out of it.

Friday comes both too fast and too slow.

You glide through the whole rest of the week pretending this is normal—just another event, just another night of shaking hands and schmoozing.

You tell yourself it doesn't mean anything, but the butterflies in your stomach don’t listen quite as well.

You hardly see Harry at work, most of his time spent across town busy with clients like he always is near the end of the week. You can’t tell if it would have helped or hindered your nerves to see him before you both showed up to one of the most prestigious events held in his field, together.

Maybe it’s better this way.

Now, you’ve spent the better part of the evening after work pacing the floor of your apartment in a silk robe, nerves reaching a fever pitch.

Your phone is blowing up from its spot next to you on your vanity with calendar alerts and panicked texts from Harry about the misplacement of a single Prada tie he just has to wear even though he has hundreds of others to choose from lining an entire wall of his walk-in. You know that, you’re the one who hung them.

You do your hair and makeup on what feels like auto–pilot, the playlist you put on to distract you playing softly in the background until your phone lights up again, buzzing with a text that cuts through the static like a wire to your nerves.

Hairy

Found the tie, crisis averted.

Just need you now. Be there in 15.

You take a deep breath, exhaling through your nose and sending a quick thumbs up before you're standing on shaky legs.

The dress has been hung safely on the back of your bedroom door since you unboxed it. You take a second to just stare at it, before reaching for it with reverence, like touching it too fast might break the spell of the whole evening.

It slips from the hanger like water through your fingers, the fabric heavier than you remembered, or maybe that’s just the weight of new expectations.

You slide it on slowly, smoothing it over your hips, tugging the zipper up with a practiced hand. It fits perfectly, almost like it was made to your exact measurements.

Your reflection stares back at you in the mirror. You barely recognize her. Poised, elegant, flushed with anticipation. You look like someone who belongs next to a man like Harry Castillo.

The thought alone makes your pulse thrum a little faster.

You swipe on lipstick last—something deep and sultry, a few shades bolder than you usually wear, because tonight is different.

You’re not just the assistant tonight. You’re his date. Sort of. Kind of. Not really.

But he asked you to come, he wanted you there, with him.

The buzzer sounding from your door slices through your thoughts.

With one last deep breath, you grab your phone, your keys, and the clutch you’re borrowing from a fashion editor you sometimes get drunk with at Bemelmans, and you walk out the door.

The click of your heels echo as you make your way down the hall to the elevator.

Harry is the first thing you see as the doors to your building slide open.

He’s leaning against the limo waiting for you, the door open next to him as a cigarette dangles between his fingers. He looks like he stepped straight out of a GQ spread. His Kiton suit fits him like a glove, the charcoal velvet hugging broad shoulders and tapering at the waist like it was stitched directly onto him.

You make your way down the stairs until you’re standing on the pavement. Harry looks up at the sound of footsteps.

The cigarette stops halfway to his mouth.

For a moment, he just stares.

You can feel his eyes on your body like a caress, ghosting from your heels all the way up to the Cartier necklace he bought you after you saved a merger in Thailand, resting gently on your collarbones.

The silence stretches, taut like a violin string.

You clear your throat, fighting the urge to squirm on the spot. “Is it too much?”

Harry blinks, like the sound of your voice broke him out of a trance. “No,” he breathes, shaking his head distractedly. “It’s perfect.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, fluttering wildly like a Monarch trapped beneath a mason jar. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Castillo,” you murmur, trying for playful, but your voice comes out too soft, too breathy.

He smiles at that—slow, crooked, absolutely devastating. The kind of smile that makes your knees a little weaker than heels this high should allow.

“Well,” he says, flicking his cigarette into a nearby trash can. “We’re already late, we might as well make an entrance.”

Harry offers you his hand, and without thinking, you take it.

“We might as well.”

The Met is bathed in glowing opulence—decked in gold and white, chandeliers like constellations above you. There’s jazz swelling from a live quartet near the Temple of Dendur and the room comes alive with it.

You glide through marble halls on his arm, greeting developers and designers and too rich donors who want nothing more than to be photographed with nights' most respected attendant.

Harry is a natural here—effortless. He laughs, he charms, he plays the part of the adored genius.

You also play your role perfectly.

You smile. You exchange polite hugs and shake hands. You whisper names into his ear just before he needs them.

The two of you work the room like a well oiled machine. Not a screw out of place.

“You do realize they all think I’m sleeping with you,” you murmur as you pass a table full of ancient structural engineers throwing pointed looks at the two of you.

“Let them,” he says, not missing a beat.

“Isn’t that bad for business?”

Harry looks at you sideways. “Who’s going to call us on it?”

You don’t answer. You don’t look away either.

There’s champagne, and a brief moment where a reporter mistakes you for his fiancée. Harry doesn’t correct her. You do, of course, all while violently fighting the heat crawling up your neck. You don’t miss the way his mouth quirks when you do.

Dinner is some overly fussed beet amuse-bouche followed by lamb you barely taste. You’re seated next to Harry at the center of a table surrounded by board members and art world fixtures who all speak in the same Upper East Side cadence that makes everything sound like a question and an insult.

But Harry listens to you. He lets you finish your thoughts. He asks you what you think of the new public art installation in Battery Park and snorts when you call it “egregiously derivative” even when the rest of the table frowns.

“You’re such a snob,” he murmurs, voice low against the shell of your ear.

You smile behind your glass. “And yet here I am, slumming it with my boss.”

He grins bright enough to rival the candle light. “Lucky me.”

At some point, about halfway through a debate about the authenticity of modernism in design, you notice the way his knee brushes against yours under the table and stays there. You don’t move. He doesn’t either.

It’s become a theme. The touch. The contact.

Harry kept his hand on the small of your back most of the night, it was practically glued to the spot before dinner began. This is no different, except for the fact that this touch is hidden. It's shielded from the prying eyes of members and photographers and reporters.

It’s just for you.

The awards are handed out shortly after.

Harry’s name echoes across the room to rounds and rounds of applause. The speech is short, tasteful, elegant, moving. He stands under a golden spotlight and says something about legacy, about cities and their hearts and how architecture is just the blueprint of human longing.

You watch him from your seat at the table, heart caught in your throat. He looks radiant on stage, confident and alive in a way you haven't seen in months.

You clap until your palms sting.

When the speech is over, he doesn't have a foot off the stage before many of the other attendees swarm him. You let out a slow breath as you watch him receive hugs and kisses and claps on the back.

You only slip out onto the terrace when everyone at your table has left to join in, clutch in hand.

The cool night breeze is a welcome escape, soothing as it blows across the bare expanse of your skin and seeps into the rich fabric of your dress.

It’s not that you weren’t enjoying yourself, that you weren’t enjoying watching Harry. You just found it, almost hard to breathe all of a sudden. The range of different emotions swirling through your stomach certainly didn’t help, but that was a problem you could repress and compartmentalize for sometime in the near future.

You’re maybe five minutes into your emergency cigarette when he finds you, your heels kicked off as you sit on a marble bench.

“You never smoke.” he says, setting his award down next to you and plucking the cigarette from between your fingers, taking his own slow drag. His lips seal directly over where your own were just a second ago, circling the ruddy lipstick stain wrapped around the filter.

You look out to the city, exhaling a steady stream grey. “I also don’t usually wear a custom made, six thousand dollar dress or fake laugh at old men who won’t stop calling me ‘darling’ while they openly stare at my tits.”

Harry hums at that, amused, the smoke curling lazily from his lips as he tips his head back to look at the sky. “You handled it like a pro, you were brilliant tonight.”

He holds out the cigarette, reddened embers float down from the tip, losing color as they fall until they’re nothing but a black speck on the pristine sea of white beneath your feet.

You take it, your fingers brushing against his. “I’m very good at pretending.”

His eyes shift to you, the kind of look in them that settles somewhere deep and heavy in your chest. “I know.”

There’s a beat of quiet between you, filled only by the wind brushing through the terrace hedges and the distant echo of jazz from inside. The city glimmers out past the railing, a mirage of light and motion.

You clear your throat, raising the cigarette to your lips. “You didn’t have to come find me.”

“I know,” he says again, softly this time. “But I wanted to.”

You turn to face him fully. “Because you couldn’t remember Natalie Rebuck’s name, or because you were worried I’d throw myself off the balcony?”

He doesn’t smile. He looks at you too seriously for either of those to be one off jokes. “Because you’re the only person I wanted to see.”

That stills everything in you. Just—stills it.

There’s nothing ironic about the way he says it. It’s not teasing, not playful. Just a quiet truth. And somehow, that’s more disarming than anything else he could’ve said.

“You saw me fifteen minutes ago,” you manage, your voice not quite as sharp as you want it to be.

“Yeah.” He shrugs and says it again, slower this time. “And I missed you.”

It’s that same tone. Soft, reserved. Gentle enough that it makes you feel like the only person in the world and sick to your stomach all at once. The cigarette hangs limply by your side, dwindling to nothing between your fingers. You wonder, idly and far too late, if you can even smoke in a dress like this.

The silence stretches on like taffy. You’re just about to respond when the music starts up again inside. It’s something old and very romantic. Maybe Sinatra, or Ella. You can’t quite place it.

Harry seems to, perking up instantly. He glances through the open door, where many couples inside are pairing off and filling the dance floor one by one. He looks back at you, eyes glinting dangerously under the terrace lights. “Dance with me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bursts from your chest, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“I just won a very important and highly coveted award given out only once every single year.” He takes a step closer, offering you his hand. “You’re telling me I don’t get one dance?”

You shake your head, inching back the tiniest bit. “I don’t dance with my boss.”

He winks, warmth sparking to life in his eyes just beside the glow of the lights. “Good thing I’m off the clock.”

You stare down at his outstretched hand for a second too long, lips parted in soft protest, breath caught somewhere behind your ribs. There’s something so deeply unfair about the way he’s always been able to make you feel like the only woman in a city of millions. Even now. Especially now.

You give him your hand.

You still hesitate even as you stand and slip your heels back on. You glance at the terrace doors and wearily eye what feels like a sea of people. “Out here?”

“No,” he says, turning your hand over in his and brushing his thumb along your pulse point like it’s nothing. “Inside. Just one song.”

You give him your hand.

You hesitate again. Not because you don’t want to, but because you do. Too much. And that terrifies you.

But then his hand tightens just slightly around your wrist, grounding you. His palm is warm, and you realize—of course he knows. He always knows. Knows how to read a room, read a blueprint, read you. Better than he probably should.

He tugs gently, and you let him lead you back inside.

The terrace doors hush closed behind you and the city disappears, replaced again by the ambient, golden warmth of the Met’s grand hall. You weave through the swaying bodies with ease, like they part from the sheer energy you must be oozing as you find a spot in the center of the room.

Harry draws you in close.

Too close for coworkers. Too close for anything you could explain away come Monday. But not close enough for the ache it sparks low in your belly. One hand finds the dip of your waist, the other laces your fingers in his. His touch is elegant. Familiar. A little too knowing.

You slide your arm around his neck and let him sway you into the rhythm. You’re too aware of every point of contact. The velvety fabric of his tuxedo beneath your hand. The graze of your thigh against his leg. The way he smells—Tom Ford, Tobacco Vanille. But there’s something else, something hidden under it that’s just Harry.

The rhythm is slow. Intimate. His hand is an inescapable plane of heat on your back, just beneath the dip of the dress, the pad of his thumb draws tiny, absent circles against your spine.

He hums the melody under his breath as you move together, you can feel the deep rumble of it against your chest.

“You’re trembling,” he says suddenly, quietly—whispered against the shell of your ear.

“No I’m not,” you lie, pulling back to meet his gaze. “It’s probably the nicotine.”

Harry laughs, the corners of his eye crinkle endearingly as he does. “Is it?”

You nod. “It is.”

The music hums all around you, but you hardly hear it. It fades away into the soft air of complete nothingness, same as all the people around you wane and dwindle until you’re almost certain you and Harry are the only two left standing.

You can’t break away from the weight of his gaze, drawn to it like heavy metal to a magnet. His gaze sweeps across every inch of your face, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, so softly it nearly melts into the melody. “You always do, but tonight…” His voice tapers off as if he can’t quite land on the word. He doesn’t need to.

“Harry…”

He shakes his head. “I mean it, you are absolutely gorgeous.” He spins the both of you slowly, his eyes never straying from you. “And that’s the least interesting thing about you.”

It feels like a physical blow, but it lands in the softest way possible. His words wash over your skin feels a million times more luxurious than the miles of silk encompassing you.

You wonder if this is how it starts—not with fireworks, but with slow dancing in a museum full of strangers with your boss whispering something like worship in the space between you.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

“Well,” you reply, voice shaking and almost far away. “You did hire me because my resume reads like a Vogue spread. You said it yourself, the firm doesn’t work without me.”

It should ruin the moment, bringing up work—where your relationship actually stands in the real world, outside of this fantasy of a night—but Harry doesn’t let it.

He just shakes his head, brows pinched together like he’s deep in thought. His hand tightens around yours, he’s so close now that you can feel the steady beat of his heart.

Can he feel yours?

“When I look at you, and I think of all that you are…” Harry trails off again, the chocolate brown of his eyes shining under the twinkling lights as he holds your gaze. “That doesn’t even cross my mind.”

Your breath stutters, and you know—you know—that if you speak, it’ll all come tumbling out. Everything you’ve been trying not to say, not to want. The feelings you’ve tried to laugh away or roll your eyes at or bury under hundreds of deadlines and calendar alerts buzzing from two separate phones and all the plethora of ways you’ve told yourself this can’t happen.

“I…”

And then he kisses you.

And then you can’t speak at all.

It’s slow at first, but not hesitant, not unsure—deliberate. Harry kisses you like he’s been carving space for it, like it’s been trapped in him for too long. His lips are soft, but sure, coaxing rather than claiming.

His hand slides from your waist all the way up to cradle your jaw, leaving behind a trail of heat along the plane of your spine. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, you can feel the faint callous left behind by countless pens and pencils.

Your hands bury themselves in the soft curls of his hair as you melt into his body. It’s so simple, the shift. You’ve spent so long running, so long lost in the dark waters of denial that you almost can’t believe how easy it is—how perfectly you fit together.

It’s like the last piece of a puzzle finally falling into place, slotting into all the others that came before it.

Harry exhales shakily, lips barely parting from your own. “Christ,” he whispers, forehead touching yours. “You’re—”

You kiss him again before he can finish.

His lips part under yours with a sigh that borders on desperate, and the heat crackles between you now, undeniable. Dizzying. When your mouth opens to him in turn, he groans low in his throat, like the first taste of you has broken something open inside him.

Slow becomes hungry. Your hand slides to his jaw, thumb brushing the rough edge of stubble. He tastes like champagne and citrus and the heady edge of smoke

The kiss turns molten under your fingertips.

You feel it in your knees, in your chest, in your core—the sharp, sudden ache of need blooming within you that has nothing to do with polite society.

When you finally pull apart, it’s only because air insists you do.

Harry rests his forehead against yours once again, his eyes still closed when yours slip open. His cheeks are flushed, his lips slick and smeared with the barest hint of your lipstick. You can feel his breath puff over your skin in short, quick pants that you match.

He opens his eyes, and your knees nearly buckle at the look in them. His pupils are blown, wide and black as ink under the lights. Your pulse is a drum in your throat, beating just as loud and fast in your ears.

He swallows hard. “We should leave.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s just as firm. “Yes.”

The ride back to the office is a blur.

You’re not even sure how Harry got you out of the Met so quickly, how you made it past the new swarm of admirers once again trying to shake his hand or take a photo or congratulate him.

The limo was already waiting by the time you made it out the doors. You barely remember the valet, just the cool feeling of the seats beneath your thighs and the sharp click of the partition going up behind Harry’s head.

