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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 5 months ago

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Ludos Imperiales 7

Summary: A long awaited discussion is interrupted by a dark visitor.

Content Warnings: Attempted Assassination, Character Death (Unnamed), Mentions of Body Mutilation/Horror.

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

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“You know?” I blurt, head spinning. How long have they known?! I’ve spent all this time agonizing on whether or not that’s a benefit or a hindrance and all the while they’ve said nothing?

Rhysand reaches out to brush a tendril of damp hair off my cheek, while Azriel still keeps his grip on my chin. Both of their touch at the same time makes my knees wobble.

“Of course we do,” Azriel chuckles, tilting his head down an inch so I can look him directly in the eyes. “It is my job to know things.”

The shadow still sitting on my ear makes a sound like a cat purring as it rubs itself against my temple.

“You don’t…” the affection is making my head spin. This all feels like a dream. “Hate me for… this?” I gingerly run a finger along his forearm, careful not to touch the still blistered skin where I’d branded him.

“Or this?” I motion to the collar around his throat. Stealing the key from the guard when he’d given it to me to unchain Cassian earlier had been futile. They’d made sure to search all four of us before leaving the Palace.

“No-” Azriel starts as Rhysand catches my hand before it falls and brings it gingerly to his lips.

My heartbeat is once again very loud in my ears, a blush working its way across my cheeks. I’m suddenly very grateful that the candlelight doesn’t reach far beyond the bathing chambers.

“The brand was me, Darling, don’t keep blaming yourself for that.”

As much as I want this with the two of them, there is a notable absence in the room. “Cassian doesn’t seem to share the sentiment.”

“He’ll come around,” Azriel assures. “He’s just processing.”

“You think he can process that Hybern is my father?” I return. “Most people can’t.”

Azriel lets go of my chin, scarred fingers sliding across my jaw to cup my cheek. I find myself leaning into his touch like a moth to flame, unable to stop myself from indulging in the warmth the floods through my body. For the first time in days the bond doesn’t feel raw or frayed or broken. It’s warm, glowing like the candles in the bathroom.

“You don’t choose the family you’re born into,” Rhysand starts.

“We’re pretty familiar with shitty fathers,” Azriel finishes.

This doesn’t feel real. I swear I’m dreaming!

“And, if we’re going to stop yours, we need to set some ground rules,” Rhysand says, bringing the conversation back to the moment at hand. “You don’t put yourself in harm’s way for us.”

“We will have to find middle ground, Rhysand-”

“Rhys, we’re not having a dinner party, you don’t have to be formal about it.”

“We will have to find middle ground, Rhys, because I’m not ok with putting you in harm's way either. I already have to sit here and watch you fight in the Arena; there is only so much I can take.”

The way Azriel’s eyes suddenly glaze over tells me they’re having a mental sidebar about what to do, since we seem to be at an impasse here.

I’d take the moment to appreciate our new understanding of each other if the creak of one of the floor tiles in the hall didn’t catch my attention instead. Strange, there shouldn’t be any guards patrolling inside…

I incline my head, listening for it again. There are three loose tiles in the hall; I know this because I memorized their placement in order to sneak out into the gardens on the nights both my parents were in the house. One at the end, one under the windows, and one right outside the door. If someone were just checking the hall, I would only hear one. Any more than that, then someone who should not be awake at this hour is coming towards the door.

The second creak sounds just as my mates finish their silent discussion, Rhys’s mouth parting to announce a decision and I fling myself forward and clamp my hand over his mouth. “Someone is coming!”

The words are barely out when the third and final tile makes a noise, right outside my door.

Azriel’s shadow over my ear slithers down to rest on my shoulder with a hiss, writhing in agitation like a snake as it appraises the darkness. Azriel himself is a flurry of shadows as he launches into the corner, where he can grab anything that tries to step into the room.

Someone tests the doorknob to see if it's locked, and Rhys loops an arm around my waist and pulls me behind him with one hand, while the other reaches out and emits a small blast of glittering starlight that blows out all the candles in the bathroom.

He can do that around the gorsian stone?! I know that he’s powerful, but just how much? These chains have stolen the powers of some powerful beings over the years, reduced them to basically human, but he’s still functioning?

The door opens slowly, inch by inch, as if someone is testing to see if it makes any noise. Definitely not Anise then, she would know that it doesn’t.

Rhys backs up until my back is flush against the wall and there’s several feet between himself and the door.

“Smells like death.” I flinch, because that’s not Rhys in my head, but the shadow still perched on my shoulder, whispering in my ear. It can speak?!

One of the staff had closed the hall curtains, leaving nothing but a vague shape in the darkness as something slips silently into my room and shuts the door behind it. In the stillness, there is no mistaking the sound of a blade sliding out of its sheath, but whatever the creature is, it obviously can’t see in the dark. It has no idea Azriel is behind it until one of his shadows lashes out and knocks the blade from its grip.

The creature makes a strange gurgling noise as Azriel pounces, and though I can’t fully see around Rhys, I hear Azriel’s fist make contact with flesh, followed by several heavy thuds.

“It is subdued,” the shadow whispers.

Rhys can either see in the dark, or is telepathically still communicating with Azriel, because he waves his hand and the candles in the bathing chamber light themselves again. There’s just enough light for us to see Azriel kneeling on a male’s chest in the center of my bedchamber. The figure is clothed from head to toe in black, a hood slipping off his temples to reveal a bald head covered in swirling tattoos that converge into a half moon right between his eyebrows. The tattoo is enough to tell me what and who this male is, but so would the stitching across his face that keeps his mouth sewn shut.

I shudder as I step around Rhys, or try to, he keeps an arm out to stop me from approaching, as if he thinks the male might just explode.

“He’s a Raven,” I say softly.

The male’s eyes are so dark they’re almost black, just like Amarantha’s, and they narrow in my direction. He’s either Fae or Elf, but the pointed tips of his ears have been shaved off, the rounded tips held in place with the same gruesome stitches that seal his mouth. Once indicted as a Raven, race and gender are removed from the equation, everyone in the brotherhood is mutilated to fit the same, rigid and ambiguous uniform their Order demands.

“Fill us in, Princess,” Rhys prompts.

“They’re an order of assassins. Usually kids they pick off the street. They undergo rigorous training and body mutilation until the Order shapes them into ambiguous monsters that only know how to kill. The Order was started by my great grandfather, the thought was that they should be able to blend in anywhere, that they would have no defining features, until…” I know the history of them like everyone in the Capitol because it’s part of the school curriculum, but as I recite the information something clicks into place.

Rhys turns just enough to look at me.

“Until my Father became Emperor and the modifications became… gruesome so that they could be identified. He wanted people to know that it was him who set them against their targets.”

“Hybern tried to kill you.” Rhys says flatly. It’s not a question.

Azriel’s teeth flash in a snarl as his knee moves from the assassin’s chest to his throat, but no sound gets past his stitched lips. Only a slight jerk of his bald head indicates that he’s choking against the pressure.

My Father tried to have me killed. Not executed like my Mother, he doesn’t have evidence of that, but murdered.

I liked it better when my knees shook because my mates’ had their hands on me, not because of the icy terror that fills my veins. My Father tried to have me killed.

I must look shaken because Rhys slides his arm around my waist and leads me to the edge of the bed to sit.

“We’re not going to get anything out of him,” Azriel snarls. “So unless you have any last minute requests, I’m killing him and dumping the body in the river.”

“Do not anger the nymphs, they’ll eat you whole,” I say distantly. Today has been the longest day of my life.

Azriel’s shadow brushes gently over my cheek as if to comfort me, but it has stopped speaking for the moment. I’m so tired, I wonder if maybe I imagined it.

“If we kill him, Hybern knows that we’re on to him,” Rhys returns.

This is enough, at least for the moment, for Azriel to remove his knee from the male’s throat, but he doesn’t move off his chest. His shadows bring him the dagger they knocked from the Raven’s hand, the blade jagged and curved in a crescent shape, reaching nearly eight inches. He would have had a hard time driving that directly into my chest, but it would have carved me up like a turkey with little resistance. A shiver runs up my spine; if my mates hadn’t come looking for me… if I had still been in the tub…

“What do you purpose we do with him?” Azriel snarls. “He can’t walk out of here.”

The Raven makes a noise that sounds like a chuckle, as if amused by the situation.

We’re once again caught between a rock and a hard place. If Azriel kills him, then Father will know they were here in the room with me. If they let him go, Father knows they were here with me. We can’t make his death look like an accident either; that will look suspicious, Father will send others to see what kind of security measures I’ve suddenly added to the house.

I take my lower lip between my teeth. What are we supposed to do?

Rhys starts to pace along the length of the bed, trying to plan, agitation evident down the bond. “We’ve clearly hit a sore spot if he’s already trying to kill you.”

Me. Not them. I hit a sore spot. I bet against him and won. I defied him. This isn’t about them at all, this is purely because I threatened his ego.

I glance up at Azriel. If this is about me, then I have to be the one to get us out. “I have to kill him.”

Azriel’s shadow hums approvingly as it nuzzles against my throat, even as its master’s eyes narrow.

“He’s here for me. The only way we get out of this is if I’m the one who beats him.” Father will not see it coming, he has underestimated me my whole life. He thinks I’m an easy target who got lucky.

“This is a game to my Father. One he thinks he can easily win-”

“You have to play the game,” Rhys finishes with a frown. “He’s testing you, trying to gauge where your threat level is.”

“I don’t like it,” Azriel huffs, even as he hauls the male to his feet. The Raven flails, using his elbows and fists to try to free himself, but Azriel holds tight. “It puts you directly in the line of fire.”

Rhys turns to look at me, violet eyes heavy. His shoulders sag, like he’s resigning himself to what he’s about to say.

“No more chances to get on that boat from here,” I quip.

He reaches out to cup my cheek. “I wish things were different. I wish… that it wasn’t impossible choice after impossible choice…”

“But it’s my choice.” That’s why they were in the room in the first place, wasn’t it? “I choose you, all of you, and this. I will do what is necessary. I can live with this choice.”

He leans in, the heat of him enveloping me and I want more than anything to curl into his chest and stay wrapped up in his arms forever. I wish we hadn’t had to meet like this. I wish there wasn’t so much bloodshed and pain leading up to this. But I cannot change it. All I can do is hope that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and moving in this direction will get us all out of here alive. I can play this game for them.

He places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Then I will find a way to live with it.”

I smirk, just a little as I turn to face the Raven. For the first time in months, I actively reach for my power, letting it pulse steadily through my veins until it can unfurl like a whip from my palm. Azriel’s shadow slithers down my arm to inspect it.

“You’ll have to leave before I do,” I say.

“Not a chance!” Azriel growls.

I draw a breath, making sure my grip is secure, just as I’ve trained to do. The exhaustion of the day and the months of solitude make my grip a little shaky, but I can manage.

“I will have to call for the guards,” I return as I flick the ether of power out and wrap it around the Raven’s waist.

His beady eyes narrow on the tendril of power before jumping to me with a look of pure venom. We were lucky Father hadn’t sent one of the more powerful wielders, this one can’t be more than an acolyte. The thought stings a little; he thinks so little of my powers he sent a student after me.

I suppose I should be grateful, this will probably be the easiest thing he’ll throw at us from this moment forward.

“You can’t be here when they come, and there’s only one way out of this room.”

I get a firm grip on my power, making sure the tether around the Raven’s waist is secure before tugging on it, yanking the male from Azriel’s grip. I’m ashamed to admit that it’s a tremendous effort to fling him against the wall and hold him there. My head pounds under the strain. Goddess am I out of practice! First thing tomorrow, after the Senate meeting, Mother willing we all survive it, I’m getting back into the training field.

The Raven thrashes under my grip like he knows I’m the weak link here.

Azriel’s shadows drift around him like snakes writhing in agitation as he studies my grip.

“My Father has alchemists and mages at his disposal, they will be able to ascertain the time from when I killed him and when the guards took the body away. If there are any gaps, if it looks at all like I waited to call the guards, they will find it.”

He looks torn, bandaged wings sagging behind him. I know they don’t like the idea, there are things that could go wrong, but none of this will work if we don’t start trusting each other to handle our respective duties. Truth be told, I’d rather they be here. I’d rather they know what I’m capable of, but I won’t risk them just for a chance to show off.

“Go, I’ll be alright. We can talk about everything later.”

Rhys nods solemnly.

Azriel’s jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth.

“Believe it or not, I have survived my Father without any interference from you before,” I point out. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”

“Didn’t say you were,” he growls out.

“Then have some faith in me.”

Holding the Raven up this long is really starting to hurt, my muscles cramping from keeping my hand outstretched so long. They need to leave and they need to leave now!

Azriel finally steps close enough to press the Raven’s dagger into my palm, scarred hands wrapping around mine to make sure my grip on it is secure. The move is more intimate than it should be, my heart rate picking up.

“A shadow will stay with you.” The ether rubs against my wrist as it continues to study my grip on my power.

“I’ll be fine,” I promise.

They’re gone quickly, maybe because they know if they linger they will talk themselves out of leaving.

I turn to face the Raven. It’s dagger is cold and heavy in my off hand, but it helps to remind me what my fate could have been tonight. I step closer, hand still splayed out in front of me so my power slams him back hard enough for the plaster to crack. Good, it looks like I’d been in bed and tossed him this direction.

I glance down at the shadowy pet that Azriel left behind. “I don’t suppose you could go ruffle my sheets so it looks like I was sleeping?”

The shadow, much to my delight, moves in a way that looks like a nod before it flies over to my bed and starts yanking the pillows off the top covers. It even goes into the bathroom to start knocking out the candles so there’s no evidence that I wasn’t sleeping during this attack. I’m starting to get attached to the little guy.

I turn my attention back to the Raven, who’s beady eyes narrow in challenge. I can do this. If I don’t, who knows what will happen to my mates.

I break my power into sections, one holding the male in place, a second sharpening it into a giant spike. My hand starts to shake under the strain and I grit my teeth. I can hold it. I can do this. I am not the weak little girl my Father thinks I am. I will not let him win.

The last candle winks out in the bathroom as I pull the spike back and ram it forward so hard the house shutters. And then I start screaming for the guards.

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Hours later, there’s nothing left of the Raven but my cracked wall and a splatter of blood a couple of the staff are still trying to clean. I’m so exhausted I would have left it for the morning, but Anise had heard the commotion and taken charge of the situation before I could even get a word in.

She still hovers. At some point she’d thrown a blanket over my shoulders like she expected me to start shaking over the ordeal. Honestly, after everything these last couple of days, this feels like it’s pretty low on the list of traumatic experiences.

Maybe I will feel the weight of it in the morning. Right now, I just feel exhausted.

“You should stay in another room tonight.” I’m pretty sure she hasn’t stopped speaking since she came running in to check on me, but I honestly didn’t hear half of it. “Guards should be posted.”

“No.”

She stops pacing long enough to look at me like she thinks I’ve grown a second head. “Don’t you no me! You were attacked-”

“By a Raven,” I retort.

She knows the history of them as well as I do, and there have only been a handful of other times in my life that I’ve seen her be shocked into silence as she is now.

“There will be no more attacks tonight.” There are few things I know for certain about my Father, but I know for a fact he never strikes the same way twice. Tonight was a test. The next will be worse.

Anise reaches out for my hands. “Is this because of those males-”

“Not tonight, Anise.” I don’t have the energy to fight her tonight. I just want to get some sleep. “Ladies, please return to your rooms. The rest of the cleanup can be dealt with in the morning.”

The staff sends me sympathetic looks as they pack up their things, but Anise doesn’t budge.

“You are scaring me, child,” she whispers.

Her disapproval is sharp as a knife, but I can’t cave now. “I am fine, Anise.”

“That’s what your mother used to say!” She hisses.

I flinch despite myself. Azriel’s shadow is back to its perch at my ear and it hisses softly beneath my hair.

“This will blow over,” I insist, even though I know it's a lie. Tomorrow I will have to consider putting her on that boat I was looking at and getting her out of here before Father realizes she can be used against me. But it is a problem for tomorrow. There is nothing else left in me tonight.

“If you so insist on playing games with your life, fine! But don’t say I didn’t warn you that this is a mistake!” She shouts as she storms out.

It couldn’t have been easy for her, caring for me after we lost my Mother. I actively refused her help then too. But this is different. I am different. Eventually I will find a way to show her.

My bed looks as inviting as a prison cell. I’d sooner sleep on the floor than try to sleep here tonight, despite my exhaustion. My body moves on its own accord, following an instinct that feels like it grows more and more every day. Before I realize what I’m doing, I find myself standing in the kitchen cellar, hand on the lock of the secret door.

Azriel’s shadow hisses approvingly.

I have thought about enough today; jumped through enough hoops. My brain feels heavy in my skull. I will weigh the consequences of this tomorrow, as with everything else. I turn the lock and slip through the tunnel without bringing a light.

I wouldn’t have needed one anyway. Azriel left the door on his end open, soft light spilling down the tunnel. He sits on top of the altar, sharpening what looked like a knife he’d swiped from the kitchen.

Rhys paces behind him until I’m close enough for them to hear me coming, by the time I reach the doorway, they’re on me. A new shadow roves over my skin, searching for injuries. One of their hands brushes my hair out of my face, checking for injuries. The other asks if I’m ok and all I can do is yawn.

Sleep pulls at the edges of my vision. My body suddenly very heavy. “Can I sleep here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.” The words come out without conscious thought. They could leave me on the floor and I’d take it, as long as I don’t have to keep fighting to keep my eyes open.

Everything shifts and spins as Rhys easily, and quickly, sweeps me up into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. He’s warm and the jasmine and citrus scent of him is soothing. My head falls onto his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Azriel shuts the trap door behind us as he follows us into the adjoining room. There are enough rooms in the Guest Wing for them to sleep separately, but someone managed to shove three beds into one. Not sure if that was the guard’s or them.

I have enough presence of mind to note that Cassian is awake in his bed, bandaged thigh propped up on some pillows before Rhys sets me down in the center of what I can only assume is his bed, because the sheets smell faintly of him.

“Rest-” he moves like he might leave me and it’s the first real rush of panic I feel all night as I grab for his hand before he can pull away.

“Please stay.” The bed isn’t big by any means but it feels like I’m swimming in nothing but open water, with nothing to shield me from whatever dangers might come if I fall asleep now. It’s all coming in in a rush and if I have to lay here and think about it, it’ll consume me.

His features soften as he gives my hand a squeeze and slides in under the covers next to me. I don’t have to try and find Azriel, because he squeezes in behind me. He can’t be comfortable, this bed is barely big enough for two, and his wings are still healing. Yet he gives no complaint, just tentatively slides his arm around my waist.

“Is this ok?” His breath is warm against my neck, the caress not unlike the ones his shadows have been giving me.

Exhaustion threatens to pull me under as the panic begins to ebb. This is much better.

“You’re safe,” Rhys whispers.

I intertwine my fingers with the ones Azriel has resting over my stomach. There are so many things I want to say, so many things we still need to talk about. I have questions and concerns and tomorrow is a promise of threats we need to be prepared to deal with. But it can wait until morning.

“Thank you,” I murmur to both of them, voice thick as sleep begins to overtake me.

Azriel places a very gentle kiss on the back of my head.

It takes moments for me to start drifting, even if I wasn’t exhausted, their combined presence is enough to make the bond and my body relax more than I ever have. Just as I start to go under, in a very hesitant voice, I hear Cassian ask, “Is she ok?”

The bond between us, broken as it is, swells just a little. Just enough to make me hope the others were right and he might eventually come around, but that too, will be something to deal with tomorrow.

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Author's Note: Sorry for the slight delay, I've been a little under the weather! Hoping to be back on schedule now. :) As always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @sirenpearldust, @saltedcoffeescotch, @littlemissfix-itfic, @waka-babe, @raisam,

@anainkandpaper, @rafeecameronsbitch, @whothehelliskayleigh, @lifetobeareader, @blimpintime,

@hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd, @urfunnyvalentin3, @mack234-blog1, @kissesfromnovalie

@marrass, @lia-h-r, @celestialzdiviner, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @tenshis-cake,

@of-outerspace, @erencvlt, @corvusmorte, @lindsayjoy444, @raccoonworld,

@byteme05 , @art1012 , @the-tummo , @kiwi-mothball, @onthewaytotimbuktu

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #azriel x reader #Cassian x reader #poly!bat boys x reader #gladiator!bat boys #gladiator!bat boys x reader #gladiator!rhys #gladiator!azriel #gladiator!cassian #princess!reader #acotar fanfic #acotar au #gladiator fic #gladiator au #my writing #my fanfic #my series

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itsriabby · 4 months ago

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Mona Lisa - S.H. (Part 3)

“Goodnight friend”

actor!steve x makeupartist!reader

Plot: When Steve meets his beloved makeup artist’s replacement, he swears it’s hate at first sight. But… is there truly such a thing?

Trope: enemies x lovers

Wc: 5k (my hand slipped)

Warnings: mentions of family problems, reader having long-ish hair, slow-burn, fluff, alcohol… I think that’s it. I hope you like iiit!

Main Masterlist | Part 4

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“You’re not wearing that.” Your friend Eddie gives you a long up and down look, shaking his head no.

You frown, looking down at your little black dress. You think it’s pretty “I am, actually.”

He rounds the car and steps into the driver seat, ushering you with a come-hither motion so you sit beside him “We’re stopping at my place.”

“What? Why?” You exclaim bewildered while following his directions and getting in the car.

“Look babe, you look hot as fuck, I’m not saying you don’t.” He explains, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder “But… This is kind of a big deal, so that won’t do.” He signals your outfit.

You think for a second, confused “Well… I like your style Eds, I really do, but I don’t really think I’ll look good with your clothes.” You cross your arms.

Eddie has nice clothes, he always comes to set in designer and vintage runway pieces. He has this “edgy vibe” or whatever he calls it, and even though it looks bomb on him, you don’t think you’d suit it.

Plus, they’d hide your figure and make you look like a potato sack. Not really fitting to make a first impression for your first celebrity party.

“Ok, first, everyone looks good in vivienne westwood, second, I’m not giving you my clothes.” He starts the car, looking straight ahead. “I have a couple girl things there.”

He says it so nonchalantly. You raise an eyebrow skeptically.

“You have girl clothes?”

“Yup.” He nods, a big smile on his face. He looks at you for a second, reading your confusion, and keeps talking “They’re not mine. Not that guys can’t wear girl clothes, you know clothing doesn’t have actual gender, but… A couple girls have left things there, and they’re pretty chic if I say so myself.”

You snort “You’re giving me your one night stand’s clothes?”

He shrugs with a smug smile “What can I say? I have good taste.”

You slap him playfully, both of you chuckling softly.

“They better be clean Munson.” You give him a pointed look. You might borrow it, but you draw the line at it being dirty.

He jokingly places a finger on his chin, as if thinking about it “Now that you ask…”

“Hey!” You widen your eyes outraged, and he breaks out laughing when he sees you.

“I’m messing with you. They’re pristine. Don’t worry, I had them cleaned a few weeks ago.” He pulls up to his driveway, stopping the car and parking in its designated spot. “I knew they’d come in handy someday.”

You get out of the car and he walks beside you, getting his keys out his pocket and opening the front door “C’mon Cinderella, you’re lucky I’m your fairy godmother.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully and opens the door.

To say the house is huge is an understatement. It’s not a mansion, but it’s a big house for someone who’s not even 30 yet. It’s decorated in mainly dark colors, filled with leather sofas and chairs, vintage framed playboy posters, a wall filled solely by electric guitars… It’s frankly Eddie Munson in its highest and truest form.

Eddie might be a new character in this show, but he is nowhere near a new face. He’s been in countless horror films, indie movies, a couple guest star roles in tv shows… He’s not deemed a renowned actor yet, but he does have a cult following, so he’s got countless fans following his every move. Everything Eddie appears in, immediately does well. You guess that’s how he’s gotten the connections to go to tonight’s party.

“What about this?”

You’re upstairs now. You’re sat in the corner of his bed while he holds a very sheer dress in his hands.

“Isn’t that a little revealing?” You turn your head to the right, inspecting the fabric.

“Duh, why do you think I took her home?” He says it like it’s so obvious.

Your expression turns deadpan “Are you really that shallow?”

“Of course not!” He frowns “I’ll have you know I was deeply captivated by her BIG personality.” He smirks, making up a big butt with his hands.

