#despite there being a lot of kids in the crowd

[j5daigada]

some random observations I made in japan, which I'm posting because I found them interesting and also why not

putting them under "read more" for anyone who is interested in reading them

probably the last thing I will post related to japan...!

+18 comics/doujins usually had their own designated floors or sections, sometimes next to the shelves of safer comics, separated by curtains, if even that. In one of the stores, the line to the cashier was formed through the +18 section of the store. The floor for +18 comics was commonly labelled as "doujinshi for men" (and the floor for BL, sometimes bara too, as "doujinshi for women"). All the comics were covered in a plastic film, so you couldn't read them or even check what was inside; a bit tricky when trying to figure out if they contained what you wanted...!

Subways were super packed sometimes, but even then it felt like you had your own small space. There were also trains for women only, although apparently that was only enforced between 7-9 am, since after that time window everyone was just using them no matter how packed they were.

Many anime ads and posters in subways and stations. Many gacha and vending machines too (I got an oreo-flavored ice cream cone from one of them, I liked it).

The food was really good, I'm gonna miss it... It was very affordable too, as I could get a meal with a drink for ~1k-1.2k yen (which translates to around 6-7 euros or USD), which a lot of the time could keep me full for the rest of the day. Filled onigiri only cost around 100 yen, which is like 0.6 euros or USD. The only thing I didn't like super much was nori in ramen, since I found the taste too seawatery (although in onigiri it had a very neutral taste). Miso soup tasted pretty good, although the smell was pretty strong. Mochi is probably the softest thing I have touched.

At some convenience stores, they had a touch screen on your side of the counter where you had to select your payment method and whether the cashier had checked your ID for alcohol... kind of a minor point, but it was funny how I was the one needing to confirm that.

Many stoplights for pedestrians had visible countdown timers.

I know students wear uniforms, but I didn't realize kindergarteners/elementary school kids(?) also had color-coded hats until I ran into a couple different groups of them with their supervisors at a park.

Akihabara had a lot of girls outside advertising their maid cafe. I visited one with my friend and it was a pretty fun time, although there were a bunch of extra fees.

Surprisingly many people wore short skirts with bare legs despite it being December and +5C on some days. I don't think anyone would do that here where I live when it gets cold.

The toilet paper was super thin, probably about 3 times thinner than here...

Streets were super packed, especially on weekends. I don't think I've ever seen this many people in one place at the same time before (considering my country is very sparsely populated). Navigating through crowds of people was not too much of a problem though.

Many restaurants accepted foreign cards, but some didn't (such as one local burger joint). Usually they showed all the payment options outside the restaurant. Many restaurants also showcased wax versions of their meals outside, which was pretty handy for finding something you wanted to eat.

[growth-opportunities]

A girl becomes addicted to her breasts getting bigger, and her second puberty aides her in becoming ginormous (talking hyper-sized, if possible - as big as you desire)

I genuinely don't understand how every girl doesn't get addicted to the feeling of their breasts growing. I was pretty much hooked the morning I outgrew my first bra. There was something... empowering about it. I don't know if I can fully describe it. The actual bra was uncomfortable, sure, but knowing that I was too big for it, subtle bulges around the edges... god. It was the first time in my entire life that I felt sexy. I was literally too sexy for my clothes and, fuck, it felt amazing. That was when I first started fantasizing about being properly huge, waiting until my parents went to bed and awkwardly searching the internet for "what happens when bigger than Z cup". But, as much as I wanted it, genetics had other plans.

It should have been a little bit obvious, in hindsight, but greed had blinded my young eyes. As I learned while snooping through the laundry, my older sister stopped growing at a C. My mom wore D-cup bras, but I'm pretty sure that was mostly from having kids and, while I was willing to do a lot for bigger tits, that seemed a little extreme. I was never going to huge like I had imagined, like I had dreamed, like I had prayed. My growth pretty much petered out at a large B/small C depending on the brand. That was all that genetics had deigned to give me and I can't pretend that I wasn't disappointed. No matter how many of my friends reassured me that I was "the perfect size" and they "fit my frame", that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted big. I wanted huge. I wanted the kind of tits that would make even the most hardened of hentai-consuming perverts (a crowd that I quickly found myself part of) wonder if it wasn't a little much.

But I wasn't about to take it lying down.

I got a job at a cafe to "save money for college", but every last penny I had went to buying supplements online. The unruly guests, making my cheeks hurt with forced smiles, doing everything I could to maintain my customer service voice, all of it was worth it in pursuit of a singular goal. Creams and lotions, pills and supplements, anything that even remotely promised growth was hastily ordered in lust-fueled hazes late at night. Shady sites stole my credit card info, like, three times and I was almost positive most were sugar pills or snake oil, but the joke about a man actually inventing penis-enlarging pills and having no way to market it stuck in my brain. If there was one breast growth supplement out there that was 100% legit then by god I was going to find it.

And, despite the incredible odds, it did work! To an extent. I managed to push my tits to a very swollen DD. Constantly massaging my breasts, kneading various lotions into my skin made them incredibly sensitive. If I hadn't already been obsessed with my tits, that level of sensitivity would have made it so. I could feel them bouncing and sloshing in my bras constantly. As much as I hated them, bras were a must. I didn't care about the 'modesty' or whatever, but feeling my shirt casually rub against my nipples all fucking day drove me insane. There were days where I didn't leave me room, just played with my tits until I came over and over again. Eventually, I'd stagger out at some point in the evening to rehydrate before crawling back into my cave, teasing my nipples and fantasizing about being double, triple, orders of magnitude bigger. I tried my best to come to terms with the fact that this is probably as busty as I'd ever be. Until, one morning, it wasn't.

I can still remember waking up and feeling that weight on my chest. As many times as I had dreamed about it, I didn't know what it was like until I finally felt it, that kind of heft on my chest. My jaw dropped open when I pulled back the covers and saw what had become of my tits. They doubled in size. Overnight. They literally looked inflated, almost unnaturally round, my skin red and covered in a web of veins. The sensitivity was mind-blowing. I could feel the air moving over my skin and it was just... woof. Between the size and the sensitivity, I had to get myself off immediately. Twice. Usually post-nut clarity had never hit me too hard previously, mostly just disappointment at my impossible fantasies, but that day it hit me like a freight train. Something wasn't right.

A few doctor's visits and some blood work later and I had an answer. I never admitted to taking the supplements, though my doctor was skeptical; he had never seen anything like this in someone whose thyroid wasn't full of holes. It turns out that, while the pills didn't really do much, all of the hormones that were in them were just sort of sitting in my system. If I had only taken one or two, they would have been flushed out pretty easily. But I was taking more than a dozen different pills. I was unknowingly adding more and more kindling to the pyre, adding in the hormonal equivalent of gasoline and thermite, just waiting until it reached critical mass and self-ignited. It was enough to trigger what was essentially a second puberty, my body starting to flood with self-made hormones outside of the supplements, but thanks to the variety of topical creams and lotions, it would be contained almost entirely in my breasts.

I was fairly silent on the car ride home, though I did whimper a bit when we hit a pothole. I trudged up to my room, carefully disrobed myself. My eyes were glued to the mirror, unable to take my eyes off of myself. Titflesh overflowed my palms, bulged out between my fingers, there was just so much of it. I could barely come to terms with the fact that all that was me. That thought alone nearly made me cum. The rest of the day was a lust-fueled frenzy. My pussy was largely neglected, focused entirely on my tits to get myself off over and over and over again. It felt incredible. The reality would come later, but I was too busy cumming then.

Unlike my first go 'round, which was painfully slow, my second puberty wasted no time. I was putting on at least an inch of bust every day. Sometimes, if I sat very still and held my breath, I swear I could watch them swelling in front of my eyes. Within a week, they were big enough to reach my bellybutton and, a week after that, they were almost at my hips. I was eating like a glutton, but I had to; my growing udders were taking up every calorie I put into my body. At some point, I started staying in my room not just because I was spending every hour of the day masturbating but because I had outgrown not just all of my clothes, but even our beach towels weren't bit enough to cover my tits. I could feel, every day, as the weight pulled heavier on my shoulders, nearly dragging me off my feet as they slid off my lap. I could feel my mobility slipping away, which would have been more frightening if it wasn't so arousing.

So anyway, that about brings things to now! My breasts are still technically growing, though at this size, it's kind of hard to notice an extra inch or two. I haven't officially measured these things in ages, so I can only guess that I'd have gone around the alphabet a few dozen times by now. I'm big enough that each, individual tit is big enough for me to use as a bed with room left over. Reaching my nipples is a workout, having to gather up so much titflesh in my hands and arms to get to them, though I rarely make it all the way there. I tend to get a little 'distracted'. The irony is that, after all this time, finally experiencing what it's like to be big has actually cooled me a little bit on the enormous fantasies. I mean, I'm already living the dream! Outside of just "bigger", there wasn't much left to explore on that avenue.

I have been taking a recent interest in lactation, though...

[niallerspayno]

About Last Night - Part 4

Masterlist

You and Louis continue to navigate the final weeks of your pregnancy, along with the boys being there to support the both of you.

Tags: Louis x pregnant reader, lots of fluff, hospitals and pain

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

...

The energy in the stadium is electric, the cheers of thousands of fans filling the air as the final chords of the closing song fade out. The boys gather at the edge of the stage, sweat glistening on their brows and smiles lighting up their faces. Louis grabs a microphone, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Thank you, Manchester!” he shouts, his grin wide and boyish. “You lot have been absolutely unreal tonight—and this whole tour. We couldn’t do it without you.”

The fans erupt into cheers, and Niall steps forward, his own mic in hand. “Seriously, you’ve been incredible. Best fans in the world!”

Zayn nods and flashes a rare but genuine smile, leaning into his mic. “Yeah, thank you for sticking with us. It means everything.”

Harry cracks a joke about losing half his wardrobe to fans over the years, earning a wave of laughter, and Liam promises new music soon, his tone warm and heartfelt.

Finally, Louis turns to you, his blue eyes sparkling under the stage lights. “And before we wrap this up, there’s someone else who deserves a huge thank you.” He gestures for you to join them, and despite the roaring crowd, you feel a flicker of hesitation.

But Louis reaches out, his hand steady and inviting, and you take it, letting him pull you to his side. The cheers grow louder as he beams at you.

“This one right here,” he says into the mic, his voice filled with pride. “She’s been with us every step of the way this tour, even when it hasn’t been easy. So let’s give it up for her, yeah?”

The crowd responds with a deafening roar, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the overwhelming support. Taking the mic Louis hands you, you smile at the sea of faces.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” you begin, your voice a little shaky but steadying as you continue. “Not just to the boys but to all of you. You’ve been so patient and understanding while I’ve been figuring out how to navigate... well, everything.” You place a hand on your bump for emphasis, earning a wave of cheers.

Niall steps forward, his grin boyish and full of warmth. “And she’s been a legend, hasn’t she? A total star!”

The crowd erupts into cheers again, and you can’t help but laugh, feeling a wave of affection for him and the others.

“And I promise,” you add with a grin, “next time I’ll be able to give you a hundred percent again.”

Louis takes the mic back, his hand slipping to rest protectively over yours on your belly. His face softens, and his voice drops just enough to make the moment feel intimate, despite the thousands of people watching.

“Next tour’s gonna be a bit different, though,” he says, glancing at you before looking back at the crowd. “Because I’ll be a dad, and she’ll be a mum.”

The audience erupts, the cheers shaking the entire venue. Louis’ words hit you in the chest, a mixture of love and pride blooming in your heart. The other boys beam, patting Louis on the back and giving you knowing smiles.

Harry leans into his mic, winking at the crowd. “We might have to add some lullabies to the setlist.”

Niall chimes in with a cheeky grin. “Or get the baby some earplugs. Loudest kid in the world already, I reckon.”

The laughter from both the band and the crowd is infectious, and Louis pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple as the music swells for the final bow.

Together, with your little one growing between you, you step forward with the boys, hand in hand, ready to close this chapter and start the next.

...

The atmosphere at the bar buzzes with post-concert energy, the perfect blend of exhaustion and triumph fueling the celebration. Glasses clink, and laughter ripples through the room as the boys share stories of the tour, each memory growing more exaggerated and ridiculous with every retelling.

You sit nestled in the corner of the booth, sipping your sparkling water with lime. At 31 weeks pregnant, you’re doing your best to stay engaged, but your body isn’t exactly cooperating. Your back aches, your feet throb, and you can’t help but long for a comfortable bed and quiet.

Louis, ever-attentive, sits beside you, his arm protectively draped over the back of your seat. He’s been glued to your side all evening, stealing glances at you between conversations and checking in every few minutes.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” he asks again, his voice low so only you can hear. His hand gently squeezes your knee.

You give him a tired but genuine smile. “I’m fine, Lou. Just a bit sore and tired, that’s all.”

Louis frowns, not entirely convinced. “Do you want to go back to the hotel? I can make an excuse—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “This is a big night for us and the boys. I’m not missing it.”

Louis leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Biggest night of my life is sitting right here with me,” he murmurs, his words making your heart ache in the best way.

“Oi, what’s all the whispering about?” Niall interrupts, sliding into the booth across from you with a teasing grin. He holds up his soda. “You and me, non-drinkers’ club. Cheers to sparkling water.”

You laugh and clink your glass against his. “Cheers, Niall. Thanks for joining the club.”

“Only for you, darling,” Niall says dramatically, earning a chuckle from Louis.

A moment later, Liam joins, carrying an extra cushion he swiped from one of the bar’s chairs. “Thought you might need this,” he says, placing it gently behind your back.

You look up at him in surprise, warmth spreading across your face. “Liam, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Liam replies with a soft smile. “Figured you might need a bit of extra support. Don’t let him take all the credit,” he adds, nodding toward Louis.

“She never does,” Louis quips, earning a laugh from the table.

Harry saunters over, sliding into the seat beside Niall. “Alright, what’s the verdict? Are we raising the next frontman for the band or a future footballer?”

Louis smirks. “Why not both?”

Zayn follows with a plate of fries, setting them in front of you without a word.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up. “Zayn, you’re officially my favorite tonight.”

“Oi,” Louis protests immediately. “What about me?”

“You’re a close second,” you tease, popping a fry into your mouth as laughter erupts around the table.

The banter continues, the boys all taking turns doting on you in their own way. Even Liam can’t resist, offering to grab you anything else you might need.

As the night progresses, Louis clears his throat, his hand resting on your knee again. He glances at you, a silent question in his eyes. You nod softly, giving him permission.

“Alright, everyone,” Louis announces, his voice cutting through the hum of the bar. “We’ve got some news.”

The table quiets immediately, all eyes on the two of you.

“We’ve decided,” Louis continues, a proud smile tugging at his lips, “that we’re moving in together.”

The room erupts in cheers and congratulations. Niall raises his glass with a wide grin. “About bloody time! You two are a proper team already.”

Liam nods in agreement, his voice sincere. “It makes sense. You’ve already been there for each other through so much. It’s the next step.”

Harry leans back, smirking. “Louis and domestic life—this I’ve gotta see.”

“I’m an excellent cook,” Louis fires back defensively.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “He burns toast.”

Zayn shakes his head, chuckling softly. “Seriously though, that’s great. You two are going to smash it.”

Louis glances at you again, his hand squeezing yours. “We already are, aren’t we?”

Your heart swells as you lean into him, his arm wrapping securely around your shoulders. For the first time in weeks, the exhaustion and aches feel secondary to the overwhelming love and support radiating from the people around you. You look around the table, feeling lucky beyond words.

...

The plane touches down at Heathrow, and the bittersweet weight of the moment sinks in as you and Louis step off the plane. The familiarity of London feels comforting, but the knowledge that this marks the end of the tour leaves your heart heavy.

In the bustling terminal, the band gathers near the baggage carousel. The energy is subdued, the usual chatter replaced with reflective silence. The past months have been a whirlwind, and now it’s time to say goodbye—for now.

Harry is the first to step forward. His arms open wide as he gives you a warm hug, his curls tickling your cheek. “Take care of yourself, yeah? And don’t let Louis boss you around too much.”

“I’m the boss,” you reply with a small laugh, squeezing him tightly.

Harry pulls back, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s what I like to hear. Don’t be a stranger.”

Next is Zayn, who leans in for a hug without much fanfare, but his actions speak volumes. “You’ve done good,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. “I mean it. You’re family.”

The lump in your throat grows as you nod, unable to form words. His calm presence has been a quiet comfort throughout the tour, and you’ll miss it.

Liam steps up, his kind smile making you feel at ease even as the tears threaten to fall. He pulls you into a firm hug. “You’ve been incredible through all this. You’ve got a lot on your plate, but you’ve handled it better than anyone else could. We’ll be around if you need anything, alright?”

“Thanks, Liam,” you manage to choke out, touched by his sincerity.

He steps back, looking at Louis. “Take care of her, mate. Not that I doubt you will.”

Louis nods, his arm tightening around your waist. “Always.”

Then there’s Niall. Your heart twists as he approaches, his expression a mix of pride and sadness. Niall’s been your rock, from the very start of this journey to now. He steps close, wrapping you in a hug that’s warmer and longer than any of the others.

“Don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” he murmurs into your ear. “You’ve been my partner in crime, you know that?”

Tears spill over, and you cling to him. “You’re going to be fine, Niall. And you’ll come over all the time, right? You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Damn right I will.” He pulls back, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You’ve got something amazing ahead, though. And I’m so happy for you. Both of you.”

You smile through the tears, wiping at your cheeks. “Thanks, Niall. For everything.”

He steps back, clearing his throat and giving Louis a pointed look. “You better keep her happy, Tommo. Or I’ll be moving in.”

Louis grins, clapping Niall on the back. “Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”

With all the goodbyes said, the boys gather their luggage, ready to head off in different directions. They promise to visit often, knowing events, interviews, and their unbreakable bond will keep them connected.

As you watch them walk away, your heart feels heavy but full. Louis leans down to press a kiss to your temple, his hand resting on the small of your back. “You alright, love?”

You nod, smiling up at him despite the tears. “Yeah. Just… a lot to take in.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze filled with nothing but love. “We’ve got this. Together.”

And with that, you leave the airport, ready to step into the next chapter of your lives.

...

As Louis pulls into the driveway of his home, a warm sense of familiarity washes over you. It’s cozy and welcoming, much like the man sitting beside you. You smile as you glance at him, his face lighting up with pride as he parks the car.

“Welcome home,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand.

“Thanks,” you reply, feeling a swell of emotion at the idea of this being your shared space. You’re about to grab your bag when Louis holds up a finger.

“Wait. Before we go in, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

Your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Oh? What’s that?”

Before he can answer, the front door swings open, and you hear a familiar voice call out. “Louis! You’re back!”

Your jaw drops as you see Johannah and Lottie stepping out onto the porch, beaming at the sight of the two of you.

“Johannah? Lottie?” you exclaim, looking to Louis for an explanation.

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Surprise! I may have invited them over for dinner.”

“You could have warned me!” you hiss, though there’s no real heat in your tone.

He chuckles and leans in, whispering, “Thought it’d be nice for them to see you again—and for you to meet them properly, you know, as my girlfriend. And the soon-to-be mother of my child.”

Your heart swells despite the nerves fluttering in your chest. You’ve met Johannah and Lottie before in the context of being a band member, but this is entirely different.

By the time you step out of the car, Johannah is already making her way over. She envelops you in a warm hug, her genuine affection immediately putting you at ease.

“It’s so lovely to see you again,” she says, pulling back to give you a once-over. “And look at you! Absolutely glowing.”

You can’t help but smile, her kindness melting away your nerves. “It’s so nice to see you too, Johannah.”

“And me, obviously,” Lottie pipes up, her grin mischievous as she pulls you into a hug next. “This is such an exciting surprise.”

“It’s definitely a surprise,” you say with a laugh, shooting Louis a playful glare.

Johannah waves you toward the house. “Come on in. We’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

Inside, the dining table is set beautifully, and the delicious smell of a home-cooked meal fills the air. You feel a bit overwhelmed but also incredibly touched by the effort they’ve put in.

As dinner begins, the conversation flows easily. Johannah asks about the pregnancy, her enthusiasm contagious, while Lottie teases Louis mercilessly about finally settling down.

“So, are you ready for all those sleepless nights, big brother?” Lottie quips, smirking over her glass of wine.

Louis rolls his eyes but smiles. “I’ll manage. Not like I’ll be doing it alone.” He places a hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Johannah beams at the two of you. “You’re going to make a wonderful little family. I couldn’t be prouder.”

Her words bring a lump to your throat, and you blink back tears as you look at Louis. He meets your gaze with so much love that you feel your nerves dissipate completely.

By the end of the night, you feel fully embraced by Johannah and Lottie, their warmth and support wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. As they say their goodbyes, Johannah hugs you tightly one more time.

“You’re part of the family now,” she says softly. “Don’t ever forget that.”

As they leave and the house falls quiet, you turn to Louis, unable to hide your smile.

“That was... really nice,” you admit, leaning into him as he wraps his arms around you.

“I told you it would be,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Welcome home, love.”

...

A few days later the sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, and you glance at Louis with a knowing smile as he rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“Let me guess,” he says, already pushing himself off the couch. “Niall.”

You laugh, nodding as you watch him head to the door. Sure enough, moments later, Louis returns with Niall trailing behind him, holding a small box and a handful of brochures.

“Guess who’s here to be the best uncle ever?” Niall announces, a wide grin on his face as he kicks off his shoes.

“Niall, you already won that title by default,” you tease, standing up to greet him.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t secure my lead,” he counters, leaning down to give you a careful hug before setting the box on the coffee table. “Brought something for the nursery—and these.” He fans out the brochures with a flourish.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Are those... nursery design ideas?”

“Yup!” Niall says proudly. “Figured you two haven’t started yet, so I’d help get the ball rolling.”

You glance at the brochures and then at Niall, warmth blooming in your chest. “That’s really thoughtful of you. Thank you, Niall.”

He shrugs, but his smile grows softer. “Anything for you guys. Now, open the box!”

You sit down on the couch, Louis taking a seat beside you, as Niall perches on the edge of the coffee table. Carefully, you lift the lid of the box to reveal a beautifully handmade wooden mobile. Small, intricately carved shapes of stars, moons, and clouds dangle delicately from strings, their craftsmanship stunning.

“Oh, Niall,” you breathe, running your fingers over the smooth wood. “This is... it’s perfect.”

Louis reaches over, lifting one of the tiny moons with a reverent look. “Mate, did you make this?”

Niall blushes slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had a little help, but yeah. Thought it might add a nice personal touch to the nursery.”

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes and quickly wipe them away, smiling at Niall through your emotion. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“Oi, don’t cry!” Niall exclaims, half-teasing, half-concerned. “I’m supposed to be helping, not making you emotional.”

“Too late for that,” Louis mutters with a grin, leaning over to kiss your temple.

As you calm yourself, Niall spreads out the brochures on the coffee table, motioning for you and Louis to join him. “Alright, so I’ve got ideas for themes, color palettes, furniture—you name it.”

For the next hour, the three of you pour over the brochures, debating everything from neutral tones to bright pops of color. Niall’s enthusiasm is infectious, and soon, you and Louis are bouncing ideas off him as if he’s an honorary interior designer.

“Okay, so we’re thinking stars and moons as a theme,” Niall says, scribbling notes on a pad he brought along. “Soft blues, creams, and maybe a touch of gold for accents. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Louis agrees, glancing at you for confirmation.

You nod, feeling excitement bubble up for the first time about putting the nursery together. “I love it. Thank you for this, Niall. Really.”

“Hey, anything for my favourite little family,” he says with a wink. “Now, let’s figure out where to start shopping!”

...

The bedroom is chaos—dresses strewn everywhere, shoes kicked off into random corners, and the vanity cluttered with makeup and jewelry. You’re standing in front of the mirror, glaring at your reflection as your hands tug at the hem of the dress you’ve been trying to make work for the past ten minutes.

Tonight’s event is a big one—a fancy charity gala where you and the boys are expected to make an appearance. You’re thrilled to see everyone again and can’t wait to catch up with Harry, Zayn, Liam, and Niall. It’s been too long since you’ve all been in the same place, laughing and joking like old times.

But instead of being excited about the evening, you’re caught up in the growing frustration of trying to find something—anything—that makes you feel good. At 33 weeks pregnant, nothing seems to fit the way you want, and the insecurity has hit harder than usual with the thought of facing the paparazzi tonight.

“God,” you mutter under your breath, smoothing your hands over the fabric clinging to your growing belly. “I look like a whale.”

From the doorway, Louis’ voice cuts in, light and teasing but laced with warmth. “Now, now, love. Don’t be insulting my gorgeous girlfriend like that.”

You spin to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, and your heart skips a beat. He looks devastatingly good in a tailored black suit, the crisp white shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to hint at his collarbone. The sight of him, all sharp angles and boyish charm, takes the edge off your frustration for a moment.

But then you remember your reflection, and the frown returns. “Louis, I’m serious. Look at me! Nothing fits right, and I just look... huge.”

He steps into the room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes soft as they sweep over you. “You don’t look huge. You look like the absolute goddess that you are.”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop the bitter laugh that escapes. “Don’t start with that ‘glowing’ nonsense again.”