His eyes pin you to your seat, hot and heavy and impossibly dark as the hum of the engine carries you through the city, velvet wrapped and haloed in streetlight.

He hasn’t even touched you yet, not really, but your skin feels like it’s blistering beneath your dress—your pulse high, your thighs pressed tight together in anticipation that makes your stomach twist and flutter.

“Come here,” Harry says, voice low, rasped from restraint and heavy need.

Two words. That’s all he says.

Your legs move before your brain catches up, straddling him in the backseat like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hands come to your waist as you settle into his lap, and fuck—he’s hard already, thick and burning a plane of heat against your high.

“You have no idea,” he breathes against your neck, mouthing at the skin just under your ear, “what you do to me.”

“Tell me,” you whisper, even as your eyes slip shut, hips rolling forward instinctively against him

Harry groans—deep and pained and real. “You walk into a room and I can’t think. Not clearly. Not rationally. It’s all static, it’s all you. Your eyes, your mouth, your fucking mind—” He nips your jaw, tongue chasing the sting. “You kill me.”

You moan, your hands digging into the strong muscle of his back. It draws a ragged growl from Harry’s throat, his fingers twitching on your hips.

“Are you wet for me?”

You’re nodding your head before you even realize it. “Yes.”

He curses under his breath, burying his nose in the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “I haven’t even touched you properly, and you’re already making a mess.” His voice is rough velvet, soaked in lust. “What do you think that says about you, sweetheart?”

“That I want you,” you breathe, already half-gone. “So fucking badly, Harry.”

Harry lets out a slow breath through his nose, his touch slides down your thighs, bunching your dress. “What I want…” He trails off, slipping his hand under your skirt. You gasp as his fingers skim the waist of your panties. “is to spread you open, taste how needy you are. I want to make you come with my mouth before I even think about fucking you.”

His fingers brush over the soaked center of your panties and he groans, low and dark. “Fuck.” He presses the pads of his fingers into you through the fabric—just enough pressure to tease, to leave you gasping. “This all for me?”

You whine, high and light in the back of your throat as you nod frantically. That’s not enough for Harry.

His eyes narrow, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Use your words, baby. Who made you this wet?”

“You,” you whisper. “You did.”

“That’s right.” He slides the lace aside to run two fingers through your folds slowly. Your hips jolt, and he grins against your throat.

Your head drops against his shoulder, hips bucking against his fingers. He holds you in place with an iron grip, not letting you grind down for friction just yet. You feel the twitch of his cock beneath you, straining against the fabric of his tuxedo pants.

“Harry—” you gasp, breath breaking as he circles your clit with the barest pressure. Just enough to tease.

“Mm, I know,” he murmurs, kissing your throat. “I know what you need, but not yet. I want you squirming by the time we get to the office. Can you be good for me and wait, hm?”

Your stomach clenches in anticipation, your cunt throbbing between your legs. You’re not sure how much more desperate you can get, grinding on your boss in the back of a limo while his hand is up your skirt seems like the highest form of desperation.

Still…

You nod—barely—because your throat is tight with need, but Harry clicks his tongue.

“I said use your words.” It’s not mean, the demand. The tone of his voice. It’s strong, rich with the same power and authority you’ve seen countless times over the past few years.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’ll be good. I’ll wait.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth over your jaw like he’s proud of you, like he’s already rewarding obedience.

He keeps his hand there the whole drive—just resting. No pressure. No movement. Just the heat of his skin against your soaked center, the weight of his hand where you need it most, while the city blurs past the tinted glass. It’s maddening.

Every bump in the road jolts you slightly. Every turn shifts your hips, makes his fingertips graze your clit. It’s not enough. It’s torture. You bite your lip raw trying not to move, not to grind down and take what you want.

It would be so easy, you’re pathetically close to the edge as is.

But you told Harry yes, breathed it against his shoulder in soft surrender.

You promised to be good, and you’re dying to see what it gets you.

Getting up to Harry’s office is a mess of stumbling feet and frantic hands that refused to stop touching any longer than they have to.

Harry kisses you against the door, your back pressed to the frosted glass. His mouth is hot and hungry and unrelenting, like he’s trying to make up for the months of waiting with every glide of his tongue.

You’re the one who breaks away just long enough to fumble for the keycard clipped inside his jacket, but Harry’s already sliding it free with one hand while the other stays around your waist.

The lock beeps open and you stumble through the door, breath ragged, dress askew. Harry kicks it shut behind you, his lips never leaving yours as he walks you backwards until the tops of your thighs hit his desk.

You barely have time to gasp before you're lifted—effortless—onto the surface of his desk, papers fluttering to the floor beneath you as he spreads your legs apart with both hands.

“Lean back,” he says hoarsely, helping you as your hands fumble for balance. The cold glass of the desk kisses your palms. “Let me see you.”

Your dress is hiked up around your waist, pooling all around you like ink, your thighs parted. Harry looks at you like he’s starved. His eyes drag up your body like a man measuring the cost of ruin and deciding to pay it gladly.

He makes quick work of his jacket, only needing to shuck it off his shoulders after you made quick work of the buttons back in the elevator. He collapses back into his chair with a shaky breath, sliding in between your legs.

His hands find the waistband of your ruined panties, eyes glued to your core as he peels them down your legs. “Fuck,” he mumbles, running his index finger through the wet mess that greets him. He kisses the inside of your thigh once, then higher, and higher. “So beautiful.”

His mouth is on you in a second—hot, wet, consuming.

He licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning like he’s tasting something decadent.

“Shit.” Your moan is loud, hips jolting off the desk. “Harry—”

“Christ,” he groans against you. “You taste—Jesus. I could stay here all night.”

He takes your legs in his hands, throws them over his shoulders and he devours you—there’s no other word for it. Messy, greedy, reverent. His tongue works in tight, filthy circles, alternating pressure, pulling gasp after gasp from your throat.

He sucks your clit, slow and deep, lips sealing over it and pulling it into his mouth. His tongue flicks once, twice, and your hips jolt off the desk.

“Fuck, yes—right there—don’t stop—”

His hands spread your thighs wider, thumbs digging into soft flesh as he groans into you, like you’re the thing getting him off.

Your head falls back with a cry, hands burying themselves in his hair. “God—Harry—”

“That’s it,” he mutters against you, voice vibrating into your core. “Use my mouth. Take what you need.”

You don’t even realize you’re doing it—rocking forward, grinding down on his face like it’s instinct. His nose bumps your clit perfectly, the stubble on his jaw sending aftershocks through your skin. He hums with satisfaction, like he knew you’d lose control, like he wanted it.

You’re already squirming, already close all over again. Your head lolls back as you cry out, desperate and high and wanton.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice muffled. “Right here. I need your eyes on me, honey.”

You do.

You look down and see him between your thighs, hair mussed, lips slick, eyes nearly black. He’s never looked more beautiful. Or more ruined.

Your fingers tighten in his curls, yanking—he groans like he likes it, grinding his mouth harder against you, tongue flicking over your clit until you cry out, arching into his face.

“Harry—Harry, I’m gonna—”

“Come,” he commands. “Let go for me.”

And you do.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave—sharp and blinding. You cry out, thighs trembling, nails digging into the wood of the desk as Harry keeps licking you through it, gentle now, savoring every second.

Only then does he pull back, licking his lips like he’s just finished dessert. He rises to his feet slowly, towering above you.

“Beautiful,” he pants, voice rough and heartbreakingly earnest. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You can barely breathe, your chest rising and falling with every sharp inhale. But you still reach for him, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt. “Please.”

Harry doesn’t hesitate. He undoes his belt with one hand, the other bracing beside your head as he kisses you again—filthy, deep, you taste yourself on his tongue. “I need to be inside you,” he says, voice wrecked. “Now.”

You shift, moving to turn onto your stomach.

“No,” he says sharply, hands tightening on your hips. “No, I want to see you.”

Your lips part on a soft breath, something dangerous squirming to life under your skin. “Okay…”

The sound of his zipper rings in your ears, and you glance down just in time to see his cock freed from the soaked cotton of his boxers. It’s thick and flushed, rosy tip already slick with precome. Your breath catches when he strokes it once, twice, eyes pinned to your cunt like he’s imagining exactly how you’ll take it.

“You ready?” he asks, soft again, lining himself up with your shaking entrance. “I need you to say it.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Harry.”

He pushes in slowly—so slowly—and your back arches, a shocked moan catching in your throat at the sheer stretch of him. He’s thick, unrelenting, and your body clamps down around him greedily.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

You gasp, nails digging into his arms as he fills you. “Oh god—Harry—”

“That’s it,” he groans, teeth gritted as he bottoms out. “That’s my girl. Taking me so fucking well.”

He doesn’t wait long after that. The first thrust is slow, the second is harder. By the third he’s fucking into you like he can’t get deep enough, the desk creaking beneath you, the sound of skin on skin filling the dim office air.

You clutch at him, gasping as he hits every spot that makes you see stars.

Harry fucks you with purpose, with hunger, but he never loses that softness—his thumb on your cheek, his lips pressing kisses to your jaw, your shoulder, the hollow of your neck, the swell of your breast. He cradles your head in his hands so you don’t knock it into the glass.

It’s all too much. Too much and not enough.

It feels like home, like this is where you should have been instead of running every chance you got, like a coward. Your hands dig into his shoulder, his name falling from your lips over and over.

“Yes.” He kisses you again, bruising and messy like he’s trying to taste the way it sounds right off your tongue. “Say my name.”

“Harry—fuck—Harry!”

“That’s it,” he growls, fucking into you faster now, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the office. “You’re mine now, aren't you? You're finally going to let me have you?”

“Yes—yes—oh my god—”

“Say it.”

“I'm yours, Harry—yours—fuck, I’m—”

He pulls you tight against him, fucking you so deep it’s like he’s imprinting himself inside you. “Come for me, sweetheart. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You come with a sob, clenching around him, unraveling completely beneath his weight and his words and the unbearable sweetness in his eyes as he watches you fall apart.

“I’m gonna come,” he grits out, thrusts growing erratic. “Where do you want it, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you whisper. “Want to feel it. Please, Harry…”

That’s all he needs.

He spills inside you with a groan—deep and raw—thrusting once, twice more before spilling into you, his mouth dropping to your shoulder with a quiet, reverent moan of your name.

New York’s skyline shines through the window, bathing you both in a shimmering light.

The only sounds filling the office are the light, gentle breaths as you both come down. The dull hum of the city underscores it, muted and fuzzy around the edges.

Harry’s hands don’t stray from your hips, his thumbs absentmindedly draw small circles over your bare skin. The night plays through your mind in flashbacks, each snapshot of all the moments where things shifted like a slideshow behind your eyes.

The stairs of your building, the touch of his hand on your back, the looks from across the room, the terrace.

“Fuck,” you say suddenly, raising your head off the desk in alarm. “Harry, your award. You left it on the terrace.”

It’s quiet, until his shoulders start to shake and the unmistakable sound of laughter fills the space between you.

“It’s not funny!” You slap his shoulder, but you’re still smiling. “That was the whole fucking point of tonight.”

Harry lifts his head, meeting your gaze. “Was it?”

You look back, puzzled. “Wasn’t it.”

Harry chuckles again, shaking his head fondly. He leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, slow and indulgent. “I’ve already got the only thing I wanted tonight.”

Your heart does a small, dangerous thing in your chest. “Well, this is definitely going in my yearly review.”

Harry hums. “I look forward to reading it.”

You don’t muffle your laugh, you don’t turn your face to hide your smile. You only raise your hand, carding your fingers through the sweaty curls laying on his forehead.

Harry turns his head, pressing one last kiss to your palm.

You’ll email the AIA tomorrow, for now, they can wait.

MINI NAT’S NOTE: if you would have told me a year ago that i would be writing for a pedro pascal character in a movie that chr*s ev*ns is ALSO in, i would have laughed in your face, HARD. oh how the sands of time can change us.

anyway this actually wasn't the harry fic i originally wanted to post. i was working on something completely different when this idea manifested in my brain and i immediately jumped ship…but in my defense this is the fastest i've written something since the semester ended so ofc she's being uploaded. thank you so much for reading, love you!

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hyuckysunflower · 30 days ago

Text

Looking For You; A Haechan Fic

Synopsis; Y/N, newly hired graphic designer for NCU, meets Donghyuck, NCU's president's notorious playboy son, during a night out in celebration. Six weeks after a heated night of passion, Y/N finds herself in a hard situation when her period is late and she's met with a positive pregnancy test. After coming to a dead end on finding the handsome stranger that went by 'Haechan', she anxiously goes through the beginning of her pregnancy with the support of her closest friend Renjun. That is, until she meets this nortious 'Haechan' at a company Christmas Party. Unaware that he is the presidents son, she corners him the elevator and tells him their situation, assuring him that he doesn't have to be involved but she wants him to put in writing of him relinquishing his rights. Haechan proposes the idea that they enter into a contractional arrangement. One where he gets to show his father that he is taking life seriously and settling down, and Y/N gets financial support. Y/N agrees to his terms eventually after Haechan has some choice words with her (i'm so sorry guys he's a major dick in the beginning) but not before giving him her terms of him actively involving himself in the pregnancy, not just financial support. The nine months of pregnancy is an up and down battle for Y/N and Haechan. What is there to expect when one person is brought into the relationship before he's ready and another is actively trying to hold what little control she has on her life together?

genre; preg!reader, chaebol!Haechan, major dick haechan but i promise he gets better guys, angst, fluff, some suggestive themes, slice of life, appearance of dream and aespa members, minor pregnancy complications, some childhood trauma, it gets so sweet by the ending, GUYS ITS NOT PROOF READ

Word Count; 22,477 (wooooww i didnt hit my 25k mark but DAYUM, my longest to date)

“No, nonono. What?” you stared down at the two blue lines staring back at you. How could this happen? I mean, you KNOW how it can happen but like, how? Why now? You had the perfect five step plan. First, graduate college. Check. You had just gone through four grueling years getting your bachelors degree in Graphic Designing. That led you to step two, getting a job at a big company that you were interning at. Check. You started with NCU at the end of your third year, staying with them as an intern and proving your capabilities to earn a solid position among their team. You figured the first two steps would be the hardest to complete out of the five. How wrong you were.

Step three through five goes as follows: start dating someone nice, romantic, and handsome. Someone who would take care of you but still allow you to take care of them. Someone who wasn’t ashamed to be seen with you. Who loved you for you and not an idea they wanted you to portray. You’d move onto the next step of getting engaged. Professing your undying and unchanging love for each other. Through sickness and health as they say. Your life would blossom as you take the next step of moving in together, getting married. You’d navigate coexisting in each other's spaces and learning stuff about each other you’d wouldn’t know otherwise. You’d start your family first by adopting a puppy together. Realising that you guys could love something outside of the bubble that is you and them. Lastly, the big and final step, creating life together. You had always dreamed of being a mother. You wanted to feel what that unconditional love felt like and in return be able to give it too.

You looked back down at the test resting in your hands. You sighed as you rubbed your hand over your stomach. Something so small has already started to impact your life. Your heart raced and you felt a lump rise up your throat. Your eyes burned. Are these happy tears or sad tears? You had no idea, but what you did know is that you needed someone. You sat the pregnancy test down on your bathroom counter before heading to your room and grabbing your phone off your night stand. You clicked what was probably the only number you had in your phone and waited as it connected.

“Renjun? Can you come over please? I need you,” you spoke quietly as a sob broke free from the constraints of your chest.