“You’re such a dude.” You roll your eyes, taking the dress from him and throwing it in the bed, alongside a couple more pieces “And I’m not wearing this. What else have you got?”

He walks back into his wardrobe, fumbling with the contents for a minute “I have another dress, but it’s not as rock and roll.” He says loudly so you’ll hear him.

“Well I’m not going for rock and roll tonight, so it’s fine.”

You’re picking at your nails, looking down when he speaks “Here she is.”

When you look up, you swear you have to do a double take, just like in cartoons, when the characters eyes go big and out of their head. That’s you right now.

“Oh wow.”

“Oh wow indeed.” Eddie nods. “I remember her… Good night, good night.” He smirks nostalgic and you throw a shoe at him playfully.

Still, you’re speechless.

You’re no fashion expert, but the dress is clearly Versace. It’s this pale pink, you think satin, long dress. It’s very simple, but it’s so elegant, so beautiful. You’d have to sell your left kidney to afford it.

“Eddie… it’s so pretty.” You tilt your head, as if somehow its going to be less mesmerizing, it’s not.

“Like you.” He says with a cheesy voice, and you both giggle.

You stand up and hug him, the dress between you both “Thank you so much, I’ll take care of it like a newborn, you won’t even notice I’ve worn it.” You muffle in his shirt.

He pushes you off with a chuckle “Are you stupid? Wear it until it’s raggedy, I don’t care. If she hasn’t come here to take it back by now, she’s not coming anytime soon.” He flips the dress so your chest meets the back of it, and holds it up to see how I’d look on you “Besides, you’re my friend. I love you too much to not gift it to you. Also, I’ll get enough enjoyment seeing Harrington see you wearing it.” He gives you a devilish smirk followed by a wink.

You frown “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs with a smile “Nothing.” He steps behind you and slaps your ass mischievously “C’mon Cinderella, your carrier’s waiting for you.”

You huff a laugh and roll your eyes, walking into the closet with your middle finger up, not before looking back at Eddie and giving him an honest grin.

When you’re out of sight and aren’t able to hear him, he shakes his head with a chuckle “That poor bastard…”

———————-

“But what do I say if they approach me?”

“Um… hello?” Robin looks at you skeptically.

“I know that! But like, what do they talk about?” You panic, covering your whole face with both your hands.

You picked up Robin on the way to the party, and there you are, all three still sitting inside the parked car, just outside the mansion hosting the party.

“Babe relax, they’re just people.” Eddie leans back in the driver seat, rolling down his window and lighting a cigarette “Narcissistic, millionaire people, but people nonetheless.”

You give him a nasty look “That’s not helping.”

“Look, I know you’re nervous and all, but it’s really not that hard, just be you.” Robin encourages you, putting a hand on your arm reassuringly. You look back to smile at her.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, blowing smoke out the window “We like you don’t we? Then you’ve already convinced the coolest people in the room you’re worth it. Everyone else will follow alright?”

You huff a laugh and look up, looking at one and then the other. They really are the best.

“Ok. I’m ready.” You clasp your hands together and start unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Seriously? I just started smoking!” He frowns.

You get out of the passenger seat and round the car all the way to his side, taking the cigarette from his two fingers and letting it fall to the ground, smashing it with your heel “Problem solved.”

———————————————————————

Steve had been waiting inside for an hour.

He’d been to a thousand parties by now, so he knew not to enter too early or too late, that’s why he’d told Eddie to be there at 10pm. Reasonable time for a gathering like this.

But you were late. At first it was like 10 minutes, then 20, and soon enough it was 11 pm with no sign of the three of you.

He should’ve known Eddie wouldn’t be on time, he’s the one driving, but unconsciously he immediately blames you. You probably took ages to get ready, or wanted to stop somewhere, or decided to crash another party, who knows?

The only thing he knows is you’re out there having a good time with his friends and he’s in this party, filled with people he’s met a hundred times and who know nothing about him. The house is packed but he feels complete and utterly alone.

Robin makes these things bearable.

She’s the one who makes funny comments about individuals after having small talk with them, or picking a couple and acting out whatever they would be saying… He wishes she’d be right here and not wherever the hell you’ve dragged her to.

He knows her so deeply, he’d know exactly what she would say right now. She’d make a sarcastic comment about how stuck up these people are, something like “Clearly money can’t buy brains.” Or “Did they actually say chauffeur?” Or-

“Do you think they use dollar bills to blow their noses?” Robin huffs behind him.

He turns around, jumping a little, not expecting her to be there “Are you actually here or is this a hallucination?” He acts light-headed and taps her face as if wondering if she’s real.

“Knock it off dingus, we’re not that late.”

“We?” He looks around to see if Eddie’s there. Of course, cause he couldn’t care less if you’re there too.

“Sorry Harrington, had to stop to fulfill my best friend duties.” Eddie claps his shoulder in a friendly way.

“What duties?” Steve looks around nonchalantly, looking for something. Or someone?

“You’ll see.”

“Look, I like you man, but the vague comments have to stop.”

Eddie takes both of Steve’s shoulders and turns him around “Thank me later.”

“What?” Steve frowns at him “Munson I just said-“ The words die on his tongue.

You’re there.

You’re standing a couple meters away, walking up to them with a glass in hand.

He’s always known you’re pretty, God he even tried to shoot his shot when he met you, before he knew how difficult you were. But this is different. You’re always dressed modestly and business-like when he sees you. You always make sure to have minimal makeup on and your hair up so it doesn’t get in the way. And even though you’re still pretty cute with that look, this is making him a little dizzy.

You look gorgeous… No, you ARE gorgeous.

But that dress… It’s thin enough he can see the ghost of your bellybutton, and it hugs your body in the best way. The color compliments you, really compliments you. The soft pink making the flush on your cheeks more prominent and imitating the gloss on your lips. Why can’t he stop staring at your lips?

“I can’t believe they just hand out champagne.” You reach them, giggling softly “Hi Steven, sorry for the wait, have you already charmed the old ladies in the room or am I in time to watch?” You laugh at him and he doesn’t even care.

You turn your head to the right to talk to Eddie and he notices your hair next. It’s down, flowing over your naked shoulders. You look so beautiful it’s making him sick.

He needs a drink.

“I’m, uh… I’m gonna get a drink, be right back.” He slips through the crowd without hearing any response and beelines for the kitchen.

What the fuck is going on?

He’s been with pretty girls, he’s been with MODELS… How in the world are you the one turning his brain into mush, it makes no sense.

But he doesn’t need to make it make sense, cause he’s not gonna think about it at all. He’s not gonna look at you tonight, he’s gonna drink it all down; this confusion, this frustration, and this… whatever this is he’s feeling. Gulp gulp gulp.

———————————————————————

It’s nearly 2 am, and after more champagne glasses than you care to count, you can confidently say you’re a little drunk.

Or a lot. Maybe a lot.

You’ve done a couple introductions here and there, but the night has been mostly Robin, Eddie and you. Steve wondered off as soon as you got here, and as much as you want to say it has no effect on you, your inebriated brain begs to differ.

Does he hate you that much?

Cause the feeling’s mutual, but… yeah no, it’s bothering you. And honestly, it’s making your head hurt more than the alcohol.

“Guys I’m gonna go to the bathroom, stay here ok?”

Maybe splashing some water on your face will do the trick. At least you hope so.

After a couple minutes gathering yourself, you step out of the bathroom, only to be meet with a chest. A big, muscly chest.

“Woah, careful darling. You ok?” You look up to two beautiful light eyes staring back at you.

“Do I know you?” You rack your brain trying to find the reason he looks so familiar.

He shakes his head no “I’d know, I wouldn’t forget such a pretty face.” He leans on the wall, stepping closer to you.

You chuckle at his poor pick up line. He’s cute though, so maybe you can forgive his lack of flirting originality.

“Wait actually, I know, you’re in that show on Monday night, my mom loves you.”

“Damn, that escalated pretty quick.” He jokes, showing his blinding white smile.

You laugh and raise your hand so he can shake it, telling him your name.

Instead, he holds it and kisses the back of it “I’m Billy.”

“Nice to meet you Billy.”

“Likewise.”

“Ehem.” You both turn to see where the sound came from, that being Steve freaking Harrington.

He’s standing to the side, right in the middle of Billy and you. He’s standing unnaturally straight, puffing his chest and tilting his chin up.

Billy imitates him. It’s like a monkey fight. Men.

“Oh, hi Harrington, didn’t know we had an audience.” Billy steps closer to you, putting his arm around your shoulder.

“You don’t, I was just getting my friend. We were wondering where she was.” He looks pointedly to you, raising his brows while making a face. Like you’re the one in the wrong when he’s been the one that’s been absent all night.

“I told Eddie and Robin I was going to the bathroom.” You glower. If he’s gonna be like that, you certainly won’t back off. Can’t he give you one day off?

“Yeah well, they must’ve forgotten.” He throws daggers at Billy with a look “I’m surprised to see you here Hargrove, didn’t you say these things were dull and tedious?”

“I did didn’t I?… Good thing I’ve found some entertainment” He turns his head briefly to wink at you. “Besides, don’t you have some lines to learn from your little show?” He’s mocking him now.

She tries to look secure, but you’d swear you see the tiniest bit of smoke coming out his ears “You’re right, and she’s helping me, so we should get going.” He points to you with his head, giving Billy a superiority smile.

Billy’s staring at you know “You’re in the show?” A newfound curious twinkle overtakes his eyes.

Before you can deny it, Steve proceeds to take your wrist, yanking you away with him “Anyway, nice to see you Bill, have a nice night.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Billy takes your other arm, stopping you. “She was talking to me.”

“Well, now she’s with me.” Steve clenches his jaw, his muscles also flexing.

“Actually, SHE can speak for herself and she… Is going to see her friends.” You take your arms off their hands and walk away “Goodnight boys.”

Your powerful walkoff losses a couple points because you trip a little, but you keep going, you’re too proud to admit you’re still drunk as fuck.

The night progresses and an hour later you’re absolutely ready to go home.

Steve has joined you in the last half an hour, but he’s been silent ever since the bathroom incident. Whatever that was.

“Guys I think I’m gonna get going, this was fun but I’m totally gonna crash out if I’m not in my bed in 30 minutes.”

“Noooooo.” Robin nearly shouts, she’s gotten a little too much to drink too.

“I’m sorry.” You pout, hugging her goodbye.

“Babe, please, an hour more, is all I ask, then I’ll drive you.” Eddie pleads, wanting to stay a little longer.

“I can take you.” Steve interrupts him, looking at you for permission.

“You sure?” Robin asks him, he nods, but his eyes are still locked into yours, waiting for a response.

“Ok.” You mutter, looking away before the eye contact gets too much.

“Alrighty then, I’ll see you on Monday babe, take care!” Eddie hugs you and waves goodbye as Steve and you walk away and towards the front door.

You walk in silence, the faint sound of the music flowing in the background. You can feel him looking at you a couple times but you say nothing.

You’re lost in your thoughts when he takes your wrist softly, making you stop. He immediately drops it.

“This is me.” He points to the car beside you. It’s this deep burgundy color, and not that big. You don’t really know much about cars, but you certainly didn’t think this would be Steve Harrington’s. Maybe a red convertible or something, but not this. It’s nice.

He opens your door and holds his hand out, pointing for you to get in.

You look at him a little puzzled, not knowing why he’s being so chivalrous, but you still get in. When you’re seated and comfortable, he bends over and grabs your seat belt, getting closer to you. A little too close. A lot too close.

“I can do it.” You drag out your words a little.

“You’re drunk.” He doesn’t look at you, stretching the seat belt over your torso.

“Im still able to-“

He looks up at you. Both your faces centimeters away. If you concentrate, you can feel his breath hot on your skin.

“Let me do this. Please .” He pleads, talking softly, as if he’s not the same man that claimed he hated you days ago.

He looks at one of your eyes, then the other, like studying you, like committing to memory the image of your face. He looks down briefly at your lips, wetting his own, before returning his gaze to yours. His pupils are terribly dilated, and there’s a spark there you’d seen before. Similar to the one he gets when you bicker, but this one is different, this one is softer. This must be the alcohol making you imagine things… right?

Before you can tell yourself to do it, you’re nodding. The corners of his mouth lift the tiniest bit, and then you hear the click of the seatbelt, now buckled in place.

Taking advantage of the position, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and looks at you one last time before leaning back and closing the door. Leaving you so dumbfounded, you don’t even know your name right now.

He steps into the drivers seat and starts the car, turning on the radio but keeping the volume low.

You stay quiet. What the fuck. What was that?

“There’s water in there, you should drink some.” He points at the pocket of your door without taking his eyes off the road.

You nod even though he’s not looking at you and take the bottle, emptying the contents on your stomach. You actually did need it.

“So… wanna, um… play a game or something?” He taps his fingers on the wheel anxiously.

“Is that a trap?” You scowl.

He frowns, this time looking at you for a second “What do you mean?”

You make a face, is he playing dumb right now? “I mean this Steven is NOT the Steven I’m used to. Is this a prank? Are you gonna dump me in the side of the road or something?”

“What? No! Why would- I’d never- I’m not doing that, no.” He shakes his head flabbergasted.

“Then why are you being so nice?”

“Because-“ He quiets for a minute, like thinking of what to say “I don’t know, I just- I want to.” He takes a peek at you.

Your frown softens, and he keeps going “Im honestly growing a little tired of having to come up with new ways to bug you.” He chuckles softly “Also… you’re a good friend to my friends, so we’re going to be around each other a lot. And it would be a lot easier… if we just… got along. So-“ He takes a deep breath “I’m waving the white flag, you win.” He holds an imaginary flag in his fingers, throwing it back and forth.

You win.

It doesn’t feel like a victory.

Not at all. It just feels… weird.

He holds your gaze for a minute before turning it to the road again.

Maybe I’d be nice to get along with Steve. It’d make work easier. Plus, hanging out with him, Eddie and Robin wouldn’t be so bad.

“What kind of game?” You surrender, looking out the window so you don’t have to also look at him in the eye.

You can hear his smile “Uh… I spy?”

You scoff a laugh “what are you, six?”

He laughs a little too “Ok, ok… you’re right. Um… maybe we could- if you want to, do like- 20 questions?”

“Calm down Steven, I’m not gonna jump you.” You joke, relaxing into the seat. The buzz in your system starting to fade out “20 questions is fine.”

He lays back a little too, both of you getting more comfortable. The ride back to your house is pretty long, so you could use a distraction.

“Ok, I’ll start… What’s your favorite color?”

You grin “That’s your question?”

“Shut up, I’m just warming up.”

“Alright, alright.” You tell him the color.

He nods “that’s nice.”

The silence lasts two beats too long.

You snort loudly “This is so awkward.” You caress your right arm lightly, as if it’ll help lift up the uncomfortable air between you.

“Of course it’s awkward, this is new for you, and me.” He taps your arm in a friendly manner “Lets go, ask me a question.”

“Ok, uh… why did you wanna be an actor?” You look at him now, actually curious about the answer.

“Hmmm… that’s a good one. I worked at a video rental back at home when I graduated high school, Robin also worked there. I didn’t really have much to do all day so we just spent hours watching movies until a client came in. I guess it made me wonder how cool I’d be to be the one in front of the screen. And well, here I am.”

“Is it?”

“Is it what?” He turns to see you.

“Cool.”

He shrugs in his seat “It’s fine. Maybe I build it up too greatly in my head, but it’s nice. I mean it’s pretty interesting, but it might be overrated. The industry is not as magical as the movies are.”

You tilt your head understanding, you’ve also worked in the industry and although not in the same level, you do know it’s not as great as they make it up to be. Not great at all.

“What about you?” He ponders “What made you get interested in makeup and all that?”

You look away, reliving the memory like it was yesterday “When I was a kid, my parents used to go to a lot of fund-raisers, events, parties… You name it and they’d be there. My mom was in charge of a lot of their decorations so I’d be weird if they didn’t show up, you know? Anyway, I would sit in my moms bed and watch her get ready for every gathering, watch her put on her fancy makeup and all these shimmery things on her face.” You smile at the image “And one day, I was sad because my-“ you clear your throat. “Um, my brother had broken one of my dolls by accident, and whatever, you know how kids get. I was all mushy and teary eyed, and to make me feel better, she let me put her makeup on.” You shake off the mention of another time, another family, and put on a bright smile “It turned out horribly of course, but ever since then I’ve loved to play with it and experiment and just, I don’t know, it calms me.”

You look up to find him staring at you with a soft look. As soon as he catches you staring, he goes back to studying the road.

“Back to you Steven, what’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“Oooh, straight to the good questions, I see.” He taps the wheel with one hand, simulating a drumroll. You copy him, drumming your hands on the dashboard. “I once slept with a director’s wife.”

Your jaw touches the floor “You did not.”

His smirk grows wider, and he giggles raising his hands “I didn’t know she was taken! I swear! But in short, he fount out.”

You clap your hand on your mouth, eyes widening impossibly bigger “No!”

“Yes!” He chuckles “The worst thing is, he wasn’t even mad.” He shakes his head like even he finds it unbelievable “It was like a thing they’d do, then he asked me to join them. Safe to say, I dropped out of the movie.” His teeth show in the big grin he’s wearing, and you can’t help but think he really suits it.

“But… you didn’t join them, right?”

“Of course not! Who do you think I am?” He gives you a bewildered look.

“Sorry, sorry, had to ask.” You giggle a little.

The ride home is filled with stupid questions, you had so much fun, it felt like you’d just met a new friend. It felt like a new beginning.

You hadn’t laughed this much in a long time, and you hadn’t to admit, Steve Harrington was definitely growing on you.

“So… quick question, how difficult was it to say I won before?” You cross your arms mischevously.

“Oh you have no idea.” He fakes a horrified look, and you both break out laughing.

When the laughter has died down, you decide is time to ask what’s been racking at your brain all these weeks.

“Now, I’m curious, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but,” you turn you body to the left, positioning yourself to take him in better. “What’s your deal with Angela? Like, why’d you get so mad at me for getting her job and all that?”

He looks taken aback by the question, like he didn’t expect it, but responds nonetheless “She was my makeup artist before you.”

“Duh, I know that.” You roll your eyes playfully. “But what else?”

He takes a deep breath “She uh… She just meant a lot to me. I’m not- not to, like, I’m not saying it to sound like a charity case or anything, I know I’m not. But my parents weren’t really around like, ever. So Angela felt like a parent in some way. She didn’t even go out of her way or anything, she just did her job, but, she’s nurturing in a way, and she always talked to me in such a motherly way. I realize now that must’ve just been her personality but I don’t know, it made me get really close to her. So when she left, and-“ he scratches his jaw “And she didn’t even say goodbye or reach out to me or anything… Well it hurt a little.” Your features soften, getting where he’s coming from “And I guess when I saw she had a replacement already I… I resented you for it.”

He shifts uncomfortably “I… I’m sorry about that by the way.”

“Oh, it’s ok, I-“

“No it’s not.” He gives you a tight lipped smile “I was pretty shaken up and took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry.”

You return his smile.

You sit back straight again and mess up his hair lightheartedly “All is forgiven, my friend.”

His eyes light up again, and he gives you a mischievous smile “Oh so we’re friends now?”

You snicker a little “It’s a saying, I don’t actually mean it.”

“Nah, I don’t believe you, I think you want to be my friend.” He shakes his head with a chuckle “Then again, who wouldn’t?”

“Ok, rockstar, calm down.” You grin. Pushing him playfully.

The car slows down, and you don’t even notice you’ve reached your house until the car is parked in front of your porch.

“Thank you for taking me.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and shamelessly stretch your arms “You’re actually not that bad.”

He puts a hand on his chest, feigning gratitude “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t mention it.” You open the car door and start stepping out of the vehicle.

“Can’t promise I won’t.” He exclaims. You stick your tongue out immaturely.

“Goodnight friend.” He waves goodbye.

“Goodnight.” You go to close the door but he stops you, holding it open and making eye contact with you. Like you’re missing something.

“Goodnight what?” He raises an eyebrow.

You scoff “Goodnight Steven.”

“Nu-uh, that’s not it.” He shakes his head no, looking at you with fake disappointment.

You roll your eyes and lower yourself so you’re closer to him “Goodnight friend.” You pointedly close the door with the last word, the window open so he can still hear you.

“Atta girl, see you Monday.” He smirks patronizingly, and you step back, ushering him away.

“See you.” You mutter when he’s backed up the car and can’t hear you anymore. He drives away and you’re still standing on your driveway.

You don’t know how to feel about this.

It’s a big change, a monumental one. But is it for the better? You certainly hope so.

You guess you’ll just have to wait and see.

Steve Harrington. Your friend. What a weird world we live in.

————————————————————————

Hii! I hope you liked it!

This is the start of an “amazing” friendship (meaning: they’re gonna keep killing each other but maybe a little less enthusiasticly.). This is very obviously being a slow-burn, but I promise I’ll give you yearning and juicy moments in the meantime.

Also, if you have a request or something you’d like to happen in the story, I’ll be reading you <3

Anyways, I love you guys and if you want to be on the taglist, hit me up! :):):)

Love, M <3

@chelseypprimrose @stilesbilinskixx @campcampie @boomitsallie1 @spelliwasunder @wishing-on-a-staranise @stranger-things-mania @irrelevantbutembarrassing @thepassionatereader @cosmicspacewitch @seatnights @talkativecarnation @littlemisslovestoread @skipper2505 @aphetropy @spikeybatt @aria6663 @yourgirlfriennd

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ssinboo · 10 months ago

Text

It's Always been Us

summary: After your unplanned confession, you avoid Seungkwan until an unexpected issue brings you to contact him. When you finally get in touch, secrets are revealed.

Part 3 of As it Was

pairing: Middle School Teacher! Reader x Entertainer!Seungkwan

word count: 16.5k (1h~ read)

warnings: miscommunication, mentions of past trouble, unprotected sex, background character cheating, creampie, body worship, dry humping, minor mentions of exhibitionism, so many spicy scenes.

A/N: AND IT'S OVER!!!! thank you so much, everyone!

“This is Boo Seungkwan, I’m not available right now, leave a message after the beep.”

Beep.

“Hey— Uh, I know we haven’t spoken in a while but— Can you please call me back?”

Beep.

“Seungkwan. Look. I— I know I suck, but can you, please, just call me back?”

Beep.

“Hey, It’s me again… I haven’t heard anything from you… Is everything OK? Please, call me.”

Beep.

“Look— I know it was wrong of me to give you the cold shoulder, but this is serious, I mean it— You need to call me back.

Beep.

“I’m sorry— Look, I— Can you please, just call me? I really need to talk to you.”

Fresh-faced and well-groomed, Seungkwan exhales wealth as he trudges through the crowded streets he grew up in. A far-cry from his fresh-faced youth, he attracts curious look standing in an expensive, tailored suit draped over his slender figure, with matching accessories and a trusty pair of branded sunglasses.

Usually, he’d stop at his mum’s, bother his sisters and nephews for a bit, deliver gifts and stories of his big-city living. But today, your house is the first stop in his itinerary and, if everything goes right, it might just be the last for today.

Knocking on the door, he adjusts himself, fixing his blazer and hair. His heart pounds incessantly against his ribs and his clammy palms are wiped against his trousers in the hopes of lessening nervousness. In his breast pocket, there is a small velvet box that lays heavier than its real weight ever could.

The door swings open, prompting him to put on his nicest smile, only to be met with his second sister’s unsightly frown, she assesses his posture.

“Ah, you’re here,” She announces in a flat voice, no excitement whatsover. Usually, he would make hell over anything, but today, he has pressing matters at hand. He had mentioned in passing he would be flying home soon, but his sister’s presence in your home still remained unexplained — not that he cared, right now.

“Is— Is she here?” Gesturing inside, Seungkwan stumbles over his words. His sister nods and steps aside, allowing him to finally cross the threshold of your place, somewhere in the other room, he can hear your soft footsteps and clumsy banging of pots and pans; his heart races faster.

“Why are you here?” He finally asks,

Unbothered, she replies with a deep sigh, “So she wouldn’t run away before you got here.”

“Who’s at the door?”

It’s your voice he hears, always sweeter than he remembered. The moment it touches his ears, his throat closes up like it never has before. He stretches his neck and inhales all the courage he muster up.

“Someone you hate,” His sister jokes, immediately reaching for her bag and keys.

“What?” He can hear you question, pitter-patter of bare feet closer and closer. He almost turns around to stop his sister from leaving, suddenly overwhelmed with his nerves.