“Alright,” he says, grinning as he walks up to you. “How about this: You look hot.” His voice drops on the last word, and the heat in his tone makes your cheeks flush.

“Louis...”

“No, really,” he interrupts, his hands gently gripping your waist as he pulls you closer. His thumbs rub soft circles against your sides. “Do you know what it does to me, seeing you like this? These curves—” He lets his hands drift over your hips and down to the swell of your belly, his voice turning low and full of mischief. “—every last one of them. You’re even more irresistible than usual.”

Your breath hitches, your earlier frustration melting under his gaze. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the p with a cheeky grin. “I’m saying it because it’s true. You’re carrying our baby, love. You’re the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. And if you weren’t so annoyed at this dress, I’d probably have to pin you against the wall right now and show you just how much I mean it.”

You laugh despite yourself, swatting his chest lightly. “Louis!”

“What?” he says, his grin turning softer as he cups your cheek. “It’s the truth. You’re gorgeous, and I’m the luckiest man alive.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and tears well up in your eyes. “You really think so?”

“Always,” he promises, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s soft and lingering, filled with the kind of reassurance that settles deep in your heart.

When he pulls back, he tugs at the dress slightly. “This one’s perfect, by the way. You’re going to steal the show tonight.”

You glance back at the mirror, and for the first time all evening, you see what he sees—a woman who’s radiant, strong, and glowing with life.

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding. “Let’s do this.”

“That’s my girl.” He steps back, offering you his arm. “And don’t worry, love—I’ll be by your side the whole time. If any of those photographers so much as look at you wrong, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You laugh as you loop your arm through his, already feeling lighter. “I think I might actually be excited now. I can’t wait to see the boys.”

“They can’t wait to see you either,” Louis says as he leads you out. “Though I’ll have to remind them to keep their hands off—you’re mine, after all.”

The cheeky wink he throws your way has you rolling your eyes, but the smile that spreads across your face is undeniable. As the two of you head out, your heart feels full, and for the first time all evening, you’re not thinking about how you look—you’re just thinking about how loved you feel.

...

The event is in full swing by the time you and Louis step out of the car, hand in hand. The red carpet is dazzling under the flashes of the cameras, and though the noise and chaos of it all make your nerves twinge, Louis’ steady grip keeps you grounded.

“You ready for this, love?” he murmurs, leaning close as you approach the entrance.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, squeezing his hand.

The moment you step into the venue, a wave of warmth washes over you. Familiar faces greet you—celebrities, industry professionals, and longtime supporters of the charity the event is for. The boys are already scattered around, chatting and laughing with guests, but they immediately light up when they see you.

“There she is!” Niall grins, making his way over with a drink in hand. “How’s my favorite mum-to-be?”

“Excited to see all of you,” you say with a smile, accepting his gentle hug.

“You’re glowing,” Harry comments as he approaches, his charm dialed up as always. “And Louis, mate, look at you—ever the doting partner.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Louis quips, a proud smile spreading across his face.

Zayn and Liam join the group shortly after, their greetings just as warm. It feels like coming home, surrounded by the boys’ easy banter and genuine affection. For the first time in what feels like weeks, you’re not thinking about how tired or sore you are—you’re just enjoying the moment.

Throughout the evening, you catch up with old friends and acquaintances. There’s laughter, heartfelt congratulations, and even a few playful jabs at Louis, who takes it all in stride with his usual humor.

“You two are going to be amazing parents,” Rita Ora says with a warm smile. “And if your kid has even half the personality you both do, the world’s in for a treat.”

The words make you blush, and Louis beams, pulling you a little closer. “We’ll do our best,” he says.

But as the night wears on, the energy in the room shifts. The press and paparazzi start to linger closer, their questions and cameras becoming more invasive. You try to brush it off, but the constant attention starts to grate on your nerves.

“Over here, Louis! How’s fatherhood treating you?”

“Y/N, what are you most nervous about with the baby on the way?”

The questions come rapid-fire, and while Louis does his best to shield you, the noise and flashing lights start to feel suffocating.

It’s Niall who notices first. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says firmly, stepping in front of you. “Give her some space, yeah?”

Harry and Liam are quick to follow, their presence forming a protective barrier around you.

“She’s here to enjoy the night, not be interrogated,” Zayn adds, his voice calm but sharp enough to cut through the chaos.

Louis’ hand never leaves yours as he turns to the crowd, his tone steady but laced with warning. “You’ve got your photos. Now, back off.”

The collective effort of all the boys is enough to send the press retreating, and you breathe a sigh of relief as the noise dies down.

“You alright, love?” Louis asks, his concern evident as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you say, offering a small smile. “Thanks to all of you.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Niall says, flashing you a reassuring grin.

“And we’ll always be,” Harry adds, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder.

The rest of the evening passes more smoothly, the boys making sure to stay close and keep things light. By the time you’re heading home, you feel a renewed sense of gratitude—not just for Louis, but for the incredible group of men you’re lucky enough to call family.

...

The living room is filled with tension as you pace back and forth, your frustration bubbling over with every step. Everything feels wrong today. Your back is aching, your feet are swollen, and every piece of furniture you attempt to sit on seems determined to make you uncomfortable.

Louis, perched on the armrest of the couch, watches you with cautious concern. “Love, you’re wearing a path in the carpet. Why don’t you take a breather?”

You whip around, your glare sharp enough to make him straighten up. “A breather? Louis, I’ve been sitting and breathing for months. That’s all I can do anymore because of this!” You motion to your belly, which feels impossibly large and heavy.

Louis raises his hands in mock surrender, his tone soft and steady. “Alright, I get it. You’re uncomfortable. But snapping at me isn’t going to make it better.”

“Oh, don’t you dare start with the rational advice,” you snap back, planting your hands on your hips. “This is your fault, you know. You’re the one who got me into this mess!”

Louis blinks, and then, to your utter annoyance, he laughs. “I seem to recall you being pretty enthusiastic about it at the time.”

“That’s not the point!” you grumble, turning away from him. “I’m tired, and miserable, and I still have over a month to go. And everything we’ve bought for the baby is scattered in bags—we haven’t even started the nursery yet!”

At that, Louis gets to his feet, his teasing demeanor giving way to something softer. He steps behind you, his hands settling on your shoulders. “You’re right. We’ve been so busy, and you’ve been dealing with so much. But how about this—we’ll tackle the nursery today?”

You glance over your shoulder, skepticism written all over your face. “How? We’ve barely got a plan.”

“Well,” he says, grinning as he pulls out his phone, “I might’ve already texted Niall to come over. Figured he’d be good for some nursery shopping. You know how he loves planning things.”

Your frustration falters, replaced by a mix of surprise and relief. “You invited Niall?”

“Of course,” Louis says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “He’s been asking about when we’re getting started. Thought he might cheer you up a bit too.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at the door, followed by the familiar sound of Niall’s voice. “Alright, lovebirds, open up! Let’s get to work!”

Louis smirks and nudges you toward the door. “See? He’s already fired up. You can direct the two of us while we carry the heavy stuff.”

When you open the door, Niall greets you with a warm grin and a small stack of baby catalogues tucked under his arm. “Got some ideas for you,” he says, stepping inside. “Thought we could hit the shops, grab some furniture, maybe a few cute decorations.”

The sight of him, so eager and supportive, melts the last of your irritation. “Thanks, Niall. I could really use the help.”

“Anything for you,” he says with a wink, then glances down at your belly. “And for this little one too. Let’s make their room amazing, yeah?”

With Niall’s infectious enthusiasm and Louis’s steady encouragement, the day starts to look a little brighter. You feel a spark of excitement as you all head out, ready to take on the task together. Maybe things aren’t so bad after all.

…

The nursery has become ground zero for chaos. What started with Louis and Niall quickly spiraled when Niall decided to text the rest of the boys, and now your small house is filled with One Direction in full, uncoordinated action.

Zayn is unpacking boxes at lightning speed, scattering items across the floor with no apparent organization. Harry is flipping through wall color samples and making dramatic pitches about the “calming energy of sage green,” while Liam has somehow become the self-designated foreman, holding a clipboard he found somewhere and jotting down “essential steps.”

You stand in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the whirlwind with a mixture of amusement and mounting irritation. “Are any of you actually doing something productive, or are you just here to make my life harder?”

“Oi, we’re helping!” Niall protests, holding up a tiny set of baby booties like a trophy. “Look at these—they’re adorable!”

“Yeah, well, the baby can’t wear them if we don’t have a proper dresser to put them in,” you snap, pointing to the unopened flatpack still leaning against the wall.

“Got it!” Louis says, stepping up and grabbing the box. “Zayn, give me a hand with this.”

“Why me?” Zayn grumbles, but he joins Louis anyway.

As they start fumbling with the assembly instructions, Harry sidles up to you with a charming grin. “You know, love, you should sit down. Stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”

“Don’t ‘love’ me right now,” you say, leveling a glare at him. “I’m pregnant, not fragile. And maybe I wouldn’t be so stressed if you all weren’t treating this like a circus!”

Harry holds up his hands in surrender, his grin never faltering. “Noted.”

From the corner, Liam clears his throat. “Alright, team, let’s focus. We’ve got a crib to assemble, a dresser to build, and a lot of decorations to hang. Let’s divide and conquer.”

The boys spring into action—or rather, varying levels of action. Niall and Harry are surprisingly efficient at assembling the crib, though they keep breaking into fits of laughter. Louis and Zayn bicker over which screws go where for the dresser, and Liam is busy taping up a diagram of the “ideal layout” on the wall.

You sit down in the corner with a sigh, your irritation ebbing slightly as you watch their antics. Despite the chaos, there’s something endearing about how hard they’re all trying.

Niall looks up and catches your eye. “You alright over there?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though your tone is softer now.

“Good,” he says with a wink. “Because this room’s going to be perfect, just you wait.”

By the time the afternoon rolls around, the nursery is actually starting to take shape. The crib is standing proudly in the corner, the dresser is fully assembled (though slightly wonky), and the walls are adorned with a mix of shelves, photos, and baby-themed decorations.

You find yourself smiling as you inspect their work. “Not bad,” you admit grudgingly.

“Not bad?” Louis repeats, pretending to be offended. “Love, this is a masterpiece!”

“It is,” you say, and this time, your smile reaches your eyes. “Thanks, guys. I mean it.”

The boys beam at you, their camaraderie making your chest feel a little lighter. For the first time in weeks, you feel like everything might actually be okay.

…

At 36 weeks pregnant you’re standing in the living room, rubbing your lower back and silently cursing how heavy and tired you feel. Louis has been oddly insistent about keeping you distracted all morning, encouraging you to take a long bath and pick out something comfortable to wear for what he cryptically called “a little outing later.”

But as you waddle into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, you hear a sudden burst of noise behind you.

“Surprise!”

You freeze, turning slowly to find the living room filled with familiar faces. Louis is at the forefront, grinning from ear to ear, and behind him are Niall, Zayn, Harry, and Liam, all looking ridiculously pleased with themselves. But it doesn’t stop there—Louis’ mum, Johanna, is there too, along with his sisters, and even a few of your mutual friends. The house is decorated with pastel-colored balloons and banners that read “Welcome Baby Tomlinson!”

Your hands fly to your mouth as a flood of emotions rushes over you. “What is this?”

“It’s your baby shower, love!” Louis announces, stepping forward to press a kiss to your temple. “Figured you deserved to be spoiled a bit.”

“More like a lot,” Niall says, pointing to the dining table, which is groaning under the weight of gifts, snacks, and a massive cake shaped like a baby bottle.

“You’re all insane,” you mutter, but your voice wobbles with gratitude.

“Insanely good at keeping secrets,” Harry teases, handing you a mocktail garnished with fruit.

The next couple of hours fly by in a blur of laughter, games, and heartfelt moments. The boys take every opportunity to dote on you, fetching your drinks, snacks, and even a cushion for your back when you sit down to open presents.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” you say, carefully tearing into a brightly wrapped box while everyone watches. Inside, there’s a tiny blue onesie with the words “I Get My Charm from Daddy” printed across the front.

Louis grins proudly. “That’s from me. Accurate, isn’t it?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help laughing. “Of course it is.”

Zayn’s gift is next—a beautifully illustrated baby book that’s both sentimental and stylish. “Thought it’d be nice to keep track of all the little moments,” he says casually, though you catch the warmth in his smile.

Niall presents you with a custom plush bear that has ‘Baby Tomlinson’ embroidered on the paw. “Figured I’d get a head start on being the favorite uncle,” he says with a wink.

“Don’t start that war, mate,” Liam warns with a chuckle, handing over his gift—a baby carrier that looks both practical and impossibly sleek.

Harry, ever the joker, gives you a pair of baby sunglasses. “Because no child of yours and Louis’ is going to leave the house without style.”

The highlight of the day, though, comes when Johanna stands to make a little speech. “I just want to say how proud I am of you both,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to be amazing parents, and I can’t wait to meet my newest grandbaby.”

Her words bring tears to your eyes, and when she pulls you into a warm hug, you cling to her tightly.

As the afternoon winds down, you find yourself leaning against Louis on the couch, surrounded by laughter and love. He kisses your temple and whispers, “Happy?”

“More than happy,” you murmur, your hand resting on your belly as the baby gives a little kick in response. “Thank you for this, Lou. It means everything.”

“Anything for you,” he says softly, and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell.

…

The house is finally quiet, the baby shower a beautiful but exhausting memory. You’re lying in bed, your head nestled against Louis’ chest as his fingers trace soothing patterns over your belly. The day’s excitement has left you both drained but content, his soft kisses to your hair a gentle lullaby as you drift toward sleep.

But a sharp, tight sensation grips your abdomen, pulling you out of your haze. Your breath catches, and you sit up suddenly, clutching your belly.

“Louis,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.”

He’s instantly alert, sitting up beside you and flipping on the bedside lamp. His blue eyes search yours, his expression calm but concerned. “What is it, love? Are you in pain?”

You nod, wincing as another wave of tightness washes over you. “It’s—it hurts. I think it might be contractions?”

His face softens with understanding, and he places a steadying hand on your arm. “Alright, take a deep breath. It might be Braxton Hicks, yeah? Practice contractions. Remember, the midwife said they could happen.”

“This doesn’t feel like practice!” you cry, gripping his hand as another cramp rolls through.

“I know, darling, I know,” he murmurs, shifting closer. “Let me help. Come on, let’s get you in a warm bath. It’ll help relax those muscles.”

You nod hesitantly, and he helps you to your feet, steadying you with a supportive arm around your waist. In the bathroom, he quickly fills the tub with warm water, his hands working efficiently but gently as he adds a bit of lavender bubble bath to soothe you further.

“Come on, love,” he says, helping you step in. The warmth engulfs you immediately, easing the tightness in your belly and the tension in your back.

“Better?” he asks, kneeling beside the tub, his hand slipping into the water to gently massage your leg.

“A little,” you admit, leaning back against the edge and closing your eyes as the heat works its magic.

Louis doesn’t leave your side for a second. He rests on the edge of the tub, his hand skimming soft, lazy patterns over your wet skin. He presses kisses to your shoulder, his lips lingering as though trying to will the pain away.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers, his voice warm and full of awe.

You open one eye, giving him a tired but wry smile. “I don’t feel very amazing right now.”

“Well, you are,” he insists, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your knee. “You’re carrying our little one, love. That’s nothing short of magic.”

The cramps begin to subside as the water soothes your body, and his tender care melts away the fear that had gripped you.

When the water starts to cool, Louis helps you out of the bath, wrapping you in a soft towel and guiding you back to bed. He dries you off with gentle precision, then helps you into one of his oversized shirts, which feels like a warm hug against your skin.

“Let’s get you comfy,” he murmurs, tucking you into bed and slipping in beside you. His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you close so you’re nestled against his chest.

His hand finds your belly again, and he begins to draw those lazy patterns once more, his touch soothing and grounding. He peppers kisses along your hairline and murmurs sweet reassurances into your ear.

“You’re doing so well, love,” he says softly. “I’ll be here every step of the way. You and me, yeah?”

Tears well up in your eyes at his tenderness. “You’re too good to me, Louis.”

“Not possible,” he replies, grinning as he presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

The combination of his warmth, the bath, and his calming presence lulls you into a much-needed sleep. Even as you drift off, you feel his hand on your belly, steady and protective, like an unspoken promise that no matter what, you’ll face it together.

…

A week later the clock strikes two in the morning when you’re jolted awake. The sharp pain in your lower abdomen pulls you from a restless sleep, and you sit up with a gasp, clutching your belly.

You try to breathe through it, thinking it’s just another Braxton Hicks contraction, but the pain intensifies quickly, coming in waves. The rhythm is different—this isn’t like anything you’ve felt before.

You glance over at Louis, who’s still sound asleep beside you. His peaceful expression gives way to your growing panic. You take a deep breath, trying to remain calm, but the contractions hit again, stronger this time.

“Louis,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t stir. You try again, louder. “Louis!”

This time, he bolts awake, eyes wide as he sees the panic in your face. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

“I think… I think it’s happening,” you manage to say between breaths, gripping the edge of the bed as another contraction hits.

Louis’ eyes widen, and without missing a beat, he jumps out of bed, already grabbing his phone to call for help. “Alright, love, breathe. We’ve got this, okay? Just breathe.”

You nod, though it’s hard to focus with the waves of pain coursing through you. “Louis, it hurts,” you gasp, pressing your hands to your belly, but it doesn’t seem to help.

He comes back to the bed, kneeling in front of you. “I know it hurts, love. Just keep breathing with me, alright? Focus on my voice.” He places a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. “I’m right here. We’re going to get through this.”

You try to focus on him, on his soothing words, but it’s hard. The contractions are coming faster now, and you can’t seem to catch your breath.

“Louis,” you whimper, “I need to go to the hospital. It’s really happening, isn’t it?”

He looks at you with determination, his voice calm but firm. “It is, love. We’re heading there now. I’m gonna call everyone, okay? Just focus on me. You’re doing amazing.”

He helps you to your feet, steadying you as another contraction hits. You lean into him, your breath shaky as the pain pulses through you.

The next few minutes are a blur—Louis calling Niall, telling him to head to the hospital, getting you dressed, making sure everything is in the car, and keeping his eyes on you the entire time.

As he helps you out the door, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “We’re so close, love. You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.”

You try to smile, but another contraction grips you, and you bite your lip to keep from crying out.

“Just keep breathing, love,” Louis says, his voice low and comforting. “We’re almost there.”

The drive to the hospital feels like it takes forever. Louis keeps talking to you, his voice steady, telling you how amazing you’re doing. You focus on his voice, on his hand holding yours, doing everything you can to ignore the overwhelming pain.

By the time you arrive at the hospital, the contractions are constant, one after another, no more than a minute apart. You’re sweating, your face flushed, but Louis never lets go of your hand.

He’s right beside you as you’re checked in, his hand on the small of your back as he rubs soothing circles to calm you.

The nurses lead you to a delivery room, where everything starts to blur together. There’s the constant beeping of monitors, the bustling of the staff around you, and Louis’ voice, always in your ear, grounding you.

“You’re doing amazing, love,” Louis says again, bending down to kiss your forehead. “You’re so strong. I can see it.”

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as the pain increases, but you’re too focused on getting through it to cry. The room feels small, the air thick with tension, but there’s a sense of comfort in Louis’ presence.

After what feels like hours of agony, the doctor finally says it’s time.

“You’re doing great,” the doctor reassures, giving Louis a nod. “We’re just going to take it one step at a time. You’ve got this.”

Louis kisses your forehead once more, his hand holding yours tightly. “I love you, so much. I’ll be right here the whole time.”

With his words, you push through the pain, ready to meet the little one who’s been growing inside you for all these months.

As the contractions intensify, you grip Louis’ hand harder, feeling like your body is being torn apart with every wave of pain. The pressure is unbearable, but Louis is right there, steadying you with his calm presence. His hand is firm around yours, his voice never wavering as he speaks soothingly.

“You’re doing amazing, love. Just breathe. I’m right here, okay? You’ve got this,” he reassures you, his face a mixture of love and concern, his eyes locked on yours with unwavering intensity.

The pain is all-consuming, but you focus on Louis’ words, his warmth, his touch. Every breath feels like it takes everything you have, but you know you’re not alone. Then, just as the pressure becomes too much to bear, Niall bursts into the room, his face lighting up at the sight of you.

“You’re doing great!” he says, his voice full of encouragement as he comes to stand beside Louis. His presence offers a little relief, a welcome distraction from the pain.

Louis gives Niall a quick nod, but his focus never leaves you. “Just breathe, love. We’re almost there. You’ve got this.”

The next contraction hits hard, and you squeeze both their hands, digging your nails into their palms as the room spins with the intensity of it all. Louis whispers words of love and support in your ear, trying to ground you. But it’s so much, so overwhelming, the pain, the anticipation, the excitement.

“I can’t do this,” you breathe out, tears streaming down your face, your chest heaving with each breath.

“You are doing this,” Louis insists, his voice fierce with love. “We’re almost there. You’re about to meet our little boy.”

That one word—boy—takes your breath away, filling you with a new burst of strength. Your baby. Your son. The thought of holding him in your arms keeps you going.

With a cry of effort, you push through the next wave of contractions, your body straining against the pain. Louis is right beside you, his hand in yours, Niall standing next to him, both of them encouraging you through it.

“Just one more push, love,” Louis says, his voice barely a whisper, but it’s all you can hear. His forehead presses against yours, his hand stroking your hair, his words like a promise. “You’re so close. I’m so proud of you.”

Another contraction comes, and you push with everything you have left. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but the relief that comes afterward is indescribable. You feel the shift, the pressure releasing, and then you hear it.

The sound of your baby crying fills the room, and your heart stops for a moment. The tears well in your eyes as you look up at Louis. “We did it,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Louis’s face is lit up with awe and love. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then looks down at you, his voice full of emotion. “We have a son, love. Our beautiful boy.”

The nurse gently places the tiny baby on your chest, and you can’t help but gasp as you look at his tiny face, his little hands. He’s perfect in every way.

Niall steps forward, his voice shaky with emotion. “He’s beautiful,” he says, his smile wide and full of joy. “Congrats, guys. He’s a little champion.”

Louis leans down, brushing his lips against your temple, his hand resting softly on the small of your back. “I love you both so much,” he whispers. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

You look down at your baby, tears streaming down your face as you hold him close. Louis is beside you, his hand in yours, and you both gaze down at your son, a love more overwhelming than you ever thought possible swelling in your chest. This is your family now. And in this moment, you couldn’t be happier.

…

A little while later, the door to the room opens gently, and one by one, the rest of the boys filter in, their faces lighting up as they take in the sight before them. You and Louis are lying together, exhausted but content, with your tiny son nestled between you. He’s already asleep, his little hands curled into tiny fists, his face serene and perfect.

Harry is the first to speak, his voice soft and full of wonder. “Mate,” he says, his eyes glistening with emotion, “he’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Zayn steps forward, his usual calm demeanor giving way to pure awe. “He looks just like you, Louis,” he murmurs, a gentle smile on his lips as he leans closer to get a better look at the baby. “This is incredible.”

Liam looks at you both with pride in his eyes, a grin spreading across his face. “Congratulations, you two. He’s going to be so loved. He’s got an amazing family.”

Niall stands just a little behind the others, his eyes wide with excitement. “I can’t believe it,” he says, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “You guys are parents. This little guy’s going to be spoiled with love from all of us.”

Louis, still beaming, glances over at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “It’s the first One Direction baby,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s going to be loved by all of us—by his uncles, his mum, his dad.” His voice breaks for a moment, and he looks down at his son, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe he’s here.”

“You’re going to be an amazing dad, Louis,” Harry says with a grin, giving him a playful nudge. “And you, too,” he adds, turning to you. “You’re gonna be the best mum ever.”

The boys gather around the bed, their attention completely captivated by the tiny little life you and Louis created. There’s a lightness in the room now, a quiet joy as they all take turns peeking at the baby, their voices filled with excitement, pride, and the unspoken bond they all share with him already.

“You’ve all got to teach him all the good stuff,” Niall says, his eyes twinkling. “Like how to play guitar, of course.”

“And all the best football teams,” Zayn adds, winking at Louis. “We’ve got to teach him everything we know.”

Louis chuckles softly, his gaze never leaving his son. “He’s going to grow up surrounded by love. I can already tell he’s going to have all the best role models.”

Liam places a hand on Louis’ shoulder, his expression sincere. “He’s going to be one lucky kid, with all of you around him.”

You watch the scene unfold, your heart swelling as you realize just how much love is in the room for your baby. Your son. Your beautiful boy is already surrounded by a family who will protect him, guide him, and love him with everything they have.

And in this moment, you know that your little one is going to grow up with a support system unlike any other, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Louis kisses your forehead, his hand resting on the back of your head, pulling you gently against him. “We did good, didn’t we?” he murmurs. You nod, feeling every ounce of joy and love in your heart. You did good. Together, you made something incredible. And as the boys laugh and chat around you, you know this is just the beginning of an incredible journey for your family.

…

Author’s note: I hope you guys enjoyed this mini series!

