#i would be waving goodbye to my mental health but i mean. it’s not doing that great
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🍃🕊️｡✧⭒˚ ~ Something doesn’t feel quite right.
Genre: Angst to Fluff???
Obey me Brothers x Teleporter!reader (platonic except Lucifer)
Summary: After a bad mental health day, you decide to take a break in another country. Not knowing that time passes through. How she was gone for 24 hours turns out she was gone for a year.
Word count: 1,066
Inspo: yo mama
Warnings: Yelling and swearing
A/N: I wrote half of this in 3-4am, also happy new year 🥳 my first post in 2023 sorry for late post I had school and also I don’t know how to end this 😭 this is bad I hate this
Multiple thuds have been heard from the upper floor, and multiple people falling off the stairs.
Multiple thuds have been heard from the upper floor, and multiple people falling off the stairs.
Multiple thuds have been heard from the upper floor, and multiple people falling off the stairs.
Asmodeus was the first to approach you, running;
“Where are you going dearie?” He asks, clinging on your side.
“I’m gonna stay at my friend's place.”
“Who?”
“Uhm, f/n”
“And how long are you planning to stay with them?” Lucifer appears out of the shadows.
“We’re planning to have a sleepover,” you lie
“You don’t seem to have any packed for your sleepover” he points out
“I have some stuff in their place” you explain, fidgeting with the ends of your sweater.
“Very well, enjoy” he gives you a smile of approval
“WAIT Y/N DO YOU HAVE YOUR-” Mammon’s voice get cut off by the slam of the door
Normally you would tell them when you were gonna teleport to a place, but you decided not to this time.
You wanted to be left alone.
Everything was too loud.
You closed your eyes and felt the world spin around you.
And suddenly, you’re in Switzerland.
You look behind you to see the inn you always stayed in when everything was too much.
“Another night hmm?” The old couple who owned the inn; said
“Yeah” you chuckled
“Well, go on then. This night is on us” They smile at you.
“Thank you Mrs Aebi and Mrs Müller”
They hand you a key, and waved you goodbye
You entered your room and fell asleep immediately
Time passes.
You basically slept for the whole day.
When you woke up, you had an hour left to do what you wanted to do because you slept for 23 hours (me tbh)
You decide to hang out in the mini library that the old couple allowed you to stay in because you were a usual.
And just like that your time passes.
You hand your key, and teleport back to Devildom, it took longer than usual but you shrugged it off.
As you stood in front of the house of lamentation, it somehow looked like it aged.
There was more overgrown vines, but you ignored it and entered
“I’m home! “ You yell out closing the door behind you
…
No answer, normally they’d come running down when you came back.
‘hmm, maybe they went out’ you thought
You pat your pockets trying to find you D.D.D, only realizing you left it in your room.
You quickly run up to your room to be greeted with a different look
Your bed was now covered in clothes with mismatched bed sheets, you look around the room to see everything changed.
Your bookshelf was now a desk, and your desk area was now an empty area filled with random junk.
“What the fuck?” You mumble to yourself
A loud scream was heard after something was thrown at you.
“OW WHAY THE FUCK?” You hold your head.
“WHO ARE YOU?” A female voice yelled
“NO WHO ARE YOU? What are you doing in MY room” you yell
“I’m Zoe and it’s not your room, it’s mine” She says crossing her arms
“Zoe, is there something-“ Lucifer’s words get cut off
“LUCIFER YES, can you tell this girl to get out of my room?” You ask him
There you were, standing in front of Lucifer, who kinda looked more unstable than before.
“If this is a shapeshifters sick idea of a joke, it’s not funny” He says anger laced in his voice
“What do you mean? What the fuck is wrong with all of you?”
“Get out. Whoever you are, get out. Diavolo will hear about this. He’ll hear about a shapeshifter disrespecting a dead friend of ours.” He grabs your arm and drags you out the house
“Friend? Lucifer what do you mean friend?”
“Get out. And shape shift back to your normal form. What you’re doing is disrespectful.” If looks could you’d be 6ft under
“shape shift? Lucifer you aren’t being serious right now right? What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m gone for a day and suddenly you don’t know me?” you snapped
Your words were ignored and a door slammed in front of your face.
“Fucking hell” you run your hands through your hair
“You can’t be serious, asshole! Open the door!” You kick the door, only to receive no answer
“Okay well fuck you too I guess”
At this point you didn’t know where else to go.
You walk around Devildom thinking where else you could go, while you are walking you notice a few stores changed.
Your beloved bookstore was now a restaurant.
Your favorite record store, where you used to shop with Lucifer, was now a fashion boutique.
You didn’t notice how far you walked, suddenly you were in front of Diavolo’s Castle.
While you were staring at the building in front of you, a light bulb turns on in your head.
You confidently walked in front of the gate, only to be stopped by a few guards who you don’t remember being there;
“You can’t enter”
“Why not and also who are you?”
“Not relevant. But you cannot enter”
You groan
“Oh my god look a trespasser!” You pointed at a random area
“We aren’t falling for that.”
“Nah bro I’m being real”
The guards looked at each other and immediately ran to the area you pointed in.
While they were distracted you teleported in.
It was like luck was on your side (kind of) you teleported in the throne room, where Diavolo was in;
“DIAVOLO! I need help- Lucifer is acting like he doesn’t know me and I’m a shapeshifter??? apparently-“
“Y/n? Is that you?” He asks interrupting your ramble
“Jesus Christ, yes it’s me, I am here. What’s with everybody today?” You question
“Y/n…” He approached you
“And also there’s some girl named Zoe in my room???? Like excuse me-“
“Y/n.” His voice demanded, hands on your shoulder
“Yes?”
“You’ve been missing for a year.”
…
It was quiet, so quiet you could hear a fly burp.
“What?”
“You were missing for a year, everyone believed you were dead.”
“What,,, no?! I was only gone for a day. That’s not possible!” you panic
“You said you were with f/n but when we went to them to see if you were there you weren’t”
“What?…” you felt like you were gonna faint
#angst#drabble#fluff#obey me x female reader#obey me x reader#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me angst#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beezlebub#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie
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His Gift Part 3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 4
A/N = Hey so I just wanted to say that this chapter contains the discussion of mental illness, it's not a main part but just in case that's a trigger for anyone. But on another note, thank you for all the support. It really makes my day so how much everyone is enjoying it so far.
Warnings = 18+, minors do not interact. Dubious consent, discussion of mental illness, dark Morpheus.
Morpheus was sitting on his throne contemplating his next course of action. Having already retrieved his sand and his helm. All that is left to collect is his ruby. At least he knew where it was. Though he found it more and more difficult to visit the waking world without visiting his heart. He had only seen her last night but he already longed for her touch. It was intoxicating.
But the memory of last night also made him frown. Remembering how scared she had seemed. She had flinched from him, tried to get away, dismissed him as nothing but a figment of her imagination. If only he could have stayed longer…
“Uh Boss?” Matthew caws, landing beside him.
He turns his gaze to his raven, “Matthew I thought I asked you to watch over Y/n. "
"I was, she's just at work again…"
Morpheus sighs, closing the book he held in his lap. "Do you have something to say to me Matthew? "
"I think you should back off from Y/n."
"Excuse me?"
"It's just that uh she's not doing so well. I get that you mean well but I think you might be hurting her-"
"Are you suggesting I do not know how to take care of my queen?"
"No, no I-"
"That our bond would be causing her harm?" his gaze had turned deadly and Matthew nervously flapped his wings.
"Of course not-"
"Leave. Now."
“All i'm saying is i was human once and it took me a while to get used to the idea of you and the dreaming,” Matthew manages to get out before he flies off.
Morpheus tosses the book to the side angrily. He doesn’t like the reminder of his love's fragility. He swore to her that day, when he first felt their connection, that he would do better than his failed relationships. That he would give her anything, do anything for her. This is his chance to be loved truly, to love with his whole being and have that in return. He refuses to let this go wrong…
Y/n watched as Lindsey came in for her shift. She did a couple of afternoon shifts a week. Well she was supposed to work till close but Y/n always felt bad making her stay till then. She remembers what it was like being a university student.
“Heya Y/n, shop been busy today?”
“No more than usual i suppose.”
“So hot date to get to,” Lindsey waggles her eyebrows theatrically and Y/n chokes on her laughter.
“Nothing so fun, just a boring routine doctor’s appointment.”
“Routine?”
“Yeah nothing to worry about, it’s just a check up really. You sure you'll be fine closing tonight? ”
“I will be. Will you be fine to go out tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“I asked you last week, remember? Club, me, you, Max, Kai.”
“Shit the club.”
“Oh please don’t bail on us again,” she leans against Y/n, giving her her best puppy dog eyes.
Y/n giggles and pushes Lindsey away “Fine fine. Text me the address and i’ll meet yous there at 10 okay. 2 hours max.”