That is until he sees you.

“Seungkwan?” It comes out as a whisper, you doubt your own eyes but the name flows naturally past your tongue.

Seungkwan freezes in place, the bouquet in his hand — your favourite flowers, — slip from his grasp and meet an undeserving fate on the ground.

Had it been anyone else, the bump protruding against your loose tee would’ve remained unseen; uncared for. But Seungkwan knew your body inside and out, he knew every nook and cranny, every beauty spot and scar. Countless nights were spent ravishing your very essence over and over, learning and teaching you about yourself.

Okay, maybe you had gained a little weight, he wasn’t one to judge, not when you looked absolutely stunning — Though he did seem biased. But you cradled that bump with so much care, it couldn’t be anything else.

Eyes widened in sheer terror, you immediately remove your hands from your stomach, sending them flying behind your back in shame. But it’s too late.

He knows the truth.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” His sister announces much to your disdain. Before you can protest, she just grabs her things and leaves.

There’s silence.

Unnerving, immovable, silence that wraps its cold tendrils around your throat, squeezing tighter and tighter with every passing second.

Looking at his face resurfaces plenty emotions; rage, relief, hatred, confusion, but there is so much love still; you realise, that despite it all, there is still love. Seems you are really cursed to love him.

Seungkwan is similarly shell shocked, though for different reasons. Beautiful hands hanging by his side, those gorgeous lips you love so much are agape as he stares at you: betrayed.

“Are you…?”

The question trails off and it hangs awkwardly in the couple feet between you, every syllable stumbling to the ground. He doesn’t need to finish it, you both know what he’s talking about.

You nod.

“Is it—“ He gulps, swallowing down the excruciating thought that perhaps you had found someone else. “Is it mine?”

Offended, you scoff, holding back the rage that sits at your tongue. You nod.

You were pregnant with his child.

He almost lets out a sigh of relief, releasing a breath he never realised was held. And then his eyes glaze over with unshed tears: hurt.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a broken up whisper, cradled in pain and betrayal and it disappears in the air, small and so, so tender.

For a split second, you feel guilty. Looking at his glossy eyes that shine so beautifully, you’re overcome with an overwhelming urge to comfort him. But you are met with the rest of your unaddressed emotions. The ungodly amount of rage you have been shoving down every time you think about him.

“Didn’t tell you?!” Your voice trembles as you raise your tone, finally pouring out everything, “Seungkwan, I fucking called you for a month— I messaged you, I called you— I did everything!” You take a step forward, fingers tightly woven into a fist, fingernails painfully digging into your palms, “You didn’t call me back. You never did! You threw me away.”

Your words are painful. Not to you as much as it is to him. You feel some relief, finally getting closure.

But Seungkwan is floored, every words hanging heavy on the pit of his stomach, coercing acid but never allowing themselves to be fully digested; no. They hang around past their welcome, scratching at his insides until they are a bright shade of inflamed red.

You think he threw you away. How could you think that? After you left just like that and never called ba— Oh.

It’s only then, realisation settles like a bucket of ice cold water poured over your back. Seungkwan runs his fingers over his face with a quiet whisper of “Shit…”

“Yeah. Shit.” You cross your arms over your chest, in the hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“No— Look—, Do you remember my PR manager?”

Still somewhat angry, you side-eye him, “Yeah, she fucking hates me.”

“Turns out she hated me, too,” He says, taking a step to close the distance between you, “It’s a long story— I fired her and she retaliated, got rid of my phone, laptop, locked me out of my social media accounts, I just got access to my accounts this week, but my phone is gone.”

Your eyes soften with the soft threading of hope. You want to believe him, to know it wasn’t on purpose, to know you hadn’t been abandoned. A part of your wants to grasp at any explanation, just take it without questioning. Anything is better than being thrown aside.

But you have grown to realise over the years that although the pain is unbearable, tomorrow still comes.

You were owed an explanation. A true, believable reason for everything you went through after all the missed calls and radio-silence.

For once, you needed him to be there.

A year ago, you would’ve been content with your situationship, but now you’ve got someone else to care for. A little someone that will need stability.

“I begged you to call me. You never did.” Your voice is so broken by the pain, he wants to pick up the pieces and softly put them back together. There’s an emotion that hurts him more than your pain: Acceptance.

You would be okay with his absence.

Oh, he wouldn’t manage. The very thought of it drove him insane.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything,” He brings his hands together, eyebrows furrowed together.

You just look at him, unsure how to proceed. How to process all the emotions that hadn’t even been acknowledged until a minute ago.

With a heavy sigh, you close your eyes. “Have you eaten?”

Seungkwan smiles, beautiful eyes bathed in hope, in adoration, “I haven’t.”

“I’ll fix you up something.”

It’s weird, sitting in your kitchen, awkwardly fidgeting with his suit while you bang pots and pans, heating up leftovers from lunch. His plan has gone to absolute shit and he’d just found out somewhat accidentally about his own future.

Seungkwan stands up in search of cutlery to set the table with, something to do with himself. He smiles at the fact that everything remains in the same place since last time he’d been here.

You turn off the knobs on your stove and turn around to find a silicone mat lest you burn your table; it was good, solid, oak and you took great care of it. Your cooking smells good, it always does.

You’re the first to sit down, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. He follows shortly after, making no ceremony of filling up his plate.

“When did you lose your phone?” You break the silence, chewing on your lower lip; Your eyes refuse to meet his.

Half-bite, he answers, “I think like a month after we saw each other?”

“Why didn’t you contact me before today?” Your voice cracks, you wish it hadn’t. You wish you had composure when standing before the man you love.

Seungkwan sighs, putting down his plate, debating on telling you the truth or white lies. The reason he avoided contact was simple; he wanted to be better, to be fully better, before seeing you again. No messes for you to clean, he wanted to be someone worthy.

“I— I wasn’t sure…” It’s a half-truth.

“Sure of what?” You finally look at him, trembling hands clasped together over your lap.

He dodges any eye contact, pulling at his eggs with the chopsticks. Seeing your expression would be enough to destroy any courage left, “What could I have said?” It’s the truth.

“Anything!” You raise your voice, slamming your hands against the table, which you immediately regret once the pain travels over your aching palms.

It’s enough to get a reaction out of him. His brows furrow, and with a scoff, he lets his chopsticks fall onto his plate, “What?! After you left like that? You didn’t even say goodbye— You just—“ He stops himself, gulping down any resentment.

You’re caught.

The subject you evaded like the devil from the cross comes back to bite.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” You look away, chest heaving under your nerves.

Seungkwan softens his voice, trying a different approach, “We have to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to!” He can see how much you’re shaking, clasping your hands together in the hopes he won’t notice. So he leaves the subject alone, despite its persistence on eating him up from the inside.

Suddenly taken by hunger, you huff, grabbing a bowl and stuffing your face.

Against his better judgement, he smiles, watching your cheeks round around your mouthful of food.

“What?” You ask accusingly.

“Nothing,” Seungkwan shakes his head with a soft smile plastered over his pretty lips. He clears his throat before asking. “When did you find out about it?”

It’s first time either of you acknowledge the situation since earlier.

“A month ago.”

He sighs. Trying his best to imagine how desperate and utterly abandoned you must’ve felt.

“Do you know what is it?”

You shrug, shaking your head

“Do you—“ He tries his best to gather words that will communicate his thoughts, “Do you want it?”

Your neck snaps toward him, cheeks round with food as you glare. “Stop saying ‘it’.”

“Sorry—“ He corrects himself, “Do you want the baby?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

It’s weird how relieved he feels, if anyone had asked him a week ago how he felt about becoming a father he’d say no. But it’s a tempting scenario. A luring future of white picket fence and a couple of kids who looked like you.

But terrifying all at the same time.

You chew on your lip, playing with the tablecloth, “Do— Do you?”

Seungkwan looks up from his plate, surprised.

Your eyes are so intent on him, his every expression. You hadn’t held much hope since the unanswered calls, but this sudden visit, the fact that for once, he is here. It toys with your emotions, dangles your every dream in front your very eyes.

“It’s your choice…” He whispers.

Not satisfied, you press further. “Do you want to be a father?”

It’s a slap to the face, a forceful acknowledgement of the situation and his own feelings toward it. Did he actually want this?

It was a known fact that more often than not, denying fatherhood came easy for men; Say you don’t want to be a part of it, sign away your rights and fuck off to live your life unbothered.

Despite the choice being there, Seungkwan couldn’t fathom even considering leaving everything behind. A whole life created between the two of you with the perfect mix of your features. The word ‘Fatherhood’ felt too heavy on his tongue.

“…Yes.” Seungkwan answers, surprising not only you but himself, as well. “Yes, I want to be a father and— I want to be a part of the baby’s life… Will you let me?”

But he wanted it all. Sleepless nights, stinky diapers, colic, teething. He wanted to be a part of this child’s life.

He anxiously awaits your response to his confession, watches how your eyes widen, glossy with the imminent threat of stubborn tears and how your lips wobble.

You smile, relived, nodding.

Since your failed attempts to communicate with Seungkwan, you had somewhat given up on having the father of your child be present; Especially with how avoidant of commitment he always presented himself to be.

Ever since he left for the big city, Seungkwan always brushed off relationships as flings, never lived in one place too long, failed to settle down anywhere. It’s hard, believing his words.

But you’re nothing if not a fool for him.

Seungkwan smiles. Standing up, letting the chair bounce with the sudden movement, he kneels on the tiled floor in front of you.

His hands, his long, slender fingers find your own, enveloping your palms in his unending warmth. His touch is so delicate, yet so comforting. You didn’t even realise just how much you’ve missed holding his stupid pretty hands.

Blame it on the hormones how you completely break down into an ugly, crying, mess and fold onto his shoulders.

Without a word, he comforts you with soft pats until your sobbing ceases into soft sighs. Though, his legs might give up any time now from kneeling on kitchen tile.

“Let’s get married,” He whispers and as soon as the words leave his lips, his heart skips the next couple of beats in anticipation.

“What?” Hoarsely, you sniffle, raising your head to face him.

“Let’s get married, move to Seoul… Let’s raise the baby together.” There’s a dumbfounded smile plaguing his face, he can only imagine how happy you will be to know that he’s finally ready to be in a true, loving relationship.

You furrow your eyebrows.

“No.”

You watch his smile crack and shatter, he watches you face for any sign of jest, hoping you’d break into a smile and say “just kidding”. But you don’t. And you seem just as confused as he is.

You said you loved him.

Had you feelings changed in the matter of the three months you hadn’t talked? Was he not good enough?

He couldn’t understand why would you refuse his proposal.

“What?” Finally, his knees give up on him, wobbling until he falls to his butt, sitting on the cool tiled floor, though it seems almost warm compared to the coldness that washes over the pit of his stomach. “Why not?”

Your eyes don’t meet him, you wipe your nose and face with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I— I don’t understand why— Why you’re asking me that—“ You stumble over your words.

“We’re having a baby! It’s the obvious next step!” Seungkwan exclaims, as a matter of fact.

“No?” You shrug, “I’m not marrying you because you knocked me up!”

“Why not?!”

“People should marry out of love!” You explain, “Not just have a shotgun wedding, it never works out—! I don’t wanna be the girl you married because of the birth control fail rate!”

“Don’t you love me?”

His voice is such a broken whisper, so quiet and soft, almost as if accidental.

Your eyes finally meet his and your throat hurts with weight of the three letter confession, but you gulp it down, hoping your stomach acid will dissolve your unrequited feelings.

“Not enough to put my child through a loveless marriage.”

He stands up on shaky legs, wiping his hands on his jeans. Eyes refusing to meet yours lest he shed a single tear.

No, he wouldn’t cry, not in front of you.

Wiping his hands across his face, he lets out a heavy sigh and the very sound of the aftermath of such a heated discussion is enough to bring you to tears. Part of him aches to comfort you, to wrap his arms around your body and nuzzle against your neck. His hands itch to reach and hold you until your tears are gone, to whisper sorry over and over, until you take him back. But his pride boils his blood hotter than any wish of affection could.

“I’ll be at my mum’s.”

It’s all he says before he leaves and once the front door slams shut with a deafening ‘Bang’, you crumble to the cold floor, quietly sobbing into your hands.

It’s well past midnight by the time Seungkwan hears a somewhat familiar ‘thud’ on his window pane. The moon stands proud in the darkened sky, illuminating his childhood bedroom. He crawls out of bed, already missing the warmth of his duvet, and approaches the source of the noise with some caution, expecting an animal.

But once he pulls up the frosty glass, he sees you standing on his backyard, rocking back and forth on your feet, a large jacket wrapped around your shoulders.

Once you spot him, you flash a wide smile, lifting the one hand that doesn’t hold a dangerously large rock to wave.

Confused at your reasoning to be here, Seungkwan gestures wildly at his non-existent wristwatch. You just flip him off with a roll of your eyes and gesture for him to meet you at the door.

He scrambles to find his coat and not wake up his mother, a flashback of his teenage years.

How many times did you throw rocks at his window in the middle of the night or vice-versa. He always complained about how you were such a ‘bad influence’ but never once refused to meet you past midnight. You’d sneak out and fool around while the Sun was still down. And he would quietly sneak back in just as the Sun started to peak from the horizon.

Once the front door is safely shut and he’s sure that his mother isn’t up from the ruckus. He immediately turns to you.

“What the hell are you thinking?! It’s freezing out here!” He whisper-yells, wrapping the spare coat around your shoulders and throwing the scarf onto your face.

It smells strongly of his cologne; You inhale, letting the scent surround your lungs and flow through your veins, fill your bloodstream with his essence.

“I’m really craving convenience store food,” You speak out so meekly, your eyes hazy with sleep and nose tingling in the cold night air. Any other strong words he had conjured walking downstairs die on his tongue at the sight of your soft smile.

“You’re paying,” It’s a truce.

You smile excitedly, adjusting the scarf around your neck.

That convenience store just a street down from his childhood home had been the set for many his teenage adventures. Every poorly kept wall and crack in the concrete held cherished memories of your youth. The food hadn’t changed in the decades passed, yet it still beat any three-star restaurant he made a show of dining in.

You fill the basket with junk food, happily swaying back and forth under the blinking fluorescents. Seungkwan scoffs at your happiness over instant-noodles.

He pays and you grab your things, finding a place to sit while he prepares the noodles.

You’re snacking on chips when he returns with the noodles, practically throwing them down on the counter before he blows at his fingertips. You giggle at his misfortune.

“Should we talk?” You ask, chowing down on your food, moaning at its divine taste.

Seungkwan tuts at your happiness. He’d taken you to expensive restaurants before, wined and dined you into five-star hotels. But somehow, these soggy noodles tasted better than anything else.

“It’s fine,” He says.

You hum.

He notices how you cradle your bump when you eat.

You did it earlier, too, when he was at your place.

“Is the baby happy?” He asks, eyes focused on his food.

You break into a wide smile, “Mhm, very happy.”

You’re unable to see his face, but you see his cheeks rounded into a gorgeous smile.

Suddenly, seeming to remember something, you hum. “I had to give you this,” You speak with your mouth full which causes Seungkwan to scowl with a disgusted face.

He watches you fumble with your jacket pocket until you pull out a crumbled, tiny, piece of paper. You hand it to him.

It’s a sonogram.

A blurry, black and white, mess of pixels that he can’t help but be weirdly attached to immediately.

There’s such a warm smile on your face when you lean onto his shoulder, pointing at the picture.

“Here’s the little feet… Here’s the head…”

Unknowingly, he reaches his pointer finger to touch that teeny tiny blurry head.

“It’s a shitty photo,” His voice cracks and he doesn’t hide it well.

You’re giggling, and it’s a comforting, lovely sound, “It’s not so bad.”

“Do you think they’ll look like me?” He asks in a quiet whisper filled with wonder.

“Oh, I hope not, the poor thing,” You tease, earning an annoyed hiss.

“They’d be lucky when the other option is looking like you,” Laughing at his quip, you lean over his shoulder, daydreaming about the looks of your baby.

Leaving the convenience store, you munch on a corn dog, swaying your hands in the breeze. The next stop comes naturally, the nearby playground where you spent most of your nightly escapades during your teenage years.

“What do you think it’s gonna be?” He asks, taking one of the unoccupied swings.

You follow suit, sitting on swing. “I don’t know,”with a shrug, you return his question, “What do you think?”

“I haven’t thought about it…”

Humming, you focus on your corndog. “I might find out next appointment, if the baby doesn’t decide to close their little legs.”

He perks up so adorably, “When is your next appointment?”

“Next week,” You reply and he quietly ponders just how will he manage to sneak in. “You’re gonna be there, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Seungkwan says nonchalantly, but hides a beaming smile behind his right hand.

There’s a couple minutes of silence, though you don’t feel compelled to speak. You just sit there, rocking back and forth and enjoying this peaceful moment.

“How far along are you?” It’s a shy question, one he thinks he should’ve known, as the father.

“Sixteen weeks,” it’s such an automatic answer you don’t even question it until you can hear his soft murmurs as he counts on his fingers just how many months that is.

“Four months?”

“Mhm,” You reply, taking the last bite of your snack.

“Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know, bigger?”

You laugh, “I just started showing last week.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean, you could feel my stomach was more rigid than flabby but at a glance no one could tell.”

“Does it feel hard?"

“A bit?” You stand up and walk to where he’s sitting, “Here, feel it.” Seungkwan puts his feet down, ceasing any movement from the swing and wraps his hands around your bump. It’s weird, having someone touch your stomach. In fact, aside from your doctor, he was the first to do so.

You watch him look at your belly like it were his everything; his caramel eyes hold so much adoration. There’s stubborn hope that burns in your heart that, maybe, if you have him by your side, everything will be okay.

On the day of your appointment, Seungkwan accompanies you to the clinic, rushed whispers and fake stories told to his mother about his whereabouts. If it were up to him, he’d announce it to the world but you still feared that his fear of commitment would rear its ugly head and you would end up alone once again.

You’d messaged the receptionist, asking for some discretion during your appointment, however, you did notice some whispering coming from the nurses about TV comedian Boo Seungkwan’s appearance at an OB-GYN clinic.

He is annoyingly lovely, reassuring you over and over that it’s okay, he’s told his manager about it and things will be handled. Which in hindsight is somewhat terrifying that his manager knows about your pregnancy before the baby’s own grandparents.

Called into the office and free from the judgement-heavy waiting room, you rush inside, shedding your cardigan and laying on the bed. You’re practically a pro at this while Seungkwan struggles with the best ways how to hold your purse and coat.

He even looks surprised at how brazenly you unbutton your trousers and pull them out of the way.

Your doctor, a lovely middle-aged lady and mother of one of your students, is very glad to see you and quite puzzled at Seungkwan’s presence. She, however, is more than willing to explain the process and answer his every question, no matter how stupid or how many times he’s asked it in the past half hour.

“Everything alright?” She asks, spreading the cold gel along your skin. You never did get used to that goopy, gross feeling.

You nod and she turns on the large monitor sitting above the bed. Seungkwan stands almost a foot away from the bed, clinging to your belongings, sneakily rearing his head toward the monitor.

“This is the head,” She announces, holding the image still as she takes a screenshot for later. “Development is looking nice, mum.” She smiles before correcting herself, “…And dad.”

You giggle at how weird it sounds to be referred to as a parent just yet.

It’s not long before the room is filled with that muffled thump-thump sound you’d recorded and played over and over the past couple of months.

Seungkwan worriedly looks at you.

You smile at his dumbfounded, worried expression.

“That’s their heartbeat,” She tells Seungkwan, still enjoying the amazement of first-time parents even after so many years.

“Come closer,” You urge.

And he does so, standing by your side and staring up at that big monitor, watching the blurry grey blob move around. That muffled, almost wet sounding constant thump seems to make his own heart pound faster.

Seungkwan had somewhat come to term about being a parent; keyword being somewhat. It’s something to be told about it, even seeing the pregnancy tests you held onto as a keepsake. But hearing this baby’s beating heart, seeing them move around in that screen, it felt so tangible.

And a lot scarier, too.

“Heartbeat is nice and steady,” You smile at her announcement.

You glance at Seungkwan, who promptly hides his face, shaking away the stubborn tears that threaten to be shed. Fuck these hormones, they’re the ones to blame at how emotional that scene made you.

“Seems like baby is cooperating today,” The doctor comments and you laugh, “Wanna find out the gender?”

Biting at your lips, you glance at Seungkwan. It’s the first time you’ve included him during this visit. And it’s his first time giving his opinion on such an important matter.

“Do you want to?” He returns the question.

“Your sister said I should have a party,” You grimace thinking about parading around and having people all over you.

He shrugs, “We could… But do you want to?”

“I don’t know?!”

“We can tell a trusted family member or we can wait until you are ready to find out, it will be on your chart, so when you’re ready, just give us a call.” The doctor explains, hoping it will make your choice easier.

Once again, you glance at him.

“It’s your choice,” He says.

“But what do you want?”

He thinks. “It’d be nice to have a get-together with the family, we can have a barbecue, nothing too fancy.”

When he put it like that, it sounded so tempting but maybe you were just hungry.

“I’d like to have a family member know, please,” You tell the doctor.

She smiles, “Alright, I can give you an envelope with the results, is that okay?”

You nod.

The rest of the appointment goes smoothly. Your stomach is growling so loudly you don’t even bother asking Seungkwan if he wants a ride home, you just drag him to your car and drive off to the nearest restaurant. Not that he has any complaints — He’s worked quite the appetite and many questions need answers.

You’re seated rather quickly and given menus.

“What do you want to eat? My treat,” It’s a sort of apology for dragging him out here.

Seungkwan looks at the menu, “I think I’ll take the carbonara,” He hums, “Wait, do you have any food that will make you throw up?”

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

“In the movies you know someone is pregnant because they run out of the room to throw up.”

Oh, he’s 100% serious about this and you push down the part of you that finds it adorable.

You laugh, “No, I don’t. That’s usually on the first trimester… I actually didn’t get very nauseous, just very hungry.”

He hums in understatement. “Are you sure that was the baby and not just you?”

You ball up a napkin and throw at him.

Once the order is placed, the waiter leaves and you’re both left at the booth flipping through your respective phones.

“Do you think your sister can help us with the gender reveal?” You ask, finally putting your phone down.

“Yeah,” He nods, “When are you thinking?”

“I don’t know… I’ll start really showing soon, I want the cat out of the bag.”

The waiter returns with your drinks.

“Have you told your mum?” You ask, thinking that it should be okay. It’s only his family, they should know.

Seungkwan smiles. “Not yet…”

“She can’t find out at the party. You need to tell her beforehand.”

“I got it.”

“That reminds me, my family kind of doesn’t know you’re a part of it now…” You approach the subject quietly. “They may or may not hate your guts for not being here for me.”

He stares at you, dumbfounded until he breaks out into laughter.

“Goddammit.”

“What?! It’s not my fault!” You defend yourself, using the straw to toy with the floating ice cubes swimming in your orange juice.

“You could’ve told them!”

With a sigh, you admit defeat. “I’ll tell my family when you tell your mum.”

He’s fully ready to counterattack your jabs but is interrupted by the food, much to your pleasure.

You practically devour your food and leave no room for dessert, instead opting to buy something sweet after you’ve digested your lunch – you found your baby had a sweet tooth and you always craved a little sugary treat. You pay for the food and Seungkwan drives you home to plan a party.

Seungkwan’s sisters had been a Godsend. They helped with every step of the way and planned the entire gender reveal party — Which wasn’t as much of a party as it was a family barbecue.

All you needed to do was just show up and cut up the cake to reveal the gender of your baby.

You just started to really show, a protruding round little bump that poked its way through your every clothing, no matter how baggy. Seungkwan was the first to point out just how evident it became.

The guests wore a mix of pink and blue. You wearing blue yourself, a very strong believer that your midnight kicker is a little boy.

Meanwhile, the baby’s father completely disagrees, sporting his baby pink button-up.

Seungkwan hovers around you the whole day, a pleasant surprise. You’d been nervous about putting the news out there. Despite it making its way through the grapevine and rumours floating through the spaces you frequented, no one was really sure. It was finally time to rip out the band-aid and make the news public.

Though you insisted he hung a bit farther lest people he realise about the paternity, he showed no intents of doing so. He waited on you hand and foot, bringing as many cupcakes as your little bean wished for. It seemed that the past weeks spent together had given Seungkwan an awakened sixth sense, he could always guess what your baby craved and was more than willing to fetch the item, no matter how gross.