[littlemaple]

i had a horrible(ly funny) realization

yall know old town road? that shit was so popular in the us with the 6 and below crowd when it came out, i know because i worked with that age group at the time and it was all i heard. every single day. every single movement break. old town road. but not by lil naz x. by kidz bop.

so, the realization: if cha cha cha was released in the usa, there'd totally be a kids bop version

[skrunksthatwunk]

pulled aside by my father to watch a homophobic k&p sketch and just had to sit there like 😬 and then when i explained it was homophobic he was like "i fear for your sense of humor". christ alive

[fastandcarlos]

How Everyone In The Paddock Knows You're Dating : ̗̀➛ F1 Reaction

» Max Verstappen 

He’s naturally paying attention to you, without even realising that he’s doing it until one of the team nudges his side. The team are well aware of Max’s eyes trailing across to look at you, or switching off to the conversation as soon as you start talking. He doesn’t know he’s doing it, but the team are well trained and constantly have to remind Max to pay attention again. He can’t help but smile whenever he’s looking at you, especially when he watches you walk around the garage with such an interest, showing a genuine enthusiasm for learning as much as you can about where Max works and what he does, 

» Lando Norris 

He’s like a big kid most of the time, but Lando becomes a lot softer whenever he’s around you, like you make him weak at the knees just from being by his side. The team notice how needy he becomes as soon as he’s in your presence, searching for affection as often as possible. Lando stops focusing on anyone else, the only person that he wants to be around is you. No one in the garage can believe how different Lando is when he’s around you, how he stumbles around, how he giggles uncontrollably, how he can’t bear to be in the same room as you without some sort of physical contact.  

» Charles LeClerc 

Everyone knows that your Charles because his eyes are always watching you. He loves knowing exactly where you are, forever checking that you’re alright and that you’re safe. When he loses sight of you, Charles can’t help but panic, eyes darting around until he spots you again. There’s a fondness in his eyes whenever he’s watching you, if you’re smiling, he’s smiling, if you’re laughing, he laughs with you, and if you seem upset, Charles gets upset too, heading over to you to see if you’re alright. It doesn’t matter what’s happening at the paddock, Charles loves the feeling of knowing that you’re right there with him, like a comfort right by his side. 

» George Russell 

No one in the paddock can fault how much of a gentleman George is for you, despite how busy he is, he always manages to make time to do all the little things for you. He holds the door open for you at every opportunity, keeps his arm around you to protect you from the crowd, offers you his jacket whenever he notices that you’re getting cold, anything that he can in order to keep you safe. Before a race George checks up on you, makes sure that you’re warm enough, had plenty of food, and ensures you’re sat where you can see the race in a spot that’s nice and quiet.  

» Carlos Sainz 

His smile always gets bigger the second he notices you’re around, usually spotting you out of the corner of his eye whilst half listening to what’s being said by the team. When he knows you’re nearby, Carlos is eager for things to be wrapped up as soon as possible so he can go over and see you. As soon as you’re within touching distance, Carlos’ arm wraps around you, with a kiss pressed to the top of your head to greet you, wondering what you’ve been up to whilst he’s been busy. Nobody else needs to look to see if you’re there, they can tell by the excitement in Carlos’ expression that you’re around. 

» Oscar Piastri 

Every single person in the paddock has listened to Oscar tell some sort of story about you, he loves telling them about you. He talks about you with so much excitement that every single one of them knows just how in love Oscar is with you too, sounding much happier than he ever does when he’s talking about his car. He remembers every last detail about the things that he does with you, and has the world’s biggest smile on his face whenever he shares them with anyone. It’s one thing that he’ll never tire of, forever gushing about you around his team. 

» Daniel Ricciardo 

It’s the little things that everyone in the paddock notices that Daniel always does for you. It’s the way he passes you one of his caps if it’s particularly sunny or passes you his water bottle to drink out of when you tell him that you’re getting thirsty and can’t get through to get a drink. He’s constantly attentive, despite how busy he’s supposed to be, he can’t help but still pay attention and make sure that he’s protecting you. The whole team knows just how in love Daniel is with you, after all, he doesn’t take care of any of them anywhere near as well as he takes care of you. 

» Lewis Hamilton 

The team can’t help but admire the way that Lewis looks at you, like you’re the most fragile person in the world that he has to protect. He loves to have you glued to his side when he’s at the paddock, no matter who he’s talking to. Whether it be a team meeting, a chat with a sponsor, or providing some feedback to Toto and Bono, Lewis still has his eyes on you. You don’t say much, not that you can, but when you do speak, Lewis looks at you with such an adoring look that the rest of the team can’t help but admire how fond Lewis is of you. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[bluejutdae]

• best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Minho x you

Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: asshole date, nothing happens but reader thinks her date might follow her home

This night has been terrible so far. Your friend convinced you to go out with one of her colleagues to get over your crush for Minho, and you knew it was pointless, but she insisted so much you have lost the will to fight. So you wore a nice dress and a minute before you left the apartment, the guy texted you saying there was a change of plans and to meet two hours later and at a different location. Is the dating scene like this for everybody? You haven’t dated anyone for a long time, a bit because of how things ended with your last boyfriend but mostly because of the raging (unreciprocated) crush for Minho.

Minho’s now one of your closest friends, but you never actually gave up on your feelings for him. It’s almost comfortable, safe in a way, to love someone knowing things won’t change but won’t end either.

But for the sake of shutting up your friend, you are now in a very shitty situation. The guy is pretty, you’re mature enough to admit that, but he’s a major asshole. Even ignoring the last minute change of plans, the fact that he arrived 25 minutes later and apparently the new location is a nightclub. His hands have been on you the moment he introduced himself and the more you try to put some distance between you two, the more he’s all over you. You could just leave, that’s true. It’s also true that this guy is very set on never leaving your side and he’s so pushy you’re certain he wouldn’t hesitate to follow you home.

You wonder when Minho is going to be here so you can at least leave the club and have him keep you company, when you feel a hand grabbing your wrist. You turn to find the hand holding you belongs to Minho himself and he’s looking at you with a surly expression, teeth clenched and a frown between his eyebrows. “We’re going home.”

His voice is cold and firm, you’ve never heard him speak to you like that. Your date notices the scene and turns to Minho. “Woah dude, she’s mine tonight.”

Minho’s cold stare rests on the guy and at the same time your friend makes a step to place himself between you and your date. “She’ll never be yours, not tonight, not never. She belongs to me. Dude.” The last word was spat through Minho’s teeth, mocking and a bit cruel.

Words die on the guy’s tongue when Minho gets into his face and says something too quiet for you to hear.

A moment later he’s gently pushing you away and through the crowd, towards the exit.

“Well, that was intense,” you joke when you’re safe on the sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever put yourself into a situation like this. Ever again.” He’s on your face, almost screaming the words at you, anger contorting his face.

You can understand he was worried, but you don’t like the way he’s talking to you.

“Ya, Minho! Do you think I wanted that?” You raise your eyebrows. “I didn’t call you so you could scold me! I called you because I trusted you to help me, I know I was in a shitty situation!”

“And yet you still got into this situation!” He rebuts, and in this moment you hate him a little.

Why is he judging you like this? Why is he blaming you? Sure, you were a bit too naive but it’s not like you consciously decided to put yourself in a potentially dangerous situation.

“This clearly wasn’t what I expected.”

“No? You’re the one who decided to go to a club with a man you didn’t know. And you came alone! Was bringing a friend too easy?”

“Fuck you, Minho!”

You stalk away, towards the direction of the bus stop. Why is he mad at you now? He’s never been mean or cruel to you, despite what lots of people say about him, he’s a caring friend.

You can hear his footsteps getting close and you almost laugh at the thought that comes to your mind: you are always so focused on him, you can now recognize his footsteps.

“I parked in the other direction.”

“Then go the other direction. I don’t need you here. Sorry I bothered you. I won’t be your problem anymore.”

“You are my problem.”

“Oh, so I really am a problem to you.” You can believe him. All this because he had to come get you? You didn’t think it’d be such a hassle.

“Yes. You’ve been my problem since I met you.”

“You’re being so fucking cruel tonight, Minho.”

“I am not- can you stop walking?” He asks, sounding exasperated. You stop and face him, one hand on your hip and your lips pursed in disapproval. “So you can tell me more about how I’m a problem?”

“I didn’t say a problem.”

“You said exac-“

“I said MY problem! Emphasis on my. Because you’re not other people’s problem. And I don’t want you to belong to other guys, don’t want them to call you theirs! I want you to be mine.”

You stare at him for half a minute, silent and still. Putting aside the fact that he’s repeating the fact that you’re a problem, you try to read between the lines.

“Is this a fucked up way to tell me you have feeling for me?”

“Yes.”

This is ridiculous. Really ridiculous. Your crush has feelings for you. And the most backwards way of confessing. Well, considering he is Minho, it’s pretty in character for him. Still ridiculous, though.

“I didn’t know you decided to go on dates.” He says it like a second thought.

“I didn’t.”

“You were on a date.”

“Doesn’t mean I decided to go on dates.”

“Means exactly that.”

“Jesus, Minho. Can you ever drop something?”

“Not when it’s about you.”

This asshole. How can you find his otherwise annoying answers amusing?

“My friend insisted so much that she wore me down, so I accepted this date with her colleague. So, as I said, I haven’t decided to go on dates.”

“Good.”

“You can never be normal, uh? Always with a weird answer.”

“You like weird.”

“I do.”

“You’re normal. I like normal.”

He likes normal, and he likes you. And he tells you so in a Minho way at least another ten times in the following minutes, during your way home.

You say goodbye and you’re about to get out of the car, when he puts his hand on your arm, an hesitant expression on his face. “No more other guys, right?”

You smile softly at him. “No more other guys. There hasn’t really been another guy since I met you.”

His smile is all you need.

[ohcorny]

i reread all of chobits recently as insp for my next TT book and every time i think about some aspect of it all i want to do is rip it open and tear it apart and go "why?". it brings up so many concepts and scenarios within the premise of "what if computers looked like pretty girls" but it doesn't want to commit to saying anything about it or take its own world seriously.

i have a lot to say about chobits. arguably i have more to say about chobits than even chobits wants to say about chobits.

chobits is about sex except it isn't about sex at all. chi's power switch is in her vagina. we're shown images of chi doing sexy things, she gets tricked into doing a strip tease, and two separate men try to finger her and she does her Do Not Touch Me There magic powers thing, and we eventually learn every time she resets from the power button, her memories are erased, so you can't have sex with her without deleting her.

but we never unpack why her reset button is in her vagina, or why it's so important that nobody can ever touch her, or why people's personal computers were built with vaginas in the first place (we never have it confirmed that all persocoms have them, but that two separate men try to touch her there imply it's expected). why do the personal computers shaped like women have vaginas if not to fuck them. as a product, it is expected that you will fuck them*.

*i assume, because the comic never says so!

the man who invented persocoms is the same person who built chi and her sister, and he built them to be daughters for his wife. he put the reset button in chi's vagina. we never find out why. we never get a HINT of why. he built the chobits so they could feel and fall in love, but also built them so they could never fuck. you can extrapolate a reason why a man might build his daughter-androids that way, but the series itself never touches it, and never makes any sort of point about it. it's just presented as an immutable fact that chi can't fuck without it deleting her, as if it was born of happenstance and not a person's choice.

what does that actually say about anything? what is it trying to say about sex? is it about the commodification of female bodies, how once they're used up sexually they're worthless? that if you can't love somebody without fucking them, what good is your love? that love without sex is okay (but also a huge burden and sacrifice a man must accept for the sake of someone else's happiness?)

what does it want to say! chobits is about sex, but it doesn't want to commit to any specific message about sex.

and that's just ONE issue i have with it. there are so many things chobits wants to be about but won't say anything about. it wants to be about the persocoms replacing human connections, we constantly get told 'gee people hang out with persocoms a lot', chitose publishes a whole inexplicable book series about people preferring persocomes to humans. it's to the degree that a prominent character's husband gets So wrapped up in (presumably) fucking his android that he locks his actual wife out of the house, having just straight up forgotten she exists. we don't have anything to say about it though. she falls in love with a new man. the people who hang out with their persocoms too much are all background characters in crowds. we never look at how the rise in persocoms has affected society as a whole.

it wants to be about grief, in the story about the man who marries a persocom and has to watch her slowly degrade until she can't remember him anymore, or the kid whose older sister died and he tried to replace her with a persocom who he dresses up/treats as a maid and lives alone with despite being omega orphaned and 11 years old. but then it's fine. the man who married a persocom gets in a relationship with a high school girl 20 years younger than him (CLAMP!). it's fine! the boy who tried to replace his older sister just accepts that the persocom replacement won't replace her. still treats/dresses her up like a maid and lives alone. is she his legal guardian. i don't know. don't worry about it.

and it wants to be about women, because everything about the story is about women, all the persocoms are women, all the tragedies are wrapped up in the death of a woman, or a woman's heartbreak, or a woman's feelings. but it has fucking nothing to say about women beside look how pretty they are. my boobs are E cup, sempai :) teehee

it makes me insane.

friend @amphiaria put it best as "Unfortunately the story is uninterested in itself" and i can never forgive it for being so aesthetically good, giving us the best design for an android (the ear things are Perfect) and then being So Fucking Bad.

in conclusion:

[luveline]

could you do prince steve casually letting "i love you" slip for the first time on accident during like the most random moment

like maybe he knows he loves her and he’s stressing trying to figure out how to tell her and it slips and he starts rushing out an explanation on how it wasn't supposed to happen that way (and she’s probably freaking out lol but trying to keep it together)

prince steve soulmate au | ty for requesting!

Steve’s laying on a hammock hung between two apple blossom trees behind the royal cabin when you track him down that evening. He doesn’t usually spend time away from you, which sounds weird, but he’s just been so friendly. 

Maybe on a high of finding his soul mate. Maybe because he really thinks you’re as beautiful as he suggests. You still have the memory of you both in your finery, all those jewels and silks, standing across from one another in front of a crowd of strangers as he mouthed, “You look so beautiful.” Emphatically. Like he really meant it. 

“Hi,” you say shyly. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, lifting his head, the hammock rocking slightly in the breeze, “come over here.” 

“Where have you been?” you ask. 

“How clingy of you.” 

“Sorry, just… you’ve spent every minute of the day with me for the last two weeks…” 

His smile turns serious. “I’m kidding! Kidding, and offended it took so long for you to come find me. Come over here.” 

You cross the garden, green grass and small purple daisies crinkling under your feet. You stop by his hammock, but he gestures for you to keep coming. 

“What, you want me to lay down with you? Can that support both of us?” 

“Sure it can, could you quit worrying?” He holds his arms out. 

Getting into a hammock isn’t as easy as he seems to think, but perhaps he’s used to it. You’re not, and you struggle despite his arms out for you, and the leg he plants to stop the whole thing from tipping as you climb in. 

You laugh nervously the whole time, but then you’re in the hammock with him, soft fabric under your backs. You curl into him instinctively. The lemon sconce near the cabin flickers as another breeze kisses your naked arms, but Steve is warm. 

“Wow,” you murmur, looking up through the apple blossoms, “you can already see so many stars.” 

“I know.” You grin as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, under your neck like a cushion. His nose turns to your cheek. You’re hardly ten minutes like that when he talks again, “I love you, you know?” 

You clam up with surprise. Breath pulled out of you on a fishing line, turning to see his face. He’s not messing with you. 

His face falls. “Oh, stars, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to– I mean, I meant to, I do love you, not that you have to tell me you love me.” He bites his tongue and starts again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to thrust it on you like that, I’ve just been thinking it, and I thought there isn’t a better time to tell you because I feel it a lot but that’s not fair. So you don’t have to tell me you love me, or even acknowledge it.” 

Steve squeezes your arm but looks away. “Don’t acknowledge it, actually. That’s my mistake.” 

“I love you too,” you say.

He smells like water chestnuts and heat, his hair permed with hot curlers, and he’s beautiful. He smells nice, tastes sweet as he leans in to kiss you slowly. Pear drops, his guilty pleasure.

You don’t know what to think as his lips part against yours. He sucks in a warm breath. “You do?” he asks, running the backs of his knuckles down your cheek. 

“Mm,” you hum, half a laugh as his touch turns ticklish down your neck, “I do, I love you.” It’s new, but it’s definitely love.

He turns you back in for a slew of slow kissing, only stopping when a rough breeze tips apple blossom petals into your arms. 

“You’re being attacked,” he whispers. It doesn’t feel like it. 

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

I think I have a weird positionality within gay spaces cuz I am extremely transmasc passing, like ppl have gone months without realizing that I'm not in fact transmasc, and like when I meet transmasc ppl, like especially transmasc dykes, they very much greet me as one of them in ways i definitely dont see them doing to my sisters.

This feels especially true for like transmascs who are very much attached to their lesbianism (which I have no qualms with inherently), because I think a lot of the gender I perform in these spaces is very lesbian, even though I have no particular attachment to lesbianism as any sort of ism. I get invited to these spaces that are treated as definitively 'lesbian,' and despite the variety of lesbian and bisexual cis women, nonbinary people, and transmascs, dolls are usually either entirely absent, or in very small numbers, especially in relation to the number in the area that outwardly should have a place in the space.

I really don't think it's malicious or conscious, and I don't think in most of the instances I have experienced that being perceived as a TS woman would have led to outright hostility, I just think people are so used to excluding TS women like high schoolers excluding the one weird kid in class. It's usually not going to be name calling and harassment, most of the time it's gonna be treating them poorly but with plausible deniability, make them feel like they're talking to a wall, make them feel just unwelcome enough that it's them who makes the choice to walk away. Cuz if it was their choice, well, you don't have to confront the fact that you excluded them.

So then dolls find and make their own spaces. Cuz we need somewhere to be, we need some kind of community. I feel more gay community at a local hardcore show than I feel at lesbian mud wrestling. Cuz even though most of the crowd is gonna be cishet, I'll see way more sisters there than at any lesbian event. And community isn't just "demographic," it's a network of people whose names and faces you know. And it's hard to get to know people when they make your sisters feel unwelcome.

Idk I dont really have a point here, it's mostly just some noticing I've been doing, and it just bums me out. Blah

[fatuismooches]

puer et monstrum.

synopsis: You attempt to help the adult raven reconcile with his younger fledgling self. In other words, four times Dottore ignored his child segment, the first time he didn’t, and the last time he did.

includes: dottore + platonic! zandy w/ gn! reader

notes: You grow to greatly love Zandy, Dottore's child segment, but you can't help but notice how your husband pays no attention to him. Therefore, you will try your best to change this. Fragile reader, lots of fluff, angst, very cute, you know the drill. Part of this fic is also greatly inspired by this ask (thank you to this anon!)

I. creation

At this point, Il Dottore had a good amount of experience creating segments.

Sure, the number of times he had failed was far greater than he liked, and he could count the number of successful segments with his fingers, but he had the general gist of the process and all. So, he decided it was time for him to create another segment of himself. This brought about the obvious question of what phase of his life he should bring back into this world. Dottore pondered this question for a while. He already made them all based on important parts of his life - when he was in the Akademiya, when he first became a Harbinger, and now one based on his current self not too long ago, just to name a few. He desired something new, something that could be vastly different.

In the end, he decided to create a child segment. 

His other segments were not very happy with the decision. A child would cry. A child would whine. A child could not do the tasks they could. A child would do… child things. It was a nuisance. But Dottore dismissed their complaints.

What good would a child’s perspective bring him? He didn’t know, but that was exactly the point. He didn’t know, which was why he sought the answer. And the only way to find this out was to create the child just as he’d done with his other younger selves.

After much time, money, and energy were exhausted, it was done. The child opened his eyes for the first time and saw a tall figure amidst the blinding lights. Once the masked man noticed his awakening, he looked at him, as if waiting for him to fully gain consciousness, and then spoke before the child could say anything.

“I am Dottore. You are a segment of mine that I created. You shall be called Ten.” After that brief statement, the man seemed to have finished all that he was going to say. That was when the child noticed the crowd of similar-looking blue-haired men as well, discussing things that he could not wrap his head around yet.

The child, now called “10”, had so many questions. Where was he? What does he do now? Why was he called a number? He doesn’t remember being called that before. Was he not Zandik anymore? The child wasn’t sure whether or not being ‘Zandik’ anymore was a good or bad thing. Maybe if he wasn’t ‘Zandik’ anymore, people wouldn’t scorn him so much.

Who are all these people, and why do they seem a bit similar to him? Being but a little kid, naturally, he was lost and confused, and he could not help but grasp the leg of the man called Dottore timidly. Immediately, the Harbinger stiffened at the contact, eyes swiftly moving to meet 10’s. The only person who ever touched him unprompted was you, but he had not felt your touch in centuries, so the sudden touch of the child surprised him. 

Though 10 could not see the taller man’s eyes, he didn’t think they were very kind. The child didn’t think the other man’s eyes were like his parents, or like the people from the village, no, but there was a certain feeling expressed toward him that 10 couldn’t explain. Regardless, 10 quickly received the message, and his hand slipped away from his creator’s.

“Tend to him,” was the lone order Prime gave the other segments before he left, leaving the little one all by himself, despite being surrounded by others.

II. curiosity

Being segments of the Harbinger meant they were busy people. Being the Harbinger himself meant that his time was even more sparse. This meant that any attention dedicated to 10 was few and far between, and pretty much always not of their own free will. One would think a child would be quite disheartened by the lack of attention, and well, they would be right, but 10 had long grown accustomed to being by himself ages ago considering his childhood. Did he like it? No, not yet at least. By the behavior of the other segments, he eventually grew to prefer being by himself. 

But 10 was still a child, curious about the world, which meant that he still did seek out the older segments’ company from time to time. Well, most of the time he was shooed away, but on rare occasions, 10 was able to be the recipient of some ranting by the younger segments or perhaps the observer of their intricate work (that was deemed acceptable to be viewed by children.) However, something 10 was able to learn was that there was one person whom the segments and Prime always seemed to offer their attention, willingly too.

[Name].

The kid seemed to be the only segment who didn’t really know you. 10 didn’t pay much attention to his older selves’ “patients”, but being an attentive and curious boy, he realized with due time that your name always seemed to be murmured by them. Not with the detached or annoyed tone the segments took on when regarding others, but it was different. Again, the young one had trouble putting his finger on it exactly, but if he had to put it into words, 10 would say they sounded a lot sweeter. It was an odd thing to say because if anyone else heard it, they certainly would not label the tone as sweet. It would probably sound simply normal to others. But that was truly what the child thought, maybe because he was connected to them in a way.

So of course, 10’s interest was very piqued. Oddly enough, for how nice they sounded, the child never saw a glimpse of you around the lab. 10 wondered what kind of person you were. How did you even know them? Would you talk about them in a sweet tone too? If you met him… would you speak about him that way as well? He wondered what it took for the older men to like you so much, maybe even… love? The child doesn’t know what love exactly looks like, but if love was anything like the stories he’s read, how the segments talk about you could be said to be a bit similar. 

But if 10 were to compare the two some more, maybe they aren’t that alike after all, considering all the things that were different. If segments loved you, wouldn’t you constantly be by their side, as lovers in fairytales do? If you two were apart, wouldn’t his creator be anguished by the loss of your presence, just like in the books? Yet whenever he saw the original, his expression seemed to always be the same - calculating, tired, seemingly more absorbed in his research than worried for another. (For the child does not understand how well Prime wears more masks than one.) 

So needless to say, 10 was confused. And with confusion comes curiosity, the need to seek out the answer, common for any child but especially for one as inquisitive as the blue-haired boy. In his room, 10 pondered for a while on what to do - he could try to sneak around for answers, but he imagined he’d get caught and scolded by the segments long before he found anything out. So, the child decided to simply ask about the matter. After all, the others always say asking questions is an important part of an experiment.

It’s still a gamble though, the child is well aware of the less than hospitable energy toward him by the others. They have a general… lack of patience for him. But still, persistence and the pursuit of knowledge are traits embodied in every version of Dottore. And so the child gathered up all his courage and set his little plan into action.

It was like any other day 10 had witnessed in the far too familiar lab. He had made sure to wake up in the very early morning - it was the best opportunity to catch a few segments together before they split up to do their separate tasks. Well, hopefully, they were there, some of them tended to stay locked up in their respective labs until they figured out the answer to what they were seeking. The child surprisingly had little sleepiness remaining in his system, the anticipation of the answer he would receive keeping him awake.

For once, it looked as though the segments were not bickering. It wasn’t quiet either though, they seemed to be discussing something work-related. But that was beside the point. Upon entering the room, the segments were a bit surprised to see 10, for it was obviously out of the ordinary for the kid to be awake, much less roaming around at this hour.

“What are you doing awake?” The Akademiya segment, 01, didn’t bother to hide his tone, unwilling to be vexed further with all the work he had left to do. But the child had come here with a determination that wouldn’t be swayed.

“I have a question,” 10 stated. The next segment who spoke didn’t spare a glance at him.

“And it could not wait until morning? You felt the need to interrupt us now?” 04’s response was blunt and straight to the point as usual - he was a segment that was perpetually annoyed. 10 couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever seen a smile on this segment. And yet 04 seemed kinder to him than when he interacted with others. 