"Okay perfect,” Lindsey checks the clock, “You best be off, don’t want to miss your appointment."
Y/n waves goodbye as she leaves the bookshop. Walking to the bus stop and catching her bus just in time. She's on for 25 minutes before getting off at her mental health clinic. The reception is relatively empty seeing as it’s the middle of a weekday. Y/n ends up waiting another 20 minutes before her name gets called. Sitting down in the psychiatrist's office she starts to fidget.
“So, these new symptoms. Can you tell me a bit more about them?” Dr Hanaken opens her notes on the desk.
“Uh yeah. I’ve been having these really vivid dreams. They’re not nightmares, not really. But i just, i feel like i’m not getting any rest. And I've been feeling paranoid lately.”
“Paranoid?”
“Yeah just i feel like someones watching me. In my apartment, walking down the street, at my work. I feel like i’m going mad.”
“Well paranoia can be a side effect, it’s not completely unusual for new side effects to pop up. Why don’t we try a lower dose to see if that has any effect. If not we can switch to a different type.”
“Okay,” Y/n takes a deep breath in.
Walking out of the clinic with her new prescription Y/n feels slightly more at ease. Telling someone has almost lifted some of the weight of her shoulders. Then she remembers how she agreed to go out and her good mood deflates. Steeling herself she walks back down to the bus stop. Determined to enjoy herself even a little.
Standing in the noisy club Y/n is decidedly not enjoying herself. She did try, really really tried. She did her hair, put on her makeup, wore a far too tight and far too revealing dress and caught a taxi to the club. The queue outside was massive but Max knew one of the club managers and they got to skip the queue. Standing at the bar leaning on her forearms Y/n waited for her drink. Contemplating her life choices that led her here.
She looked to her right, seeing all her friends dancing and laughing together. Jesus why couldn’t she just enjoy herself. The bartender placed her drink in front of her and she smiled. She drank it in one go. Walking confidently back over to her friends. Lindsey, who is more than a little drunk, hugs her and kisses her cheek. No doubt smearing lipstick over her face. She giggles with the absurdity of everything. Kai sidles up next to her, holding out a hand “Want to dance?”
What the hell, she thinks. Letting herself be pulled out into the group of people. Kai holds her hips as they sway to the music. The alcohol makes her feel floaty. Not too drunk that she doesn’t know what is happening but buzzed enough to not care about anything else other than the handsome man dancing with her. She wraps her hands around his neck and leaning up to press his lips against his. He seems to melt into her, they move together, swaying and kissing to the beat of the music. She hums, breaking the kiss to breathe. Taking the time to focus on him.
But Kai is no longer standing with her. This man looms over her. Kai’s short curly hair is now darker and longer. Kai’s soft brown eyes that were gazing at her have been replaced with stormy blue ones. They seem not only to stare at her but into her. His hands grip tighter now, possessively. His lips curl up into a smile.
“Morpheus,” she breathes rather than speaks the word.
She blinks and sees Kai staring at her confused. “Sorry love did you say something,” he says loudly. Trying to be heard over the music in the club. Love, the word makes her stomach twist. It sounds, feels, wrong coming out of his mouth. She pulls herself out of his arms and he lets her. Moving towards her as she stumbles through the crowd of people. She ignores whatever he’s saying to her.
Someone grabs her arm and she turns to see it’s Lindsey. “Y/n? Are you okay? Did Kai do something?” her tone sounds worried.
“No, no, just need some air,” she tries to give a reassuring smile but can tell from the look on Lindsey’s face that it falls flat.
She moves her way through groups of people. Squeezing herself as small as she can be. Cursing inside her head at the music, it makes her head throb and her vision swirl. Eventually she manages to make it outside the bar. It’s quieter now, most people had either gotten inside or found somewhere else to go. She walks down the street to an alcove. It’s empty and quiet.
She stands against the wall taking in gulps of air. She squeezed her arm focusing on the pain. Using it to ground her. He’s only a dream, just a dream, nothing else.
“Y/n,” the sound of his voice makes her flinch. She sees him walking towards her, his coat sways dramatically behind him. His eyes show no hint of care this time. No they are all steel and anger as they pin her against the wall. She pinches her arm, so hard she scratches the skin and draws blood. “No no you’re not real you can’t be here.”
She wants to run, she wants to scream but she can’t do anything. Every muscle in her body is rigid. She can only press herself back against the wall. Her body hunching in on itself. He reaches her quickly, arms caging her against the wall.
“Who. Was He.” his voice is cold but she can hear the anger underlying it. She shuts her eyes, trying to control the panic rising in her chest. She just needed to breathe, this didn’t make any sense. How could he be here…
“My love for you is endless but my patience is not. I will ask you again, who was he?”
“Who? ” her voice is shaky despite her attempts to control it.
“The man who dared to touch what was mine, the man who you allowed to kiss you when only i should, the man who you currently reek of,” he growled everytime he mentioned Kai.
Despite the fear taking over her mind his words still caused a rise in her own temper. Whatever he was. He didn’t own her. Who gave him the right to speak to her like this? As if she had betrayed him, she didn’t even know him. Overcoming the panic she was feeling, Y/n raised her eyes to meet him. “I am not yours,” she basically spat the words.
As soon as they left her mouth she could tell she had made a mistake. Morpheus eyes turned darker, gleaming with something she couldn’t place. “Are you not?” his voice was calmer now, too calm. There was a hidden depth to it.
Too far caught up in her anger, Y/n continued. “I don’t know what the fuck you are but leave me alone,” gathering all her adrenaline fuled strength she shoved him hard in the chest. He stumbled back a few steps. Eyes still locked on her. Before Morpheus could respond, Y/n took off down the street. Her lungs burned and her feet ached but she kept going. She turned down an alleyway. Leaning against the wall panting.
“You can’t run from me my love,” Her eyes snap to the far wall of the alleyway. How the fuck did he get here so fast. There��s no way, it’s not possible... She turns to run again but trips over a crack in the pavement. She braces herself for the fall, eyes shut but…
Before she makes contact with the ground she feels strong arms wrapped around her. She doesn’t have to open her eyes to know who it is. She feels herself being pulled upwards, then there’s the hard wall against her back. His hands settle on her hips, grip hard and bruising.
“Look at me, ” it’s a command. Scared of what he could do she goes against her instincts. If she thought he was angry before she was wrong. His face was pure rage. She looks away, staring at the wall opposite them. “ You cannot run from me. You are mine, heart and soul, your very essence calls out to me. There is no where you can go where I will not find you,” his words are dark and threatening. A warning not to run again.
“Please don’t hurt me.” There’s a moment of silence, she can’t hear anything. Not even the sound of him breathing. Looking back at him, the anger in his eyes are gone. Instead they just seem sad.
“I could never hurt you my love, never.” keeping one hand on her hip, the other moves to cradle her face. A fingertip brushes away the tear falling down her face. She wants to pull away but against her will she finds herself leaning into his embrace. His hand is warm where it’s pressed against hers. He leans down, pressing his face to her neck. She feels him breath then before he moves back to face her.
“I have been selfish, I did not think about how strange this must be for you. Our bond, it is something i have waited centuries for. I understand it is different for you.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t understand-”
“Shh i know, but you will. I will do better. ” he says the words as a promise, as a prayer. “ I let my anger get the better of me but I will try harder. I will treat you like the queen you are,” his voice cooes and she feels her body relax.
The hand cupping her face moves back to her hip. Then they’re gripping her rear. Lifting her up. Her legs wrap around him, trying to keep her balance. He growls at that, using his grip on her to pull them flush together. His hands slip underneath her dress, pushing it up even further. Her hands scramble to grip his arms.
“What are you doing-”
“It’s okay, it’ll be easier like this,” she doesn’t understand. She wants to ask more questions but then his lips are on hers. She feels floaty again, as if she took another shot in the club. This is nothing like kissing Kai. Morpheus is demanding and all encompassing. His kiss feels like a brand, like ownership. He moves back and she tries to breathe evenly. She feels something blown on her face…sand?
“Shhh, we’ll be home soon,” it’s the last thing she registers before the gentle lull of sleep swallows her whole.
Taglist = @musemaniac42 @secretdreamlandmentality @supermegapauselouca @ultimatreality
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Going to be real for a sec, just thinking outloud because I know this is a safe place and I need to get thoughts out. Veeerry long! Not a vent just a brain dump. do not bother reading this unless youre really reallyyy into biographies lol this is literally 1,915 words
I'm stuck inbetween minds at the moment. I keep asking myself if regression, or dreaming, isn't really for me. I found agere and petre when I was very young, about 14; it piqued my interest because I'm a very curious person, interested in different lifestyles and ways to explore the self but I also think that because I was just coming out of childhood even though I thought my childhood had ended years before. I was just growing out of being a tween and at that stage in life, it's really startling going from childhood to seemingly adulthood overnight and it's quite natural and common for people to want to cling onto things when everything is being shaken up like that.