When it was finally time to cut the cake and find out, he was insistent on being at your side, guiding your knife-cradling hand — Part of it just pushing it away from himself. You did warn him about family posting it online and the fact that this could blow out of proportion, but he just reassured you again and again.

Most of the family has their phones out, recording the moment with bated breath. You can barely breathe yourself.

The knife slides in, cutting through soft icing.

You close your eyes, relying completely on Seungkwan to guide you. The knife comes back up and goes back in for the second cut.

Seungkwan hands you the spatula and helps you lift the cake slice up and into the vision of everyone around.

The spectators burst into cheer.

You still haven’t got half a mind to look down.

“A baby girl,” He whispers into your ear and your eyes flash open.

Putting the cake down before you fling off the yard, you immediately throw yourself onto his arms, a choked sob escaping your lips, “We’re having a girl!”

He kisses your hair and hides his red face from the camera, not willing to have his teary-eyed expression so eternal.

Once the adrenaline slows down, you tear your way through the cake, sitting far away from the commotion. Seungkwan is at your side, an arm resting behind you.

“Congrats!”

The male voice almost isn’t enough to tear away the undivided attention you’ve been giving to your piece of cake, but Seungkwan’s bewildered expression piques your interest.

You look up from your plate.

And there he is; Kwon Soonyoung, a high-school buddy of yours. He was a rowdy kid, fun to party with but not much else. He had a hard time knowing when to quit. You wonder just why he had been invited until you remember his mum is your mum’s neighbour.

“Thanks,” You hum, still occupied with your food.

“A baby, huh?”

“Yup.”

“You never mentioned anything about getting married in the reunion… I was surprised,” He beats around the bush, raising a curious eyebrow. Seungkwan scoffs at his very obvious actions.

“I’m not married,” You reply, not really paying attention.

He lifts an eyebrow, “Must have your hands full, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Soonyoung clears his throat.

“How far along are you?”

“Twenty weeks.”

Seungkwan watches him count on his fingers. You poke Seungkwan and nudge at his arm with your empty plastic plate, which you had done about twice this afternoon. He sighs and rolls his eyes, but gets up regardless.

“Wow, that’s really far along…”

You nod, no longer having your food to be entertained with.

“C-Can I feel it?”

God, you hate that question. But at least he asked instead of just shoving his grimy hands on your stomach. He’s lucky you’re in a good mood, you’ve had old ladies patting your growing belly all day, what’s another one? It was a special occasion.

“Sure.”

Soonyoung is very amazed, he keeps ooh’in and aah’ing, rubbing your bump over the fabric of your shirt for a bit too long. Usually old ladies would just touch your belly, feel your baby kick and make a comment or two on how healthy your child will be.

Seems like your baby girl is having none of it, either since she has seized any and all movement since Soonyoung approached. You don’t hide your discomfort.

Seungkwan comes back, plate and drink in hand. He’s so weirded out by the scene, you barely hold back a laugh at the sight of his scrunched up face, Soonyoung still, doesn’t realise anything else.

“The fuck you doing?”

Soonyoung jumps at the harsh words. “I’m just feelin’ her, man.”

Seungkwan side-eyes your unimpressed expression. You let Soonyoung coo at your stomach for another five seconds before you’ve had enough, you nod at Seungkwan.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Seungkwan hisses, stomping his foot onto the soft grass as if to attack. Soonyoung jumps, immediately removing his hands from you and you finally breathe in relief, leaning back in your seat and watching Seungkwan deal expertly with him.

“What’s it to you, man?” Soonyoung exclaims, but it comes out very timid under Seungkwan’s displeased gaze.

“That’s my fucking daughter you’re infecting with your weird ass vibes. I don’t want her to be contaminated any further.”

Completely taken aback, Soonyoung can’t find any words to reply to the insult. It’s one thing to be rude, but to insult a man’s vibes is unbelievable. He looks at you with twinkling, hopeful little eyes, waiting for you to be the less offensive parent.

“You heard him. Shoo,” You wave your hand, happy to be rid of company.

You and Seungkwan break into a fit of laughter, watching the poor guy walk away.

When the party is over, you’re more relieved than anything. Seungkwan stays behind and helps you clean up the place. Which basically means he cleans up while you shower and slip into your comfiest clothes, not that you’re complaining.

You’re sitting at the sofa, hand resting on your stomach when he finally comes downstairs. Fresh from his shower, he smells like your bodywash.

He settles down next to you.

“Tired?” You ask.

He hums.

“How’s my babygirl?” He whispers, leaning over to talk to your belly. You don’t fight the giddy smile that takes over. It had been a couple of weeks since Seungkwan started talking to your baby — The doctor recommended he pick up on the habit so the baby could recognise his voice.

And he had no shame at all, making small talk with your unborn daughter any time he could, which was a complete 180 from you, who felt quite awkward at times.

“Kicking,” You sigh, “It’s way past her bedtime!”

He laughs.

“Give mummy a rest, will you?”

You laugh, running your hand over your clothed stomach in the hopes of calming your baby. She seemed to settle down once Seungkwan started talking though.

“Here,” He grabs a tiny fancy bag hidden behind his back.

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s this?” He just smiles.

Opening the bag, you find the tiniest little off-white onesie, with the words “Daddy’s little bean” embroidered on the front. You pick it up, finding it so small in your hands you can’t imagine a little human would fill it up soon.

“You know this is our daughter’s first onesie?” You smile, running your fingers over the embroidered text.

Seungkwan stares at you.

“What?” You ask, worried.

He smiles. “It’s the first time you’ve said ‘Our’.”

Your brows furrow and then you smile again, pressing your lips together to fight any stubborn emotions. “Shit,” You sniff. “Of course she’s ours, I didn’t make her by myself!”

Goddamn hormones got you again. And it seems they got Seungkwan as well.

You put on a random movie as background noise, not that either of you pay much attention to the plot. You’re just talking about the busy day you’ve had and the fact that finding out your precious baby is a girl. It just makes it all feel much realer.

“Ugh, Soonyoung. Who invited him?” Seungkwan moans with a roll of his eyes.

Shoving the last bit of your chocolates into your mouth, you laugh. “I think my mum did.”

“Guy can not get a hint to save his life!”

You’re laughing at his dramatic antics.

“And all that touching?” He shakes his head.

“You were so cool,” You bite your lip. “When you told him to get away from your daughter…”

“Huh?”

“I like it when you’re…” You shift in your seat, pressing your legs together, “…Possessive.”

Seungkwan malfunctions, gulping so loudly you can hear it. He looks at your bare legs pressed together, shakes his head and focuses back on your face.

“Yeah,” He clears his throat.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that halfway through your second trimester, you feel on fire. You’re constantly needy. It doesn’t help that Seungkwan has been so incredible and unbearably hot so often. “Uh-huh,” You hum, leaning forward until you can reach his arm to trace your fingers along his bicep.

The ghost of your touch is enough to send shivers up his spine. Seungkwan blinks once, twice and gulps.

“Don’t,” He pleads.

You sigh with a pout and Seungkwan thinks you look so adorable with that cute little pout in your pretty lips.

A shy smile blooms on your face and you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. “It’s fine if you don’t want to,” You shrug. “But the doctor said it was fine.” Seungkwan had sat awkwardly looking around when the doctor had given you the green light for sexual activity as long as you took it slow.

“No— I want to! Trust me. I want to. But…” He looks over at your stomach. “You can sit on my face,” He offers but you sigh once again.

“I don’t wanna sit on your face, I wanna sit on your cock,” It’s such a genuine confession you don’t even realise the effect it has on him.

Seungkwan chokes.

He closes his eyes, needing a second after the sudden blood loss from his brain. “That’s— That’s something dangerous to say, y’know.”

“Good!” You cross your arms over your chest, “Now you know how I feel.”

Almost immediately, he coos reaching forward to grab at your waist. “Aw, do you feel that needy for my cock?”

“You suck.”

He smirks, “You wish.”

You groan in frustration burying your head in the crook of his neck, he runs his hands over your hair, the scent of your shampoo engulfs him.

“I want you, baby… So bad” he whispers, voice hoarse in the late night exhaustion.

“Take me, then.”

“Shit, you really know how to push my buttons,” He laughs, the vibrations of his chest travelling through your connected bodies. Your skin burns with desire and his lustful whispers might just melt you.You smile against his skin.

“Can I take you on that offer?”

“Holy fuck, yes.”

With all the care in the world, Seungkwan pushes you to lay back, one leg thrown over his shoulder and the other spread off the couch. He helps you place a cushion behind your back.

Your skin is searing against his cool lips, burning under his scattered butterfly kisses. His slender fingers toy with the band of your underwear, close but not nearly enough to satiate your lustful spell.

But alas, he relishes in your squirms and mewls of anticipation, drawing out each open mouth kiss to the inside of your thigh with devilish pleasure. With your underwear long forgotten, his fingers can graze along your bare hips and the hard bump along your stomach. Hands gripping your hips, he brings them toward his face, nose grazing along your pelvic bone, he inhales.

“Fuck… You smell fucking divine…”

Any possible reply you had flees from your mind the moment he licks a long stripe along your aching core. His hold keeps you in place, eager tongue diving into your heat to lap at your juices, humming at every nerve that jumps under his attention.

“Aren’t you sensitive?” He coos, a deep laugh reverberating from his chest and sending goosebumps through your entire body.

You try your best to disguise a scandalous moan with a fake cough. Though you suspect he knows.

“Sh–shut up!”

His left hand is cautiously placed over your belly, guaranteeing no touch will be too much while his right is running torturous circles along your outer labia. A teasing thumb draws figure eights on your clitoris, You let out a dreamy, muffled moan and it caresses his mind with lust, short-circuiting his brain for a brief second.

“You’re absolutely dripping, y’know?” He whispers against your throbbing heat, his tongue positively eager to dive in and taste you.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’s your fault.”

A finger goes in easily, pushing and prodding at your gummy insides, stretching you out. “How is it my fault?”

You sigh, hand gripping onto a poor throw pillow, “Kept teasing me.”

Seungkwan smiles devilishly. Then adds a second finger, scissoring you open, relishing in the squelching sounds your arousal makes against his motions.

“Teasing you, yeah?”

“Y—Yeah!” You gulp,

“How come?” He eggs you on, teasingly slow on his ministrations.

“Kept walking around all— All dressed up. You looked so—“ It’s when he massages your most sensitive spot that you lose track of your thoughts.

“Go on, love.”

“Looked so… Handsome.”

“Did I, now?”

You nod.

He’s always one to love a compliment, especially in these circumstances when you sound so needy and sweet. “I need you to elaborate on that.”

“You looked really good with that button-up,” Seungkwan hums.

“And your hair styled like that— I wanted to jump you.” You confess With a third finger added, you feel the stretch from his gorgeous, slender fingers curling into your gummy walls. You don’t notice your hips grinding into his palm, but he does, of course.

Deciding it’s enough teasing for now, Seungkwan hums with a satisfied smirk, diving down to suckle on your clit.

Caught off-guard, you let out and an unfiltered curse followed by his name.

His fingers thrust in and out of you while tongue is dancing around your bundle of nerves. You’re squirming but his other hand holds you in place lest you interrupt him in his favourite activity.

Seungkwan is in fact, so lost in it, eyes closed with his eyelashes fluttering along his chubby cheeks, pleasured hums erupting from his throat that he doesn’t notice he’s been grinding against a poor cushion.

Your hand find his still damp hair, letting your fingers tangle into your beautiful locks, pulling at his scalp with every other move of his. He hisses at the sting from your desperation, but relishes in it.

With his finger curling against your most sensitive spot, he focus on driving you crazy with his tongue. Flattening it out against your clit, licking long stripes before running it over side to side just before he puckers his lips and sucks.

Your leg thrown over the couch falls onto his back, curling around his torso and pulling him closer, burying his face in your cunt as throw your head back and spill out desperate cries of his name.

He smiles against your throbbing clit, noticing just how much louder you’ve gotten.

“Close, baby?”

You nod with a whiny moan.

It’s more than enough to stimulate him back to his activities, keeping up the pace until you’re shaking even more than before. Your well-deserved orgasm hits your body with inexplicable waves of pleasure.

You whimper out his name in the sultriest of voices, enough to inebriate his mind with blind lust.

He doesn’t stop, not until you’ve come down from your brief euphoria and are whining from overstimulation, practically pushing him away — A far cry from your attempts of burying him into you just earlier.

Letting go of your tired muscles, you let out a tired sigh, throwing your head back. Post-orgasm bliss enveloping your body in its soft caresses. Seungkwan smiles, finally coming up to look at you.

You look positively satisfied, your skin glowing with a thin layer of sweat but most importantly — pleasure.

He leans forward, clean hand wiping away any stray hairs that are glued to your forehead. Seungkwan has such a soft smile on his swollen, reddened lips, his eyes kiss your face with adoring looks.

It’s almost easy to ignore the strained bulge poking at your stomach right now.

“You…” You point out and he looks somewhat caught.

“Sorry,” He clears his throat, pulling away.

You immediately grab his arm, “What? No— It’s not what I meant.”

His pretty eyes are locked on you. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No— Let me help you,” You bite at your lower lip, not ever willing to admit the idea of pleasuring Seungkwan aroused you to no end

“What? No, you’re—“

“I can still use my hands, you idiot.”

The prospect of a handjob — of any part of you touching his dick, really — is enough to distract him from any insults thrown his way. Hiding his excitement, Seungkwan sits back, legs spread open as he waits for you to settle to his side.

It doesn’t take much to pull his rigid cock from his precum stained sweats. It bobs up, standing red and angry against his stomach. He hisses at the sudden feeling of cold air caressing his searing skin.

Chewing on your lip, you lean forward, the brushing of your bare arms enough to make his cock twitch.

You lick your fingers and reach for him: up and down, up and down, running your thumb along his slit, smearing beads of rich precum along his length.

While his lips hold nothing but soft pleas and whines, you work your way over his length, reaching in between your legs to use your own come as lube — Oh, that drove him absolutely insane. The very thought of having your essence wrapped around his cock, shit, it’s still warm, too.

His head rests on your shoulder, every heavy breath tickles your skin. You bite your lower lip, containing your own moans at such a delicious sight. Seungkwan melts like putty in your touch.

Seungkwan whines into your neck, a loud gulp makes his adam’s apple bob up and down, but you’ve got your mind laser-focused on giving him just as great of an orgasm. Not that he’s too far from it, no. His fingers, which before were so teasing and precise, now grasp at your arm and clothes, fingers curling around fabric in desperation.

He squirms as you quicken your pace, legs flailing but never interrupting you. Adjusting yourself on the sofa, you lean forward until you are close enough to run your tongue along his length.

“Shit!” He jumps, arm moving to grab the back of the sofa.

You lips graze along his absurdly hot skin, leaving well placed kisses at the base; Not ceasing the motion of your hands, instead letting your other hand join in, massaging his balls.

“I’m close—“ He manages to spew out just before he finally cums.

Hot spurts of cum fly up his torso and land on his clean shirt, his legs shake under him and he can barely muster out a single moan. You keep up your strokes until he has nothing left to give.

Seungkwan leans back, arm thrown over his eyes, loud pants coming from his lips.

Teasingly, you kiss his tip before you tuck it back into his underwear.

You wish you had any energy left to tease him some more, but you want nothing more than a bath and your soft bed. So you lay back on the soft, eyelids weighing a ton.

He finally faces you, a tired smile on his lips as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest.

“Shower?”

You smile, “You read my mind.”

“I want to get a house.”

His announcement comes as a surprise. It had been a lazy weekend, you just started working on dinner and he offered some help.

“A house? Do you not like your fancy apartment anymore?” You pry curiously.

“I’m gonna keep my apartment, it’s just… I want to get a house here. For when I come visit you.”

“You can just stay with me,” You shrug, not seeing the big picture and he’s having a hard time getting out what he really wants to say.

“Yeah, but… I want our daughter to have a big house and a backyard where she can play— No offence to your place, but I’d like her to have more space.”

Stopping in your tracks, you hold back ‘Aw’ing at him. “That’s so sweet.” He smiles, relived. “But…”

Seungkwan half-panics, “But what?”

“I won’t lie… I have been thinking about moving…”

“To Seoul?” He inches closer.

You nod. “Travelling will be hard for you and… She’s gonna need her daddy.” There’s a soft smile playing in your lips, though Seungkwan is visibly emotional after your words. The stock you’d been carefully adding vegetables to has come to a boil, yet you don’t bother giving it any attention.

“A-Are you sure? It’s a big change.”

“My contract with the school is almost over and in a couple of months I won’t be able to work until the baby is big enough.”

“That’s true… But you love it here!”

“It’s not like I’ll never come back,” You wave off his concern, “I was thinking I could get a place just outside of the city.”

You had been thinking about it ever since Seungkwan came back and decided to be a part of your daughter’s life. Actually, you’d given it some thought when you found out you were pregnant; you loved your hometown but you wanted to give your child the best chance in life and moving into the big city meant better jobs for you and better education for your baby.

Having him in your child’s life meant that he’d be away for work most of the time and he seemed too excited for all of it, it’d break your heart to see him miss the most important milestones because of the distance.

Seungkwan bites back an excited smile, trying his best to act nonchalantly about it all. “You could move in with me while we look at houses.” He says quietly, side-eyeing for your reaction.

You scratch at your neck, unsure of how to react. “Kwannie, I wouldn’t be comfortable making you buy a whole house…”

“I promise it will be in our daughter’s name. We’ll find somewhere with a big backyard and maybe a pool,” He no longer hid his excitement. The whole situation had been gnawing away at him, too.

You don’t deny that it sounds amazing. “The pool needs to be fenced.”

“Of course.”

“It has to have a large kitchen,” You play along.

He smiles, “Consider it done.”

“Three bedrooms minimum.”

“Are you planning on having an office? Or—“ Seungkwan gulps, a sudden heat blooming in his cheeks, “You want another kid?”

You choke on your own saliva, staring at him. “A room for each of us!” Slightly embarrassed, he scratches at his neck. “That’s fine, too…”

Not that having two kids sounded bad. You were only thinking of your daughter, of course. You didn’t want her to be lonely growing up. That’s it. Nothing to do with how incredible of a father Seungkwan has shown himself to be and how much that has overthrown your brain.

“I’ll start looking,” Seungkwan says, reaching for his phone.

“Already?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I want us to have everything settled before she’s here.”

“Why the rush? We’ve got a couple of months before I give birth.”

“Once she’s born we won’t have time to do anything. And my apartment isn’t exactly child friendly…” Not just because he wants to move in with you, not at all.

“That’s true…” You bite at your lip, “Shit, closing on a house takes time, right? What if we don’t have enough time?” Suddenly, you’re very worried about the next couple of months.

“Leave it to me, I’ll make sure we find the perfect place,” He reassures you with a warm smile and you hate how it makes everything alright.

You throw your arms around his neck, excitedly jumping up and down. "Thank you, Kwannie, you’re the best,” Your words are saccharine sweet and Seungkwan finds himself to be overcome with arousal; which had become a common occurrence as of lately.

Not that he didn’t find you hot before, but it felt like everything was intensified a thousand fold. You were just so sweet with your protruding bump and neediness. Every time you needed something you came straight to him, even with the smallest of tasks like opening a jar of peanut butter.

Although he liked to pride himself in being free from toxic masculinity, Seungkwan was nothing if not affected by you making him feel like a big strong man.

You’d just start planning on the future nursery and he reassured you 100% that he could build it all himself with his own two hands — You were so smitten, you immediately jumped to smother his cheeks with kisses.

And he could feel your figure against his chest, how round you'd become and it drove him insane. You bat your eyelashes at him once with those pretty eyes and he's at your feet doing whatever you asked.

He once caught you rubbing body oil over your stomach, claiming it would prevent stretch marks. Though any and all words fell on deaf ears, he was completely enamoured with the sight before him. You, fresh off the shower, slight damp hair, a comfy nightgown, an arm holding your tits out of the way while the other ran along your skin.

“Let me do it,” The words were out before he could even think about it. Not that he disagreed with the horny bits of his brain, this was a great idea through and through.

You scoffed and then realised he meant it. “Oh? Okay…”

Seungkwan stood behind you, chest flush to you semi-bare back, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, slender fingers running along your skin. God, the slightest brush of his fingertips sent shivers down your spine.

You squirmed every time his hands wandered just far down enough to graze the bunched up fabric of your beige panties — Not your sexiest pair, you admitted and wished you’d put on something cuter.

His hands, his gorgeous hands, kneaded onto the abundant flesh of your belly, easily gliding all over but never where you need it the most. It’s only when you feel him poke at your back, that you realise this has affected him just as much.

With a mischievous smile, you shake your hips, hearing a quiet growl erupt from his chest.

“Stop— I won’t be able to control myself—“

“You don’t need to put it in—“ Your voice is a siren’s call, dripping in lust with your tempting offers, he feels as if he might drown in your sweet essence, though it would be a lovely way to go.

“Fuck— You’ll drive me crazy, y’know.” He grumbles but you hear him fight with his trousers and boxers.

With a couple of pumps over his length, Seungkwan holds your hips still. Feeding his dick inch by inch through your legs, your heavenly warmth surrounds every inch of his skin, sending his heartbeat into a lust-filled frenzy.

Your panties offer an unfamiliar texture, but your thighs, oh, your thighs; hot and juicy, they clamp around his crying dick and he feels your lovely skin all over his length. It’s dizzying, having his penis so close to your hole after so long.

Oh, how he wishes to take you apart around him and watch you come undone again and again. Hips desperately rutting into yours, you feel the hotness of his cock practically burning your skin in red hot lust. You drip and melt into his body, losing where he ends and you begin, you are a simple puzzle and he's the one piece you need to feel complete. Letting your own desire overcome every sense, you soak through the fabric of your panties, enough for him to feel it.

“Fuck—“ Seungkwan groans, hiding his reddened face on the crook of your neck, letting his hot breath tickle your skin. “You’re so— so wet, baby.”

You nod mindlessly, hands holding onto his arms for some stability. Those beautiful slender fingers of his caress your body all over, kneading the abundant flesh of your breasts, dipping into the plunge of your nightgown to find your eager nipples and you throw your head back, presenting yourself to his enjoyment. His tongue runs across the dip of your neck with a trail of searing kisses, nibbles and hickies.

“Who’s got you like this, huh?” His sinful whispers dissipate amongst the curves of your neck, raising goosebumps along its path.

“You.”

“Say my name, princess.”

“You. Seungkwan, you do—“

The way his name rolls off your tongue so naturally stirs in him something primal, every breathy syllable burnt into his brain. His name belonged to you and you only. For you to chant over and over, to call his name in a breathless prayer.

You’re clenching around nothing, arched onto his body, relying on his grip for support. His movements are broken and shaky, timed by quiet hisses and groans. You can feel his length, hot and throbbing and you've never craved him as badly. Desire honey thick, it drips through your body, leaving a hazy trail in your mind, clouding any coherent thought, leaving you pliant against his body.

The tip of his cock rubs against your clothed clit and you moan out his name, your legs have suddenly given under the abrupt wave of pleasure that bleeds through your every inch. He holds you still, hips thrusting back and forth chasing his own pleasure until he finds it. White ropes splashing all over the floor and your thighs.

Seungkwan kisses your neck and shoulder, humming praises that clear the fog of your post-orgasmic-bliss brain. His hands caress you all over, your stomach, your arms. He tells you you’re beautiful, amazing, incredible and all the adjectives he can mutter.

He worships you as his own, honeyed words melting into the cracks of your heart.

“You’re lucky I’m so tired,” You huff out, leaning against him, relishing in the way it feels to be held.

He lets out a soft laugh, “Why is that?”

“If I weren’t dead tired, I would suck you dry and leave your balls emptier than they’ve ever been.”

You feel him harden between your legs. “Shit.”

It’s your turn to laugh.

Far from you hitting him with a classic “What are we?”, especially since you were the one to reject his rushed marriage proposal in the first place. But the way he looks at you with so much love is driving you insane.

And… You crave him.

Like nothing before.

His very presence enchants you beyond salvation, you’re enticed by his every move, his voice and even the scent that lingers after he leaves.

You went shopping for a dress over the weekend, realising everything you had no longer fits right and Seokmin’s sister's wedding was just around the corner. Seungkwan, of course, tagged along, flashing his black card at every chance possible.