Meanwhile, 02 watched with an unreadable expression behind his spotted mask. It was hard to predict what response you would get from 02 - would he be annoyed and snappy or perhaps treat you with a dose of excitement and interest? This time, however, it was the latter, as a grin crept its way onto his face.

“No, I want to hear this question. Surely, it must be greatly important for you to go to such lengths, yes?” 02’s red eyes gleamed, intrigued by the child segment’s nod. 10 nervously swallowed before squaring his shoulders resolutely.

“Who is [Name]?” 

And then all the miscellaneous noises in the lab came to an abrupt halt. 24, who usually remained uninterested in the conversations of his other segments, had suddenly tuned into the discussion at the mention of your name. The other present segments, who were absorbed in their work mere moments ago, now had their undivided attention on the child. 

“No one,” 04 said flatly, but the damage was already done. It was obvious that was a lie, and the child’s eyes glittered with enthusiasm as he began bouncing around to each segment.

“Who are they? What are they like? You like them, don’t you?” At the last question, 01 scowled at the declaration, hoping no one would notice the slight color of red at the tips of his ears. 02’s previous demeanor had changed into a blank yet thoughtful one, while 04 looked exasperated at the whole situation.

“How do you know about [Name]?” 24 was the one who finally responded to the child, and 10 awkwardly halted his barrage of questions. If 10 was being honest, 24 was probably the scariest of all the segments. The one closest to Prime and the most selfish.

“Well, all of you have mentioned them at least once… and when you do say their name, it just sounds like you like them. A lot,” 10 stared at the ground as he shared his observation. “You don’t sound like that for anyone else.” The segments were silent once more. The question was, were they that obvious, or was the brat just really attentive? The answer was most likely the latter, but still. This wasn’t a good look for them.

“I suppose this was bound to happen sooner or later,” 01 had recovered from his embarrassment, “Considering how much Two prattles on about them.” 02 frowned at the sudden accusation.

“Excuse me? That is rich coming from you,” the clone quickly snapped back, for the other was no exception to carrying on about you. 24 just grimaced at the start of another bickering session between his other selves.

“A-Anyway!” 10 interrupted the others before he could be ignored. “Can I know who they are? Can I see them?” The child pleaded earnestly as another pause swept through the room.

“You will not stop begging until we say yes, won’t you?” 04 sighed. “However, that decision is up to Prime.” 10’s shoulders drooped. He wasn’t really sure if Prime would listen to him, considering how rarely they ever spoke.

However, miraculously enough, a few days later, his wish was granted. He doesn’t know why Prime decided to do it, but 10 was just happy he’d finally know about the mysterious person! Funnily enough, the news had spread to all the segments, and all of them had decided to gather in the same space to tell their own opinion about you. 10 had never seen them… congregate like this. They seemed to enjoy the common topic - you - but the squabbling about certain matters (again, you) still took place. The child learned more things about you than he even understood. 

But he knew the basics now - you were their lover, meaning you loved them and they loved you, which even though it was not explicitly said, the child knew it anyway. This was obviously something a bit difficult for 10 to wrap his head around, but he found the idea thrilling. He knew his older selves well enough to know that you must be a pretty amazing person to have them so interested. 

Unfortunately, the child couldn’t prove this hypothesis of his, as he later found out the reason why you were nowhere to be seen. 10 remembers the first time he saw you, accompanied by another segment (18, this time.) Hooked up to a machine with countless wires, hands laying limp by your side, along with your chest that unnoticeably rose and fell. You were nothing like what 10 thought you’d look like. And yet he too thought you were beautiful. Sure, the child couldn’t see your eyes or smile or hear your voice, but as he held your hand and compared it to his much smaller one, he just had a feeling you were nothing like the grown-ups that he once knew long ago. But 10 was disappointed.

“Is [Name] going to be okay?” 10 worriedly looked at the segment, wondering about your current state. The others hadn’t disclosed many details about your illness.

“They will,” 18 affirmed. At least this segment was nicer to him than the others, with his softer tone and gentler mannerisms. He was still a Dottore segment, however. “One day they will wake up.” With that as his only answer, 10 went back to tracing the lines on the palm of your cold hand, hoping you would open your eyes again soon just like the other blue-haired men.

Since then, 10 found himself visiting your silent room, save for the beep-beeps from your machines, more and more often. There was just something about this unmoving, sleeping grown-up that drew him in. 10 had so many questions to ask you… but for now, he settled for reading his stories aloud to you. Maybe you could hear them too. Occasionally, some other segments dropped in to check on you, but they didn’t pay much mind to him other than reminding him not to touch anything, as his presence near you had become commonplace.

However, on one particular day, 10 found that your room was already occupied by someone else. 10 had heard a familiar yet muffled voice coming from inside, yet he could not make out the exact words from outside in the hallway. Carefully padding closer to the room, the child strained his ears to make out the words. It sounded like the person was talking to another, like a conversation, only that it seemed one-sided since 10 could only distinguish one voice. Finally, he got the courage to gently push the door open a bit more and peek to see who it was inside.

It wasn’t merely a segment there to check on you, no, this time it was Prime Dottore himself, sitting near your side in the same chair that the child always sat in. The child was surprised - he rarely ever saw Prime outside of his lab or office, and when he did, it was usually when Prime was forced to attend to certain Fatui duties. Of course, he never paid much attention to his child segment. Unfortunately, 10 had stared a bit too much, as the original quickly noticed his presence and immediately got up from the seat. 10 jumped a bit too, instinctively pulling back and hiding against the wall. But it was too late.

“Come in.” 10 had no option other than to comply, as he shyly stepped into your room, still clinging to the wall. The child nervously swallowed as he scrambled for an excuse as to why he was intruding.

“Um… I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here,” 10 apologized meekly, hands behind his back as his eyes flicked from Dottore’s face to the floor. The older man’s expression was unreadable, and it was silent for a good few moments before he spoke.

“I see,” was all Dottore said before he started walking toward 10, or rather, the door. The child looked up at the figure that had now gone past him, words leaving his mouth before he could think.

“Were you talking to [Name]? Do you miss them too?” Now that 10 thought about it, he had heard all about what the other segments had to say about you, but he still didn’t know the original’s feelings. Still, the child was surprised at himself for being able to ask Prime that. At the question, Dottore stopped in his tracks, seemingly contemplating whether he should respond or dismiss him before he turned around and faced his child segment, who then stiffened at the direct look.

“I hear that you’re with them quite often.” 10’s eyes widened at the response and nodded, although it wasn’t really an answer to his questions. “[Name] enjoys your company.” This only served to confuse the child even more, as he then glanced at your body. (For only Dottore knows about the time he found you asleep with a smile after the little boy left your room.)

“They… do? How do you know?” But when 10 looked back, Dottore was already gone. Well, he knew not to expect much conversation from him anyway, but still, he was greatly curious at his words. Regardless, 10 then walked up to you and made himself comfy near your bedside.

“Why do you like him so much, [Name]?” 10 inquired, playing with your fingers as he rested his cheek on your body. But of course, he received no answer from the person he was closest with yet farthest away from in this lab.

Even at the end of all of this, 10 still wasn’t exactly sure of what to think of you, having not had a real conversation with you yet, but he thought you seemed really cool, even while hooked up to a machine.

III. close

Change was not something 10 was familiar with. He was stuck as a kid forever, he was stuck in the lab, unable to leave like the other segments, he was stuck with the same toys and stories and other various pastimes that had long grown boring. So, the excitement of the unpredictable was something sorely lacking in the child’s life. Not to mention, the lab was a pretty dark place, both figuratively and literally. Although the boy was used to it, he wished it would be a bit more lively.

And after countless years of wishing, his wish finally came true. You, the mysterious sleeping grown-up that he only heard stories about, [Name], had finally woken up from centuries-long slumber. 10 was, to put it in a child’s simple words, “super happy”, but anyone else could see that his feelings went beyond that. However, despite 10’s great desire to meet you, he had decided to wait a bit, just to observe you.

The child followed you around, looking at you from afar, always slipping away before you could notice his presence. Seeing you up and walking around was so different from the once unmoving body he was so accustomed to. He listened to your voice. He watched you relearn so many things. He saw how sweetly you interacted with the other segments, and how keen they were for your touch, how they would tend to you on your weaker days. The child had never seen anything like it. 10 would have never believed the amount of change one mere person could bring. Meanwhile, the segments remained indifferent to the boy.

The more 10 watched you, the more he finally wanted to bask in your attention too. But the boy was scared. He remembered all the other adults in his life, from the village, and how they all looked and treated him with contempt. Could you be like that too? He wanted to think the answer was no, from how kind you seemed, but all the adults were so nice to the others except for him.

But maybe, maybe this time, it could be different. Everyone else approved of you after all. 10 wanted to trust you.

For once, his trust was not betrayed. After 10 finally introduced himself to you, you had given him so much attention it made his head spin. Your gentle and loving yet not overbearing demeanor. The way you listened to him seriously and reciprocated the energy, taking part in his childish activities. He was enthralled, to say the least.

You, on the other hand, were initially mystified by the appearance of the child. Not just any child, Dottore’s child self. Just to let that sink in, you had to keep repeating it to yourself. 10 was Dottore’s child self. He was him as a kid. What you were looking at was the embodiment of Zandik as a little boy. You couldn’t really believe your eyes at first. But he was real. Very real, from his higher-pitched voice (that was a really sharp contrast to Omega, for example) to his childlike demeanor and innocence.

The whole deal with the segments already took a bit for you to get accustomed to, but this was sort of new territory for you. After all, even though you’d known Dottore for so long, his childhood was something that came up rather infrequently. You chose not to pry further when you learned of how poorly he was treated as a child and instead offered him comfort in other ways. It had always made your heart ache and you wished you could do something more about it, to soothe his pain even just a bit. But now you quite literally had him in front of you, in a way. Quickly, your mind began working and formulating something.

Maybe… maybe you could help him by helping 10.

Sure, it sounded a bit stupid and probably useless at first, but there was no harm in trying. If anything else, you would be making 10 smile. From what you could infer, his life within this lab was far too dour for your liking.

Regardless, all those hours flew by in the blink of an eye, so much so that it felt like a dream. Was it, 10 wondered. But then the next day he found you eagerly waiting for him so you could spend more time with him. And the next. And the following day. And next week. Next month. And by then, he and the other were no longer merely numbers, but rather, they had names bestowed upon them, to truly identify them as individuals. 

And so, 10 had become Zandy. The difference between his past and present self was just as stark as the name change. It wasn’t just him, either. The other segments seemed different too with you around, in a good way. In all honesty, the young boy thought you were magical because he thought this kind of reality would only be possible in fairy tales. Needless to say, Zandy admired you greatly and sought you out quite frequently. 

He was happy to have you help him with his various assignments - to which your eyes nearly popped out when you saw the length and difficulty of some of the questions. You did help him, despite your shaky hands, but most of the time you stole him away to do much more fun things, that were “more important” according to you. The segments kept their thoughts to themselves unless they wanted to hear you gently scold them. It was amazing, Zandy thought.

The conversation of love had happened one day when you were putting him to bed after a long day. It had become a sort of routine for the two of you. You liked it because why wouldn’t you, it was the cutest thing ever. Zandy liked it because of how nice you were even when he really didn’t want to sleep yet, always indulging him with a story or a warm glass of milk. The segments liked it because they didn’t need to deal with him. 

“[Name], you love the segments, right?” Zandy had noticed that the word ‘love’ came out of your mouth rather frequently, compared to the other blue-haired men. You blinked at the question.

“Yes, I do. Why?” You asked as you tucked him in for the night alongside his Ruin Guard plushies (that you extorted the segments for.)

“All of them?”

“Of course.”

“Omega and Beta and Alpha and Delta and Zeta and-” His words were stopped by your laughter.

“Yes, dear. And Theta and Psi and Epsilon and- you don’t need me to list out all of their names, right?” Zandy shook his head but he still had another question for you.

“How much love do you have in you, [Name]?” The child couldn’t help but wonder how you did it - loving that many people seemed like a lot of work. You chuckled at the question.

“Very, very, much. You cannot put a quantity to love. It just happens when I’m surrounded by so many lovely people,” you kissed the boy on his forehead. “And that goes for you too. I love you very much, Zandy.” The child’s eyes widened as he fell silent, to which you questioned.

“Zandy? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, his words further muffled by how he had now pulled the blanket over his head. You quickly connected the dots. He had probably never been told before that he was loved. You moved your hand under the blankets until you could feel one of his tiny hands, and then intertwined your fingers with the child’s.

“Hey, no need to lie to me, dear. You don’t have to hide around me,” you tried to gently soothe Zandy and coax him out when he spoke again.

“How do you know?”

“How do I know what?”

“That you love me.” His head popped back out of the blanket as he stared at you with big, uncertain eyes, but you only smiled in response.

“Well… for me, it’s simple. It brings me great joy to see you happy and smiling, and I want to make sure you continue to do so. I want to protect you, and I don’t ever want to see you hurt or sad. I want to make sure all of your wishes and dreams come true, and I want to keep you safe.” You said as you stroked Zandy’s hair. (You would have said that you loved him just as any parent would love their son, but you knew that with his experiences… it may not have been the most efficient.) Zandy’s lowered his eyes as he began to chew on his lip in thought.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone before, [Name].” Zandy thought back to his parents, people whom he thought he loved, but now that he had you around, he realized that his feelings for them were nothing compared to what you made him feel. Loved. 

“That’s quite alright. Love is a beautiful thing, but it isn’t easy. What matters is that one tries.” That was a lesson all the segments could use. It was a bit confusing for Zandy, but somehow, he felt he understood.

“I see…” The sleepiness had finally fully hit Zandy as his eyes began to droop.

“Now, go to sleep. You don’t want to wake up tired tomorrow.” The child nodded and snuggled more under the cover. “Sweet dreams, dear.” You squeezed his hand before kissing his forehead one last time, and then getting up to turn off the light. As the room turned dark, you heard a small voice from behind you.

“I… love you, [Name].” It was quiet enough that if you weren’t paying attention, you might not have heard it, but you found his shyness endearing.

“I love you too, my child.” You smiled before exiting Zandy’s room, leaving him to have wonderful dreams, and then you were slightly startled by the man waiting outside for you. Dottore, rather, Prime Dottore himself. Zandik.

“Dottore. You’re here. I’ve missed you!” Your surprise quickly morphed into happiness as you saw the person you loved. He looked pleased to see you as well, as you linked your arm around his. “I hope I didn’t keep you too long. I was putting Zandy to bed.”

“I am aware. You do so every day.” You giggled, a little bit embarrassed.

“Well, someone needs to. You know, you should join us! We could always use another playmate.”

“I believe you are far more suited to the task than I am. Moreover, how have you been feeling as of late? It seems you have more energy than usual.” The way he quickly changed the conversation didn’t go unnoticed by you. You had told yourself that you wanted to help Dottore by helping Zandy, but it seemed to you that he rarely ever interacted, or even wanted to interact with the child. Dottore didn’t talk to his segments much in general, but he still had to for experiments and general Fatui business. Zandy, however, was the exception. It did hurt your heart to see it happen.

Back in your room, you had some thinking to do.

Now that you thought about it, you should have seen this coming. It made a lot of sense for Dottore to behave like this. You knew his feelings toward his childhood, towards himself in fact. But was it right? Was it fair? Of course not, at least in your opinion. However, you didn’t know what Zandy thought about this. You had yet to see the two together, and you had never asked him about Prime either. 

You wondered what your lover thought when he heard of you and Zandy together, you hugging and showering him in affection. Did he like it? Was he annoyed? Or did he not care, maybe something else? You always prided yourself on being able to comprehend him but…

This wasn’t going to be easy.

But you would see it to the end.

IV. complex

You often enjoyed taking walks around the lab. It was a good pastime and a way to keep your body active, not to mention the times you’d bump into a segment and end up taking a little break with him. Although you enjoyed the time by yourself, it could be a bit too lonely sometimes, which was precisely why Zandy came along. 

You had found out that he knew every nook and cranny of this place like the back of his hand, having explored it for countless years as he had nothing better to do. Therefore, Zandy often showed you around the lab, more specifically, the unknown and harder-to-reach parts, also known as his favorite hiding spots. You were quite grateful for his assistance, as you were sure you’d never discover some of these places on your own. 

Zandy was a bundle of energy that you could handle, well, most of the time at least. Were it not for your illness, you would have matched it easily. You felt a bit bad about not being able to keep up with him, but the child never minded. Although he tended to run in the halls and drag you around, he always paid attention to whether you seemed to need a break. A real sweetheart, indeed. 

Today was one such day.

You and Zandy had already been in this area before, but it was so big you couldn’t complete it all in one day. The kid was eager to continue exploring with you, scampering in front of you and then jumping in place for you to catch up. You believed he was especially excited because, on one of these journeys, you two had discovered some sort of creature… or rather creatures lurking around. 

The corridors always had some darkness to them, so you had not noticed the black puff balls hiding until one of them popped open its singular red eye at you. You would have yelped if you weren’t in awe of the cuteness of the silly creature. Similarly, once Zandy followed your line of sight, stars appeared in his eyes as more black puff balls came out of nowhere, and began scurrying toward you. The singular blue strand of hair reminded you of someone. Your best guess was that it was one of Dottore’s failed experiments.

Before you could advise the child to be cautious of these pufflings, Zandy had scooped one up already and was petting it. At least they seemed to be friendly - they had even gifted you a couple of shiny things, tiny pieces of minerals. And you swore you caught sight of a fluffy blue thing with a tail peering from afar too that seemed to be too shy to approach. Perhaps Dottore would let you keep them as a pet if you asked?

You giggled to yourself as you finished reminiscing about that. You did hope you ran into those things again. Meanwhile, Zandy had already gone ahead, turning into another hall.

“Now Zandy, don’t run too fast before you trip and fall!” You called after him, increasing the pace of your steps to chase after him.

“Come on, all the Mr. Fluffies are wait-” Zandy’s joyful voice abruptly stopped. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before pushing yourself to jog a little faster. And that’s when you saw the reason why he had stopped - Dottore was standing over the little boy, the height difference so palpable that they both had to crane their neck to view the other. It seemed that Zandy bumped into him, but you were happy to see your two favorite people together. Perhaps this was a good chance to put another plan into action!

“Hello, Dottore. I’m glad to see you out of your office so much,” you greeted your lover with a pleasant smile. The man had no expression, while the boy hid his relief when he saw you. You tried not to bite your lip.

“I did not expect to see you here.”

“You know I like to take my daily walks, so Zandy here was just showing me some more places to go. But it looks like your secret spots aren’t so secret anymore, are they Zandy?” You chuckled light-heartedly, but when you looked down, you saw that the child was fidgeting with his fingers awkwardly, clinging onto your cling.

“Mhm.” Your smile fell.

“I see.” The two did not make eye contact, the tension suffocating. You cleared your throat.

“W-We could use another person to-”

“Unfortunately, I am preoccupied at the moment,” the Harbinger quickly dismissed your request. “However, do remember not to push yourself. Your body is still weak.”

“... Of course.”

“Good.” With a nod to you and without further eye contact to Zandy, he walked away. You held back a sigh before you ruffled the kid’s hair.

“Shall we continue?” Your smile didn’t reach all the way to your eyes, but you hoped Zandy wouldn’t realize. But before you could move, he spoke.

“Why do you like him so much, [Name]?” The child repeated the question he remembered asking you while you were still asleep. This time, however, he would finally get an answer. You crouched down to Zandy’s level, placing your hands on his shoulders as you pondered what to say. 

“I love Dottore because… he makes me feel loved too. For centuries, he’s treated me better than anyone else. His kindness may not be typical, but I still receive it happily. His sweetness is bitter, but the taste is pleasurable. His love isn’t ordinary, but it soothes me either way.”

“That makes sense.” Zandy knew that wasn’t a lie. He had seen how his creator treated you. “Then Prime must feel the opposite toward me.”

“That’s not true.” You frowned as you immediately shot down the thought, stroking Zandy’s cheek gently. “Dottore just-” Before you could finish, Zandy looked up at you with a wide, forced smile as he broke free from your hold.

“It’s okay, [Name]. It doesn’t bother me. Now let’s go, I want to find those puffy things again!” And then the child was off, and you were left with an aching heart.

That same night, you paid Dottore a visit, unwilling to be a bystander in this anymore. At least he was doing paperwork this time. It was easier to gain his attention than when he was doing an experiment.

“Dottore.”

“Hello, [Name].” The scholar didn’t look up from his work, as he was already used to you popping in and hanging around for a bit.

“Are you busy?”

“I-”

“Good. We need to talk.” Dottore paused and looked up at you for a moment, who had now stood in front of him, your hands balled on his desk. He took in the dissatisfied look and thin line in replace of your usual smile, before responding.

“About?”

“Why do you ignore Zandy so much?” You said plainly, not in the mood to beat around the bush. From the way his pen stopped, you think he knew this was coming eventually.

“I simply do not have time to entertain the whims of a child.”

“It has nothing to do with that! I-, this is just basic decency. It feels to me that your lack of consideration is on purpose. It is, isn’t it?” Dottore was silent, not even moving his pen.

“Answer me, Zandik.”

“He has you. It is enough.”

“It is not enough. Zandy is a child. He is hurt by you. You are hurting yourself, Zandik. Do you expect me to be okay with this?” Dottore’s pen had started moving again. Your palms hurt from your fingers digging into them so harshly. In a last-ditch effort, you attempted to speak to him using those terms he liked so much.

“Did you not create him to understand his perspective of everything? So, how do you plan to do that if you do not try to speak to him?” It seemed you were not going to let this go.

“I created my segments to observe their perspectives. To preserve it,” Dottore clarified. 

“Observe?” You laughed at that. “Pray tell, how will you do that if you don’t even try to be around the child for more than five seconds? And besides, merely observing never brings you the most satisfying results. I thought you of all people would understand that,” you quipped back. 

“Please, at least… at least tell me you’re going to try. Just try, even if it doesn’t work out,” you pleaded with your love. Unfortunately, your words could not reach him.

“It is late. You should go to sleep.” You gritted your teeth at his response.

“Fine. Then I will simply treat you the same way as you do with Zandy.” As he opened his mouth to defy your declaration, you quickly spoke again. “If you think I won’t do it, then you forgot the person I was in the Akademiya, and who I still am now. I do this because I love every single version of you, Zandik, more than anything else in this world. If you want to test my love, then by all means go ahead, but I doubt you’ll find even one possibility where you’ll be able to. Good night.” Your tone was hard and biting as you left without letting him get in another word.

Dottore could only watch as you stormed out, leaning back in his chair to rub his forehead as his mask clattered to the ground. Il Dottore was used to getting his way. Zandik, however, not so much, especially when you were in the picture. This perspective of yours was always… always something he struggled to understand.

Of course, the Harbinger learned very quickly that you would make good on your word. Instead of his name being called, he had to deal with his segments being asked for instead.

“Omega, please administer the medicine for me today.”

“Delta, could you come over here? I feel a bit unsteady on my feet.”

“Sigma, would you visit me before bed? I would like someone to chat with.”

“Beta, let’s go to your lab. I’m bored!”

You walked past him without a glance. You did not ask him anything. You did not refer to him. He was practically invisible to you. You knew that you were technically being more harsh to him than he was to Zandy, but you weren’t going to stop. You also hoped that helping Dottore to be kind to Zandy would eventually spread to the other segments too. The segments were initially baffled by the turn of events but quickly adjusted to it, although the look Prime gave them certainly wasn’t something they wanted to endure. It didn’t need to be said that Prime was awfully upset, despite his unbothered expression.

In the past, every time you had pulled a stunt or something after an argument, Dottore would find it amusing. He had a bad habit of being unyielding and refusing to admit he was in the wrong, and that was coupled with his idea that you were just being childish. But every time, you stuck it out until the end and refused to back down too. Eventually, he stopped finding it funny.

The stalemate went on for a while. Dottore’s bed had remained cold for far too long, no longer having the pleasant surprise of finding you on it sometimes. His office was silent, your visits becoming nonexistent. Despite how he chided you sometimes for bothering him, his mind had become preoccupied with thoughts of you and what you were doing. It wasn’t good for someone who had so much work to do, and for someone who hated giving in. This simply wouldn’t do.

At the very least, he could at least still follow you around to see your sweet smile and laughter. You just didn’t know. However, it seemed every time he longed for you, you also happened to be with the kid. For a long time, every time he saw you be so sweet to the child, it felt like seeing an impossibility become a possibility, and yet he tried his best to ignore it. He knew how fond you were of his child segment, well, Zandy as you’ve come to call him, and he… he just didn’t…know how to feel.

Yet now he felt himself somehow drawn to the scene, in a strange way. Was it because he liked seeing you happy, and the child seemed to bring out your brightest smiles? Was it because seeing his child segment like this wasn’t something he’d ever witnessed before? Was it because he himself had never been treated so kindly as a child, and yet now he was watching it happen in front of him? Was it because his deepest wishes that he buried with his childhood self were now becoming reality? Dottore ignored the answers to his own questions, attempting to finish a report that was long overdue for Pantalone, but his mind continued to wander about what he had witnessed.

Dottore remembers when he overheard you and Zandy having dinner.