Intamacy with people, vulnerability and emotional closeness is always somethign I've struggled with and felt like it was just out of reach so the idea of allowing myself to be back at a stage where I was raw, authentic and less closed up was really really appealing. Plus, the idea of people understanding that and guiding me and just being around me would mean they *really* like me and they're not just there because they have to be, even though I've never had a caregiver though I have had like 2 online friendships where I could be baby around them which felt quite good but I never quite felt satisfied. probably because it was online and neither laster over 3 months. I'm practically always masking and the idea of being weird (I mean this without negative connotation) and expressive really sounded amazing.
I have also always always always wanted to be apart of a community but I just never have. No clubs or hobbies that made me feel welcome growing up, no proper friend groups that made made me feel at home, I think I've been in a lot of fandom/online community spaces just because I wanted to feel apart of something though because I was never able to contribute it just felt like a one-way mirror.
So!! I find a lovely community like this! With a focus on mental health, togetherness, working through things and taking time to appriciate things, it's great! I love you guys! I can even make moodboards and little posts and I have a cg blog and a slightly bigger blog where I help boost creators on here. I have mutuals!!!!! People follow me!!! We talk on tags and comments!!! I feel like I have insider knowledge and experience because I've had a lot of oppertuinty to reflect on life and mental health and even on regression itself. But thing is I do not regress often at all. When I do it's for split seconds. When I'm really sleepy, when I'm allowing myself to be vulnerable, if I'm having a weird spacey day. I'm not sure if it's more dissociation or a sudden wave of emotion or what. I think I'm just generally an immature person some times. I haven't grown up yet, I'm only 18, I am an adolescent. It's not something I want to force because forcing things like this, especially if it is dissociation, can be pretty bad for your brain. Age dreaming is a different thing though.
For me I'm between a rock and a hardplace. I do not feel like I regress organically enough to be on here nearly as much as I am. I'm so tense that I feel like I can't relax or open up enough to enjoy even age dreaming. Brainfog, sure! But it's not regression. I also do not want to edge too far and go into maladaptive nostalgia terratory. I feel, lately, like I kind of need to say goodbye and thank you to my childhood but it's over now and that doesn't have to be a bad thing. I think there's such a focus- everywhere online not just here- on "how good" the old days were. People making heart wrenching nostalgia edits with slowed minecraft music and ambient noise just to rake in veiws and to pull at your own heartstrings. It's natural to seek solace and yearn for something that was so familiar and safe especially at a time where not only is daily life changing for the individual but also for society at large. But rose tinted glasses are not accurate and can be dangerous. Nostalgia should be something that makes you feel light and refreshed. When you hear a song that you haven't heard in years and go 'oh! I remeber! I remember what my brain was like back then' and smile and move on. Maybe taking inspiration from it.
But.
I feel like my nervous system is so fried that making any progess is really draining and proper healthy coping mechanisms never seem to stick. I also feel very isolated, having no irl friends at the moment and not having any purpose like education, work, volonteering, passions, whatever. These are all things I have experienced for well over a decade which is... obviously a very large chunk of my life so far. So I really do need something to fill my life with, a familer space with familiar ideals and stuff. You guys are great. You have such refreshing takes and it just feels so calm and kind here. At the end of the day despite feeling a bit repetative at this point for me, I do enjoy looking at life through this lense. This place has not changed much at all since I started my blog in 2021. It's honestly one of the most consistant things in my day to day life! God. even the streets are changing but it's nice to know I can log on here if I need some reliability.
And thing is, I don't know if it's related to my ASD or my trauma or lack of experience in the world or none of those but I just feel a few steps behind my peers. They are all acting on their life plans or getting out and being social or enjoying new relationships. And I'm perfectly fine taking things at my own pace and growing in my own way but I just don't fit in really. I genuinely feel like I'll hit my stride in my mid twenties or older. Not because I'll have more qualifications or be high up in a career, I just feel like that is when I'll really start knowing and feeling like myself. That's the age when people generally start to figure things out. Basically, I like it here because I feel like I'm in a more similar life state. my focus is on getting through the day and making my own steps. I'm fine as long as I'm growing even if I'm burnt out lmao. Healing for over a decade drains you and I feel like my mental capacity is so small at the moment because of it. Like. I can't pick up a book or a new hobby or a job whatever because ALL of my bodily, mental, spiritual, emotional energies are going into mending and stuff. I feel like a 29 year old preschooler lol. 5 o'clock shadow and a sippy cup. haha. I like it here because it's like easy mode. it's like a holiday for your brain.
I'm honestly not sure what the point I started off with was. I have sooo many thoughts swirling in my head. At the end of the day I feel so burnt out and like I said, with such a small bandwidth that I feel like even regressing or dreaming or even just thinking about it is too much. Like. I used to cope and regulate by imagining scenarios in my head, like fanfics in my brain when I needed a little comfort but now I just can't! I can't imagine myself with a dream job or in a fantasy world or kissing someone cute, I just don't have it in me. It's not like I'm super low or anything, I'm actually generally pretty stable at the moment. I think what I want right now is to not feel alone. I don't want a relationship per se, not sure if it'd be fair to start something with someone but having a nice social circle would be a big relief. I can't remember ever really... having that. I guess I'm esoteric, with a full plate. I had a nice group of friends in college for about 2 years but thats dead now, we got on each others nerves at the end. But it was nice while it lasted. Imaging having a caregiver or being one is one of the only ways I can barely scratch that itch of wanting to rely on someone. Like. It's so deep at the moment, wanting comfort and all that, that "normal" soloutions to that just don't hit hard enough. Like I could imagine having a really nice friend group but irl I would need to be in a healthy friendship for quite a while before it started fulfilling that need, so imagining someone coddling me like I am a child, like I am something to be cherished, not just valued but cherished, that hits harder. thats nicer to think about. also also also co regulation + company is something i really desire.
I feel like I am so entwined with this community, more than anything else these days. It's sort of got a grip on me. and i dont know how i feel about that. none of you guys know me. i have mutuals, nice mutuals and people who are in my notes but none of you actually know me. i think maybe this place is more of a fantasy than a reality for me. and that tells me i need to distance myself but what else do i have?
I've tried taking a break before, you might remember, it only ended up being a few months but it was nice to come back.
right thats basically it. I assume if you've made it this far, seeing as I'm not even writing to anyone I'm just emptying my brain, I assume you're a very curious person. Someone who likes to feel involved. Like meeee. If anyone has any advice or sage wisdom or anything you want to say at all, please go ahead. This post is basically a bunch of thoughts with little resolve. This isn't really something I want to bring up with my therapist because onneee, I'm embarrassed, twwwooo she has most likely no idea of what age regression this, in this context. like. the age regression they talk about in regard to mental and psychological contexts, its pretty different to all this. anyway. i have other things in therapy to talk about lol maybe one day ill bring up that i feel like a small child in certain situations but let her lead that conversation. ah so.
yeah like. yeah. hi. if this resonates, im glad you found that. yeah. yeahhh i dont know. i have a lot of stuff going on. nothing in my life is straight forward. hence the... want to simplify things. I'm really tired now, wow!
to conclude, I'm a baby not necessarily a regessor. I'm running on fumes. i have a weird relationship with agere and im very hot and cold about it. goo goo ga ga but also i want to be respected and seen as a capable adult. i need a hobby. i need to rest but blehhhhh.
Here's a puppy as a treat for reading it all
#my biography guys#babbling#this probably has so many spelling errors and typos but im not going to run this through a spell checker because its basically just#brain dump
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Mind the words: Matt Murdock x reader
request: can I pretty please request heavy angsty mattyxreader with 144 stop being such a baby with happy ending.
I left the ending a bit open, but it is still happy and hopeful :)
I can’t be anyone else but me. And that means I am chaotic, messy and moody while tired or stressed. And so it happens that lately I’ve been constantly under stress. Work and life and health issues and well, the fact that my boyfriend happens to be Daredevil and gets beaten up every night. Can you blame me for having trouble with keeping it all up?
There’s also one more thing you should know about me. The more worried and broken inside I feel the more I try to cover it up with fake enthusiasm, nervous energy and panic attacks. So when my colleagues and friends see me bursting with energy running around the office doing my chores it is not a good sign, but rather a symptom of me going through shit. Everyone, literally everyone knows that. So when Foggy and Karen realized what was going on they forced me to go out to Josie’s. Matt was not there because of his night shift, so being out of his watchful eye I completely let myself go. Having drink after drink I quickly got wasted and Foggy decided it was better if he walked me home.
“Are you sure you are ok?”
“What? Yeah, yeah, Fog, don’t worry. I’ll be fine” I say in singsong voice waving hands around and almost tripping over my own feet.