Every dress you tried on, he looked at you with such a hunger in his eyes, your panties were ruined from the very beginning.

Leaving the store with your purchase, you passed by a baby store and of course, you had to go in. The worker confused you for a married couple and Seungkwan didn’t deny it, he just kept inquiring about the different prams, very adamant about the safety of your daughter; Something that had turned into quite the turn on.

Squeezing into a dress and heels and doing heavy makeup on a Saturday hadn’t been in your schedule for years. But the event of a wedding had you rushing to get ready in time. You were very visibly pregnant by now, despite it not being that long since you’d started really showing. Part of you dreads meeting all the familiar faces and having to hear all of their gossip while the other just wants to get it all over with.

Seungkwan had elected to get ready at your place — He was practically glued to your side all the time. You couldn’t even say he wouldn’t accompany you to the bathroom because he almost certainly had.

He, of course, flaunts his mile-long line of luxury fitted suits to be chosen from, standing at the mirror for ages just to pick out a colour to truly highlight his complexion. Meanwhile, you’ve been ready for at least half an hour.

“I like the black,” You suggest.

“It’s too obvious,” He whines.

“How about beige?”

He ponders with a low hum.

“It’s classy!” You add.

“You convinced me,” He smiles, making work of removing his bathrobe.

The navy microfiber slips off his smooth skin all too easy, revealing his enticingly gorgeous figure — He always had an elegant aura, with slender limbs and and air about him that just craved success. But way past the puberty woes and knocking on the door of his early 30s, Seungkwan had filled up into a tempting heartthrob.

His biceps were much bigger and well-defined, even under your dim bedroom lighting and his chest, good heavens. His pecs pushed against every article of clothing that dared cover them, making their existence hard to ignore.

A sigh leaves your painted lips.

Seungkwan’s eyes meet yours through the mirror’s reflection, watching you sitting at the edge of your unmade bed. His gaze is dark and defiant, a prideful smirk clings to his pretty lips under the awareness of your drooling.

You can’t say watching his slowly button up the tightest dress shirt was doing very good for your crazy hormones. His damp hair draping over his forehead, down to his sharp eyebrows and long eyelashes. The sight of his gorgeous hands deftly making work of the buttons is just hypnotic.

The both of you had yet to have sex — the penetrative kind. Every other type had been used and abused and yet, you still craved for much more. And he couldn’t claim to be blissfully unaware of your lustful spell, either. Oh, how he loved to tease you at every waking chance he had.

While you’re very aware of the effect he has on your body, fanning your sizzling face with your hands, Seungkwan picks up the matching trousers, slipping them past his long legs and above the roundness of his boxer-clad ass, you can clearly see it bounce when he does a little jump to help the fitting of his slacks.

Alluring fingers playing with the zipper and buttons, he lets his eyes travel to meet your figure once again.

Your eyes are arrayed in fervent desire, the type that simmers under low heat, quietly bubbling and changing form, caramelising under constant showers of passion, tasting sweeter by the minute. Oh, how he adored you.

“You ready?”

You snap out of it, jumping in your seat with a quiet “Mhm?” Seungkwan offers you a toothy grin, “Are you ready?” He asks once again, reaching for the blazer that would finish his masterpiece.

Nodding, you push yourself off the bed. “Yeah, just need my shoes and I’m ready.”

Though Seungkwan protested your choice of footwear, claiming they were far too dangerous, you still went ahead and wore your chunky kitten heels, they just made your legs look too good not to wear.

Seungkwan had even rented a car for the whole ordeal; a flashy sports car with a sleek design and too-sharp edges. But he was living for the whole ordeal of dressing up for an event.

While you quietly watch him drive, there's something on the back of your mind. You hadn't discussed your relationship, ever. Usually, – before the baby, that is –, you would keep to yourself when in public, however, you are unsure if your unspoken agreement still stands. The two of you rarely ever arrived at events together, hell, there's plenty you've done together in the past month that you'd only dreamed of before.

And while you're nibbling on your manicured nails, Seungkwan sees the situation quite a lot clearer than you do. When he pulls into the parking lot for the fancy event hall, he exits the car in a haste and he's at your feet just before you manage to open your own door.

You give him a surprised smile, placing your hand in his and accepting his help to exit the car.

However, he doesn't let go once you're out of the vehicle and are finished smoothing your dress, his hand still holds yours while he hands the key to the valet.

Biting at your lip, you can't help the giddy butterflies that make themselves at home in your stomach.

You are both greeted by the bride and groom's family, putting on a nice smile and giving them all the compliments in the world.

It wasn't uncommon for Seungkwan to turn heads, he loved that aspect of his live in the spotlight, that doesn't mean you had as easy of a time seeing every single guest pay attention to you, letting their whispers fill the place.

Noticing your nervousness, Seungkwan gives your hand a light squeeze.

Before either of you can say anything, you're interrupted by the world's brightest smiler. The bride's very proud little brother is approaching you.

"Oh, you guys! I'm so excited you made it!"

"Don't you clean up nice, mister?!" You tease him, and he smooths down the jacket of his suit with a smile.

"You guys look great as well!" His eyes trail down to where your hands are joined but he doesn't say anything. "Have you already taken your pictures with Sohee?"

"We just got here," Seungkwan explains.

"Well, let's go, then."

He doesn't leave any room to protest, guiding the both of you through the hall and down into the waiting room. Seungkwan is surprisingly not as nervous as you expected him to be, which is somehow, more worrying.

First thing you're met with is the horde of bridesmaids with champagne flutes and loud cackling as they gossip about the guests. With Seokmin's presence, you easily dodge their gaggle.

Sohee is sitting on the wide sofa, surrounded by beautiful flowers as she takes pictures with a group of people.

"Her dress looks insanely expensive," you quietly comment, to which Seungkwan hums in agreement.

When the people leave, Seokmin talks to the photographer for a second.

"Sir, you sit to her left and you to her right, please," The photographer announces.

You move to sit on the couch, though Seungkwan never lets go of your hand, assisting you until you're sat. Only, does he move to his designated spot.

"You look beautiful, Sohee" You tell the bride briefly, but she doesn't quite pay attention. Her eyes are scanning Seungkwan's figure.

"Look here, please," The photographer raises their hand and Sohee finally faces the camera.

The photograph is taken in a flash.

Barely managing to motion standing up, you're immediately helped by Seungkwan's unfairly soft hands.

"Are you in town for long?" Sohee asks suddenly, sending both of your's attention her way.

You look at Seungkwan, waiting for his reply.

He nods, "Yeah."

Looking like she expects more, Sohee just licks her lips and nods, "Do you think–"

She's interrupted by the large group of middle-aged ladies that pour into the room with their proud smiles and compliments. Seokmin immediately greets them, gesturing for them to sit by the gorgeous bride-to-be.

"Thanks for the invite," You bid your goodbyes, leaving the waiting room.

You and Seungkwan gossip about the place and the seemingly large budget while you wait for the ceremony to begin.

The ceremony is just as any other wedding you've ever attended; only a thousand times more extravagant. Not that you expected anything but. It's beautiful, the bride and groom seem to have practiced the whole thing way too many times.

Everyone stands up to watch the bride throw the bouquet, you wonder who did she pick to receive it.

As you clap your hands, tip-toeing to watch just who is going to be Sohee's successor in the marriage market, you don't notice the flying bundle of flowers coming directly toward your face.

You're lucky Seungkwan still has his reflexes, he expertly catches the bouquet before you can even acknowledge its very presence.

His pretty eyes widen in panic, looking at the very pretty flowers in his hand.

It doesn't take him too long to come to his senses and kindly pass the bouquet off to Sohee's chosen friend.

You laugh at the situation.

"Congrats," You tease, "I guess you're getting married first," nudging his shoulder, you watch him roll his eyes.

"I'm not marrying anyone in the next six months unless you're up for it."

It's such a silly, passing comment. He doesn't even pay attention to what he says, but you feel your stubborn stomach butterflies jump circles in the lining of your oesophagus.

The post-ceremony lunch is amazing and you, of course, abstain from any celebratory drinks. Seungkwan drinks double in your honour, despite your objections. At some point in the festiveness, your old classmates find you and you enjoy the nostalgic banter. Although you were questioned about your very visible pregnancy, it went much better than any of your expectations. And it seems most linked Seungkwan's sudden hovering and overprotection to his contribution to your current state.

"My feet are killing me," You groan, settling into a bench.

"I told you not to wear heels," Seungkwan says.

You roll your eyes, "I know… But they make my legs look great."

Seokmin laughs, "It's fine, half of the bridesmaids are barefoot by now."

"You make a great point," You point at Seokmin, toeing off your heels. "I wish I had brought some backups, though…"

"That's why I brought you some flats, they're in the car," Seungkwan has this proud puppy smile, knowing he did something amazing and awaiting the praise.

You groan in happiness, "I could seriously get up and kiss you, but my feet are killing me," You confess.

Seungkwan laughs, "I'll get them, don't move."

"No problem, I'll ask someone in the staff to bring it to you," Seokmin waves it off.

"Oh, please, it's just a pair of shoes. "Exactly," He responds, leaving to wave at a staff member.

Watching you fidget, Seungkwan sees you're shoving your feet back into your heels.

"Why are you putting your shoes back on?"

"I need to pee, I think."

"You think?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm sorry it's hard to know exactly how full my bladder is when your daughter is constantly kicking it."

"She's a good girl."

You huff, "I'm going to pee," You announce, raising your hand when he motions to stand up," Don't follow me to the bathroom, it's weird."

Seungkwan wants to protest, but you shoot him a pointed glare.

It takes maybe thirty seconds of him being unattended for Sohee to spot from the other side of the hall, she gathers the many layers of her dress and walks up to him, sporting a bright smile.

"Seungkwan! So good to see you!"

He nods, "Thanks for the invite and congratulations." It's a sincere wish.

"Well, I just had to invite my biggest admirer, hadn't I?" She jokes, lightly tapping at his shoulder, Seungkwan just sort of shrugs. Licking her lips awkwardly, Sohee continues, " You know… I remember when you were younger, you were just crazy about me!" She laughs.

Wishing you'd hurry up, he flashes her a hesitant smile.

He didn't want anything to do with Sohee, not now, not ever.

It was the type of realisation he thought would hurt. He spent so long reaching for the unattainable, trying to patch up wounds from the past with cold revenge that at some point those wounds started to quietly heal.

He was more than content with his career, he accomplished so much in his short years on TV using only his overflowing charisma – and despite any past scandals, had talks of producing and presenting other shows. Seungkwan was loved by the public, adored by brands and welcomed with open arms just about anywhere. He had proven to himself and everyoned that ever dared doubt his star potential that he was just that; a star, destined to be admired.

But most importantly, he had his mind filled with wonder over how the future would turn out.

Every night, as he laid by your side and watched you drift off to sleep, Seungkwan would caress your stomach and imagine what his daughter will look like. He wondered just who she would take after in appearance and if her personality would match her lookalike. He also worried if he was fit to be a parent at all.

And then you would stir in your sleep, and he would feel those tiny but very powerful kicks, then everything feels alright. He's right where he belongs; right by his girls.

His wholesome epiphany doesn't mean Sohee will take a fucking hint. She keeps initiating contact, flashing that fake smile of hers.

"I tried to be an actress, y'know," It's a very obvious hint at her hidden agenda, he realises, though he hasn't got half a mind to lose her. "Couldn't make it because of a bitch that sabotaged me…" She scoffs, painted lips curling into a frown, "But I was good, really good! I would've made it if it weren't for what happened!"

Seungkwan nods politely, wishing he had a drink in his hand.

"You reckon I would've made it?"

"Mhm?"

"As an actress, you think I would make it big?" She smiles expectedly.

"Sure," He shrugs and it's clearly not enough.

"Oh, please. You can be honest!" She nudges at his shoulders, her hands lingering far too long, rubbing across his chest.

He licks at his lips, openly uncomfortable. "We can't know for sure."

"I mean, look at me! I've got a face for drama, " She poses, "I'm unforgettable, y'know. Well, I'm sure you know," Sohee laughs, "you're probably still hung up on me!" she bites at her lip, looking him up and down.

That strikes a bit of a nerve.

"No– I–"

"It's fine! I know… And…" She takes a step closer, "I'm not opposed to it," Her manicured finger draws circles on his chest, "I'm open if you wanna play," She winks.

Seungkwan takes a step back.

"I just think… it takes more than an average face to make it into the industry… And into my bed."

Oh, how furious she is.

It's such a sudden shift in her mood, he almost flinches. Can't say it wasn't satisfying as hell getting to say that after so many years.

"What?! Average?! Average?! Oh, fuck you! Just because I rejected you in high school, doesn't mean you should hold a grudge!"

Seungkwan looks around at the people that suddenly are very interested in their conversation.

"I'll tell you what, I don't need your opinion! Every day, I get stopped by men dying to get with me and you know what–"

It seems you heard his silent but very desperate prayers, appearing just when he needed you the most.

"What's up?" You ask, quite confused.

"What is up, is that this cunt holds a grudge because I rejected him in high school," Sohee crosses her arms childishly.

"That's not–" Seungkwan tries to explain it to you, but you know Sohee well enough to predict her temper.

"Come on, it's your wedding day, why do you care what he thinks, just relax," You argument, hoping it's enough to convince her.

"You're right, it is my wedding day and I deserve an apology."

"A what now?"

"An apology, I deserve one or you're kicked out."

"Oh, fuck off!" You yell, turning on your heels and dragging Seungkwan with you.

You hope you're far away enough she won't give chase. Or security, maybe.

Too bad for you she immediately signals for security and you hurry your step.

Bumping into Seokmin on the way, you steal your flats from his hands.

"You guys, what's the hurry?" He laughs.

"Thank you, Seokmin, great party!" You yell, shrugging off your heels and toeing into the flats as fast as you can.

Still confused, he pries in further, "What? Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, long story, your sister kicked us out."

"What?!"

Seungkwan crouches to pick up your discarded shoes, "Great party, though."

"Yeah, I loved seeing you and the kids, we need to schedule a reunion sometime," You add.

"Are you done?" Seungkwan asks.

"Yeah," You nod.

"Let's go," He grabs your hand.

"Bye, Seokmin!"

"Bye-bye," You parrot.

And the two of you bolt down the hall toward the parking lot.

You're laughing your heads off by the time the valet brings around the rental, recalling just how crazy the past five minutes have been.

Seungkwan opens the door for you after leaving the valet a very generous tip.

"What did she want?" Your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Oh, fucking hell," He rolls his eyes, pulling out of the event hall. "You won't believe it."

"What?" You're already laughing at the idea.

"She kept hitting on me."

"What?" No longer laughing, you adjust yourself in your seat, "And what did tell her?"

"I said she needs more than an average face to make it into my bed."

You laugh awkwardly, not sure how to reply.

"Does that mean you're finally over her… Or… Do you still like Sohee?"

"Are you kidding me?!" He laughs at the absurdity of your suggestion. "I mean, I guess I knew it in my heart ages ago, but I sort of realised it today… I got over her a long time ago."

"You mean it?"

"Oh, getting kicked out of her wedding didn't prove it?"

You smile, "I guess it does prove you don't want to fuck her."

"You couldn't pay me to!"

Barely containing your foolish smile, you play with the hem of your dress.

"Besides," Seungkwan opens a mischievous smile, "I've got my eyes on the world's hottest MILF,"

You groan, hitting at his shoulder between your fits of laughter, "Stop it!"

Arriving at your place, you couldn't wait to finally get out of your party outfit and into your comfy pajamas. Toeing off your shoes halfway through your hallway, you pit-patter into your dimly lit bedroom with Seungkwan as your shadow.

"Can you help me?" Your plea is sleepy and sweet, carrying him to you before he can even process your words.

You're standing barefoot, dress clinging onto your shoulder, zipper halfway down. Seungkwan reaches for it, feeling the sudden spark of your bare skin grazing along his fingers. Once the zipper is all the way down, you sigh in relief and shrug the dress off. He feels like a puberty stricken teenager, being overcome with lust with a simple glance of your hyptonitisng body.

Looking back, you watch him stare at you, completely frozen.

"What?"

He doesn't respond.

"Do you want help, too?" You lean forward with a tease.

Fingers wrapping around his expensive tie, you pull him just close enough until his breath caresses your lips. Watching through half-lidded eyes, you glance at his pouty lips, overcome with the urge to take them.

Reading your mind, Seungkwan cups your burning hot cheeks, crashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss.

It's disgustingly messy with clashing teeth and breathless moans devoured alive with insatiable hunger. You're melting into his arms, clumsy synchronised steps toward the bed, almost tripping on your discarded dress.

Your fall into the bed isn't enough to part your frantic kiss, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him impossibly close, feeling the fabric of his suit grazing against your naked body, every wrinkle and fold a torturous experience.

Seungkwan shrugs off his blazer, throwing it somewhere in the room. He pulls at his tie with one arm and had your eyes been open, they'd be glued to the throbbing veins that decorate his skin.

"Keep–" You breathe out, "Keep it on–"

His smile is almost devilish. "Fuck me, aren't you naughty?"

You nod thoughtlessly, "I'm fuckin' crazy about you in that suit…" "Yeah?" Egging you on, he can barely contain his own lust at your words. The mere thought that you had been containing yourself all day, that he drove you just as crazy.

"Mmh," You kiss him, "I was thinking about you all day,"

"Fuck."

His hands are on your body, grabbing, kneading at your burning skin, touching every inch he pour his greedy touch on. Although he wants to kiss and your worship you, he dreads the thought of leaving your lips. Oh, such a tough choice.

Expertly, he undoes your bra, giving into your relief and lust at once. His hands find your breasts, massaging, flicking at your sensitive nipples.

Every single one of your quiet moans are muffled with his eager kisses.

You're pulling him closer and closer, toying with his dress shirt, pulling at each button. Torturously slow, you undo every button, feeling every inch of his bare skin on yours.

Pretty fingers grazing along the bulge that strains his slacks, you bat your eyelashes with a pout and he near melts. A mischievous smile plays at your lips as you blindly navigate his belt and zipper, finding your way into his pants.

He pulsates in your hands, hot and heavy and burning in desire.

You run a single finger along his length and it's enough to have him stuttering.

"I need to be in you, baby–"

You're drunk with lust at this point, the very thought of having him inside you is clouding your judgement beyond recognition. You can only nod fervoursly, parting your legs to receive him.

He leans back on his heels, staring at you, glossy eyes and parted lips, practically begging for him. He takes a long, hard stare at your round figure, the size of your stomach, the very thought that it was his seed that made you like this driving him insane with the primal sense of possession.

"You drive me crazy, y'know," He whispers against your kiss-swollen lips and you feel every vibration of his lust ridden whisper.

Maybe it's the atmosphere or the abstinence that's making you drunk on him. But you feel every inch of his body, every single touch of his feels a thousand times. His body burns against yours, fastened hearts irregularly dancing around each other's beats.

Having him inside you after so long feels like nothing ever before. You're getting split on his cock, mouth in a constant 'O'. He can feel every agonising inch of your wall clinging and squeezing around him.

Seungkwan holds himself back, willing his mind to think completely natural thoughts lest he come too fast. You're so warm, wrapping tightly around his length, pulsating and eager. What could a man do besides keep you filled up?

He drinks your every broken moan, every ragged breath resembling his name, relishing in the effect he has on you.

With sluggish thrusts, Seungkwan finally moves. Bottoming out feels heavenly, you can barely think. How you're split open deliciously on his length, you feel him throb inside you, dragging out of your walls before slamming back in.

"Fuck– You're choking me, baby–" You hum, not really focusing on anything other than the way he feels.

Fastening his pace, he is entranced with how your body looks under him.

Your eyes are tightly closed, limbs tangled around. Your entire body is jiggling with every thrust of his, following his every move. Fuck. He buries his head in the dip of your neck, biting at your skin to quiet himself, hot breath tickling your sensitive skin.

He has to will himself into a slower tempo lest he finish too fast, no, he wishes to drag this out impossibly long. To savour every millisecond, burn it in his brain until he can see and think of nothing but the way you come apart under him, the way you melt and fit around his body.

Your entire body sizzles with unadulterated lust.

"I'm– I'm close," You warn.

He hums, interrupted by a groan.

"Cum for me, princess, come on–"

You nod, voice crescendo into a string of disconnected words, chanting his name over and over. The sight of your pretty face overtaken by pleasure is enough to send him into his own climax, spilling into you with a final thrust.

Careful not to crush you, Seungkwan collapses to your side, reaching for your hand to intertwine your fingers together. He brings your hand to his lips, placing a loving kiss.

You snuggle into his chest.

"Can't believe I just fucked a MILF."

You laugh in desbelief.

"What the fuck!"

Moving had always proven to be a sisyphean task, it was no different when moving in with the father of your baby with whom you had an unlabeled very complicated relationship. At least he was more than willing to actually pay for a moving company as opposed to enticing your closest friends with beer and pizza.

And you very close to a good day until you grabbed an unassuming bag, only to discover a huge gash that extended to some of the clothing inside. After a justified breakdown, you sighed and surrendered to fate.

“Do you have a sewing kit?” You ask Seungkwan, looking at the large hole in your favourite sweater.

“In my nightstand,” Seungkwan replies mindlessly, eyes glued onto the TV. While he did help with the moving, the harmless idea of turning on the game had suddenly resulted in him holding open boxes while standing in the middle of the hallway, very entranced by the game.

You make your way through the mess of discarded boxes and enter his bedroom, being welcomed by the ever enticing scent of his cologne.

It’s only a minute or two after, that Seungkwan realises the predicament he’s in and stumbles his way into the bedroom, tripping over every single item on the floor.

He does realise it took him too long.

"What's all this?" You furrow your brows, looking at the very large array of velvet boxes in his nightstand.

"Nothing," Seungkwan hurries, closing the drawer way too fast. It comes out less as something he's embarrassed of and more that you should keep out of his business, not what he meant, of course.

"Right, sorry," You clear your throat, turning away without ever meeting his eyes.

It's enough to make him realise how his actions were received. "It's… Nothing, really, I mean it."

"Yeah, of course," You shrug, forcing a smile.

He sighs, "I mean it, look," reaching to pull the drawer open, Seungkwan gestures to the items inside.

In the drawer are a few velvet boxes tucked away and a tiny box with a loose ring and a necklace.

"It's fine!" You insist, "I shouldn't pry into something private."

"It's not private."

"Of course it is, I'm sure you keep your exes' stuff for sentimental reasons."

Seungkwan furrows his brow, staring at you, "They're not from my exes."

"You don't have to lie."

"I mean it."

"Seungkwan–"

"I mean it!" He kneels in front of you, reaching into the drawer.

"This one, I got you when we started pretending in uni… I felt like I needed to get you something… Both to prove that we were together and as a thanks," He places the shiny pendant in your hand. "This one is from when… we started sleeping together… I thought I should get you a ring for y'know," He shrugs, placing a single ring next to the pendant in your palm.

Seungkwan reaches into the drawer, picking up the first velvet box, "This one I bought for your birthday after I came to Seoul but I never got around to giving it to you." It's a very delicate necklace and it looks a little more expensive than the others. "And then the same year, when I started seeing someone else and didn't even tell you, I thought I should get you something as an apology and… a parting gift."

In the fancier box is a pair of stud earrings with tiny pearl drops.

"And then we kept seeing each other… and years passed and I realised I liked you… I wanted to make it official but… I was terrified," He confesses, "I was terrified of the commitment, I was terrified of what would happen if it didn't work out… But I got us matching rings, that never saw the light of day, of course," He laughs, the type of laugh that hides truer feelings.

The third box contained the matching couple rings.

You're speechless.

"And finally… when you came into my apartment… you got me out of my terrible, sorry state, you stayed by my side… Always did, but… Anyway– I–You said you loved me," He stares into your eyes and you are filled with so much emotion, he is sincere, you can feel it. "And I realised I loved you, too."

From the way your legs turn into jelly at the very sound of those words, you are so thankful for being sat.

"So I bought these rings and I scheduled a meeting with my company to talk about my future wedding. That's when my old PR manager went batshit on how it would ruin my career and decided to fuck me over… And it took me months to fix everything and make sure that we wouldn't have any problems," He raises his head to look at you, "So I came to visit and you were pregnant and I was. So. Happy…" His voice trails off. "I never wanted to marry you faster than right then and there. But then, you know what happened."

"Are you… fucking serious?"