6 weeks earlier;

“Congratulations Y/N for securing the bag!” Karina cheered as a few other girl friends joined in, clinking glasses together as you guys shot back the sting of tequila lime shots. You squeezed your eyes shut, the burn making its way down your throat before hitting straight to your stomach. You sucked in your breath.

“Aww thank you,” you pouted, feeling overwhelmed by their love and support. “I wouldn’t be able to do it without you guys! You helped me prove myself and for that I’m forever grateful,” You leaned forward and gave Winter and Karina a big hug, giggling as they tried to pry your arms off them. They had convinced you to go out with them tonight. You were typically the homebody of the group, much preferring to stay at home and have a glass of wine than to go out to a bar with booming music that seemed to rattle your chest. But you can admit, it felt nice. You let your body relax, swaying back and forth as the music beats through your body. You were lost in the rhythm until you felt a pair of hands land on your hips, grasping you lightly but firm enough for you to notice that they were there.

You felt a breath on your neck before a velvety voice rang in your ears, so soft you were surprised you could hear it over the music. “I couldn’t help but notice you over here. Hey, pretty girl. Can I have this dance?” you chuckled as you slowly rotated in his arms to face him and wow was he breathtaking. You paused briefly, facing him, to admire his face. It looked like the gods had specifically spent their time chisling out every angle, both sharp and round, to make sure it was perfect. His eyes locked with yours, warm and inviting, as a little smirk spread across his heart shaped lips. “You like what you see pretty?” he cooed at you. Your cheeks flushed before you flashed a flirtatious smile his way.

“Usually when people ask for a dance, it's to something… slower,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, clasping them against themselves. “But I'm not against this either,” you pressed your body against his, feeling the outline of his chest against yours. The smirk stayed on his face as his hands traveled down your sides. His fingertips dug into the exposed skin underneath the hem of your dress against the outside of your thighs before dragging up, slowly as if to memorize the way it felt beneath them. One hand rested on your lower back just above your ass while the other rested just below it, cupping and squeezing your ass every few seconds, kneading the soft flesh.

You closed your eyes and sighed, rolling your head to the side before opening them and looking at the man in front of you. His eyes were half lidded, starting at the junction where your neck met your exposed shoulder. They lingered on the thin strap of your tight red dress. He admired the way it hugged all your curves. The sides were cinched up, the strings dangled, tickling your thighs. He leaned forward, his breath lingered on the side of your neck before his lips connected with it.

It felt like electricity was shot through your veins. You inhaled a quick gasp as he chucked against your neck, it rumbled in his chest. He peppered a few more kisses across your neck before traveling to your exposed shoulder where he left a few more. You unclasped your hands and let one roam to the nape of his neck. Your fingers tug at the slightly messy hair do. He let out an exhale against your neck. The action sent goosebumps all up and down your arms and chest.

You pulled back from him slightly, glancing around you to see your friends engaged in their own fun, dancing and moving around. You looked back at the man in front of you. You smiled, slightly biting your lip before speaking. “You see, I like you,” he hummed as he eyed your lip caught between your teeth. “Why don’t you tell me your name and we can get out of here? Take the party back to your place maybe?” He looked up, meeting your eyes before flashing a dazzling smile that showed off his perfectly straight white teeth.

“You, pretty, can call me Haechan,” his hands rubbed down your arms before grasping your hands lightly. “And I would love to take you home.”

Present;

Renjun sat at the bar in your kitchen, staring down at the test that rested between his fingers. He had an unreadable expression on his face. I guess it’s something you can appreciate. If he was freaking out, you’re not sure if you’d be able to keep together what little composure you managed to put up after you got off the phone with him earlier. Your fingers nervously fiddled with the hem of your shorts, twisting the fabric between the finger tips.

“I have to call the doctor's office and set up an appointment. Junnie,” you called out to him as he looked at you, a small gentle smile on his face that told you you would be able to get through this. “Would you go with me? Or at least sit with me while I make the call?” you stopped messing with your shorts and moved to sit next to him at the bar.

He laid his hand on top of yours, grasping it slightly. “Of course Y/N. I’ll be here with you through it all,” he slid your phone towards you, unlocked it and set it in your hands. “Go ahead. I’m here with you.” you blinked away the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, nodding before grabbing the phone from him and looking up the nearest OBGYN.

You patiently got through the service menu before you were connected with the front desk. You explained to them the reason for your call, giving them your name and birthdate. You worked your way through the call, looking to Renjun for support. He squeezed your hand, grounding you, reminding you that everything is going to be okay. “Okay. Mhm. Yes, that sounds good to me. I’ll see you then. Thank you.” you slowly hung up the phone and let it rest in your hand on the counter. “I’ll see them in about three weeks. I don’t know why they would make me wait that long,” you grumbled as you set your phone down on the bar and rested your head in your hands.

You felt Renjun’s delicate fingers rub your shoulders, adding the perfect amount of pressure at just the right spots that helped you relax. You could already feel the pressure lifting from your head. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. They’ll take good care of you. Do you know when this happened?” he treated the question lightly and you could tell that. You rested your hand over his hand that laid on your shoulder and nodded. “Was everything consensual?” you eyes shot open at that as you whipped your head around to look at him.

“Yes! Oh my god. I understand your concern but it was completely in my control. I was the one that suggested we went back to his place. He was such a gentleman. He never did anything without me specifying what was and wasn’t okay,” your cheeks flushed at the memory.

Haechan had you sprawled on your back on his fluffy gray comforter. You were left in just your panties and him his dress pants. He teased his fingers along the hem of your lacy red thong. A low groan escaped his chest, “wore these just for me pretty? I'm honored but they won't be on for long. Do you want me to take them off or fuck you while they stay on?” He leaned forward, pressing a chast kiss to your temple as he finger teased your clit, not enough pressure to build you up but just enough to get you worked up.

“Off,” you spoke through an exhaled gasp. He made a noise of disapproval.

“What was that?” he chuckled against your chest, leaving wet patches down. You cupped his cheeks and brought his face up to yours. Tenderly you pressed your lips against his. His lips molded against your effortlessly, a perfect mesh of tenderness but full of intensity. He slowly licked your bottom lip and you complied, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. You pulled back from him, both yours and his pupils blown wide with anticipation.

You turned his head just enough so you would rest your lips against his ear. “I want you to take them off of me and fuck me Haechan. Please, I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Did you guys use protection? I know we both went through sex ed. It may have been shitty but there were at least some useful parts in it,” Renjun exhaled, his voice cutting through your distraction.

“Yes! We did! I promise. That’s why I don’t know how this could’ve happened,” there was a small pause in the conversation. It wasn’t awkward or anything like that. Renjun knew you well enough to know when you needed a second to think to yourself. Pulling out your phone you opened up various social media apps. “He said his name was Haechan so maybe I could find him on facebook or instagram? Oh! And I remember that he mentioned something about working for a company.” Renjun nodded, pulling out his own phone as well. You opened up Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, even reddit and craigslist but there was absolutely no social media presence for him.

You looked over at Renjun with a pleading look on your face, he shook his head. “I’m sorry Y/N, but he may have given you a fake name. That or he doesn’t believe in technology which is unheard of in this day and age,” you let a groan out as you laid your head down on the bar.

“I have to grab something to eat and get ready for work,” you said more so to yourself than to Renjun. He got up and started making you some toast and grabbing a glass to fill up with orange juice.

“I’ll make you breakfast, go ahead and get ready. I’m just going to make something light. This is what my sister ate when she was pregnant with my nephew. Apparently it helps to not eat anything greasy or heavy.” you got up from the stool at the bar and wrapped your arms around Renjuns waist, giving him a hug.

“I appreciate you so much, you have no idea. I would be lost without you Junnie,” he chuckled and patted your arm, motionion for you to go get ready. Everything you said was true. You really would be lost without him. He came into your life at such a dark and vulnerable moment, he was like the light that showed through the clouds on a stormy day. Your parents had just finalized their divorce your second year of middle school. Growing up, all you ever witnessed was your parents' fight. You honestly couldn't even tell if there was ever a point in your life that they truly loved each other.

I guess you could say you always kinda blamed yourself for the fall in their marriage. You could tell from photos before you were born that they truly looked in love. They had full photo albums dedicated to their travels in their early twenties. That must've stopped when you were born because you could never remember a time you guys went out as a family for any sort of event or vacation.

Holidays were always intense. It was always the one time where your parents never fought but you could tell in their body language that they would rather be anywhere else than together with you. It took some late night calls back and forth between you and Renjun and various reassurances that the fault lied with your parents, not you.

Your parents' relationship always lingered in the back of your mind whenever you thought about your own relationships in life, both platonic and romantic. You had only ever been in one serious romantic relationship and that was with a boy named Mark in your second year of college. He was as sweet as they came but he was busy. He was an aspiring musician, and his love for it was so intense, it was hard for him to spare some of his time for you. You never took it personally but knew that you wanted to be in the type of relationship that you never felt like a burden or a second choice. The breakup was mutual. You explained your feelings and he understood why you decided to end it. He had admitted that he realised a few weeks before that he wasn't ready for a serious relationship either.

Standing in front of the mirror in only your bra and panties, you stared at your body. Your eyes linger on your stomach, watching the way it expands with every breath. Slowly you turned to the side and rubbed your hands over the flat surface, imagining the life that had started to bud. It’s funny, there's practically nothing there but you can feel it. You can feel the way the path of your future is changing and although you're scared, the tiniest bit of curiosity peeks through. All the possibilities of your future with a little one starts to find its way into the cracks of your mind.

You shake your head, pushing back the thoughts. You shouldn’t feel so excited about something so scary and unknown, yet as your eyes stay focused on your stomach, you can’t help but feel a small smile grace your lips.

“Hey!,” your coworker Karina popped her head up and over the divider between your cubicle, eyes wide with a bright smile plastered on her face. Your heart jumped straight up to your throat, tears immediately pricking your eyes and spilling over. You sobbed. “Woah! Y/N, what's wrong? Are you okay?” she rushed around the divider and stepped into your box of unstable emotions. She grabbed a few tissues from your partial empty tissue box that sat catty corner to your monitor. Her rushed hands knocked it over as she grabbed a few and dabbed your eyes.

“No, no you're okay Rina!” you spoke out between gasps as you grabbed the tissues from her hands and blew your nose. “It’s not your fault. My emotions have been crazy lately. Blame it on Aunt Flow,” you chuckled, tossing the used tissues into the trash can at your feet. Karina stared at you, her eyes narrowing slightly as her fingers tapped a rhythm on your desk, almost as if she could see straight through your lie. And honestly, maybe she could. You’ve never been a strong liar. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, but nevertheless dropped the topic.

“Okay,” she dragged the word out in a sing-song tone. “I just finished my work for the day,” she checked the time on her phone. “Are you close to being done? They just announced the date for this year's Christmas party and I need to get a new outfit!” she shimmed her shoulders a little bit, you chuckled.

“Yeah, I just have to submit this draft and pack up,” you clicked around on your screen, finalizing the last edit before emailing the draft to your supervisor. With the year coming to a wrap, NCU’s workload has been almost double the usual amount. Your department was tasked with designing the magazine for this years ‘Seasonal Wrap Up’. It’s basically a summary of the events that the company has hosted throughout the year. Your spread, however, was focused on the future of the company. You had conducted a few interviews with various project managers ranging from your department all the way up to the President's office. Let’s just say, you got your fair share of gossip that you had to try your best not to make obvious through your writing. “I need a gossip sesh girl,” you turned your head, observing your surroundings before leaning in closer to Karina to whisper. “I have news on the president's son.”

“You’re kidding!” you shushed her quickly, a few people around you turning their hands from their computers and staring. You shyly waved your hand hoping to dismiss their glances, grabbed her hand, letting out a laugh as you dragged her towards the elevator. Once you were both in the elevator she turned to face you, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re so spilling your guts when you get out of here’.

Once you both made your way into the first boutique, Karina bee lined towards one of the racks with seasonal dresses ranging from classy blacks to the cliche Mrs. Clause dresses. You came up next to her, flicking through the various dresses. “Okay,” you started immediately gaining her attention as she momentarily stopped her browsing. “So I heard from Giselle that she overheard arguing from the president's office. Apparently, it was so loud most of the people in the office stopped working. I’m talking so quietly you could hear the person next to you breathing.”

Her mouth was hung open in disbelief. “Well? What were they talking about? Barely anyone has even seen his face.”

“She said that they heard the president yelling about how he needs to take his dealings with the business with the company seriously. He was all like ‘Donghyuck, you need to know that your future isn't just about the next party you can go to or the women you can hook up with!’ It was bad.” Karina laughed at your busted impression of the president. “What’s weird is that she said he came out of the president's office without a care in the world. Like there wasn’t a shred of emotion on his face,” you shook your head, flipping through the dresses until you came across a light sweater dress.

It was beautiful, a nice dark red. It looked comfortable too. Your eyes glanced over the intricate design of the material, there were small glistens of gold embedded into it. It would be perfect to wear, it’s loose enough that it wouldn’t squeeze across your stomach. Besides the emotional outbursts and the occasional food eversons the past three almost four weeks, you’ve started to get bloated. Tomorrow is your confirmation appointment, and although the past few weeks have dragged on, you were nervous. There was still no trace of this ‘Haechan’ guy. You’d almost be convinced that he was merely a fragment of your imagination if not for the little bean growing inside you.

��-his is the one!” you snapped out of your thoughts when Karina held up something from the rack. It was a gorgeous bright red dress, a faux leather material. “It would look gorg with a pair of red pumps and some silver accessories!” You smiled as she held the dress up to her body, twisting back and forth. You agreed, she would look absolutely stunning in it.

You stood at the doctor’s office desk, hands trembling slightly as you told the receptionist your first and last name. “Here you go Miss Y/L/N, this is some paperwork that needs to be filled out before we call you back. It’s just a brief medical history,” you nodded and thanked her before grabbing the clipboard from her and taking a seat next to Renjun in the waiting room.

“I’m so nervous right now,” you exhaled as you filled out the paperwork to the best of your abilities. Renjun patted your thigh, the action relaxing you slightly. “Thank you, again, for coming here with me. I really needed moral support.”

“Anytime Y/N. I’m here for you,” he smiled at you. A small gentle smile that helped calm the fire in your stomach. After what felt like hours, a nurse opened up the door to the waiting area and called your name. You shakily got up onto your legs, brushing your hands off on your thighs. “Do you need me to go back there with you?” you shook your head.

“No, they’re going to have me strip and I don't want to traumatize you,” you gave him a chuckle, patting his shoulder as he nodded and watched you make your way to the door with the nurse. Before walking back there with her you turned around to look at him. “I’ll message you if I need anything.”

After the door shut behind you the nurse spoke, “Is the daddy staying in the lobby?” she chuckled. You felt a little awkward. Is that something a nurse would say? Not every woman comes in with a daddy for her baby.

“Um..” you stared, cringing at how awkward it sounded. “He’s just a close friend of mine, he's not the father.” The nurse was quiet. You hoped it wasn’t in silent judging and more out of embarrassment. The walk wasn’t long to the doctor's office. Once inside the nurse took some of your vitals.

“So we’re here for a check up?”

“It’s my first appointment so I think it may be more just confirming what my pregnancy test said,” you chuckled awkwardly. The nurse hummed, nodding as she typed away on the computer.

“And when was your last period?” you pulled out your phone to check the calendar.

“Umm, the last day of it was around October 4th I think. I conceived around the 13th I believe,” you tried to best to give her as much information as possible. You’d rather awkwardly ramble then give two word answers that would get you guys nowhere.

“Alright. I put your information into the computer. We’ll go get you settled for a urine test, and then after that we’ll proceed with the scan,” you followed her out of the room and down towards the bathroom. The nurse handed you a wet towelette pouch and a cup. “You’ll want to wipe with the towelette first and pee a little into the toilet before the cup. You’ll set your cup in the cabinet in the bathroom.” you nodded at the nurse and walked to the bathroom to settle your business.