“I think you went a bit too far and ….. owww….” He turned away while I rushed to the gutter and started throwing up and coughing frantically “What is going on with you lately my friend?”
“Take a guess” I scoffed
“Hey, it’s me. You can tell me, you know.”
“it’s just stress Foggy. I’ll get some sleep and be brand new in the morning.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” I smiled weakly to the point to which my dizziness and weariness let me
“Fine” Foggy did not seem convinced ‘I’ll call you in the morning, ok?”
“Sure. Just not too early, please. It’s Saturday after all.”
“You got it. See you tomorrow then”
“Bye Foggy” I waved him goodbye and entered the staircase dreaming only of my bed and 8-hours of rest.
“Hey, neighbor” apparently it was not given. Jake, who was living on the first floor came to sight and casually leaned on the doorframe “heavy night?”
“Heavy week” I muttered not in the mood for conversations
“I can absolutely relate to that” he obviously didn’t get the hint and I was just impatiently kicking my heels, feeling the alcohol blurring my system. “You know, you look so pretty now” he took a step forward invading my personal space, but I was too spaced-out to even react. Jake was quick to use it against me as he closed the distance to zero and started kissing me. When I realized what was happening I tried my best to push him away but he just grabbed me closed and kissed harder and harder. I was starting to lose my breath, my brain and whole body screaming at this unwanted touch and in some crazy instinct I kicked him in the groins.
“Bitch!” he yelled and if it wasn’t for my regained reflex he would have slapped me in the face “you are mental! First you walk around provoking me and then act like a nutbag!”
“You are delusional Jake, I never wanted you! I got a boyfriend you creep!”
“Poor one, he has a slut of a girlfriend!” he spat at me and this time I could not stop myself from hitting his face. Guess, that little bit of boxing lessons Matt gave me was worth the effort. Or at least I thought so, since in retaliation Jake pulled my hair painfully.
“Let. Go. Of. Me!” I yanked myself free before he could drag me into his flat and do God knows what more to me. However since he was still holding my sleeve sudden move made the material tear and I was standing in the hall with my arms and half of my chest exposed. Thankfully, one of the other neighbor got alarmed of the noises and stuck his head out distracting Jake and giving me the opportunity to run away which I gladly took running to my apartment and closing the door in relief. Only now I realized I was shaking and to make the situation better I decided to go straight to bed. Screw the shower, screw everything. I need to sleep it out.
Once again however, the fate decided to mock me.
“Holy shit, Matthew!” I screamed, hand on my heart as I spotted red-dressed silhouette on my couch “don’t do this! You’ll give me heart attack!”
“Sorry.” He muttered taking off his mask “I’ve heard you had hard week, so I though….” He came closer putting his hands around me and surprisingly, frowning.
“Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” I asked leaning into his chest trying to calm him down.
“you tell me” suddenly his voice became dark “you’re drunk and you smell of someone… else. What did you do?”
“Matt….” I pulled away looking at him carefully “what are you talking about?”
“What did you do? I know there’s another man involved. So are you going to tell me or do I have to keep figuring it out by myself?”
“Are you accusing me of cheating on you?” I crossed arms, not believing what he was saying.
“I don’t know. Did you?”
“Like you said. I had hard week.” I hissed “I went out with Karen and Foggy since unfortunately you were not there. I had couple drinks. And when I got home, Jake, my friendly neighbor tried to drag me into his flat and …. and…..” I broke all the emotions finally getting the best of me.
“Did he do anything to you?” Matt’s voice was still dark but now some concern showed up in his tone as he put a strand of hair behind my ear. Maybe I should drop this, let it all go and just dive back into his arms, but what he said, what he believed I could do, was not something I could forgive. He was supposed to be on my side not against me.
“No. Thankfully I was able to get away. Myself. Because despite of what you say, about how you protect everyone and the whole city you are never there when I need you!” I sobbed, tears beaming from my eyes.
“That is exactly why I tried to teach you self-defense!”
“Well it’s not enough!”
“Well I can’t be around you all the time! I can’t protect everyone!”
“Well then maybe you should choose what, or rather who is more important to you!”
“Is that an ultimatum?” he spat
“And what if it is?” this question hang between us in gravy silence. Not even a fly had the audacity to move in the space. Only the buzzing of lights and some distant car honks made it all real. If it was not for that I would believe this to be a nightmare. Matt’s face was so focused and tensed that I almost saw the cogs turning inside his head. This fight clearly got to a point from where all relied on his answer and as a lawyer he definitely had a way with words. Twisting them and colorizing the reality was his daily bread, but this time it was not a case in the courtroom. This was something far more personal. We just stood in front of each other, angry, terrified, sad, hurt, none of us willing to give up, rather gathering for another round. Panting breaths, rapidly beating hearts, shaking hands, spinning minds. Where will this end?
“Then you give me no choice. There are people out there that needs protection. From what I see you are safe now.”
“Right. I’m perfectly safe spending the night getting drunk to forget the stress my boyfriend gives me.”
“I give you stress? Have you ever considered that every time I am out there I am scared to death something might happen to you! I’m distracted because you are always on my mind!” he yelled exasperated, his whole body bristled almost like I was another rogue that has to be fought.
“I see.” I spoke coldly “if I’m such a nuisance to you why don’t you leave? Seems like we are no good for each other after all!”
“Don’t say that” he reached for my hand once again but I jumped away knowing well enough it was just another trick of his to win me over and make me give up.
“Why? Apparently it’s true. You got hurt because I was on your mind. I got drunk because I wanted to forget about you running the street getting hurt. It’s crazy. This whole relationship was crazy from the very beginning!”
“Fuck, will you calm down!” now he was acting more like Daredevil than my Matt. Getting more and more violent and aggressive every second. “you are overemotional over nothing!”
“Nothing?!”
“Precisely.”
“So, this” I point to him and then to myself but gave up and throw my hands up in the air in aggravation “you and me. This is nothing to you.”
“That is not what I meant and you know that!”
“No, Matt, I don’t know! I don’t know anything anymore. So why don’t Mr. Oh-so-very-good-lawyer mansplain me?!” I was now completely out of control and what was even worse I didn’t want to stop.
“Calm. Down” he said once again.
“Why don’t you make me” I turned around and shot him an angry glance.
It only took him two steps to reach the side of the room where I was standing. Our chest and faces inches from each other, breaths still hot and fast, heat radiating from the bodies, emotions and adrenaline making us both high and drunk on the feelings. He slowly leaned down to the point where his gazeless eyes met mine.
“Stop acting like a baby”
I have to admit I was secretly hoping for another outcome. How did conversation that started with “I heard you got a hard week ended up here”
“Get out Matt.” I hissed turning my head away from him. That hurt.
“No. not before we clean this out between us.”
“I’m serious Matt. Get out of my flat.”
“Sweetheart” there is this tone. Trying to sweat talk me. But not this time. It won’t work.
“Please, go. We are both angry, it’s late and nothing good can come out of this. Go.” I pleaded but he did not budge.
“No.”
“Matt…..” I sighed and plumped onto the couch hiding face in hands.
“Hey, don’t” he quickly followed me grabbing my hands and putting them on his lap “Look at me. When… when we started dating…. When we become a couple I promised myself I would never go to bed without kissing you goodnight. I swore to myself that I would never allow any of us to spend the night angry at each other. Tell me, did I ever broke it?”
“I…..”
“Say it. Did I?”
“Giving it a lot of thoughts…..” I smirked
“don’t push it” he caressed my cheek waiting for response
“You did not. At least from what I’m aware of.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell me, did you ever sneak into my apartment in your daredevil costume after a fight to kiss me goodnight while I was sleeping?”
“That would be a serious violation of many, many law provisions, wouldn’t it?” he moved a bit closer
“Spoken like a true lawyer. But, however crazy this may sound….” I bit my lower lip
“What?”
“That would also be extremely hot.”
“Do you have a kink I should know about?”
“I’m still mad at you” I reminded him
“I know. I can sense that. But I also sense that is not what you feel now.”
“Matt.” I warned him but I could not help grinning.
“Fine. No pushing. You can be mad however you want, just please, please don’t push me away. Don’t make me leave” he moved even closer so now our foreheads were touching and I closed my eyes at this proximity “please, let me stay. “
“Fine. On the couch.” I pointed towards the other room. “That is all you get.”
“Honey?”
“What now?”
“Can I kiss you goodnight?”
“Isn’t it illegal to kiss a baby?” I mocked reminding him of the words he used towards me.
“Cheek?”
“God damn you lawyers!” I muttered turning my face so he could keep the promise he made at the begging of our relationship
“Good night, sweetie” he stood up obediently “we’ll talk in the morning?”
“Only if you welcome me with coffee and a perfect breakfast. You know, babies need healthy, top quality food.”