His big brown eyes that more often than not prove themselves to be the bane of your existence glance away from your face.

Seungkwan readies himself for the incoming flurry of teasing that should come.

But it doesn't.

And then he raises his head, only to see that your face has contorted into a very ugly frown as you try to will your tears back into your eyes.

"What?" His face softens immediately and he's on you the very next second, reaching for your hands.

"I can't believe it," You hiccup.

"What's wrong?"

You can barely formulate coherent sentences with the turmoil that clouds your brain.

Seungkwan liked you.

For much longer than you could even fathom, he cherished you and the whole time you just thought he maybe tolerated your presence for the sake of getting into your pants. And all those years of suppressing your stupid feelings had culminated in this: a drawer full of unopened jewelry and erased love.

You can't help the very self-deprecating thoughts that tell you: you should've been braver.

"Baby, what's wrong?" His voice is soft and loving and stupid.

"Don't call me baby!" You wail, throwing your arms around his neck in a very confusing turn of events.

He does comfort you with light taps to your back.

"All this time," You hiccup, "I liked you and you liked me back and I kept hiding it because I was stupid! I'm sorry I said I didn't want to marry you."

"No, you… You were right to protect yourself," he shushes your cries. "I never proved myself to be someone very… Relationship worthy."

"No!" You shake your head, "I should've just… told you."

"Look… I was a dumb kid… I was terrified of being real with my feelings once I realised I liked you… And the longer I waited, the harder it got."

You nod.

"When you said "I love you"… It just felt like everything was coming together, y'know?"

"I do! I do love you!"

He smiles, hands reaching to cup your face.

"I wanted to marry you, I wanted to marry you so bad! But I was scared! I was scared you were only marrying me because I got pregnant!"

Seungkwan reaches to wipe your tears away.

"I thought if we got married for the baby, you'd grow to resent us both…"

"I could never resent you… Or our daughter."

"Oh, please, how was I supposed to know?!"

He laughs, "I should've told you I loved you. I should've told you I loved you and I wanted to marry you out of love."

"Tell me you love me again," You plea.

"I love you."

You can barely contain the stupid smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

"I love you so much, Kwannie. I have loved you for so long…"

Seungkwan adjusts himself, pushing you back into a sitting position. He returns to his kneeling position on the floor and clears his throat.

"Marry me?"

Your dumbfounded stare goes for a bit longer than you wished for, enough to make him nervous another rejection was coming. But you break out into the world's most beautiful smile while you happily shout.

"Yes!"

"Oh, thank God."

Maybe it took a bit longer than most for you to find each other. But in the end, you had your future husband, your perfect baby and soon a dreamy home.

Seungkwan would announce his nuptials and upcoming paternity and receive a lot of love from the public. Many saw it as a show of maturity and trustworthiness, which did end up helping his career. Speaking of, he did go on a very long break as soon as you entered your third trimester, present at every waking moment. Except for when he almost passed out when you went into labour.

Parenthood hadn't been quite a challenge, not when you had each other. Your daughter was the sweetest, quietest little baby and such a cuddlebug. She always greeted her mummy and daddy with that toothless grin and sweet giggles, which made it very hard to think of stopping at just one kid.

You would return to teaching, balancing your family and work life and Seungkwan would come back to the spotlight. You two settled into the routine easily, picking up where the other needed.

Although life was different from as it was when you were younger, it wouldn't be hard to make do when you had each other. The future never looked as bright.

Since the very beginning, it had always been you and him against the world.

And until the very end, so it will be.

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whatbigotspost · 11 months ago

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@ kayatoastforthesoul.sg

[Image is web comic, with 2 sections, both depicting a cute art piece of two characters, one is a human in blue shirt with light skin and black hair and the other is a big yellow blobby friendly monster of some sort. The first art panel has the human sad looking and the blob concerned. It reads “trauma says ‘people will get upset with you and you set boundaries with them.’” The second panel has the blob friend holding the human up on its shoulders and they are cheery. It reads “healing says ‘the only people who will her upset when you set boundaries are the ones benefitting from you having none.’”]

Friends, read this and then read it again.

You are not always stuck in relationship dynamics that don’t serve you. It’s ok to figure out you need new boundaries at any time.

Safe people may be confused and need a moment to adjust and understand if you shift your boundaries on them, but they will ultimately listen and respond favorably and NEVER make you feel bad about it.

If someone is upset about or unwilling to accommodate boundaries this is the definition of a red flag.

What do new and changing boundaries look like? Needing more time to your self than you’ve had. Not using certain nicknames or pet names you allowed in the past but actually hate. Saying no to sexual activities you previously consented to. Accepting someone else’s decision to go no constant with a mutual family member. Asking for advanced notice before showing up at your house. Not dropping in to visit you at work anymore. Saying “no” and it being heard, unqualified, full stop.

Literally anything.

In kind, we must accept the boundaries that others set with us. You don’t have to like that your sister doesn’t want you to talk shit her best friend around her anymore, but you need to. It’s totally ok for your partner to need time to decompress when she gets home from work before you start talking about your day to her. Your coworker’s wish to news of a required work day with advanced notice is reasonable.

Again little stuff usually…but it all drives at the big stuff. Basically just show some respect and see others as autonomous beings ❤️ I promise you, if we all committed to that, truly, we’d be set.

#healthy relationships #emotional health #kindness #healing #growth #boundaries

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

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The Malicious Daughter is Back! - 2

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Cassy, pardon my eldest daughter. As a mother, I admit the mistakes and the shame you've witnessed today.” Genevieve clasped her friend’s hands together, her demeanor polished yet tense.

She couldn't ruin Victoria and Bucky's engagement because of you. She had worked hard to persuade her husband to connect with the Barnes.

Juliana looked at Genevieve, noting how she was swallowing her pride—a remarkable feat for such a proud woman. She gently patted her friend's hand. “It’s alright. Every family has its own troubles.”

Genevieve's face brightened upon hearing that. She placed a hand on her chest. “Oh, what a great friend you are. I’m so glad we’re going to be in-laws.”

Victoria felt a wave of relief wash over her. Your attempt to ruin her future hadn't succeeded.

Bucky and his mother, exuding an air of sophistication and wealth, got into their Rolls-Royce Phantom. Juliana's movements were graceful, and her every gesture was a testament to their family's high status. Still silent and composed, Bucky followed her, his mind racing with thoughts of the day’s events.

In the quiet ride, Bucky's mind kept replaying the events of the day. His fingers touched his lips.

Someone had touched his face and kissed him.

He hadn’t vomited or fainted.

He would have to see the doctor tomorrow.

“Are you alright?” Juliana looked at her son, noticing how unusually quiet he seemed. He hadn't shown any reaction when she saw him get so close to you. Compared to Victoria, she could see Bucky's face turn pale.

Bucky murmured, “It's strange.”

Then he looked at his mother. “After what we saw today, do you still want to keep the engagement going?”

Juliana tilted her head and crossed her arms. “We need their money. I thought being in-laws would benefit us, but I'm starting to have second thoughts. We'll see.”

She asked, “What about you? If you don't like it, we can stop the wedding.”

Bucky hummed, his eyes looking out the window. “I don't know.”

Right now, all he needed was an answer to why he didn’t react when you kissed him.

He grabbed his phone and started typing, his fingers moving quickly over the screen. “I want you to search for someone.” Then he clicked send.

Within a minute, his phone vibrated with a message: “OK.”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, his fingers lingering on his lips, his mind racing as the car smoothly glided through the city streets.

💋💋💋💋

Inside the bedroom, Bucky emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets glistening on his six-pack abs and muscular chest. His dark hair was damp, and he exuded a fresh, clean scent.

He had spent an hour in the shower, trying to wash away the sensation of Victoria’s touch.

Then he heard his phone buzz again. It was the information he had requested about your background.

He quickly put on his pants, then sat on the edge of his bed, his body still slightly wet, and started reading the message, his eyes scanning the details intently.

The story unfolded: you are the child of the first wife. After your mother's death, your father, Jonathan, brought another woman and her daughter into the house.

It turned out that when Jonathan was drunk, a woman took advantage of the situation. That woman was Genevieve, and her daughter was Victoria.

You hated your stepmother and stepsister, becoming a rebel. You caused chaos at home and were a troublemaker at school, until the day you were finally kicked out of the house.

Bucky read on until he reached the part about your occupation. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he stood up abruptly. “She's what?!”

🎒🎒🎒🎒

“RINGGGG!”

The bell's sound echoed throughout the entire building. It was supposed to signal the students to enter their classrooms. But they didn’t. They continued smoking, sitting on the floor, or sleeping.

This was a common sight at Granite Hills Reform School, where problematic, delinquent students from all over the country were gathered.

“Tuck. Tuck. Tuck.” The sound of something hitting the floor echoed in the hallway. Students who were still lingering started to head into their classrooms. The sound served as a final warning for them.

They didn’t want to have a problem with the person responsible for the noise.

“It’s time to enter the class, you lazy pricks. Why the heck are you guys still here? Are you discussing the solution for world peace?” You tapped a baseball bat on a locker door, addressing the final-year students who were still acting tough.

The students who had been acting strong before began to back away. One of them pulled a friend away from starting a fight with you. “Let's go. Didn’t you hear she fought two students who weighed like sumo wrestlers?”

“It was her? Damn. No wonder she broke her left hand.”

You watched as the last group of students left the hallway. Now it was empty.

You entered your classroom. Your students were already waiting for you, looking attentive and ready.

You sat on your chair and rested your leg on your teacher's desk.

Pointing at one student, you said, “Andre, prepare the TV.”

“TV again? When can we study?” Jimmy, one of the students, complained.

“Now you want to study? Fuck. I don't get paid enough for this,” you retorted.

“Grab your phone and look for 'To Kill a Mockingbird,'” you instructed.

“We didn't use the book?” Jimmy asked.

“What's the point? You're going to throw the book away,” you replied.

The other students agreed with your reasoning.

“Read two chapters, and I will ask you questions,” you said.

The students in your class started complaining amongst themselves, but you didn't care.

After a while, you announced, “Time's up,” and began asking questions.

You got up from your seat and walked around the class, your presence commanding attention. Then, you picked unlucky student Jimmy.

“Who is Scout Finch, and how does she introduce herself and her family in Chapter 1?” you asked.

Jimmy gulped nervously. “Scout Finch is a local shopkeeper who lives alone and has no family.”

“WRONG,” you declared bluntly.

“Miss, I know the answer,” Andre raised his hand eagerly.

“Give it to me,” you commanded.

“Scout Finch is the young narrator of the story. She introduces her father, Atticus Finch, her brother, Jem, and mentions her mother’s death,” Andre confidently answered.

You snapped your fingers, a smirk playing on your lips. “That's right. Bravo.” Then, you pulled dollar bills from your pants pocket and handed them to Andre.

“As a reward, you could skip this class, buy a coca-cola for you, and grab a coffee from the cafeteria for me,” you said.

“But… I'm diabetic,” Andre protested.

“A mineral water for you then,” you replied dismissively.

Andre rolled his eyes and left the classroom. As he headed to the cafeteria, he never imagined that the hallway would be empty and the dirty graffiti gone.

All of this has happened since you joined this school, and the crime records have also decreased significantly.

You were scary as heck, but you had made a change in this school.

As Andre returned to the class with the drinks, he saw someone who seemed out of place entering the building.

He looked the gentleman up and down. This man seemed to embody the type of person he wanted to become when he grew up.

“I'm looking for Miss Sinclair,” the man asked Andre with a deep voice.

Andre raised his eyebrows, taken aback. “My teacher?”

💋💋💋💋

Back in the classroom, you sat behind your teacher's desk, still asking questions while waiting for your coffee. You rested your right arm behind you and propped your legs up on the desk again.

Finally, Andre entered.

“Finally—" you began, but your words stopped short when you saw the person behind your student.

“Whaa—Andre, did you bring your master?” Jimmy asked, starting to laugh. “Hahaha—oh.” He realized he was the only one laughing in the class.

Andre handed you your coffee. “Here's your coffee, miss. This gentleman is looking for you.”

“Oh, you have a gigolo, miss?” Jimmy quipped.

You looked at the guest while sipping your hot coffee. “The outfit he's wearing from head to toe is worth more than your net worth, Jimmy.”

Other students murmured while Jimmy asked, “Should I become a gigolo too?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked Bucky.

“I want to talk to you,” Bucky replied.

“I don't have time,” you retorted.

“Is this how you talk after you stole a kiss from me?” Bucky's words hung in the air.

“Oohhh…,” the students murmured in surprise, their voices echoing in the classroom. Seeing their intimidating teacher talking to a man who looked prosperous, and she stole a kiss??

“RINGGGG…”

“Get all of your asses out of this room,” you commanded sternly, gesturing for the students to leave.

“Awww,” the students started complaining, reluctant to leave as they wanted to see what happened next. However, they eventually relented and filed out of the classroom, grumbling as they went. In a short moment, the classroom had become empty.

“Is this how you talk to your students?” Bucky asked, a hint of amusement in his voice, observing your interaction with the students.

“They're not students, they're devil spawn,” you replied with a wry smile, leaning back in your chair with a sense of satisfaction.

“Pfft…” Bucky turned away his face, trying his best not to laugh. Now, he realizes entirely that you're different from all the women he's ever met, especially Victoria.

“So why are you here? Is it because I kissed you without your consent?” you asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Ehm. Partly. And I want to talk to you about something else. Please,” he replied politely, his demeanor surprisingly calm despite the situation.

You raised your eyebrows, not expecting him to ask so politely. He didn't seem mad, even after you kissed him. You were starting to feel like Bucky was too good for your stepsister.

Author Note: I have so much fun writing this chapter 😂

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@itsteambarnes

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@sapphirebarnes

@thedonswife13

@angelbabyyy99

@cjand10

Author Note: Hey friends,

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Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

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thegeminisage · 4 months ago

Text

VEILGUARD FIC RECLIST

these are mostly (but not all!) lucanis/rookanis centered bc that's what i'm into. i have taken the small liberty of truncating some summaries since this is such a long list (with apologies), and tagging the authors where i can find them on tumblr. if i mistakenly tagged you and it's not your fic, or if i didn't tag you and you'd like to be, please let me know! not everybody has their urls in their ao3 profile so i had to cross my fingers and hope for the best lol. please make sure you read the tags for content and spoiler warnings.

How It Sang in Other Days by @viagothots [M, rook & viago, 26k]

Long before Rook de Riva took the contract on the elven gods, she learned to survive as a compradi of House de Riva. More importantly, she learned to survive Viago.

rec notes: ok, so i'm a little biased bc i helped beta read for this one, but the sheer depth of the characterization here is bananas. rook and viago's relationship is so much more complex than platonic or romantic, love or hate. it's a hard, unflinching look at the dark side of the crows that veilguard skirted around, and its take on the crow characters is both perceptive and honest. my favorite four words in this fic are "not like i was." you'll see what i mean when you get there. mind the warnings, but don't miss it - it's such a ride. and if you love a good torment nexus, i can promise you the rest of this series is just as mind-blowing as this installment. i can't rec this one highly enough.

The Killing Kind by @teddywesworl [E, rookanis, 3.8k]

Lucanis was at Zara Renata’s mercy for a year. That sort of thing will leave a man with scars.

rec notes: absolutely my favorite rook/lucanis fic ever. please definitely mind the warnings on this one too, but it paints such a perfect picture of lucanis's character and the issues he might face after the ossuary, the spite voice is SO good, and the slow burn being somehow even slower is actually a fantastic choice. bonus rec for this author's other fics, particularly and any thing that may not misbecome the mighty sender, which has the best inner demons take i've ever seen, the eagle, which is competency porn, and the baseless fabric of this vision, which is actual porn but with fantastic character work.

When the Floodwaters Come, I Will Help You Swim by @itsrainingpandas [E, rookanis, 5.5k]

They've been taking the relationship slow, as agreed. But after a freak storm isolates Rook and Lucanis in Treviso, and there's a fireplace and a bed, the desire between them becomes harder to ignore.

rec notes: i absolutely LOVE this entire series to pieces. the author has a MASTERFUL command over tone and mood and is able to shift both effortlessly. this rook is funny and brave while still being ruefully self-aware of and in touch with her own emotions, which adds a refreshing balance to a closed-off character like lucanis, and i'm constantly charmed by her. it was almost impossible to narrow this series down to a single fic to link to, but i chose this one because of how good the sex scene is; the dynamic here between rook and lucanis feels really good and natural. honorable mentions to Your Heart is a Haunted House and The Social Habits of Crows, which both feature illario and nearly got put on this list instead.

How You Come Home by @punishandenslavesuckers [M, lucanis & illario, 3.2k]

Lucanis Dellamorte takes his cousin out for a night on the town after Illario returns from a rough contract. He doesn't seem like himself and Lucanis will do literally anything (including bar hop in Treviso) if it will bring Illario back home. Properly. AKA: Being a Crow is a nightmare sometimes and Illario commits the crime of decompressing in a 'frivolous' way. Lucanis has his back though.

rec notes: the way the shape of illario's damage is to clear to us without necessarily being clear to lucanis (whether it's because he can't see it or doesn't want to) is masterful, and when so much of their relationship both in canon and fic involves turmoil it's nice to see them just...love each other, even if it's difficult to show or say. this author is very good with characterization, and i also really enjoy Your Inexorable Company and Unseen Influence in this series, though as always, please be mindful of the warnings.

Phantoms by @thewitchofelpis [T, rookanis, 700]

“It’s a nightmare, Spite. Lucanis is having a nightmare.”

rec notes: short and sweet, but i like how deftly it and evenly it covers all three characters' issues. i love the coziness of this author's style, so if you like this one, definitely check out the others.

In Spite of You by @blazingquill [E, rookanis, 11.4k]

Lucanis lets himself be vulnerable. It takes a while. OR: Spite watches Lucanis’ slow breakdown over Rook. It lasts months.

rec notes: the pov/pronoun work in this one wrt to possession is extremely twisty and fun and refreshing, and the last line hits SO PERFECTLY. everything here feels so earned.

Lucanis's Logbook, 6 by @flowersforthemachines [G, rookanis, 3.3k]

Lucanis’s journal kept throughout the time between Rook’s disappearance at Tearstone Island and the day she’s rescued from the Fade.

rec notes: this feels so well-integrated with canon, and the style perfectly matches the style of lucanis's actual logbooks from the game. having the fic itself use the actual look of the veilguard interface was such a wonderful touch and added immensely to this experience.

Other Plans for the Evening by hollyvipe [M, rookanis, 5k]

Inspired by the Nick Thornborrow concept illustrations showing some very intriguing concepts they didn’t go with, like Rook and Lucanis in a lake in Treviso?! In this reimagining of a world where we got the lake scene, our lovers have already done the ‘commit to a relationship cutscene’ but Rook is still a bit unsure where that leaves them. Sure, he made her a dessert and remembered her drink… but are they actually together? And something I think a bit more exciting happens after his ‘I’ve got other plans for the evening’ tease.

rec notes: this one ties a lot of "missing scenes" together in a way that is satisfying, and it also scratches the itch for a more romantic moment here than was in the game. i really enjoy the mood of this one!

feed me promises, keep my heart well by @alltears [G, rookanis, 3.9k]

a month after thwarting the gods, rook falls back into the fade. sort of.

rec notes: rook walking through the mansion at night is just creepy enough to be that extra little bit unsettling even though we know what's up, and lucanis and spite's solution to the problem is very clever. i also really enjoyed their dialogue with each other: it's tetchy without being openly hostile, and funny without breaking the more serious mood.

Tomorrow We Die by @thecaryatid [E, rookanis, 2.8k]

Rook has a breakdown. The obligatory romance scene rewrite.

rec notes: this fic has the most interest after-affect of the fade prison i've come across. it's really compelling, sad, and also just a little spooky. i really enjoyed the comparison between solas and spite as entities inside rook and lucanis's heads.

Volcanic by kaienne_pepper [E, rookanis, 6.1k]

Caldera de Riva, elder sister to the Fifth Talon currently going by "Rook", is no stranger to using unconventional means of distributing poisons. Unfortunately, on this minor of contracts, her mark doesn't mind distributing substances non-consensually either. One glass of wine later and two little Crows find themselves in a very compromising situation. Or: Lucanis and Rook both end up drugged during a contract and work each other through the effects.

rec notes: this is one of the first rookanis fics i ever read, and though i'm not normally a sex pollen girlie, i really enjoyed the vulnerability in this one and how in-character it was.

Say The Desires That Are Your Deepest by @purplesauris [E, rookanis, 12.4k]

Lucanis finally allows himself to indulge in a late morning now that the world has ceased trying to fall apart around them.

rec notes: pegging fic of all time (even though there is technically no pegging) and one of my favorites. the way lucanis and rook navigate the New Sex Thing is really good, and the smut itself is both hot and incredibly intimate. it's nice to see lucanis still struggling with spite now and then even after the events of the game are over, it paints a more realistic picture, and i love the way they talk with one another when things are more settled, the spite voice is great.

A Mirror to the Void by @wishforhome [E, rookanis, 1.9k]

Lucanis is not inexperienced with sex, but it's been more than a year since anyone has touched him. Since he's touched himself. He's worried about Spite, but Rook is asleep next to him and her presence makes him feel safe enough to try.

rec notes: sexuality is such a fun and complicated thing to navigate when there's a literal demon up inside you, and i thought this was a good portrayal of it.

Just Wanna Hold You by whoframedjessicarabbit [E, rookanis, 400]

Lucanis is too stressed to get it up, and is surprised when he receives love and affection.

rec notes: short and sweet, but the tag #hold dick gentle like a hamburger was too compelling not to click on, and it does not disappoint if you're a fan of broken dick fics.

Of Kindling Expectation by @nelsynoo [G, rookanis, 2.4k]

The Lighthouse is awake again after centuries of lying dormant. With a new host of inhabitants, the Lighthouse tries to figure out what they need and re-shape itself accordingly. Rook and Lucanis might not realise it yet - but they need each other.

rec notes: i've never read anything quite like this - it's from the lighthouse's pov, which is such an interesting and creative idea. the pov makes me feel as cozy as if i were an inhabitant of the lighthouse itself.

thank you for reading the reclist, and hope you enjoy <3

[dragon age masterpost]

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #rookanis #lucanis dellamorte #illario dellamorte #viago de riva #liz recs stuff #liz plays dragon age #i owe all these authors comments someday...hopefully this helps fulfill some of my readerly obligation lol #i wish more ao3 authors linked to their tumblr in their ao3 profiles it is so helpful!!!#anyway i probably won't be here when this goes up i have it scheduled i finished it at fuck o clock

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amethystarachnid · 11 months ago

Text

LITTLE STAR

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genre: angsty (ok, a lot of angst) romance and tiny bit of fluff

ᯓᡣ𐭩 AU: Steve is born in the 21st century and isn't a superhero, basically the world is like ours

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Story type: one shot

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Word count: 4.1 K

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TW(s): talks of death, domestic abuse, deadbeat father, a lot of angst, I know nothing about football so incorrect football things.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Request: Hi! | have a request for a story for Steve Rogers x female character. The genre would be romance but it would be very angsty/sad but with a happy ending. (the request is longer but if I write it here it'll spoil the story)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Songs & Superheroes tales — The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

Seven years ago

“48…49…50! I’ll find you, Y/N!” Steve says as he turns around from the tree he was facing, his eyes scanning the small park, trying to find where you were hiding. You have always been good at this game, but he was always better.

“Found you!” Steve says as he sees you crunching down in the little house on the slide.

“How can you always find me?!” You sigh and sit down on the dirty wood of the Colorful House,that’s how you both called it even though with the years it had lost most of its color, leaving only some red and some blue here and there.

“I already checked your other favorite places, so the Colorful house was the only place left.” Steve explains proudly as he sits down next to you.

“Next time I’ll be the one counting and I’ll find you in less than five seconds!” You pout, but the smile comes back on your face when a certain thought crosses your mind, “Are you excited to start middle school, Stevie?”

The boy shrugs his shoulders, “it’s just school.”

“No it isn’t! It’s the big kids’ school!” You were excited, like really excited. You, who usually hate school, haven't stopped talking about middle school since the start of summer break. You have already bought all the supplies you needed and more.

“It will all be the same, study, more study and study even more!” Steve sighs, you give him a playful nudge with your elbow.

“You say that only because you’ll have less time to play football.” Football has always been Steve’s sport, he liked and he was damn good at it.