You found yourself back into the doctor's office after completing the urine test. Before leaving the room, the nurse handed you a cloth and explained that you needed to strip down and wait on the exam table for the dr to come in. As you sat on the table, you kicked your legs back and forth and waited until you heard a knock at the door. The doctor walked in shortly after. “Good evening Miss Y/L/N. My name is Dr. Kim. I hear we’re here for a confirmation exam?” you nodded. She sat down on the stool and rolled over to your bedside, putting on some latex blue gloves. “If you can just go ahead, lay back and relax, we’ll lay your legs on the stands here so that you can relax easier. I’ll be using a transducer,” she held up a wand-like object that was wrapped in a sleeve. “All it is, is a scanner of sorts that I will insert into you vaginally. With it being so early in your pregnancy, this will give us an accurate reading for the gestational age of the baby.”

“Oh, um okay.” She put a generous layer of some jelly like lube on the transducer before positioning herself in between your legs.

“Alright Miss Y/N, this shouldn't hurt but please let me know if it gets too uncomfortable. To your right is the screen that we’ll see the little bean on,” Dr. Kim smiled at you before slowly inserting the transducer into you. You inhaled quickly, the cold of the lube shocking you slightly. It wasn’t painful at all. If anything, like the doctor said, it was mildly uncomfortable. You looked to the screen where it showed a mix of black and grey. You felt a light tug as she moved it around. And just like that, a white speck popped up on the screen.

“And there it is. There's your little jelly bean!” you stared at the screen amazed as the little white blob flickered. She clicked around a bit on the screen highlighting spots before measuring the length of the tiny thing inside you. “That flickering you’re seeing is the heart beat. This early in the pregnancy we try not to record the sound. Instead what we'll do is measure the flickering. That will give us the heart rate,” you saw the diagrams pop up on the screen. “The BMP looks to be 176. A nice and healthy scan,” she smiled to herself before clicking around on the screen some more.

“Is there any way you can tell me about how far along I am? From my last period and the time I believed I conceived, it would be around ten weeks.”

“Absolutely! Judging the size of the fetus I would say about ten weeks three days. Of course this could change slightly. The gestational age is subjective. Your due date would be around July eleventh.” you nodded your head, thanking her. She pulled the wand out of you and handed you some wipes to wipe off the lube left over. “The scans are printing out now. In the meantime, I'm going to send you down stairs to the first floor to get a blood test run. It’s just to confirm the health of you and baby.”

Your face paled at the thought of giving blood. As if sensing your uneasiness, the doctor handed you your scans, distracting your thoughts. You stared down at photos laying in your hands, your finger tracing over the white blob. It seemed unreal. This little thing has been the cause of all your emotional bursts. You laughed, tears pricking your eyes. Speaking of emotional bursts.

“Ah, yeah that's very common. Your emotions will be out of whack for this first trimester. Have you been experiencing any morning sickness?” you shook your head, wiping your eyes with your sleeves.

“Not really. I’ve had a little nausea but nothing like that. I haven't thrown up, it’s just the gross feeling of needing to,” you laughed, setting the sonograms down beside you.

“I’ve got you scheduled for the end of February. You’ll be around twenty weeks and that is when we do the anatomy scan. We’ll also get you scheduled for a glucose test right before then,” she threw away her gloves and walked towards the curtain in the room. “I’ll leave you here to get dressed. Just come out here when you’re dressed and I’ll get you sent down to the first floor with your appointment reminder cards.” As soon as she left the room, you redressed yourself and made your way out to the lobby.

When you made it to the lobby, Renjun was already up to his feet running towards you. “Hey, how’d it go? Is everything okay?” you could see the concern on his face as he held you shoulders gently so that you’d face him. You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, everything is perfect. I’m about ten weeks and three days. They’re sending me down to the first floor to get blood taken for testing,” you exhaled slightly. “Could you be there to hold my hand?” you know it sounded pathic. You felt pathic. You have never been a fan of needles, even in your adolescents. You remembered back to when you were younger, going to the doctors for flu shots, how you would kick and scream to fight the nurses off. They’d have to bring extra hands to keep you at bay.

“Of course, Y/N. As long as you don’t take any of my fingers off,” he moved his hands down to lace your fingers together. Renjun had always been this affectionate with you, even back in middle school. It was a big difference from how you’d watch him interact with his other friends. If you were being honest, you appreciated it. You’d always been timid and he’s held you with such a gentle touch the entire time you have known him.

Both of you made your way down the elevator, hitting the first floor before the queasiness started to settle in your stomach. Every step towards the office they described to you made you feel like your feet were made of lead. “Damnit,” you curse and Renjun snapped his head towards you, eyes full of concern. “If I don’t push through this now, the rest of the pregnancy is only going to get worse.” you tried to give yourself a half assed pep talk. It didn’t really work.

“Hi! Y/N?” a lady with bright eyes and a smile that sparkled greeted you. You nodded, opting to do that instead of speaking for fear of throwing up all over the poor lady. “Come this way. You can take a seat right there.” you followed her hands over and took a seat in a light blue chair, it had one singular armrest on the right side.

“Is there any way my friend here can hold my hand? I’m not the biggest fan of needles and I really don’t want to be difficult for you,” you let out an awkward excuse for a laugh.

“Oh absolutely! Come on over here. You can hold her left hand, I'll be drawing from the right side.” Renjun made his way to your left before sitting down in the guest chair and lightly grabbing your hand. His fingers gave you a gentle squeeze, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles soothingly. The nurse put on some gloves and gathered her equipment, you quickly averted your eyes and looked at Renjun’s eyes. He gave you a smile and some words of encouragement. “Alright, you will just feel a small pinch. I’ll go as quickly as I can.” She tied a rubber band around your upper arm and rubbed the inside of your elbow with her fingers.

You closed your eyes and squeezed Renjun’s hand tightly in preparation. You felt the pinch of the needle into your right arm. You didn’t dare to open your eyes to see the progress, so you spoke. “Renjun, how close are we to being done?”

“She’s already collected four vials. I think she only needs two more. It’s going so quickly, you’ll be done before you even know it.” His smooth voice calmed your nerves.

“And we’re done!” she put a cotton ball and bandaid over your arm before taking the rubber tie off. “You did great! It should only take a few days to run the tests. You can access your results through your online portal. If there are any concerns we’ll give you a call. Usually no calls from us means good news,” she laughed as she disposed of her gloves and sharps. “Take a few minutes to gather yourself, we don’t want you passing out!”

After a few minutes, Renjun helped you up and assisted you out of the building towards his car. Once seated in the passenger seat, you pulled out the sonograms and handed them to him. “This little white blob is the baby. Dr. Kim said that it’s heart beat is nice and strong at 176,” you had a bounce to your voice and Renjun noticed it.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better Y/N. Did she say when your next appointment is?” you nodded your head and pulled out the appointment cards they gave you at the front desk.

“My next one is at the middle and end of February. They’ll have me take my glucose test and the anatomy scan. How did that go for your sister? What is the anatomy test?” You tried your best not to overwhelm Renjun with questions. You were an only child so you didn’t grow up around many if any woman at all, let alone pregnancy.

“My sister said the glucose test sucked. I think it’s a test you take where you drink a really sugar heavy drink and they draw your blood for diabetes. As for the anatomy, I’m not sure what all they do, but I know you get to find out the gender then. I remember my sister being super excited about that.” you nodded your head, putting your sonograms back into your purse. Your phone chimed and you pulled it out. It was a message from Winter.

‘Hey! I just got my outfit for the Christmas Partyyyyy. It’s next tuesday. I already talked to Karina but we were going to meet up before the party and pregame. You in?’ you cringed at the thought. There’s no good way to decline the invitation without being suspicious.

“Hey Junnie, can I use you as an alibi so that I can turn down my coworkers' invitations to pregame before the Christmas Party next tuesday?” He turned down the radio to hear you more clearly.

“Go ahead, I don’t mind. What are you going to do at the Christmas Party?” his eyes stayed focused on the road as he made his way back to your apartment.

“I’m not sure actually. I just know from Karina and Winter that it’s a pretty big deal. Spirits are always high at the end of the year because everyone has finished their work before the new year starts,” he hummed.

“Okay, just be safe please. Call me if you need anything during it alright?” you smiled at him, leaning to turn the music up slightly.

“I will Junnie, I promise. You’re my emergency contact, you know.” His laugh rang out in the small confinements of the car, melting your heart.

You were feeling overwhelmed as you sat at one of the various tables in the ballroom of the venue the company rented out. They wasted no cost on it too, it was gorgeous. There were various Christmas trees adorned with cranberry garland and beautiful silver, gold, and red ornaments. The tables around you were grand, white tablecloths and seat covers adorned the surfaces. The centerpieces of each table ranged from golden candles, mistletoe, and white and red amaryllis.

It seemed like almost everyone employed at NCU was there. Only being in the company for roughly over a year, you only recognized those you worked in close quarters with. Karina and Winter were mingling with Yizhou and Giselle at the buffet table, all four of them giggling over drinks. They had asked you earlier if you wanted to join them, however the quickest lie you could come up with to avoid a drink was you being on new medication from your last doctor's appointment. You could argue that it's not technically a lie, a baby gives off the same symptoms as funky medication. You chuckled to yourself as you sipped your water, eyes glancing at your surroundings before spotting on someone familiar.

Your heart jumped to your throat, immediately speeding up as you recognized the silhouette of someone that has been particularly hard to find. You immediately pushed your chair back and jumped to your feet, you felt light headed at the sudden change in blood pressure. You balanced yourself at the table, eyes fixed at the man you’ve been tirelessly searching for the past month. He stood at the elevator pressing the button leisurely, one hand resting in his pocket.

You sped walked as fast as you could to try and catch him before he entered the elevator and the doors closed. He walked onto the platform and turned around, that's when your suspicions were correct. You flung your arm into the elevator cabin, blocking the door from closing at the last second. There, right in front of you was Haechan. He looked up from his phone, face blank of any emotion. He raised his eyebrow as if to ask what the hold up was. You stepped onto the platform quickly.

As soon as the doors closed you turned to face him. “You are an extremely hard man to find. I didn’t take you for someone who would give out a fake name, Haechan.” his eyes were bored as he glanced you up and down, eyes lingering on your curves. You hated how your face heated up, you still vividly remember how his hands felt on you. He plastered on a polite fake smile.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I typically remember the beautiful women I spend my nights with. Can I ask you your name pretty?” your eyebrow twitched at the familiar nickname. From his statement, you’re sure he’s used that exact same name for countless women he’s slept with.

You scoffed, shrugging your shoulders and crossing your arms as you stared him straight in the eyes. “It’s Y/N, though I doubt you’d remember. We met a few months ago at the bar. My name may not jog your memory but this will.” you reached into your purse and pulled out your sonograms and handed them to him. He looked down at them, confusion prominent on his face.

“What am I looking at?” he looked up from the photos and to you.

“The product of our night together, Haechan,” you said his name in a mocking tone. “You do not need to be involved in its life, but I would appreciate it if you could sign away your rights if that’s what you choose to do,” he stared back down at the sonograms. “Here,” you grabbed a pen and scribbled your number down on an old receipt and handed it to him. “Just..” you hesitated, “just please, get back to me in a week. That’s all I'm asking of you.” You didn’t give him any time to respond before you were out the elevator doors.

Haechan stood in the elevator as the doors closed, looking down at the swirl of black and white in front of him. How could this have even happened? He was always prepared when it came to the nights he spent limbs wrapped in whatever woman grabbed his interest first. He tried to think back to the night in question. Y/N, Y/N, the name was familiar. Ah, there it was. You were the cutie dancing by herself while her friends bundled up. He smirked to himself, holding one hand up to his lips while the other hand tucked the sonograms into his back pocket. You were the one to suggest you both go back to his place. And he remembers that all too well.

He had led you into the hotel room he rented for the night, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. How badly he wanted to rip off your tight red dress, but he held back. Usually he would’ve made this quick, but for some reason he wanted to take his time with you and savor every noise and reaction you’d give him. He had you pinned against the wall next to the hotel door, his hands rubbing up and down the outside of your thighs before he hooked his hands underneath them. “Jump,” he commanded and you obliged. He had you pinned, pelvis to pelvis. He groaned at the pressure you put on his dick. Your grinding against him only pushed him further over the edge. “You listen so well, pretty. If I told you to stop rubbing against me before I flip your pretty little ass over the sofa, would you listen?”

You stopped briefly, looked down at him from above, you fluttered your lashes before wiggling some more, making sure to drag your clothed core over him slower. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You were going to drive him crazy. He’s never had to deal with such a bratty hook up, but damn did it pique his interest.

About the time that he made it to his car, his phone let up with an incoming call. His father. He held back a groan, already expecting an argument. He swiped right. “Hello, Father.”

“Where the hell are you Donghyuck?” immediately Haechan rolled his eyes, setting the phone on speaker and starting his vehicle. “I turned my back for one second and you disappeared. How am I supposed to get you connected with the company's shareholders if you leave to chase the next woman you see?”

“I did not leave to chase a woman, father,” Haechan took a second to compose himself. He knew that if he continued to argue, things would only escalate. That’s when an idea popped in his head. This would be perfect. He could get two birds with one stone as they say. “Father, I have someone to introduce to you. She’s very important to me. Can you have secretary Giselle clear your schedule for next Saturday?”

His father hesitated, apprehension lacing his next words. “Why am I only just now hearing about this very important woman Donghyuck?”

“Well,” Haechan threw on an embarrassed chuckle to really sell the bit, “she’s a little shy. I didn’t want to overwhelm her too early into our relationship. We’ve only been together a few months.” He really tried to recall the conversation he had with you earlier. He didn’t really try to listen to you if he was being honest. The little bomb you threw at him was pretty effective in grabbing his attention though. The conversion ended with his father shortly after and Haechan was left with his thoughts.

Though you seemed like a pain in his ass, you may be useful to him. Earlier that week, his father had given him an earful of disappointments. He gripped the steering wheel and clinched his teeth. He’s heard the same phrase for the last six months from his father. It’s practically haunting him in his dreams. ‘I would sooner die than pass my company to someone who will destroy my life's earnings in a few months.’ He can count on both hands the amount of times that has been said to him.

It’s not his fault he likes to have a warm bed at night. He knows his father has had his fair share of flings so why is it such a problem for him to have them too.

“You need to be mature and have a level head to take charge of a company. Your issue is, Donghyuck, that you play around too much. I’ve had to deal with countless women coming here and causing a fuss because you never returned their calls,” he would say. That is exactly why he’s been giving the name ‘Haechan’ out instead of his actual name. It’s less publicity that way when they try to contact him after.

That brings him back to you. How did you find him? He was at a company party, so that must mean you work there too. After parking in his apartment building's parking garage, he pulled his phone back out to dial his assistant. On the other end a soft voice answered, flustered at the late night call. “Jisung, I need you to look into something for me,” there was rustling on the other side before an answer.

“Right now sir? It’s almost midnight..” he trailed off, a slight whine to his voice. Haechan chuckled.

“Yes right now. I need you to make a report about one of our employees. Y/N is her name and I need it tomorrow morning.” Haechan twirled the number scrawled out messily on an old receipt for prenatals. How fitting.

This past week has been a mess. Your morning sickness seemed to double, though you couldn’t tell if it was because of the baby or because Haechan had yet to get back to you with his decision. You were kicking yourself in the ass for giving him your number instead of getting his. That way, in cases like this, you would be able to get a hold of him instead of waiting around for him to call you.