“You won’t let it go lightly, will you?”
“Nope. Night Murdock” I throw a pillow his direction and even if he knew exactly where I was aiming he left without catching it and without saying another word. He was going to deal with very demanding and whining girlfriend the next day.
@somest1 @pinksirensong
#matt murdock#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x reader#daredevil x reader#matt murdock x y/n#daredevil netflix#daredevil x y/n#daredevil#daredevil x you#matt murdock imagine#daredevil imagine#matt murdock one shot#daredevil one shot#mcu#marvel mcu#marvel cinematic universe#marvel imagines#marvel imagine#marvel one shot
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Dude, my parents were the same! They were worried the stigma would mean I'd be bullied or school would sideline me or employers wouldnt hire me so they just left me to deal with it. I know they truly thought they were doing what was best at the time but I like to think they finally twigged they cocked up when I hit mid 20s and went quote unquote "insane". Turns out medication/ therapy could have made me seem a whole lot more "normal" as an adult if I'd had the chance to deal with it as a kid
EXACTLY!! Like, I totally get their reasoning - it's shitty that they felt they Had to reason that way but I get it - but what fucks me up is that they were so rude about it when I finally got support on my own. I was 21, 22 maybe, and I made a comment like "astonished you thought this was a normal child" and they went "oh don't be stupid we always knew there was something wrong with you but we weren't gonnae put you in special ed, you're fine, you're smart". Like. Fuck OFF
And as an adult, support is difficult and different from as a child. I got a little mental health support at uni after a worryingly long battle, and getting on SSRIs and testosterone did one hell of a job stabilising and improving my mental health cause I was no longer terrified and miserable all the time, but honestly the biggest impact was just.... making friends with neurodivergent people and disability rights activists.
Like I will always remember being at uni, crying into a pint in the students union with a friend because I had just spent an hour in counselling explaining that no matter how much I love the subject I can't handle a 2hr lecture, and all they told me was "well you're aware of the problem, so you can fix it". A random guy I'd never spoken to before but vaguely knew as being involved with the disabled students association came over and just went "hey, I overheard your conversation; they don't know how to help neurodivergent students but here's what we put together for ourselves and figured out the long way round", handed me a napkin with a list of ways to access lecture recordings and slides with notes, waved goodbye, and vanished. Singlehandedly saved me from failing 3rd year.
And now I'm surrounded by friends who are neurodivergent or are very close with neurodivergent people and I have the language to be like. "Sensory stuff is a bit much right now I need to be outside" or "sorry im bad at tone and facial expression but I am saying this sentence in a positive way" or who I can stim in front of and who won't freak out about me sometimes being nonverbal . And it's SUCH a relief and has given me the resources to phrase these things in ways that my family will understand even if it's "you get migraines sometimes anyway which affects everyone's sensory threshold so if you're overstimulated you can say you have a migraine because it will mean they understand you're overstimulated".
I just. Really wish I'd been taught these things as a wean and not left to figure it out myself
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Chapter 3 : Meeting someone special to him.
PS: Eventually she’s special to you too, of course don’t worry ayaka’s main characteristic isn’t just that her brother is your crush, of course. You’ll see as chapters progress! This is just how Y/N grows.
Maybe listen to a song while you’re at it:
You found yourself absolutely cringing so hard at him saying it
“Y/n.. right? You have something in your teeth.”
Well of course you did >:( you were eating after all. Still it was embarrassing as hell none the less
He just chuckled after saying that and told me “Hey don’t worry y/n! It’s normal” after seeing my face basically turn red for all the wrong reasons.
“Venti may I get a ticket to your concert? I shall pay you right now I just want to be there the second it starts.”
Venti being the best, he is literally fanboying over him as well. No venti hasn’t read his books until like 2 minutes ago after I showed him my signed copy where, he read the title.
“Why of course! Backstage passes?” He said with a smile so hard his eyes turn into swiggles.
I’m there, in shock basically that he would just do that, none the less Ayato did accept, and waved goodbye to all of us and left.
Ei and yoimiya poked fun at me out of love, while Beidou stuffed her face and venti spaced out. “All, I think I must need new reading glasses” said Ei as she tried to read my book but failed miserably, “Is this word ‘for’ or ‘yor’ or ‘tor’?”
“Ei let’s go get you some glasses, there’s a place where you can get an eye test right here in the convention.” This was so random but you remembered it existed so of course you’re gonna go. We head to the place while Beidou still slips in random food down her throat. We reach the place and very shockingly we have a huge line full of people who’s eyes are probably broken from playing too many games and proceeding to read afterward. While Ei finishes up and yes she does get a prescription, a long one. Ei decides she’ll get new glasses soon with these and as she was walking out she sees this lovely pastel blue almost white haired lady, maybe even periwinkle with lovely eyes and a bright smile
“Kamisato Ayaka” was what was on her ID, and you reconised it immediately. Sure you were confused on why she’s even near the area of the convention where there’s little to no books. Unsure of if you should even approach you head to her and go “Chief editor Miss Dr Kamisato Ayaka??
Surprised Ayaka turned around to see lovely people, mostly just confused on who they were and to see one person looking up at her with puppy dog eyes. Yes that person was Y/N, you.
“Gahhh I’m sorry I don’t mean to startle you!” I said in a facial expression that can only be described as “whoopsie!”
The lady just smiled absolutely flustered as her cheeks turn pink, I smile back and ask her if I and my friends can accompany her as I’m a huge fan anyway.
“Guys this is Kamisato Ayaka, a mental health specialist, well.. psychologist who is the chief editor, sister and best friend of Kamisato Ayato”
“Presume you know me well, I do not know you!”
“Y/N!!”
“I’m yoimiya :D your amount of hard work into being a psychologist and an editor is amazing to me!!”
Venti Beidou and Ei all nod and agree while introducing themselves as well with a huge grin on their faces”
Beidou notices Ayaka being so pink from behind and says “damn she’s swinging both ways for the siblings? What a simp, I love it”
“No shut up Bei babe I’m not simpingggggg!! Especially not for Ayatooooo” “ I said quite loudly which I only start to regret, later. By that I mean now. “
“Ah! You all are off to see Mr Ayato as well? I came here only to surprise him! Must you know him well? Shall you join? Would you like to?”
Pausing for a moment looking at your watch, you decide “damn heck it” while turning back at your friends in a look of consideration. Your friends agree since they only came for your happiness anyway since let’s be honest they don’t care what so ever for whatever author wrote their favourite book unless it’s a comic or an online comic or manga. Plus they were having fun meeting new people and exploring new books to read, for example Yoimiya got this lovely new book that was bright and colourful. It was a book about fairies and definitely looked like a children’s book but those books are so in depth with fantasy you can’t blame her to anyone for liking them.
Agreeing with Ayaka, you all walk to go see h i m.
You all make small talk and just have simple, honest and enjoyable moments with her as you walk across the entire convention just to annoy him backstage.
You all reach backstage and realise it’s literally like any movie ever made. Food everywhere a chocolate fountain expect it’s very very broken and a hot man just chilling on a couch, he turns his gaze towards you all and spots his sister and smiles his hardest, getting up in shock that she came and with the corner of his eye did he spot you, of course. Your eyes met, connected even. His strong blue eyes gazing upon yours and says “y/n?” “Venti! Oh my! Hello!” Ah yes off he does again fanboying. Venti waves back and gets a call, he like a homeboy and also while trying to set us up says a simple thing. “Ehe this callll is kinda important! Ei Beidou Yoimiya come with!”
Oh my god, as if that couldn’t have been any less discreet.
“Y/n I’ve bumped into you so many times today, glad we meet again” he smiles,
Ayaka’s POV:
Y/n.. hmm she clearly likes my brother and definitely knows him prior to this meet, is it strange that I sensed this even before though? Is it weird I met a group of strangers and a celebrity.. Atleast I think he was a celebrity I do not know but he is familiar. (Venti) I just trusted them so easily today, their entire vibe and personality just made me like them so much in the matter of 20 minutes. Y/N, does she like Ayato as a crush or as a matter as a reader who is a fan of a writer.
Looking at them again she sees them conversing while Y/N puts on this confidence that she didn’t have with anyone else up til now per say
Tuning back into the world you finally hear “Oh yes!! Ayaka got me here”
Right, I did do such.
Y/N’s POV:
Why are his eyes so gorgeous why why why why? Yes okay I must talk to him more, I want to so bad.
I got out my phone and boldly asked, “can I have your number?” Instead of opening speed dial, you may have accidentally just opened a dumb meme that Ayato bursts out with laughter at
“That is so funny, what! Really reminds me to go out more! Do you have more? I want more”
Lmao is he serious? This is so dumb but showing Ayaka the memes too of course, me and Ayato decide to sit down while laughing at dumb memes.