“Maybe.” Steve gave you a small smile.

Three years later

“Stevie? What’s this?” You ask, confused, as you look at the big truck in front of Steve’s house, two men are putting boxes in it.

Steve flinches when hearing his name, he didn’t want her to see this, “Y/N! I can…can explain…”

“Are you moving out? Without telling me?” Your voice is barely a whisper as you look up at your best friend, he has gotten taller over the years and his first muscles started to show thanks to his football training.

“No! I mean yes but-“ Steve sighs and takes a deep breath, “Remember my dream school?”

“Of course.” How could you forget? He always talks about it, it’s a private high school in San Francisco that’s literally connected – for lack of better terms – with a college there. Basically, after you finish high school you already have a seat ready for you in the college, which is one of the best in the country.

“Well, I got offered a sports scholarship to go there!” Steve sounds so happy about that, are you a bad friend because you aren't happy for him? Are you selfish? Probably yes, because the only thing that you can think about right now is how he’s going to leave you alone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You can barely hear yourself now. Did he think that you would try and make him stay? Well…That’s what you want to do, but you don't want to be a shitty friend, you don't want Steve to abandon his dream for you. Because that’s the thing in your friendship: if you were to ask Steve to not go to San Francisco he would drop everything and stay with you.

“I wanted to tell you, really but…I didn’t know how to tell you without upsetting you.”

Translation: if you were upset you’d ask me to stay, I’d stay because I hate seeing you upset, but I don’t want to stay because this is my dream.

“I am upset, no point in lying, it’s just…I would’ve told you if I were in your place.” You sit down on the porch of Steve’s house.

“I know, I’m sorry…” Steve sits down next to you and, as always, you can’t bring yourself to stay mad at him.

“I already forgave you,” You smile softly as you shrug your shoulders, “so, when do you have to leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Now it’s Steve’s voice that’s a mere whisper. The day after tomorrow? And when was he planning on telling me? When he was already on the plane? God knows how much you want to tell him all your thoughts, but you have only a few hours left to spend together and you don't want to spend them fighting on not talking to each other.

“Then why are we sitting here?” You ask, standing up and holding out your hand towards your best friend, “Let’s spend as much time as we can together!”

Steve smiles up at you and grabs your hand, pulling himself up, “I like your plan.”

During the next day you two did everything you could think of: you skated together, had a sleepover, you even made bracelets for each other – the one Steve made for you said ‘Little star’ because that’s how he liked to call you, while the bracelet you made for him said ‘Stevie’.

“But will you come back during the holidays?” You ask, Steve stands next to his father’s car, Steve’s mom will drive her son and husband to the airport: Steve’s dad will stay with him for a few weeks until he’s gotten used to San Francisco, then Steve will move in his dorm at the school and his dad will come back.

“I promise.” Steve smiles down at you and throws his arms around your waist while you hug his neck, “take care, little star.”

“You too, Stevie, I’ll miss you.” You kiss his cheek and blink back the tears, you don’t want to cry right now, one of your last memories with Steve won’t be a sad one.

“I’ll miss you too.” And with that, Steve enters the car, before he could do something stupid like kissing you. Once in the car, though, he sees how sad you looked and he sighs, fuck it. He gets out of the car and hugs you again.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N, but I don’t want to leave with regrets.” Before you can ask him what he means he presses his lips on yours. It’s just a quick peck, an innocent kiss between thirteen years old, but you feel your heart explode. “I’ll become the best football player ever, I’ll make money and then we’ll go live together on a mountain, like you always wanted…Just, wait for me.”

You smile up at him and nod, “I’ll wait for you.”

Present day

Steve didn’t hold his promise. It was always his parents going to San Francisco for the holidays and never him coming back to Brooklyn. For three years you didn’t hear from each other, it may seem a short time for people that knew each other since birth but a lot can change in three years, even more than Steve ever thought was possible.

He gets out of the car, parking it in front of his childhood house: he was back in Brooklyn for his last year of high school.

“Y/N changed her house a lot.” He says towards his parents as he looks towards what used to be your childhood home, now a different color and without the front porch.

“Oh no, they don’t live there anymore.” His mom explains, “after Y/N’s mom died they moved into an apartment on the other side of the city.”

“What?” Steve feels like a cold water bucket has just been thrown over his head, “Y/N’s mom died?” She was young and healthy though.

“Yes, two years ago, she had a heart attack, Y/N asked us to not tell you.”

“Why?” His mom shrugs her shoulders, then puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder with a soft smile.

“It hasn’t been easy for her, but from what I know she goes to the same school you’ll go from tomorrow, try and talk to her.” She squeezes his shoulder, “You’re her best friend after all, aren’t you?”

Am I? Steve thinks, I wasn’t by her side when her mom died, I haven’t seen in three years…Are we really more than strangers?

“Why are they all staring at me?” Steve asks Bucky, one of his childhood friends, as they walk in the hallways of Brooklyn’s high school.

“Because you’re the handsome new guy.” Bucky explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I’m not actually new, I’m sure I went to middle school with at least fifteen people in this hallway.”

“But you’re not the same Steve Rogers that left three years ago, you look like a fucking closet man.” Bucky chuckles, but it’s the truth, Steve had gotten taller and very muscular in only three years.

“I guess you’re right.” Steve can’t help the smirk forming on his lips, he reaches his locker, before he can open it though he notices a girl standing on the locker next to his. That girl is you, but he recognizes you only after you close your locker. You look the same as three years ago and another completely different person at the same time. Obviously you are older, and that shows on your features, and you are even more beautiful than the last time he saw you.

“Y/N!” He says with a bright smile on his face, your eyes widen when you recognize him but quickly you look down and walk away, completely ignoring him.

“Don’t mind her, she hasn’t been the same since her mom died.” Bucky explains, “she doesn’t speak to anyone, is always late to school and never has money for lunch, I buy it for her sometimes but I’m not even sure if she actually eats it.”

“What happened to her?” Steve whispers as he looks at you entering your next class, which, coincidentally, is the one he has next too. He walks in the class and smiles when he sees that the seat next to you is free.

“Y/N, it’s me, Steve.” He says as he sits next to you. You could ignore him, look away, hell, even change seat, but hearing his voice so close after three years made your heart swell and clench at the same time. What is he doing here? You couldn’t help but ask yourself that, shouldn’t he be doing his last year in San Francisco? Did he change his mind?

“Yeah, I know, I’ve heard the whispers, everyone’s talking about you.” You shrug your shoulders, acting like the only thing you want to do isn’t throw yourself in his arms and feel some comfort for the first time in years.

“It’s the first time we see each other in three years and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Listen, I’m sorry for never coming back in Brooklyn during the last years but I’m here now can’t we just-”

“Class’s starting." You interrupt him and point at the teacher who just walked in the classroom. Steve scoffs but turns his attention to the teacher.

After a while he hands you a piece of paper with ‘you know I don’t give up easily’ written on it.

Soon you feel like you have another shadow, a shadow that’s taller and bigger than you. Steve follows you everywhere he can and he’s always trying to make you open up, trying to bring your friendship back.

“Are you going to follow me home too?” You snap at Steve when the last bell rings.

“Do you want me to? I haven't seen your new house yet.” He says, putting his backpack on one shoulder.

“And you never will.” You answer harshly, showing him the small and dirty apartment where you lived would be too embarrassing.

Steve shrugs your answer off, “You’re lucky I have practice today.” He’s on the school football team and they couldn’t be happier.

“Why did you come back from San Francisco?” You can’t help but ask, why would someone ever leave that place?

“Had a fight with a boy who was harassing a girl, turns out it was the principal’s son.” Steve shakes his head, “immediate expulsion.”

Why did his answer hurt? Were you hoping he’d say something like ‘I missed you’? How stupid of you, he didn’t even call in three years. You nod and turn away, walking towards your house. The same house that was barely a home, more like a prison. It wasn’t the outside of the building the problem, and not even the small apartment itself, the problem was the man who lived with you. Your father, at least, who he should be. To you, ever since your mother’s death, it felt like living with a stranger.

“Dad, I’m home.” You shout as you open the door to the apartment on the second floor. Silence. Silence is the only thing that you can hear, and you couldn’t be happier: silence means that he isn’t at home, which also means he’s probably out drinking and will come back in the evening highly drunk. But that will be a problem for future you, for now you lay on your bed, doing your homework. You even take a small nap.

Your small time in paradise ends as you’re cooking dinner and the door opens. Your dad walks inside, crawling his feet on the ground, with an empty bottle of beer in his hand.

“Oh, you’re cooking, I see you’ve learned your lesson.” At his words your mind flies to the bruise on your stomach, but you quickly shake your head.

“Yeah, I’m cooking some soup.” You close your eyes, breaching yourself for the storm that is about to come.

“Soup? You know I hate soup!” He says as he starts getting angry, which definitely isn’t a good thing.

“I noticed that soup was the only thing we had when it was too late to go to the store.” You admit, already feeling the pain of the hit when he didn’t even hit you, yet.

“Useless as always!” He shouts and throws the empty glass bottle of beer at your legs. You damn yourself in your mind for deciding to wear shorts when you feel the glass against your bare legs, leaving cuts behind. You don’t dare to flinch or even make a little sound, though, knowing that it would only make him more mad.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper as you place two plates of soup on the table, “I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“You better, I’m not eating this shit.” Your father throws his plate with soup on the ground, breaking it in tiny little pieces. He’s worse than a toddler. You get up from your chair and start cleaning immediately, knowing that if you didn’t he would only get worse. You ignore the pain from the fresh cuts on your legs and pick the ceramic shatters from the ground, the soup on the ground wetting your slippers.

“I can’t cook anything else for you though…” You whisper, not even scared anymore, simply resigned and used to it.

You know that he could misunderstand every word you say.

You know he could hit you anytime.

You know you don’t have a choice but endure it till you’re done with high school.

You know you have to wait another nine months for that.

“You stupid bitch! Your mom would have never done this!” Your heart clenches at his words. How dare he talk about her, when he was the cause of her death?

“Don’t talk about her, you can’t.” You glare at him as you stand up, throwing the ceramic shatters you had just collected on the ground again.

“I can’t? And why can’t I?” He walks towards you, his big frame making you feel small and vulnerable, but not in a good way.

“You killed her!” You shout at him, tears starting to blur your vision, but you blink them back: you won’t cry in front of him. It’s basically telling him that you’re scared.

And you would never admit that.

“It wasn’t me who killed her, it was you! You killed your own mother!” You know that he’s trying to manipulate and gaslight you, but at the same time you have heard that sentence so much that you were starting to believe it.

Maybe if you were a better daughter she would still be alive.

Maybe if you were more independent she would still be with you.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe your mother is happier now. Wherever she is now she doesn’t have to look after an incompetent man who can’t even cook for himself, she doesn’t have to stay up until sunrise to make sure he doesn’t come to your room when drunk.

Maybe it’s for her best that she’s dead now.

“NO! You killed her because she was always so busy looking after you that she barely had time to look after herself, she never had the time to even do a check up!” You shout at him, tears rolling down your cheeks freely. “She died because you wouldn’t even pick up your own nose from the ground-” You let out a banshee-level scream as you feel the ceramic sink into your shoulder.

He stabbed you with a piece of ceramic from the plate.

Your father.

Your daddy, the same man who played princess tea party with you when you were four. The same man who checked under your bed for monsters every night for years.

You almost laugh when you realize you can’t remember any happy memories with your dad after your tenth birthday.

Two weeks later.

Luckily, the nurses believed you when you told them that you were taking a plate from a high shelf and it fell and broke on your shoulder. Steve, on the other hand…

“Tell me what happened.” Steve says as he sits next to you inside the Colorful House in the park.

“You follow me outside of school too, now?” You say annoyed.

“This was your favorite place to hide when we were kids, I see it didn’t change.” There’s a sad smile on his face, then he turns to you, “I don’t believe that a plate fell on you, tell me the truth.”

“It is the truth.” You roll your eyes, he sighs and his eyes fall on your wrist.

“You aren’t wearing your bracelet anymore.” He notices for the first time, you hide your wrist with your other hand.

“It broke.” My dad broke it. “You aren’t wearing it either.”

“I was worried it would break so I transformed it into a necklace.” He pulls down the collar of his shirt, revealing the letters that you used to make his bracelet, ‘Stevie’.

“Oh.” It’s the only thing you can say as you try to ignore the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Neither of you has spoken about what happened before he left, but it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room.

Or literally anything but your dad.

“You kissed me before leaving and then you never came back, you never even called!” You say.

“What? I called almost every day!” You look at him confused at his words, “I knew you didn’t have a phone so I called the only number I remembered: your father’s.”

“That explains a lot of things…” You look down at your feet, Steve had called your father and he never told you anything? Why?

“He told me you didn’t want to talk to me or that you weren’t home, after a while I think he blocked my number, I didn’t have any other way to contact you and I simply thought you…didn’t want to hear from me…”

You look at him with a sad look, “He never told me about your calls.”

“What? Why?”

“Who knows what goes on in his sick mind.” Without even realizing your hand goes to the injury on your shoulder, and that’s when Steve understands.

“It was him, he gave you that scar.”

You nod, your eyes filling with tear, “Stabbed me with a piece of ceramic from a broken plate”

“Y/N that’s sick! Why didn’t you feel the truth at the hospital? Or to a teacher or…or…or to me…” His voice gets quieter towards the end of the sentence.

You shrug your shoulders, “I only have to endure it another few months, then I’ll leave and never come back.”

“How long has this been going on?” Steve gently wraps an arm around your shoulders, careful on the scar, and pulls you towards his chest. You bury your face in his broad chest and finally let go, crying against him. When was the last time you felt free to cry? At your mother’s funeral probably.

“Since my mother’s death.” You look up at him, placing your chin on his chest, comforted by his hold and the look of his eyes you decide to tell him the whole truth. “She died of a heart attack, that’s true, but you know what caused the heart attack?” You take a deep breath, “Exhaustion, overworking, call it however you like but truth is she was like my father’s slave — your heart falls in pronouncing those words — he made her work so much that in the end her heart couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Steve places a hand on the back of your head and cradles your head against his chest, kissing your forehead.

“And now he’s doing the same to me, I have to do everything in the house and if I don’t…” You can’t even finish the sentence as your body shakes with sobs.

“I’ll get you out of there, I promise.” Steve continues repeating soothing words to your ear and kissing your hair, you slowly calm down and look up at him, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

“No need to thank me, I would do anything for you.”

“So…” A grin forms on your face as you push any thought regarding your father away, “What about that kiss?”

Steve laughs, “Well, my offer to go live on a mountain is still up if you want.”

“Like, best friends living together?”

“What if I want us to be more than best friends?” His eyes fall on your lips.

“Then I’d tell you that I want the same.” You press your lips on his, it’s a gentle and soft kiss. Just like Steve.

“I love you, damn I’ve loved you since we were kids.” You smile at his words.

“I love you too.”

Months later

There are only a few days left until graduation, until you can finally leave the hell that was supposed to be your home.

“Hello Mrs. Rogers.” You greet Steve’s mom as she opens the door. Since you and Steve started dating your presence has become almost constant at house Rogers, just like when you were a kid.

“Oh Y/N, Steve’s in his room.” She greets you with a hug. “I’m so happy that you are his girlfriend, I always knew you two would end up together.” You smile and before she can start planning your wedding you run to Steve’s room where he’s sitting on the bed.

“I know that look, you need to tell me something.” You give him a peck on the lips as a greeting.

“Yes and it’s big happy news.”

“Tell me everything big boy.” You know he hates that nickname, and that’s exactly why you keep calling him that.

“I got a call from the coach of an important Football team, I’ll spare you the details because I know you understand nothing of Football, but…” he takes your hands in his, “They want me in the team! I’m going pro on one of the best teams in the U.S.!” It’s true, you understand nothing of football but the excitement in his face and tone is hard to resist.

“This is fantastic! I’m so happy for you!” You throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

“I want you to come with me.” He says as he cups your face in his hands. “Come live with me, there’s a great college near where I’ll have to stay, you can study there! It isn’t a mountain but it’ll keep you away from your dad.”

Only now you notice that you’re both crying, and for the first time in years yours are happy tears.

“I would love that.”

“Really?!” He kisses you again and again, laying you down on the bed between your laughs.

“I can’t wait to see you at my games, you’ll come see them right?”

“I won’t miss a single one.” You smile as he kisses your jaw. “I’ll be your lucky charm.” You chuckle.

“You’re better than my lucky charm, you’re my little star, the light of my life.”

You kiss him with a smile. He keeps calling you his star, but little does he know that he’s the sun of your life.

Your savior, the man who will take you away from you father.

The man you love.

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, but don’t feel forced to!

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ngage2003 · 5 months ago

Note

I would be absolutely thrilled to hear your highschool Jaylex headcanons

SMILES. Ok.

⟦content warning: unhealthy relationships, abusive childhoods, generally two traumatized people behaving badly and like real people, headcanons and some analysis.⟧

As mentioned in this post, I think Alex and Jay are to some extent codependent, with bad habits developed between the both of them due to growing up in the south and being not typical/"weirdos".

I think this based off of just how easily they fell into an unhealthy dynamic in Season 2 of Marble Hornets where I believe Alex plays to what he knows about Jay to manipulate him. (Using his curiosity against him and leading him in circles.)

Jay isn't innocent either though! Really, both these characters are defined by their selfishness, which get exacerbated by the Operator. Alex has a need for control and power, and Jay has a deadly curiosity and passivity/apathy to others in the face of it.

I think Alex's need for control and power comes from his toxic relationship to masculinity, (talked about a bit here,) and a desire to fit in despite being unable to, exacerbated by his home life. I think its very likely his father instilled these beliefs in him by himself being someone who upheld toxic masculinity and make fun of perceived femininity in his son, a sort of abusive "tough love" approach that left Alex hurt and angry and hating himself and his dad.

I think strangely the reason Alex and Jay first connected is because Jay's closed off nature, apathy and his autistic tendencies left him appearing to just not care about masculinity and fitting in, despite being male, a fact which pissed Alex off to no end because it sort of broke his brain. ("Men are naturally good at being masculine and in control and powerful, and I'm not so I am a failure" is a belief instilled in him by his dad, but here is Jay, this apathy filled fly on the wall.)

I think they originally became friends because Alex wanted someone to punch at metaphorically and push around, and Jay easily complied to that, fascinated by Alex's attention on him and his general bristly demeanor which was so opposite to his gilded cage life. (For more on that check out my nepo baby jay post)

I think as time progressed, Alex's anger towards Jay gradually faded a bit, but he always held some sort of residual resentment for how unbothered he seemed with fully conforming to masculinity. Jay to him is as much of a symbol as he is a person, a tick that stubbornly persists in the flesh and ruins Alex's attempts to make sense of things.

That is not to say Jay is feminine necessarily or actively avoiding masculinity, but he is just apathetic and not too preoccupied with being masculine. Along with this, I think he is caring to Alex, especially in highschool, a fact which upsets and confuses the other because "men don't act like that to each other."

I can so clearly see Alex in highschool getting in fights, and then Jay helping patch him up, or buying him something in an attempt to make him feel better because that is just the behavior he has been taught, and Alex briefly thinks about driving his knuckles into Jay's stupid face as he applies an antibiotic to his split knuckles.

I think Jay understands that the grass is not greener for Alex to some extent, but Alex envies him so hard sometimes.

The furniture in Jay's house gets replaced every few months, there is nothing concrete to hold onto and savor there besides this toxic pristine smell of freshness. Meanwhile everything in Alex's house is the same as when he was a young kid, with all the residue of bad memories that come with that, molding under seat cushions and catching in the dusty corners of rooms.

Alex's home is painfully lived in, and Jay's is painfully empty.

I don't think they're ever together romantically, but I think Jay has a brief crush on Alex in highschool because Alex is kind of the only concrete thing in his life. Alex has a crush on him (that he denies) in turn because Jay is the only good thing in his.

They make out on Alex's couch when his parents aren't home, desecrating over a decade of memories with a needy, unsure passion only really held by teenagers and infidels.

Alex is so shocked with himself afterward that he stays in bed all weekend and refuses to ever sit on the couch again, like the memory of what happened there will somehow rub off on him. (Like it will tempt him.)

I don't think Jay ever mentions it again, seeing as Alex ignored him all that weekend, (despite him trying to call because he really wanted to ask Alex about all that, and maybe invite him over to make out again.) But if Alex doesn't want to talk about it, they won't. If he wants Jay to pretend it never happened, he will. Alex leads them after all, and Jay will always follow in his footsteps, always eager to be at his side, no matter how much or little Alex Kralie is left.

I think it is worth noting that, despite coming from different backgrounds, Jay and Alex both go down at the hands of the Operator. Tim and Alex practically come from the same story but they come out the other side as two opposites, while Jay and Alex they both die in the same building.

I think there is some meaning there, with how Alex and Jay are so entangled.

Alex can't kill him for so long, and Jay keeps looking for him always.

I don't know, I think about them a lot.

#Jaylex #alex kralie #jay merrick #marble hornets #ng.mh #ng.txt #ng.analysis

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base0h · 9 months ago

Text

HOW HAIKYUU CHARACTERS REACT TO BUGS

a/n - watched a TikTok vid by @emmafischer8 about how setters would react to a spider and it was hilarious so I had to do everyone else too 😀👍

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, s/o reader, crack

- he’s not very scared of them so you can probably count on him to kill them for you if you ask 😭🙏

- but honestly he’d probably name a spider Fred and give it a leaf to sit on when he puts it outside

- and in the morning when he wakes up he’d also say good morning to Fred even if he doesn’t see him because he thinks Fred might still hear him

- “Bokuto who’s Fred..?” -you

- “That spider fella from last week! The one that was on the ceiling :)”

- “…You named it?”

- “Mhm!”

- “I love you Bokuto 😭”

- “Oh I love you too y/n :D”

- He has a lot of bug friends

- especially during summer he gets a lot of ladybug and butterfly buddies

- he prolly has named them after which friends he thinks they remind him of

- theres a praying mantis named kuroo 🙏

- he’s scared of them

- he hates them with every fiber of his being

- never take him to Australia or ANYWHERE remotely outdoorsy 💀

- he’s the type to get even quieter when he’s afraid— and he can’t even bring himself to move away from said danger he just stares at it helplessly 😭

- he could be doing homework or something and then all of the sudden his pencil will stop, and he’s just frozen in place

- you can’t even tell if bros still breathing

- “Akaashi..? You ok?” -you

- there’s no answer

- no acknowledgment

- just dead silence

- then you see why, and it’s a tiny little spider on the wall in front of his desk

- you have to kill all the bugs or take em outside, akaashi will do everything else but that for you so yeah 😭

- you also might have to comfort him for a while after because he’s so scared he gets nightmares about em 💀

- I swear yk those jumpscare vids on TikTok where the bug legit jumps out at you and that Asian dude is like: hey, you ok?

- BUT THE MF COMES WAY TOO FREAKING LATE SO IT DOESNT EVEN HELP

- yeah akaashi has beef with him

- he wants to set his house on fire and lock the doors with the guy still inside :)

- seriously you could be just chilling and all of the sudden he’ll chuck his phone across the room and he looks like he looked at Medusa or sum 💀

- those vids that try to like make you feel bad for bugs because they’re just trying to exist mean nothing to him

- “Ok then exist somewhere else? Preferably nowhere near me?” -Akaashi (probably)

IM TALKING ABOUT THIS GUY. (JUMPSCARE WARNING)

- ok see— he doesn’t call it ‘fear’

- he calls it ‘disliking things with more than 3 legs’

- he acts all tough and mighty until you’re faced with the final boss…

- summer

- Idk why but I feel like he’d have a tiny little dog— like a corgis or a terrier or something

- it sometimes eats flies and stuff— and Kuroo worships it 😭

- he’s totally the type to like try and create some intricate trapping system for bugs so that his dog can take care of it for him

- Kenma thinks he’s insane :) (he is)

- side note he also probably cuddles with his dog and has good dreams whenever he sleeps with it nearby him 🥲🙏

- anyways, you’re basically his knight in shining armor now, congrats! :D

- “Oh y/n you look absolutely gorgeous today—“ -kuroo

- “Where’s the bug.”

- “…..Corner wall.”