It was the weekend before New Years, most of your coworkers were out on vacation for the holidays. You were bundled at home sipping some hot chocolate. Normally you and Renjun would celebrate the holidays together, but with his new job for interior designing, he was booked for the jolly seasons.

You were flipping through the Hallmark channel trying to find something vaguely interesting, munching on a bag of your latest flamin hot craving whenever your phone popped up with a call from an unknown number. Your heart started beating when your hand shot out so fast to grab it that you spilled some of your chips onto your lap. You quickly swiped right. “Hello?”

“Hey pretty,” a smooth voice rang out on the other side. The nickname settles in your stomach, a little unease and a little warmth. “I have an answer for you. Can we meet?” you moved your chips to the table in front of you and threw the fluffy brown blanket off your lap.

“Yeah, I’m free. There’s a cafe near me that I go to often. How does that sound?” you gave him the address before hanging up. You went to your room and found something a little more presentable to wear. You grabbed a loose fitting band tee and some stretchy jeans. It’s almost getting to the point where you have to switch out your wardrobe. The bloating is starting to impact your comfort. You find it harder to breathe when your jeans cut into you, it also hits in just the right area to make you throw up now so that's fun. Before leaving out your apartment door you grabbed your heavy black padded coat, a beanie, and your red scarf, locking the door as you exited it.

It was maybe a ten minute walk down the street before the familiar cafe sign came into view. The storefront was decorated in their seasonal colors. Two eight foot trees stood on each side of the patio, prob presents thrown around. You smiled to yourself as you entered, making your way to the front counter. You were greeted with a flashing flirtatious smile by the resident barista, Jaemin. “Your usual Y/N?”

You shook your head. Typically you would order a large Breve with whip cream, caramel, and chocolate drizzle on top. Your mouth watered at the thought. “I would love to, but I’m cutting out heavy caffeine,” you pouted before rummaging in your purse to grab your wallet. “I’m just going to get a nice big hot chocolate,” Jaemin saluted you before moving to start your order. You glanced around the cafe, no sign of Haechan, so you settled on a table in the back corner. You figured this would be a sensitive conversation so it’s best to have it away from prying ears and eyes.

It was probably about fifteen minutes before the front door chimed with a new customer, you looked up and caught sight of the one you’ve been waiting for. Haechan. By then you had already finished your hot chocolate. You watched him go to the counter and order before locking eyes with you and coming towards you. He wore a well fitted suit, one hand in his pocket while his other hand pulled out the chair in front of you before taking a seat. “I’m glad you could meet me Y/N” his smooth voice rang out as he sat relaxed across from you.

“Yes, thank you, too. For meeting me as soon as you could. Have you decided what you wanted to do?” You wasted no time in asking him about the question that's been weighing on your mind for the past month. He just smiled at you, radiating arrogance.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his face on his hands. “I have a preposition. And I think it would benefit both of us.” you nodded at him slowly, encouraging him to continue. You had no idea where he was going with this. “You see, my father has really been breathing down my neck about maturing,” he air quotated “ and settling down my life.”

This whole story was starting to sound familiar. A son lectured by his father about growing up. Then it clicked. You saw Haechan at your work party. A party specifically for people employed by NCU. You hesitated a second before speaking, “Are you.. Donghyuck? The president's son?”

“Bingo,” he winked at you. “It kinda hurts my pride that you don’t know me. Then again, Y/N, you’ve only just got officially hired on with us.” You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed. He must’ve done a background check on you or something.

“Okay, what’s your proposition?” you asked him slowly, your voice held apprehension. If you were being honest, you have no idea what to expect from him. You spent a month looking for him just to let him know that you were pregnant. What you really wanted was an answer to whether he wanted to be involved or not, but it seems like he has other plans.

“I need you to roleplay with me for a while,” immediately you went to object, but he held his finger up to stop you. “Bear with me now. I don’t mean that in a sexual way, pretty. I didn’t take you for such a naughty girl,” he teased. “Actually, that's a lie. I know how naughty you can be.” Your face flushed as you stammered. “I just want you to act with me. Like you’ve heard, I'm kinda in the dog house. I need you to play a doting girlfriend that I've been going out with for a few months.”

“I’m sorry, what am I getting out of this? Because to me, it sounds like I'm really only helping you,” you raised your hand slightly to call Jaemin over.

“I’m getting there pretty, be patient. After you convince my father that I'm a mature, level headed heir to the company, I'll sign my parental rights away to you and take care of you and the baby financially throughout your pregnancy. Once the baby is born we can go our separate ways,” you were flabbergasted, but before you could say anything Jaemin arrived at your table with a fresh cup of hot chocolate and a pastry.

“Oh, Jaemin, I didn’t order a pastry,” you went to hand it back to him but he waved it off. He glanced over at Haechan rather coldly.

“You seem to be having a hard day,” he looked back at you and smiled. “It’s on the house.” After he walked away you looked back at Haechan.

“I don’t need your money. I didn’t even know who you were when I met you at the bar. I’m not looking for a payout,” you tried to defend yourself, but he just waved his hand.

“Look, it’s going to be hard for a single mother,” he tried to be sympathetic but his voice didn’t come across that way. All he sounded to you was bored, like he had anywhere else to be. He sucked through his teeth. “Take it from me, I’m a man right? If I'm being honest, no man is going to want to be with a single mother and raise a kid that isn’t even theirs. Just accept my offer and then you’d at least have money to rely on, right?”

You looked down at your hands that twirled in your lap. You felt humiliated. You knew, deep down, that he was right. However, you weren't going to force Haechan to be in this baby’s life after it was born. You grew up in a home where both your parents resented you for being born and forced in their life. You could at least spare your baby one parent that will resent them, and give them every ounce of love you have in your body.

“I’ll agree to this on one condition,” Haechan nodded enthusiastically. “You have to attend every doctor appointment with me. That’s all. You may not want to be in this baby’s life but I want you to watch them grow. You never know, you could mature into the person your dad wants through this experience.” You could tell that he was no longer as ready to agree as he was before. He took a second to think to himself before putting on a charming smile.

“Yeah, totally. I can do that,” he started to stand up, leaving an untouched americano on the table. “I’ll keep in contact with you.” He started to leave before he stopped and turned his head to face you. “This saturday, you’re going to meet my father for Christmas. He doesn’t need to know about the pregnancy. We won’t be together long enough for him to know anyways.” With that he left you there to your thoughts.

Haechan had been messaging you all throughout the week, preparing you for today. Mornings have been rough, it seemed like all you were able to keep down was water, oranges, and saltine crackers.You sat in the bathroom on a stool as you hovered over the toilet dry heaving a breakfast you hardly ever got to touch. Tears were streaming down your face as you gripped the toilet seat. Your phone rang from the counter to your left, however you couldn’t reach it. It rang a few more times before it stopped.

You had just finished rinsing your mouth out before there was a knock at your front door. The second you got to the door and unlocked it, it immediately swung open to reveal a frustrated Haechan with a bag in his hand. He pushed his way in, running a hand through this hair before setting the bag in his hand down on your kitchen bar.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? You have to hold up your side of the deal!” he exclaimed. The rise in his voice makes you take a step back to distance yourself from him, your anxiety spiking at his outburst. You think back to the countless arguments and fights your parents would get into. “You’re not skipping out on me are you?” he took a step towards you and you raised your hands up. As if sensing your discomfort he stopped, taking a step back to lean against your bar.

“I’m not skipping. I didn’t answer because I was throwing up. I’ve been doing it all morning, so I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.” You stepped around him, heading back towards your room. “I just need to get dressed and then we can go.”

“Wait, I brought something for you to wear.” He reached for the bag behind him and walked over to you, handing it to you. “I’m sorry for raising my voice at you,” he looked away, and you could see the conflict on his face. He didn’t really know why he was apologizing. The look on your face as you backed away from him earlier made him uncomfortable.

You nodded at him, acknowledging the apology but not sure how to respond. Once in your room you opened up the bag he gave you. Inside was a long tightly fitting red dress. From the looks of it you could tell that one, this was expensive, and two it was not going to hide the bump that had slowly been making its presence known. You slipped the garment on, viewing yourself in your body mirror. You chuckled, hands finding their way to cradle your stomach. Yeah, that's not hiding anything. You searched through your closet pulling out a fluffy white sweater and slipping it on over your head. You retouched up your lipstick before sliding on some black flats and leaving your room.

“What happened? Was the dress not good enough?” Haechan moved towards you, his hands hovering around your sweater. You took a step back from him and tugged at your sweater lifting it up to show the small bump of your lower belly.

“We're supposed to be inconspicuous right?” his eyes lingered down to your stomach, mouth parting slightly. You dropped your sweater back down, covering your stomach back up. “With a tight dress we wouldn’t get very far.” you moved around him, grabbing your purse off your coat rack and walking towards your refrigerator. You pulled out a zip lock baggie of orange slices and a cold water bottle. You closed the door and reached towards the top of your refrigerator on your tiptoes, swiping your hand back and forth at your box of saltine crackers with no luck.

“What is that for?” Haechan came up behind you and grabbed your crackers, laying them in the palm of your hand. You put all three objects into your purse, not without stealing a slice of orange to snack on.

“This is the only thing the baby likes right now,” you make your way to the front door and look over your shoulder back towards Haechan. “You coming?”

The ride to the restaurant was on the longer side. You pulled up to the front of the building, Haechan got out of the driver's side and handed his keys to the valet. He opened the passenger side door to let you out and took your hand, lacing it with his before leading you inside the grand entrance. Once inside he gave his name to the host that led both your and haechan to a back vip room. “Wow, this is intimidating.” you said as you looked around.

“Just follow my lead. Go with the flow,” He said smoothly before the host opened the doors to the private room. His hand rested on your lower back, guiding you into the room where the president sat at the table. He had a hard look on his face but the second his eyes met yours they lit up.

“Oh my! It is so nice to meet you! I was starting to believe you were a figment of my son's imagination,” his laugh came deep from his belly as he stood up to shake your hand. “Please, have a seat Y/N. I have a lot of questions.”

You sat down with a smile, Haechan followed sitting next to you as he held your hand on top of the table. “Well Mr. Lee, what would you like to know?”

“How did you two meet? All Donghyuck told me is that you guys have been dating for a few months,” he sipped his glass of wine, eyes boring into you over the rim. You swallowed thickly, racking your brain for what Haechan had been messaging you about of the week.

You threw on a shy smile, tucking a strain of hair behind your ear. “We actually met for the first time when I started interning here. I actually didn’t know who he was at first. I honestly didn’t even find out he was your son until after we started dating.” The waiter brought you a glass of water and the table an appetizer of some sort of fancy dip.

“She was absolutely stunning the first time I saw her. She was in this red dress. It was like I was drawn to her against my free will, though I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.” Wow he was smooth. This must be how he got such a notorious reputation as a playboy.

“So you work at the company huh? What department?” You set down your glass of water and smiled.

“I’m actually on your graphic design team. I finished my internship with you about three months ago and was offered a full time position. I guess I made a good enough impression,” you bashfully swiped your hand back and forth. The conversation went smoothly during dinner, you tried your best to keep down the pasta you ordered. The image on the menu looked appetizing enough, however the baby didn’t seem to agree. You were holding back a gag as you excused yourself to the bathroom, both Haechan and his father watched you as you rushed to the bathroom. You heard the door open a few minutes later as you hovered over the toilet bowl.

“Hey, pretty. Are you okay?” you held your hand up to Haechan to stop him from coming any closer.

“No,” you gagged, “please give me a second.” you threw up what little pasta you had eaten earlier. Haechan came up behind you, ignoring your warning. He gathered your hair in his hands and held it out of your face. You sobbed. “I’m so sorry, this is so gross and embarrassing.”

He laughed, a loud one. “I mean, it’s gross, yeah, but.. It's normal I guess.” He tried so hard to comfort you. You hiccuped.

“You’ve been around plenty of pregnant women?” you tried to joke. His grip of your hair tightens slightly. Not in a way to hurt you or anything, more out of hesitation.

“Um.. my step mom actually,” he was quiet for a moment, just your hurls in the background before he continued. “She just had my little brother. She was a handful during the pregnancy.” you didn’t press the topic, you could tell from the way he vaguely spoke about her that it was probably a touchy subject. You remembered from Giselle, the president's secretary, that he was currently married to a woman who couldn’t be more than a few years older than Haechan. You reach forward and flush the toilet. He let go of your hair and handed you some napkins to wipe your face with.

“Thank you. And I'm sorry. I must’ve made your father upset," Haechan shook his head.

“No you’re fine. I told him they probably added dairy to your pasta. So if he asks, you’re lactose intolerant.” you chuckled as you washed your hands at the sink.

“I actually am lactose intolerant so it wouldn’t technically be a lie,” you finished drying your hands as haechan opened the door for you.

“Let’s go say bye, I’m taking you home.” you went to object, to tell him that you were fine before he continued. “Before you think that I’m doing this for you, I’m not. I have a date tonight.” and immediately the feeling that warmed your chest at what you thought was his thoughtfulness was crushed. You smiled a tightlipped smile as you nodded your head.

Mr. Lee was sad to see you go. He gave you a hug and made you promise to meet him again. The ride back to your apartment was dead silent. You didn’t know how to start the conversation and Haechan didn’t seem interested in one either. Before closing the door you remembered about your appointments in February. “Oh, I won't have my next appointment for the baby until after the New Year. February thirteenth and twenth.” He had his phone in his hand typing away. He didn’t answer. “You know what? I’ll just message you the dates.”

“Huh? Oh yeah sure. See you later.” As soon as you closed the passenger door he was gone. This was going to kill you. Your heart has been reacting to Haechan all night. First he’s an ass but then he backs off and he apologizes. Then he’s romantic, escorting you and taking care of you in the bathroom before ditching you for a date. You scoffed as you pulled your phone out and gave Renjun a call. You had so much to get him caught up on.

The New Years went without a hitch. It was already mid January and you were coming up on sixteen weeks pregnant. Your belly had officially started to poke out. It no longer looked like you were bloated. It was getting harder and harder to hide it. Eventually the weather would start to warm up and you wouldn’t be able to hide behind the fluffy sweaters. You were officially out of the first trimester and your morning sickness had officially subsided. You would say it has been fantastic, except it hasn’t. Your workload doubled so now instead of throwing up because of the baby, you were throwing up because of work.

You had just made it home after a long shift at the company, when you started feeling it. There was a dull cramp in your lower belly. You had felt it a little earlier in the day but it went away as you continued to drink water. It almost felt like poop cramps so you decided to try and use the bathroom but as soon as you pulled down your pants to sit, you let out a scream. There was blood in your panties. You were panicking, not knowing what to do, you grabbed your phone. You found Haechan’s number in your most recent calls and dialed it. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. “Come on Haechan please pick up.”

You dialed it again, no call. Tears burned your eyes and your nose started to run. You grabbed a wad of toilet paper and shoved it in your panties before pulling it up and calling Haechan one final time. After six rings he finally answered, out of breath. “What,” he snapped. You were stunned.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called the first time?” your voice was shaking as you made your way to your front door to grab your purse.

“I was preoccupied. What the hell do you want right now?” you were crying now. His words just added more stress to your already messy mind. The cramp in your stomach feels worse.

“I-” you started to hyperventilate. “I need to go to the hospital. Now. Please. Haechan, something is wrong. I’m cramping and bleeding and I don’t know what to do. I-” Haechan interrupted you with a huff.

“Y/N, calm down. Everything is going to be fine. You’re overreacting.” His dismissal just made you pissed. “Go lay down and drink some water. It’ll pass.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down Donghyuck. You made a deal with me. I have done everything you have asked of me without so much as complaining. I’m going to the hospital now and your ass better be there or else your father will be there instead,” you were seething. Hot, angry tears poured down your face. Haechan started to object before you hung the phone up. You found Renjun’s number and dialed. He immediately picked up and you hurriedly told him.