You and Zandy were sitting across from each other eating. Well, it was more like you trying to convince the child to eat at least a few of his vegetables.

“Zandy, at least eat a few. You don’t need to finish it all,” you gently urged the child. “How else are you going to become big and strong?” 

“But they’re yucky,” he pouted. You chuckled.

“Perhaps I need to experiment more… I will find a way to prepare it in a way you like, my child. But for now, if you eat a bit more, I’ll… give you my dessert!” Zandy perked up at your words while stabbing the dreaded green thing with his fork.

“Deal!” He exclaimed while forcing the vegetable into his mouth (eating with his ‘family’ for once.)

Dottore remembers when he overheard you and Zandy playing a game.

You had recently purchased a game from abroad to pass the time. It had four surfaces and numerous columns that you needed to place small, medium, or large gears on. The objective was to place the right gears at the right locations in order to get them all going. Although you originally bought it for yourself, Zandy was quite excited by the idea, and you were never going to turn down an opportunity to challenge his brain. Within reason, of course.

In the end, you were content with simply watching the child play with the gears and figure out the answer by himself, or with small hints from you.

“Would you look at that! You’ve already finished all of the levels, and we’ve only started today… I didn’t even need to be here since you’ve got such a smart brain up there,” you teased, tapping Zandy’s forehead playfully. He blushed slightly.

“That’s not true. Your advice was really helpful, [Name]!”

“Perhaps, but your own thoughts were already more than enough. I would like to hear them more often.” The child glowed at the idea of you listening to him (instead of shunning him.)

“Okay!”

Dottore remembers when he overheard you reading Zandy a book.

You had a tendency to invite Zandy over to your room often, considering how much Zandy liked it. He marveled at the size and all your decorations, and the collections of your interests (how you had gotten Dottore to fund this was beyond the child’s imagination.) Not to mention, how soft and fluffy your numerous pillows were. Tonight, you were reading him a story, the child lying back against your chest as you held the storybook in front of you two. 

“Alright, I think that’s enough for tonight,” you said as you stifled a yawn, and you also noticed Zandy was doing the same. “We can continue tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Zandy mumbled tiredly enough not to put up a fight. You put the book to the side and turned off the lights (with a remote, courteously created by Dottore for the days you couldn’t get out of bed.) Pulling up the blankets, you were about to wish the boy good night when he spoke.

“[Name]?”

“Yes?”

“I always have lots of fun when I’m with you but… do I bother you too much? I know you’re probably busy and you also have your illness and-”

“Zandy. I love spending time with you. And even if I am busy, I will always make time for you, no matter what,” you promised the boy (unlike that man and woman who left him forever alone.)

“Oh…”

“See? So don’t ever feel bad about it,” you reassured Zandy, which left him with only the sweetest of dreams to dream.

Dottore remembers when he overheard you gently lecturing Zandy.

Children are pure-hearted and innocent, and even Dottore was once a child. It wasn’t hard to see that Zandy and his other older selves were starkly different. The former was kind and sweet, and the latter… well, you didn’t need to say it out loud. But the main point was that you didn’t need to worry too much about Zandy hiding stuff from you. Once you broke down his walls, he was a very open and honest child. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you’d say. But of course, children were children.

You had left the child in the kitchen while you went to retrieve a new cookbook the Eleventh Harbinger had gifted you, wanting to try out some new dishes especially since Zandy was interested. When you got back, however, you noticed that his face seemed a bit flushed and nervous, and his hands were in his pockets.

“Zandy? Everything alright?”

“Um, yeah!” His voice sounded a bit odd, and you squinted at him while he avoided eye contact. You’ve dealt with Dottore who was a smooth, easy talker that could spin lies like nothing. Zandy, on the other hand, was too easy to see through.

“Are you sure?” The boy nodded in response, probably so his voice wouldn’t betray him again. “Show me your hands.” But he only had a child’s level of lying, from the way his eyes gave it away.

“But-”

“Now.” Zandy very reluctantly showed you his hand, and you then saw one of his fingers was dripping blood. Your heart sank.

“You’re bleeding? I- What happened?!” You rushed him over to the sink and began washing it, while your other hand rummaged through the cabinets for some cotton or bandages.

“I wanted to be h-helpful and get the stuff out for you. But I dropped a plate and it broke and I tried to clean it up and I cut myself,” Zandy mumbled, clearly not wanting to admit his mistake. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You were already used to seeing your own blood drawn, but Zandy was a different story. Seeing your child hurt had made you dizzy and uneasy, even if it was just a cut.

“... I thought you would be mad.” Zandy’s voice was but a whisper, and your eyes softened.

“And why would I be mad at you?”

“B-Because I broke something…” You sighed as you placed the bandage around his tiny finger.

“But it was just an accident, right? Accidents happen, and furthermore, we have dozens of plates. I would never be mad at something as simple as that. And I care far more for your well-being rather than a mere plate. So next time, please don’t lie to me. Okay, Zandy?” You said gently but firmly, as you finished treating his finger (a far cry from what his punishment used to be, living in that house.)

“Okay, [Name]...” The boy hugged you afterward, blinking back his tears on your shirt so you wouldn’t see them.

Dottore remembers when he overheard you talking to Zandy about him.

The stand-off between you and Dottore had gone on long enough for even Zandy to realize, even though you tried to keep him out of the loop. You should have guessed that the child was going to ask you eventually.

“[Name], are you and Prime fighting?” The question came out of nowhere, surprising you but you hoped it didn’t show.

“We are just having a… disagreement, dear. Nothing to worry about. And no, it isn’t about you or anyone else. It is just a personal thing between us,” you added before Zandy could inquire. You hoped he didn’t feel guilty.

“Do you miss him?

“Of course.”

“Then why fig- disagree so much?”

“Zandy, some things in life can only be resolved with disagreements. You’re not going to see eye to eye with everyone, even those you love. But they’re necessary so that you can move on and grow stronger together,” you explained. “Neither of us enjoys having spats… even though he treats them like a joke sometimes,” the last part was mumbled under your breath, “but we do get through them every time, and although it’s definitely not easy, it’s worth it.” Zandy blinked thoughtfully at your response, (an unconventional depiction of healthy love, rather than the conventional portrayal of an unhealthy one he once knew.)

“You’re really strong, [Name].” 

“Strong? Not anymore. Patient? Yes,” you laughed, for you are the only one capable of loving a heretic.

Dottore remembers an awful lot, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care. He remembers all the moments you’ve spent with his child self, from when you were sleeping to when you woke up to the ones he heard through his segments. What you’ve introduced into Zandy’s life is the opposite of what Zandik’s life was like. Sheer love, to put it simply, even someone like him can see it, as he is no idiot. Dottore denies wanting to be accepted, and yet he is watching himself be accepted as he longed for. It makes him feel…

Regardless, this sort of mind wandering was no good for the Harbinger, especially the type where you have forced him to dwell about the child he is and isn’t. Before he knew it, the report sat untouched in front of him for a period of time.

Truly no good, and that is why his feet automatically move to find you once more. In truth, he hadn’t decided what he was going to say to you yet - whether to admit that in his heart he has yielded to you but his words will probably be the opposite. 

It wasn’t hard to find you. You were usually in your room or a segment’s, or with a segment himself, minus the times you decided to take walks. At this time though, you’d probably be with the child.

Dottore was right. But it wasn’t quite what he had expected.

You and Zandy had fallen asleep… on the floor, hands barely brushing each other. Dottore sighed at the sight - at least it was rugged and not wooden. The cold wouldn’t have been good for either of you.

(Either of you?)

He made his way over to the two of you, bending down to move you to the bed. He first pulled your body to his chest with ease before his gaze flicked to the child next to you. His breath stills, hand hesitantly hovering over Zandy, fingers twitching with unease. 

(Since when did he, the Second Harbinger, one that could very well be compared to a God, hesitate? This was foolish. It didn’t mean anything.)

And then Zandik slid his arm around the boy, bringing him into his chest too, and then rose to put you two comfortably to bed. He never thought he would ever tuck his child segment in, but here he was anyway.

It made him feel a little sick, the unfamiliar sensation along his fingertips and heart and mind.

But Dottore can’t resist giving you a kiss, having missed your lips for so long, which makes him feel a bit better. He’ll always have you, his beloved.

He should leave you two to rest properly, but he finds himself drawn to the scene in front of him. The ill feeling still remains somewhere, but a warmth that he wouldn’t name had started spreading too.

As he makes his way to leave the room, he dares not to look at the drawings scattered around, for they are persistent in portraying him as what he is not. In the poor scribbles, he is not a Harbinger, not a scholar or a scientist, nor a monster or the Doctor or Dottore in them.

He is just a man, one who can succumb to the side of him he so constantly rejects.

V. clumsy

You wouldn’t have believed last night happened if you weren’t there. But it did - you couldn’t sleep after you felt his warm embrace, but more importantly, after he held Zandy. You hadn’t even expected him to talk to the child so quickly, much less hold him so tenderly (even if that wasn’t his intention.) When it came to this kind of stuff, it was never easy to change his mind.

Needless to say, you were pleased but you knew he was never going to admit to it. However, you were still proud of him, and you were still determined to accomplish your goal.

Walking to Dottore’s office was something you had missed. When Zandy had asked you if you missed Dottore, the answer wasn’t just that you missed him - you longed for him, you yearned for his touch, you craved his presence. Such deep love was the reason why you wanted to help him.

When you get there, he’s preoccupied at his desk again. No matter how strong he may be, you still worry for his back sometimes. You should make some more snacks for him later too.

“Dottore,” you say as you walk in. The place was as boring-looking as it always is, the only decorations are the little trinkets you’ve gifted him that lay on his desk. His mouth opens to respond but he then immediately pauses, as he processes whose voice he’s hearing. He takes a few moments to study you as you continue to walk up to his desk, now standing in front of him just as you were the last time you were here.

“Hello, [Name].” He doesn’t show how nice it is to hear your voice again after so long, even though he has dealt with it for over four hundred years.

“Hello, Dottore. And how have you been?” Dottore watches you carefully with your line of questioning.

“As I’ve always have.” You hum in response as you glance at the papers on his desk, idly clicking and unclicking one of his numerous pens (that had yet to snap in half.) “I’ve heard your report for Pantalone is late. Is something occupying your mind, perhaps?”

“There is no such thing. The information is simply-”

“You know, I saw you last night, Zandik.” Your words cut him off as you watch his shoulders tense, and then relax. “I saw what you did.”

“I… see.” He probably knew it was futile to deny the claim. “And?” He watched as you walked around to his chair, your eyes glancing to his lap and back to his eyes as if asking for permission. He motioned for you to come closer, and you settled down on his lap, legs hooked over to the side. You were silent for a few moments before you reached for his large hand and held it with yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“I won’t ask you to explain anything to me,” you began. “I… I don’t want to sound like I’m pitying you, I know you despise that, Zandik.” He remained silent. “But we,” you stressed on that word, “we can still make things right. It’s not too late to change things, no matter what’s happened before,” you said softly as you cupped Dottore’s cheek, caressing it gently. Your lover remained silent as he continued to look at you, his hand reaching to intertwine with your own.

“I remember every time your perspective clashed with mine,” he replied. You tried to ignore your rapid heartbeat. “And I remember the end result was that you were always right, and I was too stubborn. Yet you always pushed me to see it your way regardless.” Dottore’s hand rested on top of your head, stroking your hair as he considered his next words.

“Maybe this time I shall save myself the time and energy and listen to you instead.” You could have fainted, hearing Dottore admit that to you. Your mouth opened and closed, trying to find something to respond with, but there was nothing else you could do other than smile, ignoring the prick of tears in your eyes, and the way your breathing stuttered.

“... Thank you, Zandik. Thank you,” you whispered, nuzzling your face into his chest.

“However, I must say I may not be up to your-”

“You will,” you quickly interrupted. “You will be. You can do this, with me of course. We’ll take it slow and easy of course, I know this is quite hard and you’re busy and-” you continued to reassure him while squeezing his hand and nodding passionately, while he watched amused.

“I question where your confidence comes from.” You smiled, for that was an easy question.

“Because you are no monster, Zandik. Not to me, at least, the person who knows you better than anyone else. And even if the world views you as one, well… I suppose we would be two monsters together. That’s not too bad, right?” You chuckled, and he couldn’t help but smile a bit too.

“Perhaps you could be right.”

From then on, it was certainly a journey. An exhausting and long one to say the least. But it was also a rewarding one.

Obviously, even though he had given you his word, real life was different from the fantasy you wished for. There were still his overwhelming duties as a Harbinger, there were many days he didn’t even have time for you. And you - there were many days your illness left you far too tired to move around or even speak to anyone. And of course, Il Dottore was not going to change his ways overnight. It was hard dealing with him sometimes. There were still arguments. Clashes. Annoyance. It was never easy to mesh differentiating perspectives into one. 

Still, nothing was enough to deter you or your love for him.

a. the potential attempt

The first step was to get them to be in the same space. Not even closely or with interaction, just to get them comfortable enough with each other. When you proposed the idea to Zandy, the baffled look on his face nearly made you laugh. He initially didn’t want to, which you could understand, but you played it off as wanting to spend time with both of them, considering how Dottore was frequently busy. Getting Zandy to agree wasn’t that hard, considering how much he loved you, but you still felt a bit bad. But this was for a good cause!

You were accustomed to chilling wherever Dottore was without fear. Zandy, on the other hand, was not the same. He spoke quietly and always flickered his eyes to see where and what Dottore was doing.

“Zandy, you don’t need to worry about him. Nothing’s going to happen.” 

“But…” 

“Trust me. I bet he can’t even hear us right now,” you nudged him to look at the older man. “See that look on his face? How hard he’s gripping his pen and how fast he’s writing? That’s how you know he’s so incredibly focused, he tunes out the rest of the world.” Still, the child didn’t look too convinced by your words, so you decided to prove it.

“Dottore, I made you some baklava,” you said rather loudly, yet there was no response. Zandy looked surprised now, you both knew how much Dottore enjoyed Sumerian desserts. “And, I brewed you a new pot of coffee.” His pen continued to scribble across the paper, as you then turned to Zandy.

“See? No need to feel so cautious.” Zandy’s shoulders seemed to relax until you spoke again. “Now you try it.”

“Me?!” Zandy whisper-yelled, looked as if you had asked him to commit a crime.

“Yes, you dear. How else will you get comfortable with him?” The child pouted and nuzzled into your arm, seeing as you weren’t going to give up. He chewed on his lip and he began to speak.

“I… Prime…,” Zandy tried to think of something, anything, “Prime… I ate your sweets!” The child immediately regrets it at record speed, anxiously hiding behind you.

“... My, my, how bold. Even I wouldn’t say that.” Zandy peeked out behind you and saw his creator was still diligently writing, and breathed a sigh of relief. “See, not that bad, right?” The boy nodded, but his mind wandered.

“[Name], I didn’t eat his sweets.” You cocked your head at his statement. “... But I think Beta did.”

“Oh dear. I suppose it’s time to get a lock on that fridge now… and then we need to make some more before-” At that moment, a snapping sound from the side made you two jump.

Ah. Dottore had finally broken his pen. Well, that one lasted longer than usual. You and Zandy watched with held breath as Dottore scowled and cast the broken utensil to the side, before looking at each other and trying to hold in laughter, avoiding the Harbinger’s eye contact and returning to what you two were previously doing. The man looked at your giggling faces with confusion.

“Is something the matter?”

“Not at all, love. Not at all,” you smiled, but by the fact that even his child segment seemed to be giggling, he knew you said something. (He ignores how foreign the laughter of the child sounds to him.)

Regardless, he sends you a look before shaking his head and returning to work (with a new pen.)

b. the awkward attempt

One of the moments that captured your heart was when Zandy walked in on Dottore giving you one of your shots. Needles weren’t unfamiliar to you anymore, and although they scared you (and still did, to be honest), thankfully Dottore and the segments had enough patience to make it as painless as possible. Zandy, however, never really saw the checkups or anything related because you really didn’t want to worry the child about your illness. But you supposed it would happen eventually. 

The atmosphere had suddenly turned a bit awkward with Zandy now standing at the door, eyes on the rather large needle that sat on the tray, that was definitely going into none other than you. From his wide eyes, you could tell it probably wasn’t what he was expecting to see. Of course, needles, especially a big one like Dottore was holding, would scare any child his age.

“O-Oh! Zandy, you can wait outside for a few minutes. You don’t need to watch,” you explained, while Dottore stood silently next to you as he prepped the area of your arm. The child seemed conflicted for a few moments before he decided to walk closer to you and the Harbinger.

“No, it’s okay. I… want to see,” Zandy said. In reality, the boy knew you hid certain things from him and wished to know the truth. He wanted to know how badly you were hurt, maybe he could try and do something for you. (Perhaps this too, is a side effect of teaching him what love is.)

“You do? Well… I guess I won’t stop you then,” you said, a bit confused but you wouldn’t just send him away. Dottore placed a hand on your shoulder and got you to relax again for him. Meanwhile, Zandy had come up to the opposite side and looked at you with slightly worried eyes.

“Is it going to hurt, [Name]?”

“Well, it does prick a bit, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s the same as any other shot,” you tried to reassure him as his gaze became downcast. You bit your lip nervously, about to give him a solution, when out of nowhere Dottore himself spoke.

“Physical and emotional support from another party often makes the procedure less painful for the recipient,” he said in a monotone as if he wasn’t speaking to either of you at all. You and Zandy blinked at him before he continued. “I’m going to start the injection now.” Suddenly, it seemed like Zandy understood the message, as the child then grabbed your hand, and squeezed it with his much tinier one.

“You can do this, [Name]!” His instant enthusiasm distracted you from the prick of the needle, but also the fact that Dottore technically spoke to Zandy, encouraging him even. It was simply adorable.

“Zandy, I-” 

“You know, there was one time I fell while-”

“Oh wow-”

“But I was okay because-”

“I see-” You had decided to continue smiling and nodding at the child’s attempt to distract you from the shot until he abruptly stopped, his eyes flickering to where Dottore had now finished bandaging the area.

“Ah, it’s finished,” you breathed a sigh of relief and deflated on the chair, but Zandy still had a load of energy for you to entertain.

“You didn’t even look a bit scared, [Name]!” You grinned and ruffled his hair.

“Why, I doubt anything in this world could scare me when I have my lovely son and husband with me,” you smiled as you kissed Zandy’s forehead, which he beamed at while Dottore turned away to clean up, an attempt to ignore how the scene made his chest feel.

A family, huh?

What a strange thing.

c. the successful attempt

You were quite proud of the progress Zandy and Dottore had made together, but still, the most important part remained. Now that you had gotten them to be in the same room with each other, you wanted them to at least manage a few short conversations. That was the biggest and most difficult part of this whole thing, but starting small was always the key. And so you decided to somewhat ‘force’ them into such situations. How? By just making the child run errands for you. (Sure, you could have let things run their natural course, but with these two, they definitely needed some kind of push.)

An easy way to make Dottore lighten up was to cook something yummy for him, with bonus points if it was something from his homeland. So that was what you and Zandy did - whipped up a bunch of samosas and even a pita pocket (since you knew he had definitely been skipping meals, much to your dismay.) You had packaged them nicely in a container for him to eat at his leisure and instructed Zandy to deliver them. He seemed less nervous than before but still a bit on edge, nevertheless determined to fulfill your wishes, as he soon found himself in Prime’s office. The man seemed surprised. The child avoided eye contact. The room was silent, without you to act as a middleman.

But Dottore decided to begin.

“Did you need something?” Zandy perked up at the acknowledgment and quickly began walking to his desk, slightly standing up on his tippy-toes to push the container of food in front of his creator.

“[Name] and I made this for you. They said you need to eat more or they’ll get mad again,” the child repeated your words verbatim, trying to gauge Dottore’s reaction. The scholar’s hands glided against the plastic, looking at the tasty treats that lay inside.

“I see. Thank you.” He began to set them to the side before Zandy spoke again.

“Um, they also want you to try one.” Dottore paused. Of course you would say that, he sighed.

“Very well.” He opened the container and picked out a samosa, the snack still warm. He ignored how enticing it was to his stomach and began to lift it to his mouth when he stopped and pushed the box closer to his child segment. Zandy looked at him with curious eyes and he motioned for him to take one. Happily, the boy indulged his request and popped the samosa into his mouth, which Dottore soon followed suit, the two savoring the flavors of your delicious and homey cooking.

“How would you say that was?” He questioned Zandy. The child still had trouble he was being acknowledged so much but responded in kind.

“The most delicious thing ever!”

“I would say the same.” And that was the end of the conversation, as Dottore returned to his work and Zandy scurried away, both content with the conclusion. Dottore’s answers may have been short and swift, but it was progress.

By now Dottore had caught onto your little game, while Zandy was just happy to be helpful to you. There were a lot of other instances where you sent him to Dottore - to fetch some medication, to bring Dottore a letter (that totally didn’t just have three words on it), to bring him some new writing utensils, and much more. The occurrences were all short, but they were beginning to grow a lot less awkward. You were happy.

This time you asked Zandy to fetch a book from Dottore, which was actually a legitimate request this time. He really wanted to learn more about those Ruin Machines, and you figured it would be a lot easier if you had a book as a reference. (Dottore had not yet gotten used to the Zandy’s appearances, still a bit stiff and unsure about the whole thing. But they weren’t unwelcome visits, no, they were starting to become a constant in his life.)

Zandy, on the other hand, had already started to feel much better about interacting with Prime Dottore, thanks to your words and Dottore’s much better actions. The once dreaded path to his office had now become a lot more lighthearted. Sure, he was still a bit tense sometimes, but he thinks most people are that way around Dottore (except you, you’re special), so when he finally makes it to his creator’s office once more he’s not too scared. The older man doesn’t seem to be surprised at his visits anymore.

“And what request do you come to me for today?”

“[Name] and I need a book.” Dottore’s eyes widened. You knew the kind of books he had were… well, inappropriate for some eyes. “A book about Ruin Machines and Guards and Graders and Hunters and their parts and designs and all that cool stuff!”

“I see.” Well, that made more sense. The Harbinger got up from his seat to retrieve a book on that topic, when a sudden and uncharacteristic thought came over him. He did enjoy reading books, as they were a wondrous source of information, but he still far preferred hands-on learning. He wondered if… if perhaps his younger self would prefer that too right now. 

No, he knew Zandy would, he was literally him when he was a kid, but the question was whether Dottore was up to this or not. A while ago, this situation would have been impossible. But now, it was a possibility, an outcome that only Dottore could choose to achieve. He stared at Zandy, who had begun to get a bit nervous at the strange attention.

“If you’re busy-”

“Would you prefer it if I showed you instead, rather than simply viewing pictures?”

“Like the actual machines?” Zandy’s eyes glowed with excitement.

“No, just the parts. But I believe it will be more interesting than only examining them in a book.” He could already hear you in his ear if he decided to let the child near those things, especially without you. Zandy only felt a moment of disappointment before he quickly bounced back.

“Please! I want to see the parts! Can I touch them too? Will you show me what they do?” His barrage of questions was sudden, but the scientist found himself enjoying them. After all, if no one else will indulge his curiosity, then he must do so himself, no matter what age he is.

(Although he’s only a few minutes into the explanation, his younger self’s eyes glimmer with a brightness he’s never seen, or at least never noticed before. Were his eyes always this red? You always compliment the color of his, but he can’t seem to remember his eyes ever having such a radiant gleam. He ignores it, for he’s sure his own eyes were never like that as a child.)

Meanwhile, you were left wondering why the boy had been gone so long. Did something happen? You decided to make your way over to Dottore’s office when you heard the voices spilling out of the ajar door. A young and chirpy one, and an old and tired one, and yet they both seemed equally as excited about whatever the subject matter was.

Peeking in, you were beyond surprised to see your husband and child sitting next to each other, a variety of mechanical parts surrounding the two. Zandy was examining one while Dottore rambled on about it, yet in a logically sound way that even a child could understand. You remember the same thing happening to you back in the Akademiya. 

Your heart beat excitedly at this discovery. The way they seemed comfortable with each other, despite their strained relationship from a while ago… in fact, perhaps you could say it looked like a father and his son. All that was missing was the other parent. But should you ruin the moment? You wanted it to last forever…

Unfortunately, staring for too long had attracted the attention of Zandy, who brightened even more at your presence, and quickly waved you over, which also alerted Dottore. Well, there was no hiding anymore, as you began to walk towards the two you loved the most.

“Well well, lucky you, Zandy. To get a lesson from none other than Dottore in Automatons! But oh, I am a bit hurt. Are my teaching skills not up to par for you two?” You teased them lightheartedly, which Zandy giggled at, and Dottore scoffed.

“Fa- Prime wanted to show me the stuff instead of us going through that huge book together. It’s much more fun this way! Oh, but I should have come and told you though… sorry.” Dottore didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need him to. You went to the opposite side of Zandy and sat down, wrapping your arm around him.

“Perhaps I too could be one of your students, Dottore? Zandy and I are eager to learn more!” Dottore let out a sigh at your antics.

“Then listen carefully, because I will not repeat myself to you.”

“How cruel!”

The laughter of two echoed throughout the room, while the other could only smile.