Eventually my best friends do come back and we all just decide to sit around while we sit for Ayato’s show to begin in half an hour. It’s so strange how just this morning I was dying that I even got to see him and now I’m laughing at the worst memes ever created with him, and his sister. I don’t even know if I’m dreaming
-
Picture credits : @k_dreams_k on Pinterest
#Ayato#Ayaka#Ayato x reader#convention#books#yoimiya#Genshin#genshin x reader#beidou#ei#venti#au#smau#ayato x fem!reader#genshin au#writer#event au#Spotify
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I don't know what title should I use for this.
To get started, this year is the most challenging, most risky, a rollercoaster year. I welcomed this year with open arms, and wanted to wave a goodbye even it has 4 months left before the year changes.
I got a job. A mental health friendly job. And it still feels unreal. I still can't believe it. Last year, my work health is a mess, toxic, but my current job now is a blessing in disguise, as they call them.
At exactly 12AM on New Years' Eve, I tried a tradition which if I ate 12 grapes when the year starts, I will have my true love. And April, 2023, He gave me the best gift that every woman ever wanted to have, a guy who will give them unconditional love. But He gave a guy whom he called himself as a walking red flag and lots of issues. I embraced them wholeheartedly, convincing myself that I can fix him. We dated, for a month, and it ended. I still can't accept that it was all ended. He decided to go part ways exactly the day of his ex-girlfriend's birthday, his deepest desire.
I was devastated, completely devastated. But for now, he wanted to heal from his ex. I keep knocking on his heart, to still help him. Because even though he broke me, I still want him for the rest of my life, but he keeps pushing me away instead.
Left broken into pieces, I'm currently suffering to severe depression, again. I thought I will end that scenario but it keeps on going back, because whenever I am with my significant other, my problems and worries were going away. I was genuinely happy whenever I am with him. And now, I don't know how fix those pieces back.
I was not in my good shape at this point. All I want is him. But, I would also to send my gratitude to my true friends who are there for me. I just really need some company right now. Being alone is very scary. I don't want this feeling anymore. I want my old self back. I want my happy self back. This is scaring me.
My health isn't also not in good condition right now. 2 weeks ago, I undergone a procedure because of the cysts in my uterus, thank God that it wasn't cancerous at all, but the doctor said if I didn't get treated it immediately, instead that I left it just like that, still in my uterus, that can produce a cancerous one. And 3-5 months after, I will came back for another procedure that when it wasn't resolved, that may produce a cervical cancer instead. My heart also isn't in good shape, I often feeling sudden chest pains, but I think it was because of my depression and what happened few days ago.
Lord, please do help me. I know I didn't deserve all of this, but I know you have meaning for all of this that I should need to figure out with. I surrender everything to You. Guide me always. But when the time comes that I should come with You already, I will just prepare myself. Even it is hard, I will still cherish every moment I am awake, because you still let me to have sight for all of Your creations.
Sincerely,
Nicole
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Rage Fire Institution
Accelerating. 33.
Kidnapped back into the depths of the research wing, Maki was delivered into the hands of Doctor Suzu Kim. He still didn’t think he needed a doctor, let alone a doctor with a lab full of fancy equipment. Seeing he was being forced to go, he thought he’d have the right to have Tatsumi present so he could rub it in his friend’s face that he was worried for nothing. The arsehole daring to stand there waving goodbye as Maki was taken by the arm and led backwards, the door sliding closed between them.
“Mister Sato, please take a seat on the examination bed. You can leave your belongings on the table beside it. I’m Suzu Kim, Tatsumi told me you were running a fever”
Maki crossed his arms. Tatsumi had a big mouth
“I’m not. He’s overreacting”
Doctor Kim ignored him, busying herself by pulling on gloves. Maki didn’t want to know why. He wasn’t even ill
“I’m sure he is, but you’re here now, on the bed please”
Sensing he wouldn’t be able to get out of this, Maki did as he was told, trying his hardest not to over exaggerate each move. It was a waste of time. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched Doctor Kim roll over a trolley of things that looked less fun then her gloves
“I’m not ill. I don’t have a fever”
Doctor Kim really didn’t care. His protests falling on deaf ears
“I’m going to start with your temperature. Why don’t you tell my your symptoms other than fever. I had a quick look over your medical file and it seems you’ve stayed mostly in good health”
The Doctor held up her scanner in front of his face, Maki huffing
“I don’t have any. One minute I was thinking and the next thing I know Tatsumi is bringing me here”
The scanner gave a beep, Doctor Kim smiling as she showed him
“39.5, so you do indeed have a fever. Now, symptoms?”
Maki was sure if he did have a fever then he should know it, alphas naturally ran hot, but he usually sat on a pretty even 38 degrees Celsius
“I don’t have any. I didn’t know I had a fever”
“Alright, then have you done anything to explain it? Physical activity? Mental training?”
“No and no. We were doing homework”
“By we you mean you and Tatsumi?”
Who else was he going to mean?
“Yeah. We were in the library when he suddenly decided I had a fever”
Doctor Kim hummed as if that meant something. Maki had no clue what it could mean seeing he saw Tatsumi every day
“Any loss in concentration? Trouble holding conversation?”
Placing the scanner down, Doctor Kim picked up a blood pressure cuff, Maki holding his arm out so the thin piece of tech could be slid up it
“No. I mean, I was having trouble concentrating but that was because I had other thing on my mind”
“Such as?”
“Just… stuff. Nothing really important”
“Is this stuff something stressful?”
“I mean, a bit, but not like super stressful”
When the cuff turned green, Doctor Kim slid it back off the alpha’s arm
“Your heart rate is also elevated. How did you sleep last night?”
Maki felt himself redden. He’d slept like the dead a top of a human pillow. His Doctor clicked her tongue
“Ah”
Knowing what she was thinking, Maki quickly went to correct her
“No! No. Not like that. I had a really good sleep. Tatsumi and I were talking and fell asleep next to each other!”
As Maki died internally, Kim raised an eyebrow, her tone curious then she was nodding to herself
“You were with Tatsumi last night… wait, of course, that was yesterday”
“Whatever you’re thinking, it wasn’t like that. He needed a friend”
Maki wished to the heavens someone would come along and stuff a gag into his stupid mouth. He was only making it sound worse and worse. Kim shook her head
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking that way. I know yesterday would have been hard on him because…”
The way she stopped herself from telling him why told Maki she knew and he didn’t want to talk about it
“I know what happened… I… uh, I don’t feel comfortable discussing that with Tatsumi not in the room”
Doctor Kim gave a small nod
“No, of course not. I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I’m glad he’s found a friend. No wonder he sent you to me instead of the school doctor, you must be quite the friend”
A friend who’d nearly kissed another friend… Maki mumbling
“I don’t know about that”
“I’m sure you’re selling yourself short. He has great faith in you. Now, I think I know what’s going on, but I need to check your glands. Is that alright?”
“Oh, sure…”
Letting Doctor Kim manipulate his neck, the woman smiled as she stepped back
“It’s good news, you’re going to live. The bad news is that you’re pre-rut. I saw you recently changed suppressants. How long ago was your last rut?”
“Just after New Years. I don’t use suppressants at home”
“So 8 months. I’ll give you an injection if you’d like, it’ll knock the rut symptoms back. I think Tatsumi’s pheromones must have gotten onto you while you slept and your body reacted from prolonged exposure and your own upset over your friend’s state”
Maki had never heard of such a thing. He knew alphas could and would get territorial… Had Tatsumi gotten territorial? Maybe because he’d fallen asleep on him?
“Is that possible?”
“Highly likely. He would have been in a terrible emotional state yesterday. Alcohol, and stress can lower the potency of suppressants. Especially when the omega is compromised with mental distress. You probably had a good nights rest due to his leaking pheromones, and your body released pheromones in response. It’s purely biological and nothing to worry over”
Maki blinked half a dozen times. His brow drawn as it did. Doctor Kim had said omega… but Tatsumi was an alpha… unless Tatsumi wasn’t an alpha… If Tatsumi was releasing pheromones… and his pheromones… Tatsumi was an omega? No. He’d ruled that out before… and he was pretty sure he couldn’t ask Doctor Kim to go back and repeat themself again. Then again… Tatsumi never came into the alpha dorm when they walked back together and he’d never bumped into him in there without Skylark around... and they always met outside… Why had never asked Tatsumi why he saw him off. The alpha jumping as the doctor clicked their fingers in front of him
“Mister Sato?”
No. He needed time to… to think. He felt like he was learning this for the first time, but strangely he also didn’t?
“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. What was the question?”
“If you would like the injection or not. I’m assuming you have a mate, or at least a lover?”