“Okay, don’t panic. I’ll be there in five minutes.” Renjun lived a good fifteen minutes away. You told him to be careful. “Please, don’t worry about me Y/N. Just think about the baby, okay? See you when I get there.” true to his word Renjun was there in five minutes. You quickly hopped into his car as he sped back onto the highway. You were at the hospital in no time. Renjun assisted you into the building where you met the nurse at the front desk.

As you were explaining your situation to her, Haechan came strolling in. He looked unaffected. His hair was a mess and his shirt was haphazardly buttoned up. Now you realized what he meant by preoccupied. You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes. “Alright Miss Y/N, we’re going to take you back into this room over here and run some tests,” she turned to Renjun. “Dad? Would you like to join?”

Haechan was ticked. Who the hell was this dude? He had his arms around your waist and held your hands. He doesn’t know why but it rubbed him the wrong way. Before he could stop himself he stepped towards you, putting himself between you and Renjun and pushing his hands off of you. “Yes, I’ll go back there with her. I’m the baby’s father.” There was no way he was going to let another man go back there with you. With HIS baby. He didn’t know why he was feeling so upset over this.

“It’s okay Renjun. I’ll let you know how it goes,” he looked at you, concerned but nevertheless nodded and watched you walk back with Haechan. Once in the office the nurse checked your vitals as you explained to her your concerns. The doctor came in shortly after the nurse left. She greeted you, and helped you relax back on the exam table. You were fiddling your hands together, picking at your nails.

“Alright Miss Y/N, let's check on baby okay? The gel will be cold so bare with me,” She squirted some gel on the scanner as well as some on your stomach. You jumped at the sudden cold chill and reached your hand out to grip Haechans’. He looked at you shocked before holding it firmly. “Okay, the baby's vitals are looking great. Your uterus looks good as well,” the doctor messed with something on her screen before a sound started to echo in the room. You gasped, locking eyes with Haechan before looking back at the doctor.

“Is that the heartbeat?” your eyes started to tear up as the doctor nodded. You stared at the screen. The baby wasn’t a gummy bear anymore, it was more defined. You could see its legs moving as it bounced around. “It’s so crazy. It’s moving around so much but I can’t feel anything.”

“That is completely normal. Most women start to feel movement around this time, so it won’t be much longer!” She reassured you. Haechan stared at the screen as well, watching the baby inside of you bounce around. He wasn’t sure how to feel. It was a mix of disbelief and amazement. He didn’t doubt you were pregnant, not with how your belly was showing, but now with clear evidence in front of him, he couldn’t believe it.

“Do you know what caused the bleeding?” Haechan’s voice shocked you. If not for his hand gripping yours still, you would have forgotten that he was there. His voice almost sounded concerned. You were still upset at him for the way he reacted to you earlier, so you huffed. He eyes locked with your briefly as he raised his eyebrow, confused at your reaction.

“It is most likely due to stress. My recommendation would be to take the rest of the week off from work, and limit your work load moving forward,” Haechan nodded as he listened to her, almost as if the instructions were for himself. “I’m going to put this down in your notes. Your next appointment is in three weeks. We’ll do your glucose test and the following week we’ll do your anatomy! Let’s hope I don’t see you before Miss Y/N, okay?” you nodded earnestly.

“I will rest like crazy Dr. Kim!” you held your fist up. You followed her out the room and into the waiting room where you were met with a frazzled Renjun. He came up to you quickly, grabbing one of your hands while the other hand touched your stomach lightly.

“How’s my little jellybean doing?” he asked, looking from your belly to your eyes. You were about to answer when Haechan’s hands grabbed your waist and gently pulled you back towards him, meeting his chest.

“OUR baby,” he emphasized, “is okay. She just needs to take it easy.” he grabbed the purse from your shoulder and slung it onto his shoulder. “Thank you for bringing her here, but I’ll be driving her back.” he put his hand on your shoulder to guide you.

“Thank you Renjun. I’ll call you when I get home okay?” you pulled from Haechan’s arms to give Renjun a hug. You turned back around and Haechan was staring at you with his mouth open like he couldn’t believe you just hugged another man in front of him. Once you both made it out the building doors and to his car he opened the passenger door for you, closing it as you took a seat.

Once he sat in the driver's seat and started the car, he spoke. “So who was that guy?”

“Renjun? He’s a friend. What’s it to you? He at least answered on my first call.” you couldn’t help but throw a jab at him, still upset.

“Just a friend huh? He sure had his hands all over you,” he mumbled.

“What is your deal? You’re acting like you're jealous.” he scoffed as if that idea was absurd.

“I am not jealous. I just didn’t like it.” you turned your whole body to face him now.

“Well, that’s not what it looked like,” you leaned back, crossing your arms across your chest and looking out the window. That’s when you noticed it. You guys weren’t heading back to your apartment. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way back to my place.”

“You’re going to stay with me until the baby is here.” he said it so surely, as though you and him had agreed on this already.

“What? We did not agree on this. Why would I stay with you? All of my belongings are at my apartment already.” he shook his head, no longer hearing your objections.

“I’ll hire a moving company when we get home. I want you to stay with me, that way if anything like this happens again, I’ll be the first person to know.” His eyes stayed fixed on the road.

“You’re acting as if you weren’t the FIRST person I called. I even called you three times before you even answered. And what were you doing?” you snapped at him. You had enough of his entitled attitude.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t realize that it was as serious as you were saying. Please forgive me, It won’t happen again.” He put the car in park, turning to look at you. “Please, just stay with me until the baby is born. That way I can be here for you.” you sighed. You know, deep down, that it made sense. It would be easier if you were with someone in case anything ever happened. You briefly thought back to a few weeks ago when you were stuck on the toilet because the baby put too much wait on your lower back and you couldn’t get off the toilet because of the pain. You were stuck there for a good fifteen minutes before the pain subsided and you were able to get up.

“Just until the baby is here,” you reluctantly agreed. Haechan smiled at you with this whole body. For some reason, he didn’t like you being so upset with him.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you Y/N! Now let's get inside and I’ll show you to your room.” He got out of the car and held open the passenger door for you. You follow him into his house. It was absolutely gorgeous. The front of the house had a circle drive with a fountain, its front bushes looked well kept with budding flowers and clovers. As soon as you stepped foot into the front door, you were shocked. For a young single man you expected more of a bachelor pad, however it was spotless. It was pretty minimalistic in terms of furniture and decoration. It looked lonely.

Haechan led you upstairs and to the left, he pointed at the first door to your right. “This will be your room.” He opened the door to a decently sized bedroom. To the left against a navy blue accent wall was a queen sized bed adorned in cream colored sheets with a matching navy blue duvet. On each side of the bed was built in bookcases with an assortment of different books, ranging from educational to nonfiction. Haechan pointed to the right side of the room where there were two doors. “The one to the left is your ensuite bathroom, and the right is a walk-in closet. Feel free to redecorate however you like. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible while you’re here.” he left you to your thoughts, assuring you that all your belongings would be arriving in the morning.

Even though his words were welcoming, you were still feeling apprehensive about the whole ordeal. On one hand, you were very grateful to Haechan for even wanting to be as involved as he is starting to be, but on the other, it would be so much easier for him just to sign his rights away and you two never meet again. Although you weren’t getting much in return for helping him out with his father, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. That night you two spent together almost four months ago still sat so heavily in your mind. You were both tipsy, yeah, but you were nowhere near black out to forget the time you spent with him and how he opened up to you. You wonder if he remembers anything you two talked about. Maybe, he’s that vulnerable with every hook up. That thought made you sick to your stomach.

You laid your head on Haechan’s chest as he rubbed circles on your bare shoulder, he kissed the top of your head. You listen to the slow beating of his heart, lulling you to sleep. “I’ve got to get up and go, I may end up falling asleep to your heartbeat if not,” you chuckled. He shifted beneath you, moving to where you laid on top of him, your legs resting on either side of his hips.

“Aw, don’t do that pretty. Tell me,” he stroked your hair, “why were you at the bar today?” you hummed with your eyes closed.

“I was celebrating,” you rested one hand on his side while the other embraced the arm petting your hair. It all felt so intimate, something you probably shouldn’t be doing with a hook up.

“Celebrating what?”

“A promotion. I officially got hired onto the company I was interning for.” he made a wow sound accompanied with a chuckle. His hand moved from your head down to your sides, caressing them.

“Company huh. I technically work for one.” he said, staring above you at the ceiling of the hotel room.

“Technically? What does that mean?” you lifted your head, chin resting on his sternum as you stared at him. He looked lost in thought, and for a second you thought you asked something you shouldn’t have, but then he answered.

“Someday I’ll run the company. But right now, i'm not ready,” you figured now was when you should stop asking, his grip on your sides tightened before they moved down to caress your ass. You jumped before his hands were pushing your hips down to grind on him. You were shocked to feel him hard already. You both had just finished maybe thirty minutes ago and were basking in the afterglow. “Sorry, I just want to forget about it. Can I?” he nudged you closer to him, lining himself up with you. You nodded, kissing his neck but he hesitated. “Hmm?”

“Yes, you can Haechan.”

Oh my god. That was it. The first time you both used protection. You know that for certain because you were the one that put it on him. You flushed at the memory. But that second time? After he was being vulnerable, you were both caught up in the moment that neither one of you remembered. You chuckled dryly, your chest aching. Maybe that was his sad excuse at pillow talk. He plays the sad kicked puppy to get laid again. Well it worked. He made you feel special, so he got what he wanted in the end. You tossed your purse on the chair at the foot of the bed and crawled in, maybe sleep will get rid of this unsettled feeling in your chest.

You woke up to a god awful smell and practically flew out of the bed and into the bathroom, throwing up stomach acid into the toilet. You wiped your mouth before leaving the bedroom with your shirt over your nose. You found Haechan in the kitchen, apron on, as he cooked over the stove. “What are you doing?” he turned his head quickly, smiling at you before it fell from his face.

“Is it that bad? I thought I was a good cook,” he pouted. You shook your head.

“No, I'm sure you are but the smell. The egg smells awful.” you gagged as if on cue. He quickly shut the stove off, turned the fan on above, and opened the window above the sink. He took a cutting board and wafted the smell towards the window.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I made some back and pancakes though!” He tried to be optimistic. You giggled, pulling your shirt down from your nose.

“It’s fine, thank you.” He brought over the plates with pancakes and bacon, setting them on the table in front of you.

“What do you like on your pancakes? I put chocolate chips on them.” He moved to the refrigerator, grabbing out butter and milk. “I have syrup,” he grabbed it down from the shelf above the stove.

“Do you have peanut butter? My dad used to mix butter, peanut butter, and syrup together to put on his pancakes. It was so good,” he brought over what you requested, giving you a weird look. “Come on, you have to try it first before you hate on it.” You mixed together your concoction before spreading it on your pancake. You cut off a piece and offered it to Haechan. You expected him to grab it with his fork but he leaned over, mouth wide open, and took it.

“Wow,” his eyes widened and he nodded his head as he tasted it. “It’s not bad. I usually just eat it with syrup. Is this a pregnancy craving thing?” you shook your head and chuckled.

“Nope,” you popped the p as you took a bite. “I just like it. I haven’t gotten weird cravings yet. Wait,” you thought for a second. “Um, actually I’ve been craving meat and dirt. My blood tests came back a few weeks ago and I’m anemic so that could explain it.”

“Do I need to get you anything? I’ll have the housekeeper come and stock the refrigerator with more meat.”

“I don’t need anything. I’m on supplements to help,” you both sat and ate awkwardly at the table. “Do you know when the movers will be here with my stuff? I need my laptop to do some work. I also need to email my supervisor about my situation. I trust that he can keep my pregnancy a secret.” he nodded and finished up his food before taking both your plates and cups to the sink to wash them. Once he was done he checked the time on his phone.

“They should actually be here any minute. Why don’t you go sit in the living room and relax. I’ll help the movers with your stuff.” You got up and made your way out of the kitchen and into the grand living room. It had tall ceilings, gray panels lined the walls, and in the middle of the room was a large dark brown leather sectional. Laying on the couch was a throw blanket so you grabbed it, wrapping it around yourself before sitting down. Pregnancy has made you so cold all the time. You grabbed the tv remote off of the coffee table and flipped through channels before Haechan came into the room with a cup of steaming hot chocolate. You took it from him with a thank you.

The next three hours flew as you drifted in and out of a nap on Haechan’s couch. He was busy redirecting the movers with your belongings so you didn’t have to worry about anything. Before you knew it Haechan was scooting you over on the couch. He slowly laid your head down on his lap as gently as possible, as not to wake you. He switched the channel to a show he had been watching and let it play while his hand absentmindedly stroked your hair. If he was being honest, he wasn’t paying attention to the show he put on, his mind was too jumbled with thoughts. He doesn’t know why he was so adamant on you staying with him except that he was scared. He kept beating himself up over how shitty he was to you over the phone when you called him crying. He didn’t want to hear you upset and scared like that again. He figured this would be the best option, that way he could watch over you the entire pregnancy.

You shifted on his lap, drawing him out of his thoughts. You had turned to your side, one arm resting on your stomach while the other wrapped around his leg, gripping his thighs. His skin burned hot under your touch. His eyes zeroed in on how your hand rested against your swollen tummy. He slowly reached his hand out, laying it on top of yours. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you're growing something that's half you and him inside of you. When you first told him about the baby, all he thought about was how perfect the timing was. But now, he really doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He just knows that this little thing growing inside of you is going to impact his life in every way possible, and he's not so sure he hates that idea completely.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you stopped what you were doing, which happened to be leaning down to put your shoes on. Lately your stomach has started to get in the way of day to day activities. It wasn’t anything serious, it was just like you were carrying around a solid bowling ball in your stomach. Haechan came bolting around the corner, out of the kitchen and spilling the glass of water he had gotten for you. For the last three weeks that you have been living with him, he’s been glued to your side. You weren’t going to lie, it was really nice.

“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He quickly set down the glass of water for you, and rushed to your side.

“The baby just moved. I felt it,” you looked up at him with wide eyes and a big smile on your face. You lifted your shirt up, showing your belly to him. “It was so strong too. It felt like my shirt moved.” You could still feel a little swirl inside of you. It felt like someone was making waves under the water with their hands. “Quick! Give me your hand!” you grabbed his hand, and laid it on your lower belly. “Wait for it.”

“I don’t feel anything,” there was a hint of disappointment in his voice. He started to pull his hand away but you kept it firmly to your stomach. The warmth of his palm against your stomach made you feel tingly. Even though he's been doting on you and making sure to help you with everything you needed, you’ve been feeling lonely. Your back hurts at night, your bed is always cold, and you never feel like you get warm enough. It would be so nice to have someone lay with you at night, at least until you fall asleep. Pregnancy insomnia has been kicking your ass. “Ah, I don’t think it likes me-” before he could finish there was a strong kick to his palm. His mouth dropped open.

“Keep talking! I think it likes the sound of your voice!” you urged him to keep going. He kneeled down in front of you and moved his head closer to your stomach, resting his cheek against it.

“Hey,..” he hesitated like he didn't know what to say. “It’s uh, it’s your daddy. Do you like the sound of my voice?” your heart sped up at Haechan calling himself daddy. The last time he said it was at the hospital a few weeks ago but the way he said it now, it felt warm. He didn’t say to get on anyones nerves like last time, but for himself. “Ohh you do don’t you,” he chuckled against your stomach as the baby pushed against his cheek and palms.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your bonding through my skin,” you giggled, “but were going to be late for my appointment.”