VI. coldness

You loved your family very much. That was obvious to anyone who saw you with them.

Pantalone who asked about how your son was faring, and if your husband would be able to produce sufficient results soon. Columbina who liked to play dress up with you and Zandy to wear matching outfits, while Dottore obviously refused to entertain her nonsense. Childe who couldn’t help but be fond of Zandy as well, tempted to introduce him to Teucer, but also greatly questioned your choice of husband (and father.) The Fatui agents who watched you squish the young segment’s cheeks and tease your imposing Harbinger husband in broad daylight. It was certainly something to see, and one wouldn’t believe it until they saw it with their own eyes.

Meanwhile, the segments had been onlookers on the whole thing.

You were sure each individual segment felt a bit differently about the situation, but the general feeling was probably jealousy. Jealousy toward Zandy for being able to take up so much of your attention. Well, that had always been the case since you’d met the child, but it increased a lot since your journey to help Dottore reconcile with his past self. You just hoped as the years went by, their attitude would change. If you had gotten Prime to change, then his segments weren’t impossible, right? You did see a few of them start to be a bit more patient with Zandy!

Regardless, you were more than happy with the outcome. Dottore and Zandy were talking to each other like normal human beings now. Sure, there were still moments where they were awkward and silent, which was to be expected considering how many years went by with their relationship nonexistent. 

Physical affection, however… well, it still had some work left. The only person he wanted to touch him was you since he had known you for so long. Even then, sometimes you couldn’t when he wasn’t in a good mood. So coming to terms with Zandy touching him so casually was still something to get used to. Still, he seemed to have gotten used to the hand brushing and even patted the child’s hair when he did well. On good days, perhaps the child would even be in his lap.

Still, now that you had helped create a bond between them, nothing could stop their progress. Nothing at all.

Dottore still never admitted the change in his feelings to you, but you didn’t need a concrete answer when his actions spoke louder. You lived for the new conversations that now occurred as a result of Zandy, like when he tells you about the time they spent together.

“I’ve heard that you’ve started teaching Zandy more now, Dottore.” (Trying to steal your role as a teacher again, huh?)

“Indeed. We have moved on to quantum physics as well as-” He continued to list off topics you definitely did not study as a child.

“How… enriching, I’m sure.” Perhaps you should start crashing the lessons to make sure he doesn’t overload the poor kid’s brain too much…

Or when you hear about how much they both care for you.

“[Name]?”

“Yes, Dottore?”

“How have you been feeling as of late?” His hands crept up around your neck, brushing his fingers along your collarbones.

“Fine. The same as always,” you responded, which was sort of a truth and lie. You were technically fine, but there had been more days lately that had been a slog to get through with your illness and all. You didn’t want to admit that though. Dottore dragged his fingers along your shoulders in response.

“That’s a lie.” Your face heated up a bit from the proximity.

“That’s not-”

“Zandy,” he began, the name still a bit foreign on his tongue, “told me you’ve barely been sleeping as late. And the tiredness makes it difficult for you to move around. Why didn’t you tell me?” You slumped a bit in your seat at the discovery. You didn’t think the child would know that much less tell Dottore.

“How did he know?”

“He can hear you rustling around in the bed all night,” your husband said flatly as you sighed.

“I’m sorry, love…”

“Next time, I would prefer to hear my spouse’s troubles from their lips rather than someone else. Now come here.”

Or the simpler silly conversations.

“Why did you name him that?” He said one day while lounging on your lap. It was one of those days when it was necessary for him to rant to you about everything and anything.

“Name who what?”

“... Zandy.” Hearing Dottore get used to the name was still amusing to you.

“Why not? There’s a reason why all the segments like their names now, you know. It’s cute, it fits him, he likes it, and it’s way better than what you did,” you teased. Dottore grumbled.

“I still believe there were better options.”

“Yes, yes, says the one who names every experiment with a few letters and numbers. Now continue telling me about Pantalone’s audacity.” 

You were happy. Zandy was happy. And you were pretty sure Dottore was happy too. Even through the toughest days, you knew that you had them, and that made things better. You believed nothing in the world would change that or take that away from you.

So when you heard that some of the segments were heading to Sumeru, you weren’t too worried. It was just another mission for them, and although the importance of this one was much higher, you had no doubt the segments would handle it with ease. The lab was emptier than normal, but at least that gave you more time to play with him. 

“[Name], why do we go and collect Gnoses?” Zandy was still unaware of quite a few things, as others were unwilling to explain the details of them.

“So that we can fight Celestia,” you hummed as you turned the page of the book. Currently, you two were reading a rather interesting fantasy story, and the two of you had gotten up to the most crucial part - whether the protagonist would choose to further his ambitions or save the one he cherished.

“Why do we need to fight them?”

“Because they’re bad people,” you said as simply as possible.

“When are we going to fight them?”

“I don’t know, but one day we will.”

“Is it going to be scary?”

“Yes, it will. But I will protect you, from now until the end of time, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Okay,” Zandy said, but he still looked a bit sad, naturally. You softly stroked his fluffy hair.

“Don’t dwell on it. You still have lots and lots of happy memories to make,” you soothed him and kissed his forehead. “Nothing bad will happen to you.”

“Thanks, [Name],” he cuddled more into your side as you continued to read the story aloud to him.

The days passed as they always did. Tests. Checkups. The bickering of segments. Dottore popped up here and there, still busy with the Sumeru mission even though he remained at the lab. As always, Zandy remained a constant in your life when everyone else was too busy for you, so you were happy.

It had happened in the middle of a nap when you were shaken awake furiously. When you regained consciousness, you first registered your body being tossed from side to side, and then the blinding light from above. Ugh. What time was it, you wondered, because your mind next processed the desperate voice next to you.

“[Name]! [Name], please, please wake up. Please, he’s going to-” The sheer fright in his voice was enough to jolt you back to reality. You quickly rubbed your eyes and pulled yourself up to face the boy. You wondered what could have happened for Zandy to be this frantic, but the look on his face made your throat close up.

Bright red eyes on the verge of tears, flushed face, quivering lip, and shaking body. A terrible feeling rested in the pit of your stomach as you were speechless for a moment before Zandy grabbed your hands again, begging you to say something.

“Zandy, s-slow down. Start from the beginning. What’s wrong? Who is going to do what?” You placed your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer in an attempt to calm him. It didn’t seem to do much.

“Omega, Omega’s going to delete me for-”

“What?!” Your voice came out as a shriek. “Tell him no! Tell him I said to stop! I- come with me!” You had already begun to pull him out of bed and out the door, looking like a mess but that wasn’t a worry at all, not right now. Zandy followed you aimlessly, sniffling and sputtering out words.

“B-But not just me, all the other segments are going to be e-erased too! Alpha, Beta, Delta-” You paused, deep fear instilling in your heart as you too began to breathe heavily. Still, you swooped down to Zandy’s height and hugged him, putting on a brave face.

“I won’t let it happen - you’ll be fine. We’ll just go to Prime, and then he’ll-”

“He approved it, though,” Zandy’s voice was tiny as he stared down at his feet as if he too was unwilling to believe he would be betrayed like this. You felt like you were going to be sick, heat rushing to your face, burning you alive.

“What?” Your voice was just as small as the child’s.

“Well, he’s not happy about it, but-” You gritted your teeth.

“I won’t accept it. You will not suffer such a fate, I pro-” You stopped when you heard footsteps approaching.

It was the person you wanted to see the least and most at the same time.

“Dottore,” your voice initially came out exhausted as you forced your shaky legs to stand up again, “Dottore, you best explain yourself right now,” you hissed, the malice now undeniable. “Tell me that this isn’t true.” Dottore opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to realize that it would not be the answer you desired. The Harbinger’s eyes landed on his child self, who now clung to your leg in fear. Zandy looked at him in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. Dottore ignored all emotions and focused on his logic.

“It’s neces-”

“Don’t you dare say that!” You interrupted him, hopefully before the child could hear his own creator (or perhaps, father) say he was dispensable. “That’s not true, you know it’s not-” Your words were interrupted by Zandy clutching his head and squeezing your leg deathly tight, the thoughts of the other segments reaching an all-time loud high.

“It’s happening… O-Omega’s going to do it,” the child had broken into full tears as he listened to the others vehemently deny Omega’s decision. He then frantically clawed at your leg, reaching for your hand for some sort of comfort.

“[Name], I don’t want to go! I don’t want to leave you! I don’t want to…” The one in the beginning of his life, the picture of innocence, dared to take one last look at the one in the prime of his life, who he couldn’t recognize anymore. The last word died on his lips. Your heart wrenched and pounded painfully as you looked away to beg Dottore again.

“Dot- Zandik, do something. Please, please stop Omega. I won’t ask for anything else ever again. Y-You can’t take him away from me…! Please!”

And then you felt your hand become empty, and your leg become cold. Bile began to bubble in your throat. You felt like you were going to throw up, wondering if you should dare look back down. 

You did anyway.

There was just empty space, Zandy nowhere to be found. Not even his clothes, not a single thing left of him. He had disap- no, he was dead.

Zandy was dead.

Your child was dead.

Your mind was very loud, despite not thinking about anything at all. Your hand twitched, trying to grasp the warmth that was there just a few moments ago. You tried to pretend there was the sensation of him holding you again.

Unfortunately, imagination can’t replicate reality.

You don’t even realize how close Dottore had gotten to you, eyes still frozen on the spot where Zandy just was.

“[Name].” His voice brings you back, but not for a good reason. You blink as you mechanically turn your head to face him. You don’t understand why he isn’t bothered. You don’t understand why he did this. You don’t understand anything. And then your face, which was as still as a statue, suddenly became enveloped in grief and tears. Your husband slightly grimaced at your expression.

“[Name],” he tried again, “I-”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that, in that tone of voice,” you snapped amidst your continuous tears. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done to them? To me? To us?” You weren’t sure which you would prefer - that he wasn’t sure about how much this would pain you, or that he did know but went ahead with it anyway. And it wasn’t just you, now that Zandy was gone… he would never be able to make peace with what he was.

“My last words to Zandy were a lie,” you cried. “A lie! I didn’t even tell him that I cared for him, how much I cherished him, how I loved the time I spent with him, how much I loved him!”

“Did any of the time we three spent together mean anything? Did he mean anything to you, Zandik? Or was it just a lie?” You relentlessly spat at him, refusing to let him get in a word. “You just used him and the other segments as bargaining chips. Pawns. They weren’t tools… my child wasn’t expendable, he was a person too,” you sank to the floor, your whole body trembling and immensely fatigued, but your mouth kept moving, wrapped in your incoherent grief. “I thought we could-, no, we were a family… Was I the only one who cared?”

Dottore could only watch as you broke apart in front of him. What could he have said to extinguish your tears? That he didn’t quite want to do this either, but he had to? Regardless of the newly acquired feelings about his segment, nothing… nothing could come in the way of what he had to do.

“Would you do the same to me, Zandik? Would you trade me for a Gnosis, too…?” Dottore stiffened at the question. It was never something he’d thought you’d say, considering how foolish it was. Him? Give you up? No, he would never. Never. He would sooner let all of Teyvat burn but-

“He was just a kid,” you sobbed. “He was just a little boy. How could you? You… you…!” Dottore could feel your sheer rage and sadness easily, his hands wanting to reach out and offer you some sort of comfort.

But he was a monster, and he knew it.

[coco-loco-nut]

die first

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max’s wife is an international superstar, who’s anxieties tend to show up in her songs

Inspired by: die first by Nessa Barret

requests open! masterlist prequel

—————————

“What are you writing, Schatje?” Max asks, sliding onto the piano bench beside you.

“I wrote a song based on my vows,” you tell him, writing down the last couple chords, humming a rhythm to yourself.

Max, ever since I met you, I knew you were special. You’re my fire and my safety, you never try to break me, and you promise to always stay. I promise those same things to you. I don’t want to live without you, I never want to learn how to fall asleep without you, I want to be in love with you forever. You are my forever.

“Play it for me?” he asks when you finish, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You nod, gently pressing the keys, mentally noting the kinks to fix before recording tomorrow. “It’s beautiful, the fans are going to love it, I love it,” Max compliments and you grin at him.

“I’m excited to announce the album and tour, and I’m glad we follow F1 around Europe. I get to spend more of summer with you that way,” you lean on his shoulder. You dedicated the album to him, and your third record is set to be the best selling one yet.

You took the unconventional route and took his last name after marrying him this year, despite having two hit albums and international fame. You still publish under your maiden name, but the name change caused a lot of shock.

You became an international superstar with your first release and it’s only grown since. Despite your relationship with Max spanning most of your music career, the both of you are able to spend a relatively low profile life in Monaco. Everything you record in the studio down the street is sent to your Hollywood label and released from there.

The next few months see you doing press for the surprise drop that was your bestselling third album and hyping the tour. Tour rehearsals fell during training time for Max and the both of you were going nonstop.

“I have to go to bed, Schatje, love you,” Max yawns over Facetime, you wish him goodnight as you stretch for your last show in North America. Tomorrow you jet to Europe to pick up that leg of the tour.

By the time you reach London, your tour has officially lined up with F1, which means your personal box near the stage is full of drivers, who likely are being bombarded with autograph requests. You slip into your black, sparkly bodysuit and matching hells; hair, makeup, and nails perfectly done; and grab your matching microphone before heading to your mark under the stage. The roar of the crowd energized you as the intro video plays.

“Come on London, let’s have some fun,” you say into the mic before smoke fills the stage above you and the trap door opens, the platform beneath you rising you up. You launch into your opening act. Half an hour later, after prancing and dancing and singing around the stage you take a pause to introduce the next act. The crowd cheers loudly before you have a chance to speak. You look around, smiling at everyone even if you can’t see them.

“London, thank you, my name is Y/n Verstappen, that’s my show for tonight,” you tease, the crowd silences. “Nah, I’m kidding. I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that, not when you are one of the best crowds I’ve had on tour,” you tell them, giving them a second to cheer.

“Since you have been such a great host, I wanted to share something special about this next song, something not many people know, but not quite yet. Quick shoutout to the F1 drivers here tonight, including my handsome husband, y’all are cool. But not as cool as everyone else here,” you purposely leave them hanging a little, blowing a kiss in the direction of Max.

“Alright, so, this next song is not only the title of my new album, but I also took parts of my vows and wrote them into the song. I hope you like it,” you say and the crowd cheers as the first chords play behind you.

“Thank you, London! Goodnight!” After the concert, you rush backstage and into Max’s open arms.

“You were incredible, Liefje” Max kisses you. Charles jokingly gags behind you.

“Thank you, Maxie,” you whisper, hugging him tight. Your assistant hands you a towel to put around your neck and a bottle of water which you happily take.

“You had a great show,” the other drivers tell you, all complimenting the show and thanking you for the tickets. You thank them for attending and excuse yourself so you could change. Max reminds them of the post-show dinner and club plans and carries you to your dressing room. You collapse on the couch, as Max chuckles at your dramatics.

“I swear the best part of a show is laying down after,” you groan and Max gently takes off your heels causing you to moan in relief.

“Y/n! People are going to think we are doing things in here,” Max laughs, you wave him off, changing into comfy but club appropriate clothes. Max helps you take off your stage makeup, and redoes your hair as you put a little bit of normal makeup on.

“Ready, Maxie?” you ask, grabbing your purse. It is nice knowing that assistants will take everything back to the hotel for you.

“I promise I will always come back home to you, I know my driving style is agressive, but I won’t make you learn how to fall asleep without me,” Max says, his hands holding your face gently.

“I know, but I will always be scared when you are on the track. You can’t promise nothing will happen, but I know you will always try,” you tell him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. You stay in his embrace for a minute until rejoining half of the paddock. I can be in love forever, if I die first…

[p0orbaby]

hii could I maybe request an alexia fic where you bring her to one of the german Christmas markets of your hometown and make her try different food and the famous mulled wine (just lots of fluff coziness pls 🥹) ale being a sucker for keeping your lips warm by kissing them

-

The Christmas market smells like sugar, spice, and the kind of nostalgia you wish you could bottle. String lights hang above in tangled webs, dripping amber light onto the cobblestone streets, while the air crackles with frost and the distant hum of Christmas carols played by a mediocre brass quartet.

You’ve barely stepped onto the main thoroughfare when Alexia stops, head tilted, taking it all in. Her cheeks are already pink from the cold, her gloved hands stuffed deep into her pockets.

“Is it always like this?” she asks, her accent curling softly around the words.

“Every year,” you reply. “Wait until you see the giant bratwurst stand”

Her lips quirk up at the corner. “You’re really selling it”

“Trust me, it’s iconic”

You lead her through the crowd, weaving between parents tugging kids in sledges and couples huddling close, their breath fogging in the chill. Alexia keeps her hand on the small of your back, steering you instinctively around every wayward shoulder and rogue pram. You’d find it annoying if it wasn’t so her.

The bratwurst stand is as dramatic as promised: a hulking structure with smoke pouring out of its chimney and a six-foot inflatable sausage bobbing on the roof. Alexia stares at it for a long moment, then turns to you, deadpan.

“Iconic,” she repeats, though her mouth twitches with barely restrained laughter.

You grin, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the line. “Wait until you taste it”

When she takes her first bite, she moans softly, her eyes fluttering shut. “Okay. You win”

“I always do,” you say, smug.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, too busy devouring the rest of her bratwurst.

Next is the mulled wine. You hand her a steaming mug, the scent of cloves and citrus wafting up. She blows on it delicately, watching the tendrils of steam curl away. When she takes her first sip, her eyes widen, and she licks her lips.

“This is…” she pauses, searching for the word. “Perfect”

You take a sip of your own, the warmth sliding down your throat, and hum in agreement.

She leans in then, her lips brushing your ear. “Your lips are cold.”

You glance at her, eyebrow raised. “Subtle”

Alexia shrugs, utterly unbothered. “I’m keeping them warm”

Before you can respond, she kisses you. It’s soft, lingering, the taste of mulled wine and bratwurst mingling in a way that shouldn’t work but somehow does. When she pulls back, she looks entirely too pleased with herself.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, though you can’t help smiling.

“And you love it,” she replies, stealing another sip of your wine.

The rest of the evening is a blur of lights and laughter. You make her try roasted chestnuts (“Like warm, edible rocks,” she declares) and Schmalzkuchen, the powdered sugar leaving smudges on her scarf. She insists on buying a ridiculous hand-carved ornament for your tree—a lopsided angel with one wing noticeably shorter than the other.

By the time you leave, your cheeks hurt from smiling, your hands are frozen despite your gloves, and Alexia has kissed you approximately ten more times under the guise of “keeping your lips warm.”

[justalildumpling]

the aftermath (of champagne & tequila)

synopsis: so maybe those few glasses of champagne and tequila wasn’t your smartest choice of beverages at your high school reunion. but how were you supposed to know that running into your childhood crushes absolutely wasted would have you dealing with the aftermath of making out with not one, but both within the same hour?

pairing: haechan x fem! reader & mark x fem! reader genre: love triangle, childhood crushes au, college au, fluff, humor word count: 7.4k warnings: swearing, making out, mentions of alcohol, vaping, weed, jokes about death and just a 'hol lot of y/n being a dumb drunk

note: there’s really no plot to this, just pure thirst and chaos but then again, isn’t that all my fics ever🙃 (and god forbid any of my irls see this bc they'll know exactly who everyone is based off of💀)

[ playlist: all my friends - snakehips / feels - calvin harris / pretty please - dua lip / one kiss - dua lipa / leave the door open - bruno mars / nasty - ariana grande / streets - doja cat ]

IN YOUR DEFENCE, you weren’t planning on getting this drunk. 

In fact, you remembered reassuring your group of friends about this the day before, emphasising your astounding hatred towards the very limited selection of the free alcoholic beverages available at the bar (namely, beer and wine). 

Further backing up your case, you had initially turned up to your high school reunion an hour late with the lazy excuse of your last-minute decisions towards your outfit that day – which, considering your turbulent meltdowns about having no clothes at two in the morning, was a complete fucking lie – only covering up your actual reasonings of not wanting to face your high school year group. 

You didn’t exactly have any particular reasons to avoid anyone – a matter of fact, you liked to think you got along with everyone back in the day, often bouncing around from friend group to friend group with shiny eyes, inviting smiles and friendly banter – but there was something about reuniting your cohort again after a year which felt awkward. 

There was no doubt that everyone would have changed in some way shape or form. 

Heck, you were a completely different person from when they last saw you in the body of that wide-eyed girl in the crisp white blouse with the conservative knee-length pleated skirt. Plus, judging by the daily scroll of your Instagram feed, many of your peers seemed to don an altered version of their high school selves as well – meaning you had to get to know everyone all over again. 

You vaguely remember turning up at the congested bar next to your high school building. The entrance was decorated with popped bottles of champagne with only a few clean empty glasses left on the display tray. The rest are in the hands of the various levels of tipsy college kids packed together like a can of sardines in front of the bar, eagerly milking out the bar tab set by the committee. Despite your school renting out the entirety of the second floor, it felt a little too tight, almost claustrophobic inside as you discreetly tried to scan the drunken crowd for your usual group of friends. However, your search didn’t last long, resulting in you eventually giving up after a few seconds, opting to ease the mild squeamishness with some liquid courage.

The cheap champagne burned the back of your throat as you settled on painfully chugging the glass in mere seconds, sticking out your tongue in disgust. Regardless of your initial reaction to the first taste, you began lining up for another glass, maybe in hopes of finding your intoxicated friends swimming in the chaos.

“Oh my god, Y/N! Is that you?” 

Your ears perked at the familial voice amid of the loud chatter, head whipping towards the warm beam of Huang Renjun – a longtime locker mate/bandmate during school. Crushing you into a tight hug, you momentarily thanked the higher power of the universe for sending at least an old buddy as your first very sober interaction. 

Though you and Renjun had never exclusively shared the same social circle, your friendship went way back. It started from being in the school’s so-called “rock” band together to trauma bonding over some unfortunate extension English classes in middle school to being neighbouring lockers for the entirety of high school. You recalled Renjun being a wholesome-looking guy, uniform always neatly tucked in, hair short and well kept, so when you spotted his long bleached hair and a silver ring hanging off the left corner of his lip as you pulled away from his grasp, surprise was an understatement of your reaction.

“You pierced your lip!” you exclaimed, turning your face to various angles around him to have a closer look.

A hearty laugh escaped his lips, throwing his head back as he playfully modelled his new accessory with a childish smile, “I did! Though I would be lying if I said I got this voluntarily.” 

You cocked your head at him as the two of you received your preferred beverage from the bar counter, gesturing for him to elaborate. Renjun paused, sipping on the overflowing bubbles of his beer before adding, “I lost a bet with Donghyuck.” 

Lee Donghyuck, a name you would say you were well acquainted with. He was a popular figure with the female community of your school for his visuals and many other talents, an eye-catching part of Renjun’s circle and your childhood friend. Well, sort of.

The two of you met in second grade, the joyful period of a child’s life where everyone was automatically considered friends if you shared a class or your mothers exchanged more than two sentences and invited you to their birthday parties. Also meant, playing with the designated child of your mother’s chosen friend of the day until their hour-long conversation was over. 

Considering the sheer amount of afternoons spent with Donghyuck throughout your elementary school days running around with his family puppy on the school grounds, you would think that would automatically deem the approval of the “childhood friend” title. But the two of you didn’t really talk outside of your forced interaction nor did you share the same lunchtime activities much to your pathetic heart’s dismay. 

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t charmed by the warm scruffiness of the little boy, oftentimes guilty of shamelessly boring holes into the back of his head during class and daydreaming about your futures together instead of listening to your homeroom teacher. You had a feeling your mum knew of your little infatuation towards the boy, often sending you a knowing gaze after your weekly runarounds with him and after the mention of his name in conversation prompting you to believe that her coincidental run-ins with Donghyuck’s mother weren’t so accidental afterall. 

Though growing out of your shorts and summer tunic dresses and into your somewhat maturer age of a teenager; the validation of the excuse of your mother’s budding friendship to catch him after school expired alongside the dissipating giddiness you had once held for him. Something you saw coming for a while as you found yourself seeing less of him around which came as no surprise as neither of you shared the same class nor the same friends as you naturally started gravitating to different parts of your enlarging year group. 

Finishing off the remainder of your flat champagne, you raised your eyebrows at the boy, “Donghyuck? Haven’t heard that name in a while, how is he?”

Renjun hummed, fingers drumming on the sides of his beer glass, “Why don’t you ask him? He’s here today,” he began standing on the tips of his battered converses, peering around the bar for the boy in question.

You shook your head with a chuckle, “Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be impossible to find him-”

On queue, Renjun hollered Donghyuck’s name at the back corner of the room, waving at a shadowed figure exaggeratedly. You weren’t even sure how he was able to spot him within the chaos so quickly when you were still left in search of your friends. But that wasn’t your biggest problem anymore as you recognised Donghyuck emerging from within the darkness, jokingly shoving past the large group of huddled and what you assumed to be intoxicated boys. 

He didn’t look too different from the last time you met, maybe a few centimetres taller, skin sun-kissed from the recent summer weather but holy shit, was he still as hot as ever. If not more.

“Damn Y/N, is that you?” 