Maki wished he’d remained ignorant to the question
“Uh, no… No”
Doctor Kim’s eyes widened in surprised
“I thought a young alpha such as yourself would have left a trail of broken hearts behind you. I only ask as it may affect your love life for the next few days if you do. Before you move, I’m going to take a quick sample from your gland, it’s just a swab test”
Maki didn’t care if it affected his love life, as long as he could pilot. Still, he felt ashamed as he answered
“I don’t have a love life… I’m not even sure what it means to be in love”
Doctor Kim gave a light chuckle
“There’s plenty of time for all of that. When the right person comes along, you’ll feel it”
That didn’t make logical sense. Li was falling in love every other day
“How do you know you’re in love?”
His Doctor went about opening a swab packet, humming lightly before answering
“Well, that person makes you happy, and you want to make them happy too”
Maki snorted
“That doesn’t sound right. I’m happy for my best friend but I’m not in love with him. Are you in love Doctor?”
“Ah, that’s a different type of love with friends. You can love your friends like a family and platonically. It’s that feeling you get when you see them, or when you get a message and you rush to reply. You get anxious and mad, sometimes you don’t understand why. It doesn’t necessarily start by wanting to kiss them or mate. It can be slow and gradual. Or it can be love at first sight and you make a fool of yourself. That’s how it was for me and Doctor Poaw. I fell hard and made an utter fool of myself. I wanted to shut up, and stop saying embarrassing things, but I couldn’t stop myself. Then there’s being in love. It’s anxiety, dependency, stress, jealousy, happiness, longing, contentment, fear, pushing and pulling, commitments, joy, sorrow, every emotion you experience by their side and the constant surprise of what comes next. But, it’s worth it because you work it out together in the end and come through stronger together. Love is acceptance. I guess that’s how I’d say it. You accept that neither of you are perfect beings and you handle it together”
Love sounded complicated… love also sounded a lot like how Maki felt when he was with Tatsumi. He couldn’t love his babysitter… so why did so many things align? Was it because Doctor Kim turned into an idiot, the way Li did, when talking about the person they loved?
“You research people are weird”
Having swabbed his gland while explaining, Doctor Kim placed his sample into a tube
“Maybe a little. You’re a bright alpha, and a good friend to our Tatsumi. Now there’s a man who’d never know how to say he loved someone. It’d be all mech parts and technical training”
“I’ve been told that before”
“It’s true. Poor man, if only he’d find a mate and let himself be happy. No, I’m not going to talk about that, you’re completely right about it being inappropriate without his expressed permission. Thank you for being there for him last night, it would have been hard for him to open up, so I’m glad you didn’t turn him down”
There was too much going into Maki’s brain for his brain to keep braining. He felt dumb replying
“Friends are there for friends”
Doctor Kim smiled brightly, moving on to fetching the promised injection
“That’s very true. Many of the bonds made here last a lifetime. Now, no piloting today. Not for 36 hours. Monitor your moods, temperature and glands. Don’t feel embarrassed if you suddenly feel sexual urges, it’s natural. If you feel the shot hasn’t worked, come back to me, okay? We can organise something else, or a sleep pod for your rut”
That was well and good. Maki knew he should be upset given his precious Erebus would have to wait, but there was something more important
“You… you won’t tell Tatsumi, right? He’ll be upset if he knows it was his pheromones”
“Doctor patient secrecy is a magical thing. If you don’t want to tell him, that’s your business”
“And you won’t put it in my file? If the principal finds out I might not be able to compete”
He also faced Tatsumi figuring it out and he didn’t want that. He needed to deal with everything else first in his head, like how he felt about the fact Tatsumi was an omega
“I’ll keep it out, all it will say is you presented with a low grade fever and I prescribed rest after giving you a shot for it. You’re the hope of our little research project team, they’d skin me alive if I prevented you competing”
Yeah, Maki could see that…
“Flo can be scary. I’m certain she still doesn’t like me”
“Flo? Oh, no. She’s all bark but not so much bite. No, Sara is the one you have to look out for, she’d sacrifice your internal organs if it got her an A. Dan isn’t much better”
Maki found himself smiling again, relieved Tatsumi wouldn’t find out that his pheromones had sent him into a prerut and relieved that Doctor Kim had a sense of humour
“I didn’t want to come here, but you’re much nicer than the school doctor”
“Aw, thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. Now, this will sting. Big sting, none of this little sting business”
Having to sit and wait half an hour after the injection, Maki didn’t know why he’d thought Tatsumi would have given up waiting. Leaning against the hallway wall, the man quickly abandoned his comms and stood properly as soon as he saw him. Maki suddenly didn’t have a single idea of how he was going to explain things without sounding as if he was lying. Tatsumi looked so worried and relieved at the same time, making it hard for the alpha to look his friend in the eye
“Maki, how’d you go?”
Doctor Kim patted Maki’s shoulder
“He’ll be just fine. Small fever and a little mental fatigue, so I’ve given him a shot. No piloting today and tomorrow, but he’ll be right as rain. I’ve told him he’s got to take it easy and come back if he feels worse, right, Maki?”
“Yeah, right… I’m not sure I want to come back, they shouldn’t let you loose with needles”
Doctor Kim hadn’t lied to him, it was a bloody big sting as the needle entered his left gland. Still, he wouldn’t go into rut and Tatsumi would have nothing to feel guilty over, so it was worth it. Doctor Kim laughed happily
“Your face really did make such an interesting expression. Take him back to his dorm, and make sure he goes straight to bed”
“Thanks, Suzu. I know your schedule is busy but I appreciate you making time for him”
“Nonsense. He’s just like someone else we know, never comes by on his own merit and dislikes needles. It was nice to talk to someone actually interested in their own health”
Tatsumi coughed as he ducked his head, changing topic away from Doctor Kim calling him out
“Let’s get you back to your dorm, Maki. I’ll notify Skylark and let him know you’re down with a fever. He’ll organise it with your teachers”
Doctor Kim swapped from the supportive hand on the shoulder to propelling him towards Tatsumi and out of the safety of the lab. He’d been betrayed at the final hour. The pair waved off
“Don’t forget to call. Or write. Or visit”
Tatsumi shook his head, the man ruffling Maki’s hair
“Let’s get you back to your dorm room. Homework can wait”
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I'm my mother's daughter
pairing: lee minho x fem!reader // ex!bang chan x fem!reader
song: miley cyrus - mother’s daughter
themes: fluff, angst, smut (+ general warnings below)
snippet: “No, seriously. I’m sorry that I upset you, and I’m sorry you had to see it.. to hear it. But I’m more sorry I ever had to, because you shouldn’t have. You didn’t deserve any of it. And if you thought for a second that anything you’ve done deserved any of that? Then I’m going to spend every day undoing that.. because it’s me and you now, okay? If someone has something to say about you, they’re saying it to me too. And that’s it.” 29k
general warnings: fem!reader struggles to get pregnant and does get pregnant; reader’s mother is dead; mentions/descriptions of mental health disorders: narcissistic personality disorder (reader’s mother), postnatal depression (only symptoms of; not diagnosed or treated; only talked out); reader’s mother is incorrectly diagnosed with: bipolar disorder, pathological lying); reader refers to chan as controlling (his actions) and he can be read as manipulative; mentions of low sperm count and infertility (insults referring to these are made); violence (a quickly ended fist fight); blood mention; arson mention; mention of fem!reader’s period; user dissociates a few times throughout fic; possible food/diet/weight related triggers in reference to pregnancy; game of thrones incest joke (one); christianity.
smut warnings: thigh riding, nipply play, fingering (f receiving); oral (m + f receiving); piv; cum eating; pregnant seggz happens.
a/n: ATTENTION: LEE MINHO IS A SOFT LOVER AND I WILL DIE ON THAT HILL. Also, this is me trying to prove to myself that someone can have good intentions, be the sweetest angel ever and still be the main antagonist of a story. With that being said… BANG CHAN HAS NOT A BAD BONE IN HIS BODY. GOODNIGHT. This was.. a lot. But also the best thing I have ever done and I hope you love it. Thank you if you do read it. Have a GREAT day.
0 MONTHS
“Y/N! Open the door!”
The first thing your mother taught about love was that it can’t fix everything. Of course she lied, your mother always lied. She lied about a whole manner of things, no matter how great or small. If she could lie about it, she would. Whether it be the tooth fairy, Saint Nicholas, the Easter bunny. Her string of pre, post and during extramarital affairs, the reason your father left, his real identity. That being said, you always believed her worst offence was her insistence that she ever really loved you, the lie easily slipping out between her dry, gnawed lips before a kiss goodnight, every wave goodbye. But you were wrong. Your mother’s most heinous offence was the first thing she ever taught you about love.
“Y/N,” his voice is soft now, almost soothing. You recognise that trick a mile away. Ears already numb, you dig the heel of your palms further into them, your eyes squished against your knees. “I didn’t mean what I said before. It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is your fault. So just- just come out so we can talk. Please?”