“Ah, right. Bye bye baby,” he poked your belly before standing up and brushing off his knees. “Lessgo.” He grabbed your purse from your shoulder and opened the front door leading you guys to his car.

The drive to the doctors was quick. You were apprehensive about getting your blood drawn but at least you had an hour to prepare yourself. The nurse had you pick between five flavors, orange, lemon-lime, grape, lemonade, and fruit punch. You had decided to go with the orange flavor. You were given five minutes to drink it, and as true as the mommy blogs you read, it tasted like flat soda. Now, you weren't the biggest fan of flat soda but they at least gave you the drink cold. You chugged it in less than five minutes, the nurse looked surprised.

“Wow, a lot of women hate this test,” she laughed as she took the empty bottle from you and threw it in the trash. “In one hour we'll have a phlebotomist take your blood down the stairs.” She led you and Haechan out of the office and into the lounge room. You and Haechan took the elevator to the first floor and waited in the seats until your hour was up.

“Hey, Haechan?” he looked up from his phone, setting it down in his pocket. You twiddle your fingers together in your lap. Renjun was with you the last time that you had your blood drawn. You didn’t know if haechan would be okay sitting with you this time around. Noticing your hesitation, he scooted over to sit next to you, holding your hand.

“Is everything okay Y/N?” you nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not the biggest fan of needles or having my blood drawn. Could you sit in the room with me and hold my hand?” you felt so shy asking it. He held your hand tighter.

“Of course Y/N.” he kept a hold of your hand, rubbing patterns on it as time passed. Soon you heard the nurse call out your name. You got up, followed closely behind by Haechan, his hand not letting go of yours. The second you sat in the chair, Haechan was right next to you. The nurse explained the process and it was basically the same as last time.

“Results come back pretty quickly for this test. It typically comes back in one to two days.” She patched you up with a pink bandaid, and sent you on your way.

“You handled that fine. I kinda expected you to pass out and I’d have to carry you back home,” Haechan teased you, his hand still interlocked with yours as he led you out to his car. “What do you want to eat? They told you not to eat this morning right?” you nodded, thinking hard about what sounded good. He swung your hands back and forth.

“Oh! Lets get some Korean BBQ!” he laughed, throwing his head back.

“I should’ve thought of that,” he glanced towards you, such a warm smile on his face. You smiled back at him as tears started to prick your eyes. Haechan’s smile immediately wiped off his face. “What? What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?” you shook your head.

“No! No, not at all,” you wiped your eyes with your free hand. “It’s just,” you hiccuped, “I’m really emotional. Your smile, it just made me happy.” his smile returned on his face as he used his own hand to wipe at your eyes. His hand lingered at your jaw as he stared at your lips. He cleared his throat before looking away, continuing towards the car.

“So the key to your heart is Korean BBQ huh, that’s good to know.” He helped you into the car before finally letting go of your hand. The loss of the heat in your hand was immense, you sighed. You’ve practically been craving Haechan’s touch since you moved in with him. Maybe it was some sort of physiological pull or something that the baby was doing. Trying to get you closer to its daddy. You chuckled at the thought. Haechan has been so much more tolerable the last few weeks, that it feels like you’re looking at the man you went home with last October.

“Hey, I have kinda a sensitive question.” you asked him as soon as he sat down in the driver seat.

“Shoot,” he said as he turned the ignition. You took a second to try and gather your thoughts. It's been over four months since you guys met at the bar, he’s probably forgotten all about it.

“When we went home together after the bar, I was wondering if you treat all the girls you go home with like how you treated me,” Haechan looked at you a little shocked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you stuttered a little bit. Embarrassed now that you were actually talking about it. “You were very sweet to me. After the first time we,” you blushed, face heating up.”did it,” you whispered. “I kinda expected you to kick me out, but instead you let me stay and we cuddled. You also asked me about myself, and talked about yourself. It just felt very intimate.” Haechan looked lost in thought. He thought back to the night you were talking about, specifically the part where you two cuddled and talked.

“Honestly? No, I don’t typically do that. I usually have them leave after the first time. I don’t know why, but with you, I wanted to spend some more time with you. I didn’t want the night to end just yet.” his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“I wanted to apologize. About that night. When we were talking. I feel like I made you talk about stuff you didn’t want to.”

“No it wasn’t anything like that. Everything I talked about with you that night was because I wanted you. You made me comfortable enough to. So don’t think you made me okay?” His words reassured you. You felt the weight lift off your shoulders a little bit. This pregnancy has made you feel so guilty over the little things in life. The other day you went out to get hot chocolate with Renjun and you cried when you stepped on a snail.

“That does make me feel a bit better,” you chuckled. “Oh, are you still able to make next week's appointment? It’s the anatomy scan.”

“Hmm, that’s when we find out the gender right? See i’m learning,” he had a small smile on his face as he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Yes but also we will find out if the baby is forming correctly,” you pulled out your phone to check the appointment times.

“Are you wanting a boy or girl?” you were shocked by his question. You didn’t expect him to ask, let alone sound curious while doing so.

You let his question sink in. On one hand you really didn’t have a preference, but at the same time you used to dream about having a little boy. “I think a little boy.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you want a boy?”

“I just always dreamed about being a boy mom. I grew up with only girls in the family, cousins, aunts, great aunts, you know. I think it’s just the challenge of something new.” You tried to think hard about it. Maybe it’s because you grew up fighting with your mom, well you fought with both parents, but you were closer to your dad. You were just scared of having a girl and passing off all your bad traits to her and having the same type of relationship you had with your mother, with her.

“Well, either way, I think you’re going to be a fantastic mother to a boy or girl.” you watched the side of his face as he drove. You exclaimed every curve and mole that adorned his sun kissed cheeks. You rested your cheek against your palm, a soft smile laid on your lips. He’s become such a big part of your life, not just because he’s the father of your child, but because of how he’s stuck to his side of the deal.

“It’s going to be hard to keep our pregnancy from your dad isn’t it? He’s been messaging me, wanting to have dinner together again.” you felt guilty that you haven’t been able to uphold your side of said deal.

“Actually, I was wondering if you would be comfortable telling him?” he looked over at you, curiosity and a little bit of anxiety plastered on his face. He chewed at his lip as his eyes found the road again, waiting for your reply.

“Would you be okay with that? I thought you didn’t want to tell him because that would make it harder for you to distance yourself from us after the baby is born.” It hurt to say, but that was the deal. He supports you financially during the pregnancy, but in the end that’s what you both agreed to.

He thought for a long hard minute. You almost expected him to drop the topic, ignoring it all together, but he didn’t. “Yeah, that was the plan but,” his teeth were doing numbers on his bottom lip. “I want to be a part of this baby’s life after it’s born. And yours. I don’t think I can just forget about you or the baby after all of this. You’ve, you’ve become someone special to me Y/N,” he cheeks tinged pink. You grabbed a napkin out of your purse and leaned across the center counsel to dab at the blood on his lips.

“I want that too, Donghyuck,” it felt weird using his real name. You felt like now was the perfect moment, like he was him in this moment. Not the cocky persona he puts up to mask the hurt and loneliness. He grabbed the hand that dabbed at his lips gently, placing a kiss across your knuckles before resting your intertwined fingers atop the arm rest between you two. This was nice, you felt like this was a big step between you two, an important development.

With all the progress you and Donghyuck made during your conversation in the car a week ago, it felt like you both took five steps back. You couldn’t figure out how to talk to him, you were so nervous, always feeling butterflies around him. He, on the other hand, was losing his mind. All he wanted to do was just grab you and hold you, but it felt like you were avoiding him. Everytime he walked into the same room as you, you’d get up and leave. You’ve practically lived in your bedroom for the last week. He was grateful that today was your appointment, that way you were forced to talk to him.

“Here,” he handed you a bottle of orange juice. “I saw online that orange juice helps the baby move. The last thing we want is for it to be still while we're trying to find out if we’re having a boy or girl,” he chuckled, a soft glow to his smile as he looked down at you sitting on the entryway ottoman. He kneeled in front of you, slipping on your slippers for you. Your heart was beating like crazy, it felt way too hot in this room. It was like you were standing next to the sun. You would be concerned, but you knew it was because of how Donghyuck caressed your ankles, slowly massaging them.

“Thank you,” you spoke, barely audible. He looked up at you, eyes locking with yours before he reached his hand up to feel your forehead.

“Are you okay? Your face is red and you’re warm.” you shook your head.

“I’m fine,” you bit your lip. “We need to head out before we’re late.”

Once at the doctor’s, the check up with the nurse went quickly. She had laid you back agaisn’t the exam table and measured your stomach. “Looking perfect Miss Y/N! You’re measuring right on track. You got the results back from your glucose test correct? I just wanted to make sure your notes were put in the system correctly.” You nodded.

“Yes, everything came back normal.” she typed a bit on the computer before leaving. You looked over at Donghyuck who was scrolling on his phone. “I’m sorry about this morning,” he looked up at you, confusion on his face. “And for this whole last week. I’ve just felt so nervous around you.”

He scooted the guest chair closer to you, holding your hand in his. “Is it something I did or said? Was it the conversation we had about telling my father? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” you were so smitten by his concern towards you.

“It’s really childish. I swear it’s nothing you did or said, it’s just,” he leaned forward as if hanging on every single word that came out of your mouth. “I really like you, and I just don’t know how to act around you.” He looked like his mind short circuited for a second before he smirked.

“So what, I make you so nervous that your mind goes mush? Like that?” you nodded. “Oh my god you’re so cute. This entire time I thought you were avoiding me because I upset you or something. But it's just because I'm that charming that I made you speechless.” you smacked his shoulder lightly. He laughed as he rubbed it like you had any real power behind your swing. “Ow, you wounded me.”

You were both interrupted by a knock at the door. Dr Kim walked in with a bright smile on her face. “Who's ready to see the baby!” She took a seat on the rolling stool and moved over to you. She pulled the scanner and lube out as you lifted up your shirt, tucking it underneath your bra to keep it fastened. “Alrighty, this will feel cold. Are you ready?” You locked eyes with Donghyuck, he smiled down from beside you, his hand rested against your upper arm. You nodded at the doctor.

She squirted the lube onto your bare stomach and smeared it with the scanner. With her free hand she pointed up at the screen in front of you and Donghyuck. “Here are the baby’s hands. Ten fingers!” she clicked around on the computer before moving on to the baby’s feet. “All ten toes as well. Good job Mama.” you could feel the baby kick at the probe, as well as see it bounce around the screen. “Do you guys want to know the gender now or wait until the end?”

“I want to wait until the end. What about you?” his eyes were fixed to the screen, a smile plastered on his face. He looked back at you.

“I don’t mind waiting. Do you want to take a bet?” you lifted an eyebrow at him. What did he mean by a bet? “A bet to see who's right on the gender. If I win and it’s a girl, I get to pick her name. If you win and it’s a boy, you get to pick his name. Does that sound fair?” you thought about it for a second, the doctor still clicking away on the screen and moving the scanner around.

“Alright, I’ll take those chances.” he laughed as you both looked up at the screen. The doctor explained some of the things you were seeing. She was checking the baby’s legs and measuring them as well as taking scans for the size of its head. After checking everything she needed to, she turned to face us.

“So mama thinks boy, daddy thinks girl?” both you and Donghyuck nodded before looking up at the screen. She moved the scanner around a bit before stopping. “Congratulations daddy, it’s a girl!” Donghyuck stood up and pulled his fist towards his side.

“Oooh I knew it! I was looking up how to tell and you were ticking off all the boxes for girls! Oh, I'm a genius.” you giggled at his antics. Although you were wanting a boy, you oddly felt excited to have a girl. All of the worries you had about her were still there, but with Donghyuck by your side, you felt like you could brave the fears. The doctor helped you clean up before handing you your sonograms from the visit.

“I wont see you again until you’re closer to thirty weeks. If you have any concerns during that time please don’t hesitate to call me okay?” You pulled your shirt back down over your stomach and said goodbye to the doctor.

“Hit me with it. What’s the name you picked? I’m so curious,” you grabbed his hand, swinging it back and forth. You tried your best to keep up with his pace, he ended up slowing down to match your speed. You get out of breath so easily now, it’s crazy. He put a finger up to his chin in mock thinking.

“Okay, okay, bare with me now. I think it’s really cute but it’s not traditional for a little girl,” you smiled and squeezed his hand in encouragement to keep talking. “I was thinking something like Woong. Just imagine, Woongie,” he called it out so affectionately and cutely you couldn’t help but break out in an even bigger smile.

“What made you want to go with that?” He looked down at you as he held the office's front door open for you to pass through.

“Well, when I first saw her on the sonograms you gave me last December, she looked like a little gummy bear. I’m kinda embarrassed to say this but I’ve been calling her Woong since then.” How fitting that he choose a name that can mean bear.

“Are you trying to project your feelings to make her a mini you?” he gasped, throwing his hand to his chest.

“Never,” he teased. “Do you have anything planned this evening?” you guys made it to the car and you answered as he helped you sit in the passenger seat.

“Not that I know of, why?” he stood by your door with a big grin.

“Because we’re going to go shopping for Princess Woongie. You haven’t gotten anything yet right?” you gushed at her name. You were definitely starting to adore the name the more Donghyuck said it.

“No, I wanted to wait until I knew what we were going to have first.” He closed the door before going around the car and getting in the driver's side.

“Well then, let’s go spoil her before she even arrives.”

Tonight was the night, you had enough of sleeping in a cold bed. You and Donghyuck had been coy back and forth, not quite sure what the other was comfortable with. You stood at your bedroom door, fuzzy socks covering your chilly toes. You had on your pink pajamas, the shorts just small enough that the waistband had to be rolled down under your belly and the shirt that used to fit comfortably rested mid stomach, exposing your twenty four week belly bump.

You tiptoed down the hallway until you stood in front of Donghyuck’s door. You knuckles hesitated against the ingrained wood to his bedroom. Before you could knock, the door swung open to a messy haired Donghyuck. He jumped back letting out a screech, clutching at his bare chest where his heart was. “Oh my god Y/N, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” He looked between you and the baby bump. “Is it Woongie?” a mild panic flashed across his face. You shook your head, hands raising up to wave.

“No! She’s fine!” you told him. The worry melted off his face as he checked you over, making sure with his own two eyes that you and Woong weren’t hurt.

“What are you doing at my bedroom door then?” you stood there, unsure how you wanted to tell him that lately you’ve been feeling isolated. Not necessarily by him, but the further along you get in your pregnancy, the less you see people. You haven’t been back to the office for the last two months, you’ve been doing everything remotely, so that already takes out half of your social circle. Luckily with how busy Renjun is, he still makes time to see you at least once a week.

Your eyes travel the exposed skin across his chest and down to his waist. You’ve seen it before yeah, but not with a completely sober mind. Your mind goes back to the night you guys shared, you vividly remember how warm he was. You would give anything to curl against him. No time for hesitation now.

“Can I sleep here with you tonight?” his eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly. You looked up at him, probably the most pitiful look known to mankind was plastered across your face. Most women have a glow to them during pregnancy, you however, did not. The lack of sleep you’ve gotten in the last three months has dimmed your complexion and created dark circles under your eyes. You always heard the lack of sleep happens AFTER the baby, not before.

He stepped to the side, motioning you to enter. “I was just going to use the bathroom and grab a glass of water. Do you want one?” you nodded and he left the room, leaving you to look around. Donghyuck had a pretty large bed that sat tucked away in the far left corner against the wall. His bed frame was pretty minimalistic, the headboard was a plush bright red that just screamed Donghyuck. You noticed he had a lot of red accents around the room. You walked over to the side of the bed that wasn't against the wall and sat your phone down on the bedside table.