You were too sober for this. Sure, you had started to feel the buzz peppering various parts of your face; but your emotions, the logical voice in your brain remained intact, with it blaring “DON’T FUCK UP!” in bold capital letters the closer he got. 

Shoving your jitters further down your lame excuse of a brain, a playful smile was forced upon your lips, “The one and only.” 

Donghyuck grinned, lightly pulling you into a welcoming embrace, catching you off guard, “It’s good to see you again.”

You could tell the alcohol had already hit his systems judging by the uncharacteristically physical greeting and eyes lazily half-lidded as he pulled away from your grasp. “Looks like someone’s had a bit to drink tonight?” you teased, eyeing the lingering closeness between the two of you.

Donghyuck chuckled, softly shaking his head, “I haven’t had too much, maybe a couple of glasses of champagne at school and a few beers here. What about you?”

“Only two glasses of whatever they’re serving at the bar,” you shuddered at the thought, placing your empty glasses down on the side of the countertop. 

“So what I’m hearing is that you haven’t had enough yet,” Donghyuck sent a cheeky wink your way, completely forgetting about poor Renjun’s presence in the conversation as he lightly tugged at your sleeves back in front of the bar, ordering your preferred drinks with the bartender. Clinking your topped-up glasses with the boy, you wondered if making conversations with the boy was this easy before. It wasn’t like he was antisocial or judgemental during your high school years, maybe a little arrogant at times which initially caused your group of friends to have a slight dislike towards the boy.

“Y/N no,” you remembered your best friend Ningning immediately shutting down your thoughts followed by the excessive nods of your friends. 

The five of you sat on the floor in front of your lockers, the smell of the freshly made fries Minjeong had bought from the deli next door wafting down the corridor as you had your heated discussion for the day. How you ended up on the topic of your resurfacing feelings for Lee Donghyuck was a whole other question of its own. (Ah, you remembered. Minjeong tripped down the stairs as you and Donghyuck exchanged smiles and pleasantries, whilst she panicked about her one fry which flew out of the cardboard box, all you could think about was him)

Ningning scrunched her eyes, lips formed into a sour expression, “He’s just so…” 

“Egotistical?” Shuhua offered.

“Short?” Yunjin added, throwing a handful of fries in her mouth.

“Both,” Ningning affirmed. She patted your lap, a thin smile drawn on her face, “You’re too good for him Y/N.”

It was safe to say that the droplet of leaking feelings had shrivelled back up into your heart that day, both due to your friend’s confronting opinions towards the boy and the unapproachable aura he exuded. (Ok, maybe you admired his golden face from across the room from time to time but who could blame you? It wasn’t your fault his stupidly good looks started appearing at every extracurricular activity you signed up for that term) 

A full glass’ worth of conversation passed at this point, and the both of you head deep into your storytelling of your crazy nights out. Bursts of booming laughter thundered as he described canon bombing into his university’s questionable lake and audible gasps sounded as you described your New Year's celebrations earlier that year. Maybe you were wrong about your skepticisms towards the boy during your schooling years, blaming your tendency to catastrophize any minor inconvenience to blow his inherent “unattainableness” out of proportion.

Pulling your phone out of your handbag to check the time, you were greeted with several missed calls and spammed messages from your friends, slapping you back to your original goal in mind. 

“Everything alright?” Donghyuck’s face appeared beside your phone screen, eyes concentrated on your sudden change of expression.

“Uh-” you began typing your response to your group chat, reassuring them of your whereabouts in the heavily packed venue, ”-yeah. Yeah, sorry,” you clicked your phone shut, stuffing it back into your purse before facing him again, “Just reassuring a panicked group chat.”

He laughed, dipping his head in understanding, “I’m guessing I’ll have to let you go?”

You shrugged, offering him a small pout, “Unfortunately but hey, take a shot with me later?”

A soft smile littered Donghyuck’s face, hands squeezing the tops of your shoulders.

“Bet, I’ll come find you.”

NOTE TO SELF: Don’t go into the female restrooms during a big event in a relatively logical state of mind.

The girls' restrooms were a lively place for the residents of your school, always scented with the popular fumes of grape ice and strawberry watermelon vape, the tile floors littered with abandoned pairs of laddered stockings in the winter and forgotten multicoloured hydro-flasks perched on the benches. With quite the vaping addiction of your school, it was always a fun game of guess who when you took the trip to the restrooms during class, which clique was occupying the stalls together, which flavour they were attempting that day or what piece of drama you were going to be handed. 

You realised that not much had changed when you found your friends huddling with quite the assortment of other girls in your year group in the bar restroom. The air was concocted with the nostalgic smell of blue raspberry vape and Maison Margiela, accompanied by loud loving gossip in the unoccupied stalls and the occasional drunken mirror selfies in front of the basin.

“Oh my gosh Y/N! You’re alive!” Ningning screeched, glomping you into a tight hug, “I was about to get up on the tables to find you out there.”

“Sorry, I missed your calls,” you wheezed as Minjeong came over to peel the girl off of your body, “I didn’t realise my phone was on silent.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Shuhua slurred attaching herself to Minjeong’s side, “You must’ve been bouncing around like you usually do, judging by how long it took you to find us.”

“Yeah,” – if bouncing around meant from one drink to another with the same person – “You could say that.”

“Yunjin said hi by the way,” Minjeong interrupted, pulling up a photo of your absent friend striking a cute pose in front of a sushi train in Hawaii, “She said to drink on her behalf, which I don’t think is the best idea.”

“That girl’s probably drunk right now,” Ningning snickered, turning to face the large mirror to reapply her lip gloss, “But I’ll take any excuse to drink more.”

Minjeong raised an eyebrow at the girl, “Didn’t you say that you were saving your liver for next weekend?” 

Ningning merely shrugged, waving her off before grabbing ahold of your hand with an animated wiggle, squabbling about something along the lines of you looking too sober. You ran into many old faces on the short journey to the bar front, hearty laughter and juicy gossip unconsciously spilled and overheard from the neighbouring conversations (Though whether it was true or not, you weren’t sure, but considering the topics of accidental pregnancies and very messy breakups – maybe it would be best to wish for the latter)

You were on your fourth glass of champagne at this point, something you couldn’t understand as every sip you took attempted to change your mind; it really just tasted the same – like fucking ass. The state of yourself on the other hand arguably has made some progress, to your best friend’s delight. You had joined in on Ningning’s nonsensical babbling a half glass ago, nodding along to whatever came out of her mouth with a small giggle tickling up your throat. She leaned into your ear, slurring some muddled sentence that was drowned out by the screaming lyrics of ABBA. A nod came as a reflex for you, a dazed smile tugging at your lips.

She gave you a little squeeze on your shoulders, shuffling past a sea of people and to the other end of the room. The world seemed to move faster than what your brain could handle at that given moment, only registering the disappearance of your friend as well as the foreign group of kids gathered around you a few minutes later. 

There you were, at square one once again, like a clueless fish stuck between the school of other wandering creatures. Except, replace the ocean with flat champagne and cheap house beer.

With an exasperated sigh, you took a step back from the chattering circle, but what you thought was an empty space was in fact a person. A person with a full glass of beer – well, half full after you knocked into it.

“Shit- Fuck- I’m so sorry, is your drink o…kay?” Your words trailed off as you came face to face with your ex-best friend Mark Lee.

Ah yes. Mark Lee and Y/N L/N, quite the known duo during your middle school days. Inseparable, protective and unanimously voted as most probably secretly dating or housing feelings for each other – which to be fair, wasn’t exactly false. 

Your rather complicated feelings for the boy began in fifth grade when the boy slipped you a silly doodle of a duck in a top hat during math class. The two of you were seated a table apart from each other with your respective seatmates so you weren’t too sure of why he specifically chose you to gift his work of art but regardless, you giggled, pencilling in the words “Taffy the Duck” on the top of the page to pass back to him. Your little note passings continued throughout the rest of elementary school, leading to middle school where in your despair realised that you shared zero classes with the boy. Despite this, your friendship stood as strong as ever, hanging out during lunchtimes and visiting the local 7/11 after school until well – it wasn’t.

There was no pivotal moment when you stopped being as close as you were; in fact, it was a question that remained frustratingly unanswered throughout the years. It wasn’t like the two of you ever argued or had a major fallout – which could’ve given you a proper reason to either make up or talk to him again – but rather be described as a painstakingly slow drift, enough to the point where it was unnoticeable. Maybe it started with the branching of different friend groups then led to your attention on your respective crushes at the time – which now that you recollected on your past, think that your hidden feelings for each other at the time were the only thing holding you together.

Sure, you had attempted to revive your friendship at times, starting with the ever-so-awkward first hellos in the stairwell to a couple of sentences exchanged before classes started in your final year, but all efforts seem to have unravelled as you graduated from school and went on your separate ways, until today.

“Oh hey, Y/N?” 

You handed him a napkin from the bar, “Mark.” 

Shaking the excess residue off of his hand, he mumbled a quiet thanks as he took the napkin from you. You wanted to die, really. As a matter of fact, you were convinced that it would be a much more pleasant experience than silently standing like some dumb wooden doll in front of your ex-best friend, as he cleaned up after your mess. 

“So,” he cleared his throat, “It’s been a while huh?”

You gulped down the last sip of your drink, feeling the burn of the champagne trickling down your oesophagus, “Yeah, I mean the last time we talked was, one and half years ago?” – Technically, it was his birthday a little less than a year ago when the two of you last exchanged messages. It entailed your short greeting of “happy b’day mark!” and the equally blunt response of “haha thanks y/n”. However according to the Cambridge dictionary, a conversation is defined as a discussion about a particular subject and well, nothing was discussed.

“Well, how have you been? Your brother doing well?” Mark passed his fingers through his dark locks, turning his full attention to you.

You were surprised he remembered your brother, with him starting school not long before you guys stopped being friends, “He’s doing well, grown up a lot since you last saw him,” you snorted, remembering his little presence trailing behind the two of you after school, begging for you to buy him Mcdonald's fries, “How about you? You attend NCIT right?”

“Yep, studying Business,” he rolled his eyes, “Quite the regretful choice. How about you?”

“Communications at Yonsei,” you responded, “Though, I did originally transfer from Business, due to as you said. Quite the experience.”

Mark chuckled knowingly, raising his glass to take a sip of his remaining drink, “It suits you. Communications that is.”

“What? Because I’m loud?” you joked.

He shook his head, “You always had great ideas, people always looked to you for advice.” 

A warm smile made its way onto your face. It was a reassuring phrase to hear, short but impactful nonetheless. Especially as you struggled to figure out your path after school, switching from one faculty to another in hopes of finding the one that didn’t make you want to throw yourself off a cliff side. Communications was a spontaneous jump but it was the only choice that made you confident in your abilities so hearing this sort of external validation felt nice, especially from him.

Mark returned the gesture, eyes crinkling into the tender crescent shape. Despite the maturing of his facial structure, he still housed the same childlike smile. The one which stretched to the outskirts of his cheeks, softening his overall cold exterior. The one that made you fall for him in the first place. 

“How come I didn’t catch you at school earlier?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, “O-Oh, I turned up pretty late so I missed out on the terrace drinks.” 

“That makes more sense,” Mark hummed in affirmation, eyeing you up and down, “I feel like I definitely would’ve noticed you if you were there.”

What. 

“Tequila shot?” he offered.

You bat an eye, “Uh, sure.”

YOU SEE, you were an affectionate drunk – most often seen clinging onto your friends’ bodies for dear life or littering kisses on their cheeks towards the peak of your night outs. You concluded your drastic personality change was due to the massive confidence boost and the silencing of the practical parts of your brain, meaning that your already concerning amount of extrovertedness maxed the scale.

Before that evening, this quirky little trait of yours never caused you harm, only resulting in the multitude of ‘friends’ being made in the club’s restroom line or several new followers on Instagram the morning after – half of which you barely remember the existence of. 

It was barely eleven when Donghyuck snatched you away from your friends, keeping what you thought to be an empty promise of taking a shot with you. Although you were the one originally suggesting your actions, you won’t lie that you held low expectations for him to follow through – most definitely considering his current state of mind.

Clinking your shot glasses together, you downed the liquor in mere seconds, followed by the soothing taste of the lime, melting away the burn that chased up your throat. An electrified laugh sounded from your left as the familial chords of Bruno Mars blasted through the speakers. Donghyuck held no hesitation to grab your hands, dragging you to the front of the speakers as he playfully serenaded you throughout the way.

You could only shyly giggle as he twirled you around the circling crowd, blatantly avoiding his grand gestures for you to sing along. But your resistance didn’t last long as the chorus hit, finding yourself swaying to the beat of the music, accepting the enclosing distance between your bodies. You peered up to meet his eyes, still filled with the childlike wonder and life from the early days of your friendship to the sharp slope of his nose to his scattered moles down to his supple lips.

“You know Hyuck, you’re really hot.”

A satisfied grin laced Donghyuck’s lips, “Am I now?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You weren’t exactly sure what initially prompted you to blurt your relatively forward words to the unsuspecting boy. Maybe it was the lingering fresh taste of the lime on your tongue. Maybe it was the way he swiped his tongue against his bottom lip to soak up any last droplets of the liquor or simply because you just wanted to. Either way, what you didn’t expect was for a smirk to tug against Donghyuck’s lips, stepping closer to your body, eyes flickering to your lips as a finger grazed the underside of your chin. He momentarily wavered a couple centimetres away from your lips, warm breath fanning against your face before his lips met yours. 

The once horridly ear-deafening music of the room with the bubbling chatters of your cohort seemed to fade into the background as the ghost of Donghyuck’s hands skimmed the bare parts of your waist. His tousled curls tickled the sides of your cheeks as he nipped at your jawline, pinning your body firmer against the wall. 

“God forbid if our mothers saw us right now,” you let out a slight gasp as he kissed the sensitive part of your neck.

“Well, good thing our mothers aren’t here to see us, right?” a low chuckle rumbled from his throat before reconnecting your lips again, his tongue fighting for its place in your mouth. Your fingers gripped at the back of his head, tugging at the strands to elicit a staggered moan from the boy, filling your chest with a weird sense of pride and definitely not helping your already inflated ego.

You could conclude you had certainly passed your tipsy stage, with the last shot of tequila seeping into your system and pushing your brain’s irrationality almost a bit too far. You remembered once hearing your tenth-grade biology teacher talk about the effects of alcohol on the human body and how it altered your brain’s chemical composition. Specifically, how it lowered an individual’s inhibitions and social rationalisation.

And considering your ongoing messy but undeniably hot lip-locking with Lee Donghyuck, you began regretting zoning off in the latter part of that science lesson (not really. You did manage to beat your personal record in 2048) where she had subsequently explained how to piece together the drunken jumble in your brain as the following few words which tumbled out of your mouth, you would inevitably regret.

“Wait, I need to pee.”

YOU HAD TO ADMIT. It was quite scary the amount of things you managed to figure out about yourself whilst severely intoxicated.

One, you really couldn’t hold your bladder. Evident by the frequent trips to the restroom every thirty minutes or the number of times you had bumped into the same group of girls gathered outside the basins, offering you a hit of their neon-coloured vape and a piece of their drunken secrets. 

Two, realising the sheer amount of time and money wasted spent trying to figure yourself out during your high school years as the one night of limitless alcoholic beverages seemed to be a confronting personality test in itself. 

Three, the emotions you spent years persuading to simmer down in your heart were capable of rapidly firing out in mere seconds alongside the memory bank of shitty pick-up lines and your apparent drunken rizz that went through the roof.

Four, maybe your best friend’s words of you supposedly being in your “hoe phase” were really true because at that moment, you really, really wanted to kiss someone – more specifically, Mark Lee.

It wasn't exactly the best course of action, considering your heated make-out session with Donghyuck not too long before – which you left halfway through, might you add. But wise decisions weren’t things you were great at making. Especially a few too many glasses of champagne and spirits deep.

According to your very skewed sense of time, it was around midnight when you stumbled into Mark once again, this time hidden within the shadows behind a pillar in the corner with another drink in his hand. Not many people lingered around this part of the room. You guessed it was due to the immobile bodies sprawled across the dingy carpet a few metres in front and a frustrating lack of both music and alcohol. With a light trip in your step, you made your way towards the boy.

“Oh my gosh Mark! What are you doing here?” 

A concerned grimace appeared upon Mark’s lips, prompting him to place his drink on the carpeted floor to steady your rocking body. The room had begun spinning at this point in time, with Mark’s face distorting ever so slightly to your hilarity.

A giggle bubbled up your throat, followed by your hands which gravitated towards the poor boy’s face, poking various parts of his features in such fascination. Mark could only sigh, registering his sheer lack of control in the situation, as he sat you on the plastic chair. 

A wave of peace washed over your bodies for a few minutes, with Mark quietly sipping on the remainder of his drink whilst you traced your fingers across his jawline. Though much to his despair, the calm before the storm barely lasted three minutes as your loud ass mouth began itching to dominate your brain.

“Mark, has anyone ever told you how fucking hilarious you are?” 

Mark deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest, “I haven’t said anything.” 

“SEE?!” You bounced out of your seat, “A fucking knee slapper that one!” 

Another sigh escaped his lips, getting ahold of your shoulders again to place you back down, “Y/N, how did you manage to even get like this?”

“You know Donghae? Haechang? Whatever his name is-”

“Donghyuck.” Mark corrected, eyebrows furrowing at the mention of his name, “What did that overgrown cabbage patch kid do to you?” 

“Relax, he just bought me a shot…” You drew out your words before pouting, “Or two, and maybe a couple drinks before that.”

Mark shook his head, patting your head, “I’m gonna get you some water.”

“Nooo! Don’t go, you’re so sexy!” You latched yourself onto his waist, fingers twisting around the belt loops of his jeans. 

You could feel him visibly freeze on the spot, occasionally twitching nervously the closer your hands lingered to his crotch. You staggered up from your seat again, hands grazing his torso to wrap around his neck. Despite only a part of his face being illuminated by the light behind the pillar, it was enough to make out his parted lips and widened eyes.

Just like Hyuck, you realised how much Mark had grown into his mature face over the years. His cheekbones were more prominent, and his hair styled with the hard gel he refused to use in middle school. You reached to pass a stray strand across his forehead, though your eyes never left his and your lips inching closer towards his.

“You’re drunk, Y/N.”

You shrugged, eyes flickering down to his lips, “I wasn’t drunk when I wanted to kiss you.”

“And when was that?”

“Middle school, high school,” You paused, pondering for a second, “After graduation.”

A moment of shock flashed across the boy’s face, lips partly ajar and what seemed like a rollercoaster of emotions tumbling within his eyes. You had always questioned what his response would’ve been to a potential confession back in the day; maybe he would’ve reciprocated your drawn-out feelings and lived as a happy couple to this day, or if you wanted to be pessimistic, suffered the horrors of a toxic middle school relationship and be forever traumatised by love for the rest of your life; or maybe he would’ve rejected your feelings and just remained as an awkward pair of “besties”. 

There was a little voice shrieking from the depths of your brain to shut the fuck up, most probably belonging to your sober self trying to save your face. However, it seemed as though the mystery to your decades-long question would be answered that night as Mark chuckled, clearing his throat.

"Middle school me would've gone crazy hearing this." 

You knew you were definitely wasted at that moment, his words of reciprocation to your elementary school feelings flying over your head and rather hyperfocused on the warmth of his embrace and the subtle gulp of nervousness he took.

"What about present-day Mark?” You murmured, your breath hitting his lips, “Is this making him crazy too?"

"Absolutely insane."

You were reminded of your friends’ comments on your drunken rizz, with apparently any form of embarrassment and dignity thrown into the gutter to crash and burn. With the amount of unknown dms you had woken up to the morning after drinking, you’d think you would’ve learnt your lesson by now – but your drunken alter ego was a stubborn bitch. 

A bitch who definitely needed some kind of therapy.

As Mark smashed his lips onto yours, it was then you were hit by your mother’s words about drinking responsibly. Obviously, to avoid alcohol poisoning, potentially blacking out and passing out on the side of the road, but most importantly, to avoid involving yourself in sticky situations in which your sober self had to deal with the aftermath.

But how were you supposed to anticipate that the aftermath of a fuckload of champagne and tequila shots was going to have you hooking up with your childhood crushes at your school reunion?

Oh, and blackout whilst you were at it.

YOU WEREN’T GOING TO LIE, waking up in the comfort of your sheets came as a surprise for your tired self. 

You were quite proud of yourself for making it back in one piece, or even back at home at all and not passing out on the side of the road somewhere, considering the rather large gap in your memory and the fact that you were most definitely still drunk when you woke up. 

There was a slight wobble in your step as you made your way over to the kitchen, head pounding and face still numb as you took the first miraculous sip of water. Your phone screen lit up with a bomb of message notifications and Instagram tags from last night, in which you nervously opened your active group chat.

[ yunjin ] did i miss anything?

[ shuhua ] i shit talked about ppl with aeri and somi whilst high

[ ningning ] yk i don’t think i recall parts of last night

[ you ] i mean,, understandable. u were pretty fucked

[ minjeong ] y/n wrestling tongues with donghyuck was the most unexpected for me

[ shuhua ] you what😭

[ you ] we are not mentioning that…

[ ningning ] wait i swear it was mark, was it not?

[ yunjin ] lol plot twist: it was both

[ you ] …

[ minjeong ] YOU MADE OUT WITH BOTH OF THEM!??!?!?!

You chose to shut off your phone at that moment, predicting the bloodbath of capitalised screams and spammed Facetime calls from the group. Which, in all honesty, you severely lacked the willpower to deal with.

A soft shuffle of slippers sounded at the kitchen entrance, and you turned to face your mother. Still in her pink fluffy pyjamas, drowsily waved as she made her way to the fridge, delicately opening the door to grab the milk. 

“How was last night?” she asked, making her way to the milk frother.

You hummed, walking to the coffee machine with a mug in hand. “It was…”

An absolute clusterfuck of chaos – would be the correct answer. But telling your mother you had drunkenly made out with the sweet little son of her old friend and the name of a boy she hadn’t heard from for half a decade probably wasn’t the best piece of news to be told first thing in the morning – if at all.

You slipped a capsule into the machine with a crack, half haphazardly pressing buttons on the top before a mellow whir filled the silence, “... Interesting.”

A short chuckle resonated inside the refrigerator door, “What did you do this time?” 

You scoffed, offended by the direct jab of her question, “Hey! I don’t always get into trouble!”

“So you didn’t do anything last night?” 

You groaned, pouring the foamed milk into the coffee mug, “Well, no…” Dragging on the o, you passed the mug to your mum, huffing as you sat on the countertops, “How can you always tell?”

“I think I’ve heard enough drunken antics from you to know,” she took a sip from her mug, raising her eyebrows at your phone lock screen, “And I think the amount of notifications you’re receiving says a lot too,”

You reached over the end of the countertop, swiping your phone with a roll of your eyes. Your once pretty lock screen of you and your friends had been bombarded by the stacks of message notifications, fulfilling your prediction of incessant exclamation marks and illegible keyboard smashes. However, one contact profile stood out from the rest – that being a concerned Renjun.

[ renjun ] u feeling alright after yesterday?

[ you ] physically, pretty decent.  [ you ] mentally, very confused.

[ renjun ] haha fair, u did seem pretty wasted before u left

His message made you pause, attempting to dial back your inefficient memory to when you left the venue. 

Did you even see Renjun before you left? Pfft, who were you even kidding – you didn’t even have any recollection of how you got home in the first place.

[ you ] remind me how i got home..? :)))

[ renjun ] … mark left u with minjeong who called u an uber home [ renjun ] god, how much do u remember?

[ you ] … not a lot

[ renjun ] u free wednesday? i think we need a debrief

“IS IT TRUE that you kissed both Mark and Donghyuck at the reunion?”

Now. When you agreed to get a casual drink with Renjun the following Wednesday, you had expected a few questions about your little flings with his friends to come up in conversation. But boy, did you fail to prepare for such bluntness so early on.

“H-how the fuck- did you- know?” Choking on the sharp intake of the unmixed gin at the bottom of your cocktail, the calm approach you had rehearsed on the way over to the bar fell apart as your response came out as a desperate splutter of coughs and stutters.

Renjun threw you a sidelong look, chucking the pathetic remains of the stale popcorn at your figure, which you barely dodged.

“Because those horny fuckboys told me, how else?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, the accentuation of the word fuckboys making you feel rather defensive over your drunken behaviour, “Just for the record, I don’t usually go around sucking faces with every hot guy I see.”

“I never accused you of doing so.” 

A smug look settled on Renjun’s face, clearly amused by your unfortunate situation judging by the quirk of his lips as you reached for your drink once again. 

“You are insufferable.”

“So-” Renjun dragged on, resting his elbows against the tabletop, “Who was the better kisser, hm?”

The alcoholic concoction got caught in your throat once again, sending both you and your rapidly declining self-preservation into a downward spiral. The straightforwardness of the boy is one of the contributing factors, the rest being the rather vivid flashbacks of your liaisons a few nights prior. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t talked about this before – in fact, you recalled it being one of the first questions shoved into your face when you picked up your friends’ calls. However, whether you gave them the answers they were desperately seeking for, you weren’t sure because simply. You weren’t exactly certain about how to answer it either.