- sly mf 💀 bro thought he could fool you

- don’t worry he’ll make it up to you however you want 😭

- you name it and he’ll do it

- anything for his knight in shining armor

- his heroic insect slayer

- his courageous promised messiah—

- yeah you get the gist lmfao

- you should probably start taxing him for it

- he MIGHT boycott you though 💀

- I honestly think they’re scared of him

- I feel like no bug has ever escaped osamu’s sight

- like if a fly lands on his food it’s genocide time

- he will find its cohorts and kill every single last one

- kinda scary ngl 😭

- in the kitchen he’s probably armed with a fly swatter 24/7

- not one of those plastic flimsy ones though, the heavy duty high voltage shit, only the best

- Let’s be real though, if a fly noticed Osamu looking at it— it’d run and not be able to escape 💀

- Those vids that are like: “no but the bug was just existing— what if it had a family?” Yeah no Osamu doesn’t give a shit

- “It’s their fault for touching my food. Not my fault they might not have a parent anymore.” -osamu

- “Yeah but you didn’t need to like— chop it up like an onion—😭”

- “It reminded me of Atsumu so I was extra pissed at it.”

- “Hey! :(“ -Atsumu

- “Ah I see, makes sense.”

- “HEY! >:(“

a/n - I need an osamu to kill the mosquitoes in my house I can’t kill em all myself— I’m losing the war here 😭

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helplesslypurple77 · 2 years ago

Text

Day 13- Step Bro!Dazai/Reader/Step Bro!Fyodor

Notes: I think it's a little ooc, but i really couldn't decide which characters to go with so yeah.

also, uhm, that fyodor header picture has nothing to do with the actual story, i just though he looked so fucking hot with that gun(also yes, ik im using the step silbing/dad concept twice but its just so sexy to me yaknow*)(*and also, if your wondering, i actually have a wonderful relationship with my father)

Ever since you can remember the house had been cold. You didn't call it your house, even though you had lived there all your life. No, it was more akin to a creature unto itself, a perfect reflection of your childhood. You were born in this house, the only child Mother, or Cecilia as she insisted upon, didn't abort. You spent your younger years with a nanny, who cared for you the best she could. She taught you to read and write, and you excelled especially at math. But Cecilia didn't care. She never cared. And the house reflected her disinterest.

The nanny, a kind woman named Martha, had been disposed of when you turned eight. Cecilia decided you were old enough to function on your own and fired the waste of money. You spent your years after that in the library, absorbing information, reading fanciful stories with mothers who loved their daughters. You wondered why Cecilia never loved you.

When you turned ten, Cecilia brought home a man. She introduced you, and you stood like instructed, pretty and well behaved. He patted you on the head, but never spared you a glance. He was tall, blond and very, very young. Much younger than Cecilia. And he was much too enamored to care for you, Cecilia's little child. Cecilia encouraged this behavior, and although the number of people in the house had grown, you were all alone. You were always alone. But it was ok, you were used to the silence. You sat in your large playroom, and cried into your pillow, muffling your feelings in the silk. Cecilia didn't need your burdensome feelings.

The summer you turned eleven, Cecilia brought another man home. And this man was kind to you at first. He gave you candy and treated you with kindness, luring you into his trap like a spider. The first time he hit you, you had cried defiantly for Cecilia. And of course Cecilia had not come, for she would rather believe her boytoys over her own flesh and blood. Humans were cruel things, ready to hurt others at the drop of a hat. And Cecilia was the cruelest. Nothing comforted you for ounce as you cried into your comforter, as unloved as before.

The summer you turned fifteen it was clear you had inherited Cecilia's peerless beauty. You spent the rest of the summer mastering makeup and when you arrived at your private school you were instantly popular. The makeup just elevated your already peerless beauty and people, both boys and girls fell at your feet. You reveled in the popularity, the love. A different kind of love, but love all the same. The house congratulated you, but Cecilia didn't care. She never did, after all.

Your grades never fell however, you simply could not let them. If you were proud of anything, it was your intelligence. It was wholly yours, unlike your beauty, inherited from Cecilia. You hated that you were her creation, hated it with your entire very being. You loved your intelligence, however. It came from your father, you were told briefly by Cecilia, and because you had never met him it was easier to accept his qualities. The house was from your father, his money at least. A gift to Cecilia.

And the one gift he had ever gotten you was a ring, a gorgeous piece of silver and emeralds that Cecilia had taken, stoll right from your pudgy two year old hands. You had never even gotten to hold it as an adult. You didn't miss it, not really. But you hated the trait you shared with Cecilia, a sense of selfishness, and a love for jewelry.

It was on your sixteenth birthday, sitting at a table alone as you were blowing out the birthday candles, that you truly cried without the comfort of your pillows. Cecilia was out, and as you eat your cake, you soon come to realize that you had grown up too fast. You had been an adult since the moment Martha was fired and you had sat in the cold walls of your beige playroom, crying and crying for comfort, something that would never find you again. You were a shell, a puppet, a beautiful china doll empty of love. You were Cecilia. The house laughed at your plight, as you sobbed into your pillow, muffling your feelings into the comforting silk.

It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after you turned seventeen when Cecilia broke the news. You were sitting by the pool, sunbathing in your swimsuit. Cecilia simply walked in, spared you a glance, and informed you she was getting married. You felt a small shiver of surprise run up your spine. Cecilia had had many boyfriends, yes, but she never married them. This man had to be different. Or maybe it was her age, and her fading looks. You hated the spike of happiness that pillaged though your heart, you hated how feelings of hatred turned you into a spiteful shrew, just like Cecilia. Cecilia had cracked open a beer, flipping through her magazine, sparing you one last glance. “He has sons, two of them.” She had said, closing the screen door behind her.

⋆｡ °✩

“There you are, Name. You're late.” Cecilia said, giving you her usual faintly disapproving stare mixed with disgust. You still quail under it, even though it's the same one you’ve seen for years and years and years. You still fear her disapproval, even after all.

“I'm sorry Cecilia.” You say, straightening your spine. You're still in your school uniform, and the bus was late but you know better than to give excuses. Cecilia doesn't care for those. The little skirt and blazer combo is one of your favorites, and the only thing you truly love about St. Catherine's private school for young ladies. The walls of St Catherines are barren and cold, but not as cold as your own. Cecilia flips her hair, looking perfectly put together as always, although her age is beginning to show around her eyes. She hates it, you know, and you love it. You can't wait for Cecilia to wither away, her personal worst nightmare.

“Don't embarrass me, Name.” Cecilia says, her cold eyed stair rooting you to your place. “Just smile pleasantly and entertain your step brothers, alright Sweetheart?” She says. The pet name reeks of disinterest but her disinterest is preferable to her anger. For when Cecilia angers the foundations of the very house shake. You nod, and Cecilia takes that as enough. A knock sounds on the door, and any ugly expression is gone from her face as she flies for the door, opening it and hopping into the arms of the man behind it.

He’s your mothers usual type, tall and handsome, but several years older than you would have guessed. He spins her around, and they kiss. You look away. There are two boys standing behind him on the doorstep, and to your surprise they also look away from the torrid display. Their strange boys, both around the same height, but that is the only thing they share in common. They don't even really look related, but who are you to judge? Done with their display, Cecilia and her new husband step through the door, still attached at the hip. Cecilia throws you a glare, and you put on your customary smile, a smile so fake you feel like a barbie doll.

“My daughter, Name.” Cecilia almost imperceptibly grimaces at the word daughter, gesturing at you. You smile. “Hello.” You say, feeling like a fake. The man gives you a smile, gesturing at his sons, who have stepped through the door, and now stand on either side of him and Cecilia. “My sons, Fyodor and Osamu.” The one on the right smiles at you, the other one simply gives you a nod. They're so different, you’d almost think them adopted. But you can see their features in their father.

The smiling one, Osamu, has short wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel your smile become genuine for a second, before you catch yourself. The ones who smile are more dangerous, you had learned long ago. They lure you with kindness and hit you with force. He’s dressed in a wrinkled button down and uniform pants, his posture casual with his hands in his pockets. A matching tie hangs crooked on his neck. It's the uniform for your school, or the boys school across the street. St. Catherines school for young ladies and St. Andrews school for young men share a single campus separated by a metal fence.

The one on the left side is pale, almost sickly pale, with dark circles to match his long dark hair. It looks soft, his hair, and brushes just below his jaw. H’s eyes are dark, and they run over your face, almost as if they're checking for cracks in your composure. He’s dressed in the same uniform, but his appearance is more neat. His tie is tied correctly, and he wears a black jacket over the rest of his uniform. They are strange boys, but you are very used to strange after all.

“Name? Entertain your new brothers, Sweetheart.” Cecilia says. You wince at the nickname. You hate that nickname, you hate it so much. “Yes Cecilia.” You bite out, smile still in place. You feel empty, like a porcelain doll. A tool Cecilia can use and discard at any moment. You feel disposable. You hate it.

⋆｡ °✩

Your new brothers are kind, if a little strange. The quiet one with pretty hair, Fyodor, is a year older than you. He plays cello and dislikes Cecilia, which makes you like him a lot. Fyodor treated you with an amount of distance at first, but slowly warmed up to you when he found out you play piano. He had informed you one day, when he was helping you with homework, that his mother was a Russian supermodel. And he’s handsome, you're not really surprised. He’s kind in a quiet kind of way, less teasing than his younger brother. You also notice how he subtly moves forward, shielding you whenever Cecilia is angry. You love him for it, that protectiveness.

Osamu is younger than you by about six months, and loud. He quite clearly makes it his goal to be the loudest person in the room and you love how it annoys Cecilia every time he steals her thunder. He’s a very touchy person as well, unlike his brother. He would comfort you with jokes when he saw you were down, and could not cook for the life of him. His reaction to Cecilia was the most reactionary. He taunted her, shot smart alec remarks in her direction, or just plain ignored her. And every time he got a reaction. Cecilia’s face would flush red with anger, and she would strike out, just to be dodged with a snarky little comment. And the more angry she got, the more pleased Osamu became

And they hate each other, the brothers. At first you had thought they got along well, but then you noticed the snarky little comments they would trade back and forth, the glares behind their parents back. Everything is a constant competition, be it a board game or report cards they make it their goal to beat the other each time. And you don't really mind, the house feels warm and full of life, and you feel included. To them, life seems a game, and the people who live it merely pieces, to be moved to and fro to their pleasure. You must assume yourself a spectator, not a piece, but if you were a piece you would like to be the queen. Cecilia didn't like your new brothers, that much was obvious. But she still used them to belittle you every chance she got.

“Your brothers got all A+.” She would say, pinning you with that faintly disgusted expression she used as default. “And you got an A.” You would surrender to your room to cry in peace, away from Cecilia's proud eyes, and the prying ears of your much to perceptive brothers.

But if they shared anything, it was a sense of mystery. Because each of them never allowed you to get too close, keeping you forever just a length away. You tried not to take it personally, but you still shed a tear or two.

But for the first time in many years, you were happy. The house congratulated you, as its hallways filled with laughter to replace to silence, its rooms with color to replace the beige. Cecilia was as unpleasant as ever, but she was busy with her husband, and left you and your step brothers to their own devices. But still you feared it would all go away. That soon, they would tire of you, that they would never let you close, that Cecilia would grow tired of her husband and toss out the trash as she always did. It was a nagging fear that came back to haunt you in dreams, until you woke up in a cold sweat.

And there's an odd tension that hovers in the air, whenever you and the brothers interact. A strange tension that makes your blood sing with excitement, that leaves you on your toes with anticipation. When Osamu slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose hug of sorts. When Fyodor pulls your hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing your face, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It's a tension you’ve felt before, a tension you don't want to give name to, a tension that scares you. But then, you're sure it's just you, that your new brothers simply treat you as a sister, like how you should treat them. You should not desire your step brothers, Cecilia had told you the night before they moved in. But then again, Cecilia had never been a very good role model.

⋆｡ °✩

It's raining, big fat drops pattering against the roof, wind splattering the droplets against the window panes. A faint clatter can be heard from outside, as if the wind itself is crying, banging at the doors. The wind sounded lonely. It banged on the doors of the world, begging to be let into the light, much like you had when you were young. You wanted to comfort the wind, to hold her in your arms with the warmth you had never been given, but everyone knew you could not hold the wind. So you simply told her to stay strong, and let the night and rain embrace her for you.

You would always read when it rained. You remembered a book you had read long ago. It had been the one to solidify the wind as lonely, and had been oh so impressionable to your young mind. ‘Keep strong wind’ it read, ‘keep strong and soon the rain and night will hold you in their comforting embrace, will keep you warm and happy…’. You had always seen yourself in the lonely wind, and had dreamed of your rain and night to comfort you. The library had long been your only comfort, and you begged for human comfort, human warmth.(You didn't dare to hope that your step brothers could be your night and rain, because you knew god would hear you and laugh in your face. Because god loved Cecilia, not worthless you.)

Cecilia and her husband are gone, on a weekend trip to Hawaii. You were not invited, because of course not, and neither were your brothers.

The house is almost silentand with Osamu out at book club the house seems to sigh in relief, giving itself time to relax before the loudness returns.

You are curled up on the couch with a book, listening to Fyodor as he practices his Cello. It's a cozy evening, the fire crackling in the grate, the strains of the first movements of Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1 floating through the cozy atmosphere. You hear the piano part along with him unconsciously, fingers tapping your things in rhythm. You can never quite beat the musician out of you, it's embedded into your very being at this point.

Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1, the first movement is a deep piece, and slightly depressing if you're being honest. But you love the melancholy that surrounds it. It creates a certain air, allowing the instruments to tangle together beautifully almost as if the melodies are dancing together. They twist like lovers, the parts, dipping one then the other, a beautifully teasing medley of pure emotion, something you could never truly give in life. It would be nice to dance with Fyodor, he was such an elegant human being, from the way he walked to his looks. You imagined the two of you would sail across the floor of the ballroom, his gloved hand on your waist, twirling you and spinning you and only looking at you. You wanted him to gaze upon you with reverence, much like the men your mother married gazed upon her. You want to be loved.

The Cello part comes to an end, and you sit silently for a moment, hesitant to break the spell. Then Fyodor's accented voice, still slightly hushed, breaks through the atmosphere. “How was it?” He says. You love his accent, it feels all full and warm. “Good, good as always.” You say, putting a finger in your book and looking up. “You were a bit sharp on the first note of measure twenty seven.” You're reading Pride and Prejudice, again. You’ve always loved it, and have read it some many times you’ve simply lost count.

Fyodor sighs, leaning back in his chair and resting his cello back into its case. “You always catch my mistakes. What would I do without you, Name.” He says with a small smile. Your heart warms at the praise, your smile threatening to break out of its confinements, all together and split your face in two. You tamp it down, putting on a face of disinterest you're not sure he believes. You always get the vague feeling that your brothers know you better than you know yourself.

You flip through the channels on tv, happy to have control of the remote. It's all the usual, sports games and real housewives and spanish game show episodes. You put on a random movie, which sounded interesting. ‘Essential object of enjoyment,’(is a title that to anyone else would scream softcore porn film, to you, still a sheltered girl of seventeen years old, it seemed as innocent as a daisy. You were not a virgin, but inexperienced and somewhat oblivious, so at odds with your calm adult attitude.) Fyodor plops himself on the couch next to you, a tedious foot away. He seemed too far away but all at once to close, the heat of his body a tease beside you. You clench your legs together, pulling in on yourself.

The film is about a young woman named Maria, who is taking a vacation on a very sketchy manor in a strange small town. It's a low budget film, with crappy acting and even crappier scares, but it's entertaining and you find yourself settling in against the couch, slowly leaning closer and closer to the warm human beside you. And soon, as Maria decides to ignore all the advice of the locals and enter the abandoned church late at night, you're so close your shoulders are almost touching, and finally, you dare to lean into him.

He lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders with an excuse none of you are listening to anyway, and pulls a small blanket over your bare legs. “You're cold aren't you?” he says, voice hushed in your ear. You shiver, with a nod. You arent that cold, but you want to be close to him, to feel his heat, his warmth. You're sure he knows this, and you let yourself feel hopeful for once, curling into his body like a pedigree cat.

And as you watch the movie, heart pounding in your throat, it dawns on you that something is very clearly wrong. The budget is too cheap, but the camera work is too advanced, the camera’s to expensive. The acting is too bad, but the actress has professionally done makeup and hair. And then, as you watch Maria get tied up by the clean masked man, it all makes too much sense. It's softcore porn. You move for the remote, fishing around for it on the couch, desperately. You're already flushing, your thighs rubbing together as you reach around for it. The idea of watching a porn film with your step brother is humiliating and embarrassing and frustratingly arousing.

“Do you need something?” Fyodor says, rubbing little soft patterns in your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You nod. “The remote, gonna switch channels.” You're already flushing, but have stopped your frantic fishing for the remote. He frowns in disappointment and you automatically tense, so used to Cecilia’s disappointed or angry stares. “Can we leave it, I'm actually enjoying it.” He says. You glance at the screen, where Maria is now being threatened by a knife. You desperately want to say no, but the people pleaser in you insist you agree. And so, you sink back into his touch, flushing.

‘Where is it? Where is it?’ The masked man is saying to Maria. The film takes a moment to focus on the actress’s bountiful chest, and you try not to writhe with embarrassment and jealousy. You bet Fyodor likes big boobs, Cecilia said all men like big boobs. Her’s are fake, but you don't feel the need to protest and get a slap.

The bad guy of the film is a man in a purple mask. He’s thin in stature, and tall, overwhelming Maria’s small frame. He reminds you distinctly of the man sitting beside you, with his face hidden like that. He has a russian accent in the film as well, just like the man beside you, and as he whispers in her ear it does stuff to you.

‘Tell me where it is or there will be consequences.’ the man in the mask says.

‘I will never tell you!’ Maria says definitely. You watch in horror as the masked man's thin fingers slip between her thighs. The camera cuts to her face of surprise. It's clear that this is where the actress’s true chops shine, as her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise.

You feel hot, biting back a whimper as you press your thighs together, hoping that your step brother doesn't notice.

‘Your such a slut for my fingers aren't you?’ The man in the mask bends Maria over a table, the camera now showing a cut of his hands pulling her thighs apart. All you can picture in your mind is you as Maria, and the man in the mask as Fyodor. When the man in the film speaks all you can hear is Fyodor’s voice, his teasing lines, him all him all him.

And then, the other bad guy of the film appears. And honestly it should shock you out of your dirty fantasies, but the other man, this one in a teal mask, sounds very similar to your other step brother.

You can imagine yourself in Maria's place, bent over a table like that, fingers shoved up your cunt, dick keeping you silent. And most of all, pretty praises falling out of your step brother's mouths. ‘Such a pretty girl, such a smart girl, so good for us, such a slut for us—’

Fyodor’s eyes are on you, you can feel them even as you focus resolutely on the screen. He speaks near your ear, a pur, a whisper, a tease ment for seduction. “What are you imagining, darling?” He says. He speaks like he already knows, and through your haze of arousal clouding your brain you let the words escape before you can stop them.

“Fingers in my cunt.” You say, your voice a whimper. Maria on the screen begins to moan, loudly. The volume goes down on screen and you're too lust clouded to question why Fyodor had the remote.

“You want fingers in your pretty cunt baby?” Fyodor purrs in your ear, his long pale fingers teasing the edge of your uniform skirt. “You want my fingers stuffed up that tight cunt of yours? Would that feel good?” You whine, head falling back against his arm, eyes falling closed.

“Oh yes, please.” Your voice is embarrassing, all breathy and whiny. This whole situation is illogical, and if you were able to see through the haze of lust in your brain you would have backpedaled immediately. But you're horny and in love and he’s encouraging you.

His fingers caress the edge of your panties, teasing you with glances of touches, driving you crazy. You grip his arm, the one teasing your pussy and shove the hand against your drooling cunt. The man beside you bites back a groan, muffling his pleasure, but you hear it. It reassures you that he wants you too, but also drives you insane, craving sweet relief with his touch.

Fyodor’s fingers find purchase, clever musicians' hands pulling back the crotch of your panties. He chuckles as you clutch his arm, still clothed in his loose white turtleneck and jeans. “You're so wet darling, your little cunt is absolutely drooling.” he says, his accent doing things to your brain, to your pussy. Your eyes catch on the dirty picture. He drags his fingers through, collecting a fair bit of wetness and popping his fingers in his mouth. The picture is nasty. He keeps eye contact all throughout, sucking his fingers wetly, the dirty slurping sounds filling the room.

“Here darling.” He holds out his wet fingers, dripping with a mix of saliva and your own arousal. “Suck.” He says. You take them in your mouth obediently, tasting the mix of arousal and saliva. The very idea that you're tasting him, that you're tasting his very being, makes your abandoned cunt clench around nothing, the nasty slurping sounds you make only fueling the arousal perfuming the air. At some point Fyodor had turned off the porn, and now the only sounds that fill the room are from the two of you. A different kind of music than that you're used to, a symphony of debauchery.

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop, and you open your eyes. He smiles at you, all hazy eyes and spit slicked lips. “Good girl.” He says, and then shoves both fingers in your cunt. You arch off the couch at the abrupt intrusion, clenching down hard around his fingers with a scream. ‘Oh, oh god Fyodor!” You say, panting. He looks vaguely proud as he scissors you open, watching as you thrash around on his fingers, bucking desperately.

The sound of the door slamming penetrates the haze, and you grip Fyodor’s fingers, trying to stop him. He just continues to fuck you open, grining all the while.

“Man, fuck you Fyodor.” It's Osamu, looking less surprised and more annoyed. Fyodor just continues grinning as you moan on his fingers, drooling pussy on display. “I consider this a win then?” He says, smirking. Ah, another one of their competitions. You would pay more attention but your being fucked open by Fyodor’s long relentless fingers. You keen as he adds another one, gripping his arm with a nasty whine.

Osamu speaks to Fyodor, but his eyes are fixed on you. “It's not over yet, you fucker.” He says, slamming his backpack down on the floor and sauntering over to you. “Name declares the winner. Deal?” Fyodor, now rubbing a thumb on your clit nods, holding out his other hand to shake. “Deal, that sound good darling?” You nod around your moans, not truly comprehending what that means. Osamu sends you a rather scary looking grin and pounces.

They move you into a doggy position first, Fyodor replacing his fingers with his cock. You're already so close, and as you feel the large intrusion bully your walls apart you cum right there, your head falling against the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, oh god, ‘m coming!” You scream, drooling onto the couch. Fyodor grunts behind you. “You're tight.” He coos. Osamu grips your jaw, draggin you off the ouch to look at him. “So pretty too, just perfect aren't you.” His dick is already hard in his jeans, you can see the bulge as Fyodor begins to move, fucking you through the overstime. You whine in pain, the sharp pains of overstimulation mixing with the blinding pleasure they give you. Dazai chuckles.

“We’re going to fuck you do good darling.” He says, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Make you feel our love.”

⋆｡ °✩

It's when you're three orgasms deep, and you're hung over the couch backwards, a dick down your throat and cum dripping from your pussy, that you maybe start to have second thoughts. Their stamina seems endless, and they bring to the edge relentlessly, their competitive natures making them drive you to orgasm after orgasm. The world is hazy at this point, and all you feel is pleasure, all you hear is their voices, all you want is them, them them.

“Switch her around Osamu.” Fyodor says, his accent rough though the haze. You feel yourself hoisted up, and now you're folded into a mating press and Fyodor’s fat cock is bullying your walls again. Cum leaks out of all your holes, the loud squelching sound letting you know that you're thoroughly ruining Cecilia's favorite couch. You're covered in sweat, completely naked and makeup ruined, and to the boys you’ve never looked so pretty. They tell you at length, compliments showered on your exhausted form.

And as you cum yet again, clenching around Fyodor’s dick with a weak cry, you feel so loved, so appreciated, and so optimistic.

And then you bended into another position, Dazai’s dick lodged into your ass, Fyodor’s in your dripping cunt.

⋆｡ °✩

“So, which of us won anyway?” It's Dazai, and he sounds plenty exhausted. You sigh tiredly, holes dripping cum onto the carpet and exhausted. “Draw.” Is all you manage to pant out.

Fyodor beside you chuckles. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch then.” You're exhausted, but you feel your pussy clench tiredly at the mention of that. “Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. The boys chuckle beside you, each pressing a kiss to your cheeks.

“Love you Name.” You hear them whisper in your ear. You smile as you drift off the sleep.

End Notes: I am actually a piano player, and every time I listen to classical pieces nowadays I feel really bad because I haven't been practicing lately because my piano teacher is taking a break because she had a baby.

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