You slowly got onto his bed and crawled towards the side against the wall. Immediately you were engulfed by the citrusy smell of his daily cologne. You nestled yourself underneath his white covers, they were a thick material already warmed from him. Yeah, this was a good idea. You were already feeling the warmth seeping back into your body. Before too long, Donghyuck came back into the room carrying two glasses of water. “Here,” he said as he sat one glass down on his bedside table, next to your phone. You shuffled to rest your back against his head board, reaching out to grab the glass of water from his hand, sipping it. You watched as he checked something on your phone before he unplugged the charger to his phone, connecting your phone to the charger. You handed the water glass back to Donghyuck and he set it down next to his. “Do you want to talk about it?” He sat next to you against the headboard, his fingers playing with your.

“I’m not sure what I'm feeling if I'm being honest,” you laid your head back, staring at his ceiling. He sat quietly, allowing you time to gather your thoughts. “I just think I'm feeling very isolated from the people around me. I was thinking about it earlier but, I really only talk to you and on occasion Renjun when he’s able to make time for me. I haven’t talked to anyone from the company. Also, Woongie makes me cold,” you chuckled looking over to Donghyuck who was already looking at you, your heart jumped at the sudden eye contact.

“What do you mean? Have you talked to Dr. Kim?”

“Yes I have and It’s nothing serious. But, I just have a harder time getting myself warm. My fingers are cold, my feet are cold, I’m just overall cold,” As you said it he picked your intertwined hands up and blew warm air from his mouth. You giggled. “I remembered the last time we shared a bed that your body was hot.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the innuendo. “Stop! I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I’m just teasing you Y/N. You’re more than welcome to sleep in here with me from now on if you want.” He looked around the room, you couldn’t tell from the dim light, but he had a faint blush on his cheeks as he tried to formulate the next words in his mind carefully. “I know we’ve only talked about it briefly but,” he paused, his eyes darting around the room in thought. “I want to have a relationship with you. If you are willing. I know we didn’t really start this relationship that we have on an ideal foot, but I want to have an actual relationship with you. One that’s serious. I want to be in Woong’s life, not just as her daddy, but as her mommy’s partner.” your eyes started tearing up. You both desperately needed this conversation and you were happy he was giving it to you maturely.

“Yes. I want to as well. I want to have you by my side.” Donghyuck smiled at you so fondly, he slowly leaned towards you, his eyes memorizing your face before trailing down to your lips. You closed your eyes, leaning back into him. The moment your lips touch is like fire, heat spreads from your lips, through your body, and to your toes. Your hand was still in his and you squeezed it lightly as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss. Donghyuck’s other hand slowly rested on your cheek, his thumb caressed the side of your lips. It tugged at your bottom lip, slowly dragging it down and open so that he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You gasped, leaning into the palm of his hand as he continued, caressing your tongue with his. You felt light headed, and when you could take it anymore, you leaned back, breaking this kiss with only a strain of saliva to connect you.

Donghyuck gave you a sweet smile before shuffling down the headboard and lifting up the covers. He patted next to him, ushering you down as well to cuddle him. “Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow I want to call my father and set up lunch to tell him the news.” you laid your head firmly on his chest, your legs twisted with his, and his hand stroked your hair. You feel asleep to the thruming of his heartbeat that night.

True to his word, the next morning Donghyuck called his father. You briefly heard his conversation from the other room, and while you only heard bits and pieces, it seemed a bit strained. Donghyuck came back into the bedroom to find you still tucked under his blankets. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your hair before he gave you a small kiss to your temple. “I know you’re awake Y/N,” he cooed in your ear. You pulled the blankets down a little bit to see him.

“I didn’t mean to overhear,” you started. “Is he upset?”

“Oh, I hadn’t told him yet. All I said was that I needed to meet him soon and that it was about you.” he pinched your cheek slightly before standing up from the bed and making his way over to his closet.

You sat up in bed a little too quickly, hissing as you held your back. Donghyuck’s head snapped quickly towards you but you brushed it off. “She's just pushing on my back too much,” you scooted towards the edge of the bed. “Is he upset?”

“Not at you. I think he thinks that I broke up with you or something. I don’t really have the best track record at relationships,” he winced. That came out so bad but you know what he means.

“I understand,” you stood up from the bed and waddled a bit as you made your way up behind him. You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, belly stopping you from laying yourself flush against him. You laughed. You guessed the laugh woke up Woongie because she started to kick through you at Donghyuck’s back.

“Uh, Woongie,” he whined as he turned around to face you. He leaned down towards your stomach, laying his lips on the side before blowing a raspberry. Your entire abdomen shook as Woong did what you could only assume was flips. Donghyuck immediately gasped and apologized. “Oh daddy’s sorry. He didn’t mean to scare you,” he cooed and peppered kisses along your belly. You put your hands on his cheeks and slowly raised his head up, giving him a chaste kiss once he was fully standing.

“Do I need to wear something that hides the belly?” he shook his head quickly.

“No! The whole point of this meeting is to tell him about Woong. I have something I bought you while we were out buying stuff for her the first time.” You looked at him confused. You swore he was with you the entire time, so how did he sneak away to get you something? He rummaged in the top of his closet, pulling out a gift bag. “Here, go change into this and meet me down stairs by the front door. I’ll help you with your shoes.” After a quick kiss to the cheek, you made your way back towards your room.

Once inside you made quick work with the fancy gift wrapping. You pulled out what looked like an off white bodysuit, skeptical at the size of it. It looked three times too small. Inside the bag was also a yellow cardigan with sunflowers knitted into it. Once you slipped on what you thought was a bodysuit, you realized it was a long bodycon dress. It fits like a glove. Although the dress was tight, the material was light enough that it felt like you weren't wearing anything. You slowly made your way down starting where Donghyuck was waiting for you with a pair of orange sandals. He himself wore nice fitted black slacks and a loose off white button up that paired perfectly with your dress.

“I knew it would fit you,” he gave you a quick kiss to the cheek before escorting you down to his car. Once you both arrived at the restaurant, Donghyuck got out and led the way. He had a firm grip on your hand, leading you through the building and towards the back. You could only assume he visited these restaurants often enough to know where the vip rooms were. The president's eyes locked on Donghyuck first, his eyes furrowed as he didn’t know you trailing behind.

“Donghyuck, what is the meaning of this? I thought you were serious about Y/N. Are you here to tell me that you fucked it up with her-” his irritation was cut short as you stepped out from behind Donghyuck. The president’s eyes widened in shock as he took in your figure, your abdomen twice the size it was when you first met. “Uh-” Donghyuck interpreted him.

“We wanted to come share the news with you, Father. Y/N and I are expecting a little girl in July.” The shock melted off of his face and was replaced with a large smile that reached his eyes. He quickly moved towards you, arms extended wide and developed you into a hug. He stepped back from you, scanning you before pulling your left hand up to him.

“Donghyuck, I taught you better than this. Where is this woman's ring?” your eyes practically bugged out of your head, face immediately bursting into a deep red shade as you quickly look over to Donghyuck. He doesn’t have much of a reaction. Of course you’ve thought about marriage before. Both you and Donghyuck hadn’t necessarily started out on your five step life plan as you would’ve hoped you would, you guys would just have to navigate it as you go.

“That’s a conversation for another time Father. For now, I want us to focus on the pregnancy and make sure that it goes smoothly. I want them both to be healthy.” His father had a sparkle in his eye before he stepped away from you both and turned around, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He sat down in his seat and motioned for you both to join him. His eyes looked a bit red and that's when you realised he had teared up earlier.

“I’m proud of you Donghyuck,” Donghyuck looked shocked. It had been years since he last heard his father say that to him. He didn’t know how to respond. “This has been good for you,” he paused, eyes meeting yours. “She has been good for you.” He turned his entire body toward you. “Thank you Y/N for giving him a chance. I know he’s not the easiest person to be around. I suppose he gets that from me.” He chuckled awkwardly.

You didn’t know how to respond to him. Instead you let your hand find Donghyuck’s thigh under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His hand laid over yours, his warmth enveloping your hand. The meal went comfortably. It was a change of pace to see Donghyuck and his father interact with each other in a more domesticated way than what you’ve heard countless times over the phone. They were both so awkward that it had you smiling, adoring the way they would pause in between conversations only to talk over each other.

The following weeks dragged on and on. The further you got along into the pregnancy the more exhausted you felt. Your ankles started to swell, you peed every hour on the hour, and you felt like a beached well half of the time. You just started your weekly check ups at your doctors office, the countdown to Woong’s due date was nearing. At your last appointment, you had just hit thirty six weeks, Dr Kim checked your cervix and informed you that Woong wasn’t head down. She had told you that if she didn’t flip before your next appointment, which was in two days, that you discuss your options.

You had dreamt of having a natural vaginal birth, you may or may not have done a deep dive on the web for birthing videos, but now it was seeming out of reach. The last two nights, almost the entire night, you had been in and out to sleep, only being awoken to what you assumed was just some braxton hicks contractions. It was hell, for both you and Donghyuck. He had hardly gotten any solid sleep, deciding to stay close enough to you should you need anything.

It was of those days where you were sprawled across the couch with your feet resting in Donghyuck’s lap, he made quick work with his fingers as he worked out the tension in the soles of your feet. You had another cramp in your stomach, only this time it was unbearable. You yelped out in pain, your arm reaching to cradle your lower stomach. “What?! What is it?” Donghyuck’s hands flew to your shoulder, helping you sit up. You shook your head, and pushed his arms off rather roughly.

“Sorry,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to control your breathing. “I can’t sit up. We need to go to the hospital now, it feels like she’s coming out now.” tears had already started to pool in your eyes and before you knew it, Donghyuck had grabbed your ‘to go’ hospital bag that had sat in the front room closet for the last month. He rushed back to you with your house slippers, sweat beading at his forehead. He slowly helped you up off of the couch, you checked behind you for a wet spot. “I don’t think my water broke so we have some time.” You slowly made your way down to the car, stopping briefly to catch your breath or if there was a particular rough contraction.

It felt like Donghyuck hit every bump the road had to offer whilst he sped to the hospital. You practically held yourself off the passenger seat due to the pressure that weighed down between your legs. He barely threw the car in park before he launched himself out of the driver's seat to assist you into the building. You had called the doctor's office to inform them that you were coming in with contracts. Renjun had sent you a message earlier that he would be at the hospital as soon as he was able to wrap up his work in case you needed anything from him. Donghyuck’s father had also called him briefly to keep him updated. By now tears had been spilling all over the place, your nose was running, and it wasn’t just because of the pain. Never in your life had you realised that you had so many people around you that cared.

The nurse escorted you as quickly as you were able to move to a room where she hooked up some monitors to your stomach to track the baby’s heartbeat and contractions. Donghyuck had helped you take off your pants so that the nurse could check your dilation. “I’ll give you a second for this contraction to pass before I check you, okay?” you briefly nodded as you closed your eyes tight, your fists clenched the bedspread beneath you. As soon as the contraction died down, the nurse inserted her fingers. You saw as she raised her eyebrows, her eyes darting around before she spoke. “Okay, we’ll be having the baby today! You are almost ten centimeters dilated. I’ll call the doctors in.” She quickly moved to your right side, inserting an IV into the back of your hand. You winced at the sudden pain.

You looked over at Donghyuck, confusion on both of your faces. What was going on? Before you knew it, the room was flooded with doctors. “What’s happening?” your voice came out frantic, the doctors around you moved the bed down and handed Donghyuck a pair of scrubs, hair net, and mask.

“I’m going to go through this quickly. We’re getting you rushed in for a c section. The baby has their legs down so we're on a time crunch before your water breaks. Please sign here, here, and here.” Your eyes were blurred with tears. This wasn’t what you wanted. Your hands shook as you handed the pen back to the doctor. They had already wheeled you out of the room and down the hall into another, leaving Donghyuck behind. You didn’t know what to focus on, you didn’t have Donghyuck next to you, your birth plan wasn’t going how you planned, and it felt like no one was telling you what was happening.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” a calming voice spoke next to you as a hand rested on your shoulder. A young lady stood next to your table, she grabbed your hand as the doctors around you instructed you to lay on your side. “They’re doing the spinal tap now. Just tuck your knees to your chest as far as you can.” you followed her instructions, squeezing her hand tightly.

“Where’s Donghyuck,” you sobbed. “I want him here with me.” the lady nodded her head in reassurance.

“He’ll be here quickly. They have him sanitizing before he arrives.” The doctors around you moved you back towards your back before slipping an oxygen mask over your face. Your eyes looked around the room, taking in the bright lights and the tarp that separated you from the other side where the doctors prepared their instruments.

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” Donghyuck moved quickly next to you as the lady passed your hand into his before backing up.

“I’m scared,” you must look pitiful with all this machinery hooked up to you, eyes and nose red from crying. You were shivering too.

“It’s going to go by so quickly, you won’t even know what’s happening.” He reassures you, his free hand moving the hair out of your face before leaving a kiss on your forehead. He sat by your ear, whispers of encouragement kept your thoughts from drifting. Dr. Kim said something before calling Donghyuck over to follow her as she walked towards an incubator.

“She’s a big one mama! Eight pounds!” your head moved around as you tried to get a glimpse of your baby. You couldn’t hear her cry. Your heart rate spiked, all you wanted was to have your baby with you now. That’s when you heard it, a boisterous cry. You laughed weakly, tears of relief ran down your face now as you relaxed your head back onto the table. Donghyuck walked over to you, watery eyes with a bundle of white blankets in his hands.

“Say hi to you mama Woongie,” he held her down to rest her cheek against yours. You rubbed your face against her as you sniffled and shivered. She was perfect. A perfect round head with chubby little cheeks. Donghyuck held her back to his chest while the doctors stitched you back up. They took Woong back from Donghyuck, undressing her from the blankets and laying her against your bare chest. You let out a sigh of relief, you hand cradling her small head, barely hair in sight. You chuckled. “She got that from me,” he rested his hand against yours that cradled her head.

The nurses moved your entire bed through the hospital hallways until you reached what you assumed would be your room while you stayed there. After a brief rundown of what your first twenty four hours of Woong’s life would be like, you and Donghyuck were left alone in your hospital room, Woong asleep on your chest. You were exhausted.

Donghyuck slowly moved one of the guest’s chairs over to the side of your bed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand while the other rested against your’s on Woong’s small frame. “You were incredible Y/N,” you smiled sweetly over to him. “You safely carried Woongi and both you and her were safe during the procedure. You did so well.”

“I only did so well because you were here supporting me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t give me a chance when I first came to you.” he shook his head, looking at you with a resolved look on his face.

“You gave me the chance, not the other way around. You stuck with me when I was being an asshole. I’m glad you shook some sense into me. I can’t imagine a life different from this. A life without Woongie. Without you. You gave me a purpose in life,” his eyes trailed down towards the small figure that breathed softly on your chest. “Heh,” he chuckled. “I guess my father was right. I was so wrapped up in the mindset that my life needed to be filled with parties, events, and whatever woman I laid my eyes on. You changed my world Y/N. You showed me that what I was missing, deep down inside, wasn’t something I tried to find in flings or glasses of wine. It was you, it was her. I was looking for something, someone, to dedicate my life to. Someone that would better me. Not just for myself, but for the future of my legacy, my fathers legacy.” He slowly moved his hand to your jaw, caressing it gently as he leaned it and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. It was so warm, so full of love. He poured his thoughts and feelings into it. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “I was looking for you.”

notes; ahhh omg never again am I going to work on a long ass fic AND and smau at the same time. That was hard af. This was 42 pages on docs....... jeeze. Please let me know what you think, I have a praise kink

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