“I cannot believe that you hooked up with both your childhood crushes and managed to mess up both interactions,” you remembered Shuhua splutter incredulously through your FaceTime call with the approving nods of the rest following shortly after.

“I just- how did you get the courage to pull the two hottest guys in our year whilst being the drunkest you had ever gotten?” 

“It was because I was the drunkest I had ever been,” you grumbled in response, rolling your eyes at your screen, “I wouldn’t have otherwise.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t hook up with them again?” 

You chose to remain silent for Ningning’s question, neither wanting to directly confirm or deny any theorised accusations which plagued your best friends’ minds, but, with the growing giddiness which reflected on their faces, you realised that no amount of silence could ever hide your real thoughts from your friends, prompting the passing notion that maybe the silence was actually meant for you and your restless little brain. 

Shaking away your thoughts, you turned back to Renjun, “Why are you so interested in this anyway?”

Renjun slurped the last droplets of his cocktail, eyebrows raised in amusement, “Well, aside from the fact that you chose my two best friends as your hookups for the night – which, may I add, coincidentally happens to be both your childhood crushes – Let’s just say those two aren’t exactly on good terms right now.”

Your lips parted from the straw, “Aren’t on good terms?”

As far as you remembered, the three of them had been best friends since early middle school – a fact that made you want to coil up into a shameful ball of nonexistence – you recalled seeing them on the soccer field at lunch, oftentimes doubling over themselves over something on Donghyuck’s phone or the rare exchanges of shy hellos and flustered smiles when they had met up with Mark as he dropped you off in front of your classroom. 

Despite the drift in friendship from your end, Mark’s friendship with Donghyuck had always seemed to remain close – which, considering their shared activities of partying, sports and residing in the same social circle, made sense.

Noticing your puzzlement towards his revelation, he added, “Believe it or not, they fought over the same girl a few months ago.” Renjun popped the fries in his mouth as if he wasn’t casually spilling his best friends' secrets to a girl he randomly reunited with a couple days ago, “which is funny because that’s literally what’s happening right now.”

You groaned, slinking further into the wooden seat with your head buried into your hands, “Great. So what you’re saying is that I’ve just further ruined your guys’ friendship because of some silly drunken mistake.”

“I guess you could say that.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Oh, lovely. What a great reassurance to hear.”

“I was just offering my pure honesty, no harm intended.” 

The two of you slipped into a comfortable silence, ordering the last deserving round of the cheap happy hour cocktails before it was too late. As you waited for your orders to be delivered, Renjun spent the time scrolling through the photos of their drunken nights out, replaying the short clips of Donghyuck with a traffic cone over his head and his own unfortunate events of being rolled around the empty city in a stolen shopping cart.

With the number of snorts and giggles exchanged, it felt like no time had passed since your high school days – except for the increasing recklessness between both parties.

You began retelling your version of your nights out, from the gasps extracted as you mentioned witnessing a random street brawl in an alleyway to the disapproving tuts of his tongue about your case of being stranded on the side of a highway at three am. 

“You know Y/N? You really are the bringer of chaos.”

You could only chuckle in response as you reached for your phone, “Trust me, I’m not that bad.” 

However, as you unlocked your phone to read through your missed notifications for the evening, you realised that maybe you should fix your habit of making bad decisions whilst severely intoxicated, as what you found waiting on your lock screen served as a painful reminder of quite possibly your stupidest mistake yet.

Noticing your sudden change of demeanour, Renjun frowned, “Hey, is everything alright?”

You could only bat an eye, pushing your phone to his side of the table for him to read.

[ mark ] hey, what u up to?

[ donghyuck ] { image 1 } [ donghyuck ] wuju misses u :((

Yeah, you took it back. You really were the bringer of chaos.

a/n: bro u don't even understand.. this has been sitting in my wip docs for like more than a year😭 but i finally forced myself to write and post something on this app that wasn't a longass smau OIHFOIWEHF anyways thank you for reading!! don't hesitate to leave a comment and rb this post if you liked it🥲

taglist: @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @rum-gone-why @dinonuguaegi @alethea-moon @klovmasworld @moonchele @chernabogsbiggestfan @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @dearlyminhyung @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @mxnhoeuwu @haechansbbg @sehunniepot @ujisworld

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Hi,

Would you be open to write about Oscar and his childhood friend, now scientists. just them supporting each other during their own careers. Being so damm proud and all the time yapping about the otheres archivements Showing up at diffrent events for each other, like her coming to a race, and him showing up at a conference, where she's presenting her research.

Thanks a lot!

♡ navigation / request info / f1 masterlist

♡ warnings: none

♡ an: i messed up and replied to a different request with this T_T. so this is basically a repost. nonetheless, thank you for requesting and sorry for the mess-up.

Oscar couldn’t remember a time when you weren't around. From the early days at your father’s karting track, where you would sit on the bleachers with a juice box and your homework, to the present - F1 tracks, where your face was one of the first he searched for in the crowd.

Your friendship started when your fathers introduced you to each other. You were both six and despite most kids this age being disgusted by the opposite gender you two quickly became close. When you were kids people often mistook you as siblings - always next to each other, teasing and giggling but also supporting each other. 

When Oscar went to boarding school a lot changed. You went from seeing each other everyday to seeing each other twice a year. Nonetheless, not seeing each other very often and the mix of puberty hormones didn’t take a toll on your relationship. While Oscar was in Europe, racing in junior motorsport series, you were in Australia pursuing your academic dream. 

You two reunited not long after turning twenty. Oscar just got his seat in Formula one and you were on your way to receive your diploma. Even with your busy schedules you tried to spend as much time together as possible. You were a regular in the paddock and everyone in Mclaren’s garage knew you. 

The crowd was loud as Oscar climbed out of his car and hugged his team. His eyes searched the crowd until they landed on you - his biggest supporter. He jogged over and pulled you into a tight hug. You kissed his cheek and hugged him close “Oscar, you did it! You were amazing. I’m so proud of you” you shouted over the noise. His first Formula one win. “Did you see what I did on the first corner?” he said, his eyes full of adrenaline. “Did I see? Dude, I was clutching the seat so hard I might’ve bruised my hand. I thought Carlos would push you off the track!”. You laughed, and he noticed the way your eyes shone with genuine pride. For a moment, he forgot about the cameras, the media - everything except that you were there, seeing him at his best. “Now go get weighted so we can celebrate!”. 

Later that evening a group sat at a table at the back of a busy restaurant. Oscar was surrounded by many people, his teammate, boss, engineers and friends. But most importantly you were sitting next to him. 

You raised your glass, he rolled his eyes knowing exactly what you were going to do. “To the guy who went from karting on Tuesdays to taking wins on Sundays”. He blushed slightly from embarrassment, maybe from the alcohol . “To the girl who always believed I’d get there - even when I didn’t” he said quietly before bumping your glass with his. 

A few months later, it was Oscar’s turn to sit in the front row, this time at a prestigious science conference. He was out of place among the suits and academics, but he didn’t care. He’d been waiting to see you shine, finally seeing all those years of hard work in action.

The room was filled with applause as you entered the stage after being introduced by the host. “Hello, thank you everyone” you said in a confident yet still a bit shaky voice. You glanced at Oscar as he gave you a big thumbs up and a huger smile. “So before I start, I can’t express how honored I am to be standing here. This has been my dream for the past eight years. I want to thank everyone here, for supporting, inspiring and helping me through this”. 

Throughout the presentation your eyes kept finding their way back to Oscar. Whenever you would get a bit too overwhelmed, the sight of him calmed your nerves. After the presentation Oscar gave you space as a flood of people gathered around you, eager to discuss your theories. You answered questions from a mix of young researchers, curious students, and seasoned scientists who all seemed genuinely intrigued by your work. 

You were talking with an elderly lady, a woman that has been your huge inspiration. “Thank you. It’s… honestly, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for people like you. Your work really inspired me.” You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you spoke, starstruck and a little shaky. She asked you a few questions and invited you to another convention. 

The woman tilted her head, glancing subtly in Oscar’s direction, who was leaning against the wall. “And, if I may say, it seems that someone else is equally inspired by you”. You blinked, following her gaze to where Oscar stood. He hadn’t noticed you looking, caught up in watching you in your element, a proud smile playing on his lips. You could see how much this meant to him - that he genuinely admired you, not just as his friend.

“Oh him, that’s just my best friend” you replied giggling a little. “Hold on to him,” the lady said gently, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s rare to find someone who believes in us as much as we believe in them” she paused for a moment glancing back at him “and stop by for a visit in my home in Uk, both of you”. 

Before you could respond the lady disappeared in the crowd. “Hey,” Oscar said, his voice soft as he reached your side. “How are you holding up?”.

“I’m good,” you replied, voice brightening as soon as he was close. “Still a bit… overwhelmed, but good. Did you, um, survive the science talk?”. He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I caught about 30% of it, which for me is a win. But I caught all the important stuff - like you absolutely crushing it up there”. Your heart gave a little flutter, his voice hitting you harder than you’d expected. “Thanks, Oscar. It… it really helped having you here”. He looked down at you, his expression softening. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Seeing you up there… I’m just so proud of you, you know?”.

You let out a deep breath, feeling some of the tension melt away as you watched the lady. “I can’t believe she was here,” you whispered, still awestruck, “She’s, like, my hero”. Oscar chuckled, nudging your shoulder. “I get it, really. I feel the same way every time you’re at a race. Just… ridiculously lucky to have you on my side”. 

You smiled up at him, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I’m the lucky one, Oscar. Thank you for being here. For everything, really.”

He didn’t answer right away, just watched you, his gaze steady and warm. “I’ll always be here”. 

… a few months later … 

“It’s a nice place,” Oscar said, parking his car. As you two walked up to the ivy-covered cottage hand-in-hand, he gave your fingers a squeeze, a familiar sparkle in his eye. “Think she’s going to guess right away?” he whispered, as if afraid to break the quiet charm of the place. You nudged him, smiling. “Of course, she noticed something between us before we even did”. He chuckled softly. “Guess that’s fair”. 

Before you could knock, the door swung open, revealing an old lady with a warm, welcoming smile. “There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost”. You and Oscar exchanged a sheepish look before following her inside.

Her home was cozy and filled with books, artifacts, and stacks of research papers - a testament to her lifelong dedication to science. She led you to a sitting room where a tea set and a tray of scones were waiting.

“So,” she began, settling herself comfortably into an armchair and pouring each of you a cup, “Tell me, how have the two of you been?”. “We’ve been great,” you began, accepting the delicate teacup she handed you. “It’s been busy, as usual, but… a good kind of busy”. The lady nodded,  “I imagine you’ve been wrapped up in your research, my dear. And you, young man - what line of work are you in?”. 

Oscar glanced at you, suppressing a grin. “I’m, uh… I’m a racing driver”. Her brows lifted in pleasant surprise. “Racing? Goodness, that’s a bit different from the world of science, isn’t it?”. He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Just a bit. I race in Formula One, actually”. 

Her eyes widened, a mixture of fascination and amusement flashing across her face. “Formula One! How thrilling. I’ve read about it - those cars going at breathtaking speeds. I can’t say I know much about it, but I can imagine that must be… well, exhausting.”. Oscar nodded, his voice softening as he replied, “It is, it’s intense, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. It’s taken me all over the world and I’m lucky enough to have had this one,” he said, glancing at you, “supporting me every step of the way”.

“And actually… there’s something else we wanted to tell you”.  Her  smile widened knowingly, and she leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Oh? Do tell,” her voice with a hint of irony. 

Oscar’s cheeks colored just slightly, but he held your hand firmly. “Well… we’re together. As in, officially”. She clasped her hands together, her expression delighted. “Oh, how wonderful! I could tell there was something between you two from the moment I saw you at the conference. And now you’ve finally seen it yourselves, too”. 

You both laughed. It was true, if it hadn’t been for her perceptive nudge, perhaps you would have taken even longer to realize what everyone else seemed to see so clearly. “Thank you,” you said, smiling. “You were right, back at the conference. He’s been by my side for as long as I can remember”. 

“Likewise,” Oscar added, his voice gentle. “She’s my biggest supporter. My constant”.

“Hold onto that. Life has a way of throwing surprises our way, but the strength you two share will see you through anything.”

The three of you sat for hours, talking about life, love, and work. The evening felt timeless as laughter and stories filled the air, connecting the three of you in a way that felt like family. When it was finally time to leave, she walked you both to the door, wrapping you in a heartfelt embrace.

“Promise me you’ll visit again soon,” she said, her voice filled with affection. “And don’t forget, no matter where life takes you, you’ll always have a place here”. 

“We promise,” Oscar said, squeezing her hand. “Thank you”.

As you and Oscar walked back under the starry sky, he slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “So… we’re officially a ‘we’ now, huh?” you asked.

He laughed as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Looks like it. Think you can handle it?”.

You grinned feeling his lips on your forehead. “I think I can. As long as I’ve got you beside me”.

November 4, 2024

[oncasette]

𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗦 (𝗦𝗢 𝗗𝗢 𝗜)

KINKTOBER ACT II, eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 2.7k

“You smell fucking amazing,” he groans and his teeth drag against your pulse point. Before you can make any sort of comment on that, you feel his teeth puncture into your skin just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. His incredibly long and devastatingly thick fingers that are already stretching you out as they slowly thrust in.

or the one where eric has a specific taste for blood. yours.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, significant age gap (eric is like 1000, r is early 20s), dub-con, mind control on the low, blood drinking, high sex (eric's blood/v), smoking

masterlist | taglist | kinktober

When vampires had first come out of the coffin, you’d been barely above the age of seventeen, and their integration into the mainstream had been a whirlwind you’d been utterly unprepared for. Being from the south, your parents had instilled a deep sense of distrust in your fanged counterparts. Or, in your own words, fear. 

Your parents had nearly tried to keep you out of college because of it, claiming you’d be much safer here at home, but you’d nipped that in the bud fairly quickly. Still, that didn’t mean you were going to let it slip to them where you were going on your evenings spent at home over the summer. All they needed to know is that you’d be home in the morning. 

Your friends had been begging you to go to this bar across town with them for ages. They’d been going for years, but, being the only one in the group not willing to get a fake ID, you’d been left out of all the fun. Now, though, that you were over the legal drinking age, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out seeing as your friends seemed to like it so much. Or, as you came to find out, seeing as they apparently liked the owner so much. 

“You’re gonna freak when you see him,” Rachel says, looking over at you from the driver’s seat. You’d been friends with Rachel for forever, longer than you can remember. She’d gone off to school somewhere in the northeast–a liberal arts college with less than two thousand total students–and it’d been ages since you’d last seen her. 

“I don’t get what’s so special about him?”

“Are you kidding me?” Rachel squeaks. “About Eric fucking Northman?”

Anyone who’d been west of Baton Rouge knew the name Eric Northman. It was undeniable. Someone could whisper the name in a corner of a packed ballroom, and a hush would fall over the crowd. 

And, yet, somehow, despite living in Shreveport since your conception, it hadn’t crossed your path. 

“Yeah?” you drawl. “He’s probably just some guy.”

“Some guy,” Gina scoffs. 

“He’s quite literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” she says as she fiddles with her engagement ring. “He’s a fucking god.”

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

It isn’t much longer before you’re pulling into a shady parking lot behind a vacant liquor store. There’s a couple other cars in the lot, mostly what your father would call shit-boxes that have either been sewn together with duct tape or have bumpers that have been left to drag the ground. Slamming the passenger door shut, you reach into the pocket of your jacket to take out the pack of cigarettes, stamping one on your bottom lip as you dig further in the pocket to find your lighter.

Your friends have already walked across the lot to step into line when you finally get a light, shoving your materials back into your jacket as you jog over to where they are at the back of the, thankfully, fast-moving line. 

“Really?” Rachel asks. 

“Just be glad I didn’t do it in the car, okay.” You offer a squint of your eyes in a pseudo smile. 

“Whatever,” she sighs. 

The bouncer lets the three men in biker jackets ahead of you in and stops to examine you. She seems to recognize your friends and nods at them to follow the men, only to stick a manicured hand out in front of your chest as soon as you take a step. 

“I’m with them,” you huff, tapping the ashes out of your cigarette. 

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m gonna need to see some ID,” she drawls. The sweetie comes out in a sharp bite that has you taking a step away from her outstretched arm. She grabs the butt from between your lips and stamps it out beneath her stiletto’d heel.

“Fine,” you say. Digging in the other pocket of your jacket, you grab your wallet and hand over your driver's license. You’re thankful you’d just recently gotten your ID updated and have the horizontal one now, or you’re sure she would’ve kept you back. Where, you’re also sure, your friends would have left you to sit for the rest of the night. 

“Have a good night,” she says, handing it back to you and allowing you to step into the crimson bar. As soon as you’re through the door, you dig your pack out and light a new cigarette. Bitch. 

Your eyes gravitate toward the stage. A very large throne sits to the side of it, flanked by two overgrown men with their eyes scanning the small dance floor at the foot of the stage. The man in the throne is bigger. Much bigger. Large to the point that he dwarfs the chair you think would swallow you whole. You watch as he sits up, spine straightening as he looks the crowd over. 

You don’t think anything of it until his gaze falls on you. He seems to smile, and it’s then that you see the sharp canines extending out of his gums. 

You suppose coming to a vampire bar should’ve made you mentally prepare to come into contact with a vampire or two. 

The man on the throne appears before you in an instant, fangs retracted as he gives you a softer smile than he’d had previously. It unnerves you, still, with the way his eyes seem glazed over and his body hovers over yours. You glance back at the stage, eyes flickering nervously back and forth as if it’d just been a trick of the lights and you’d catch him lounging there again if you blinked hard enough. 

“You are… a pretty thing, aren’t you,” he says, voice growling in a register lower than you’d been expecting. It sends a shiver down your spine. He’s tall. Frighteningly, inhumanly tall in a way that has you cowering beneath him. Even seeing him on the stage before, it’s much more shocking up close. “It’s a shame you feel the need to taint it with that.”

He gestures to the stick between your lips with a flippant gesture, plucking it from your mouth to stamp it beneath his boot. What’s with everyone stealing your cigarettes tonight?

“Hey-”

“Still,” he leans down until his nose is inches away from your jaw and inhales. You don’t have the time to push him back before he’s returned to his full height. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you ask, attempting to take a step back only to bump into one of the bustling–and fairly sweaty–bodies behind you. The man raises his brow in surprise. 

“My, my,” he says. “Coming all the way out to my little bar and you treat me this way?”

“Eric,” you exhale. Your friends were right. He’s beautiful. 

“And you are?” You give him your name in a huff. 

“Follow me,” he says.

“I don’t know-” His fingers come up beneath your chin to tilt your face so that you’re like him in the eye. Something swirls within them, something you can’t place. You do your best to ignore the dull throb emanating beneath your dress. 

“Follow me.”

Your legs seem to move of their own accord, hand reaching up to take his as he leads you across the dingy floor towards a door beside the bar. You dodge bodies crumpled together between tables and chairs and slink behind him as he nods at a bouncer guarding the door. Once it’s open, he gestures for you to enter first. 

It’s a small office looking room. Various pictures and files line the walls and every surface is drowned in boxes and other small objects. You don’t have the time to get a good look at any of them, though, before Eric is spinning you to face him once again. 

You can see the way his lips twitch as you meet his gaze, nostrils flared. His hand lands on your shoulder, dragging down the side of your arm as goosebumps sprout in its wake. You want to blame it on the fact that he’s freezing, on the fact that he’s got fangs. On the fact that he owns this whole bar and now you’re standing in his office with the door locked. Not on the fact that he’s probably got decades of experience. Or, god forbid, centuries. 

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask. It comes out in a whisper, voice hoarse from swallowing hard. Breath hitching, your knees do their best not to buckle as Eric steps into you, forcing you back until your ass hits the edge of his desk. His leg comes to press between your thighs. With a nudge, his knee would be pressing directly against you, and you’re thankful he gives you the space. You inch up the desk until you’re halfway sitting on it. There’s no reason for you to be as hot as you are right now, and less of a reason for him to know about it so soon. Honestly, he can probably smell it on you. 

“Why do you think I brought you back here?” he asks, hands falling against your thighs. There’s no pressure, just their presence. 

“I don’t fuck random guys in bars,” you say. 

He stalls, hands crawling up to rest on your hips. 

“I’m the owner.”

“So I was right,” you say. “You lured me back here just to fuck me.”

He hums. You can’t tell if it's in agreement. His knee presses into you fully and you hope he chooses not to comment on how you’re pulsating against it. 

“Would you like that?” he asks. He brings his hands down again, this time to the hem of your dress. He begins to push up. Slowly. Oh, so slow, you barely register it until it’s bunched up at the tops of your thighs. You’re not sure why you nod. You think if asked you at a different time, a second before or after, you would have shaken your head and allowed him to lead you back out to the patrons, to your two friends who would lose their minds if they knew where you were right now. 

His mouth finds yours as he pushes your dress the rest of the way up. You can feel the way you’re leaving a damp spot against his pants and try not to whimper as he applies more pressure with his knee. You don’t succeed in that venture. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It’s not nearly as rough as you had expected it to be, but it’s far from soft. His tongue is in your mouth, licking at the flats of your teeth. His fingers dig into your skin as he thumbs at the seam of your panties, pressing it to the side enough to gather the wetness coating your slit and drag it up to your clit. Your hips jump against him. 

He disconnects your lips to trail his kisses down the dies of your face and down your neck. Pulling back, he draws your eyes up to look, and the dark swirl from earlier returns. “Don’t scream,” he says. “Unless it’s my name.”

Before he re-attaches himself to your neck, you watch as his fangs click out, and you feel the cold rod of fear as it slides down your spine. 

“You smell fucking amazing,” he groans and his teeth drag against your pulse point. Before you can make any sort of comment on that, you feel his teeth puncture into your skin just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. His incredibly long and devastatingly thick fingers that are already stretching you out as they slowly thrust in. 

“Eric,” you squeal. You’re already dizzy, his tongue laving at the skin of your neck. Finally, he pulls back and you feel seconds away from passing out. His fingers are still inside of you, massaging your walls. His free hand comes up to his mouth, and you watch as his fangs pierce the skin there and he’s holding his bloody palm up to your mouth. 

“Drink,” he says. You oblige and suddenly you’re dizzy in an entirely different way. Every touch feels heightened, every item in the room seems to glow, and Eric truly, honestly, looks like a fucking god. The open wound on your neck stops aching and you swear you feel the holes close up. 

“Eric, please,” you whine. He tugs your panties down first, balling them up in his fist and tossing them somewhere behind his desk. Then his belt comes undone and he’s yanking his pants down just enough to pull his cock out of the confines. And if you thought his fingers were big before. 

“That’s not gonna fucking fit,” you gasp. He jerks himself until he’s fully hard. 

“Trust me, sweetheart. It will,” he says as he notches himself against your entrance. 

“No, I swear, you’re gonna rip me in half!” “Trying hard not to do that, already,” he says. He pushes in with one solid thrust. Even only halfway in, you can feel him in your throat. “Feel even better than you taste.”

Your ankles link around his back and your feet dig into his ass in an attempt to get him to move, to push into you until you can feel his pelvis against yours. He does. One thrust, then an agonizing pull back before he slams back in. 

Every part of you trembles as his pace picks up. 

“Oh my god? Oh my god,” you squeak. 

“Just me,” he quips and his head falls back. He’s fucking you at a superhuman speed, hips snapping into yours with so much force you think he’s close to bruising your cervix. And still. It feels good. It feels so fucking good. Every touch leaves you tingling and you think you’re going to explode with his hand finding your clit again. He pushes your legs open wider, allowing him to press into you further. 

You’ve never been this wet in your life. Not with your vibrator, not with any of your boyfriends, not even with the one you swore you were in love with when you were a sophomore in college. The squelch of his cock driving into you rings in your ears and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound. A coil within you begins to wind tight, your body on the precipice of turning into jelly in Eric’s hold. 

“I want you to cum for me, sweetheart,” he growls and it’s enough to send you flying. You clench around him, walls fluttering and throbbing as you feel his dick twitch in you. 

As soon as you’ve regained your consciousness enough to offer him a weak smile, he’s pulling out of you and spinning you around so that the front of your hips are against the desk. He thrusts into you swiftly once more, never once faltering from the ruinous pace he’d started up previously. Your back arches into the desk. Your pussy feels raw, overstimulated, melting into the pleasure he’s driving into you. Another orgasm is sure to follow. And quickly. 

“You are mine, whether you agree to it or not,” he growls. His thrusts begin to grow sloppy, cock twitching with every pump of his hips. With a final push in, he cums and offers you the first bit of warmth he’s been able to give you all night. You fall down the same rabbit hole moments later. Your entire body twitches as you do and you can barely feel anything as he pulls out of you. 

He gives you a minute to catch your breath, to gather yourself and spin around to face him as you tug your dress back down your thighs. You’re panting, still, as he wipes the semi-dried blood off of your neck and brings it up to his lips to lick clean. 

“No more cigarettes,” he says. “I can’t wait to see how you taste when you’re… pure.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” you say. 

“You will.”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll be seeing you.”

He’s gone before you can ask what he means by that.