“Chan, just go!” You can feel him, his hands shaking the handle as he kneels at the sound of your voice. “Just- get out!”
“Y/N, please.” You think you might scream just to drown him out. Scream until you can’t anymore, scream until he gives up on you. But you’re no longer a kid, you’re an adult, and adults don’t scream just to be heard. “Just talk to me.”
Chan can’t take back what he said. About your mother, or your many failed attempts at becoming the very thing you feared being the most. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m the reason this isn’t working, you said so yourself-”
“I was wrong. I didn’t mean that, I was just angry. It’s not your fault-”
“What difference does it make?” He tries the door again when he hears you begin to cry, the handle stiff beneath his palm. “I can’t give you what you want, so just go.”
“What I want is you, Y/N. I love you.”
“Why? Just get out before it’s too late-” It even hurts to speak, your chest tight, throat dry as you think back to just minutes ago. “That’s what you want right? Then go!”
Your mother always lied.
Love can’t fix everything.
“I’m over this. I’m over trying- I’m over you! I’m done! So just- get out!”
Love can’t fix everything, love can’t fix a damn thing.
+
‘Breakup advice: Five foolproof tips for getting over your ex. Add your own in the comments down below.’ When the words glare up at you from your phone screen, you stiffen. As naturally as you can, you look around your empty, larger than usual apartment, wondering how your timeline just.. knew. Your eyes skim over the spot where Chan would usually sit, on the cream couch opposite, scouring prenatal care sites. You keep reading before the tiny well in your eyes swells into a full blown stream.
‘In the wise words of our Lord and Saviour: If you’re under him, you ain’t gettin’ over him.’ That was easy enough. Of late, the very idea of fucking Chan made you want to set yourself on fire on a regular day, let alone now. That’s not to say the sex wasn’t great before. It was. At times you thought Chan had your bodymap tattooed to the inside of his eyelids. He knew you like the back of his hand, right next to the entire arachnid family. That’s when you knew you had it bad: when Chan could go on for hours debunking all the myths about his beloved black widows, as if the conversation alone didn’t make you want to set yourself on fire. You wonder if there is a tip about how to stave off the sudden urge to commit self-arson when your eyes catch the time. As of eight minutes ago you have gone a full twenty-four hours without speaking to Chan. Not without great effort on your part. He has called too many times to count, your voicemail full to the figurative brim, pixels pouring out the sides of an imaginary, digital mailbox, his apologies tumbling out into the abyss.
‘As cliche as it sounds: Do some stretches! Stay healthy!’ You laugh aloud. You’re in better shape than you have ever been your entire life. You’re even bingeing on fruit bars and spoonfuls of peanut butter, too lazy to leave the house for any real junk food. Chan had you on a diet so strict, he cleared your cupboards of any and all food deemed remotely enjoyable. You remember a fight that ensued the day Felix called in a rage, asking why he had to hear from Jisung who heard from Changbin that you and Chan were trying for a baby, after the anything but subtle Chan asked the sports nutritionist of all people for a prenatal diet ‘for a friend’. Chan even went as far as cancelling any date nights that meant so much as driving by a fast food place, and considering your apartment building was wedged between a bakery and an Italian place, you weren’t too surprised when he started cooking for date night. Damn those prenatal care sites.
‘*Trigger warning to those without a bath tub* Fill that puppy to the brim and give yourself a good soak! You deserve it!’ This one is less a tip, but rather a need. It should go without saying that too lazy to leave the house went as far as not bathing. In fact, you’re still in your outfit from the night before. It had been date night and to Chan’s credit, he covered your eyes as he guided you off the temptation plagued street before taking you to an ice-cream parlour. To Chan’s discredit, he hadn’t said the ice-cream there sucked. It’s what started the argument, why you weren’t up for sex on sex night - which, bar the few fleeting days of your period, was every other day without fail for the last six months. Anyway, the ice-cream sucked. Of course this escalated, Chan’s positive and down right aggravating facade crumbling as you kept complaining. You think it’s a defence you’ve always had, projecting. You learned it from your mother. It wasn’t her fault the tooth fairy didn’t visit, but yours because the poor thing couldn’t get the tooth out from under your big head. It wasn’t her fault you didn't have money for college, but yours for thinking you could afford to go in the first place. It wasn’t her fault your dad left, but yours - for not being his to begin with.
‘Step one: Pick up that phone; Step two (unless you’re using your phone to read this, then wait until after you finish): Call your bestie.. bestie!’. You haven’t found the courage to call Felix yet. Instead, you count down the seconds until Chan finally caves, accepting that maybe you’re serious about your breakup and does the job for you. You can picture it now, Felix’s sweet concern pouring through the receiver, overpowering his anger for being the last to know everything. His soothing voice drowned out by his laboured breaths as he sprints straight to your apartment. It might make you feel better, you think, seeing Felix. It would feel better than spending the night wallowing in self pity, in your own filth. It might even fix the ache in your chest, having someone hold you that wasn’t doing it just to put a baby in you on the day an app told them to. The idea quickly evolves into an action as you decide to call him. But then your door knocks, making you give your apartment another once over.
“I swear to God, if Felix is at the door I’m checking for bugs,” you mutter threateningly, though a little bit hopeful.
‘Hey.” The thought of Chan being on the other side of the door crosses your mind a few seconds too late when you’re met with someone who isn’t your bleach blonde best friend. Though disappointed, you’re still relieved it isn’t Chan. “Chan here?”
“No.” Even with all the time you have spent crying over him these past twenty four hours, you still hadn’t said his name aloud. Hearing it jars you in a way you can’t ignore. And neither can he.
“You good?”
Concern isn’t a word you would attach to Lee Minho. Though you’re not sure of many you would. You don’t know him as well as one would know one of their boyfriend’s best friends, though you used to. Kind of. You all went to college together, once you took out a loan the same cost as a suburban house deposit. Funnily, you had met Minho first. Though initially an unusual choice of friend for your childhood best friend, you met him at Felix’s first dance showcase. Described by the entire dance team as the Terpsichore of their squad, the then Sophomore’s abilities really hadn’t been exaggerated. Minho danced like his namesake willed it. The only solo of the night, Minho moved like his feet were at the piano’s command, music flowing through him as he glided across the stage, memory alone guiding his steps. As if the dance were embedded in his very bones, his muscles twitching from the tension but soothed by his skill.
You never said so. You never got the chance. He was an ass then, and he’s an ass now.
“Oi!” It took Minho’s hand waving in your face to realise he was still standing there, waiting for a response. When you just blink, staring at him, he sniffs in obvious exasperation. “Did he say when he’d be back?”
“He won’t be.” You say stupidly, though you only realise this when his brows knit, rushing to add- “For a while. He won’t be back for a while.”
“Okay.” There’s another stare off before he sighs. “Do you even know why I’m here?”
A lie rests on the tip of your tongue before you bite it back. You promised yourself a very long time ago that you would never be like your mother, that though lies never hurt in the moment, they did in the long run. But then again, you have just spent the last few months of your relationship pretending. And everyone knows the difference between a lie and pretend is imagination, which you think you have plenty of. You think you might comment a tip of your own: ‘Do all the things you wanted to before your ex came and ruined everything.’
“Of course,” you nod, giving him a once over you see the huge tool kit he has by his feet. “To fix the..”
“..the coffee machine.”
“The coffee machine! Yes! Of course!” Moving aside, you let him in, missing how his eyes linger on you as he removes his shoes. Following him to your kitchen, again, you realise seconds too late what you’re sure Minho knows too. You don’t have a coffee machine.
Chan sent him.
When he places, or rather drops Chan’s industrial tool kit on your laminate floor, you glare at him as he turns to face you. “Minho, if you’re here to talk about Chan, you might as well leave-”
“I’m not.” He says simply, removing his jacket as he stares into your red rimmed eyes. “I’m here to babysit.”
You wonder why the word irks you. Less because you know he means you, more because that could- or rather should be a reason he’s here one day. But it won’t be. “Chan sent you to babysit me?”
“Not his exact words,” his voice is muffled by your cupboards, cupboards he is scouring for anything remotely tasty. You wonder who's going to tell him. “But he might as well have- why do you guys always have such shit food?”
“Minho, go home.”
“Can’t do that.” Squatting with only a dancer’s ease, he continues his futile search before reaching for his phone. “Chan’s weeping kept me up all night. And I’ve heard you cry, you’re not nearly as loud- want anything?” Shoving his phone in your hand, he walks around you and out of the kitchen. Looking at the screen, you see a delivery app open. You never thought to order in. You never do.
Just then, you hear the television in the other room and think you might scream.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Entering your living room, you find him lounged on the opposite end of your couch, his feet on the dent your body had made. “You’re not staying here.”
“Look,” he starts, spitting out the bite he took of your fruit bar. “He tried calling Felix but he’s not picking up and thought it’s because he’s here. But evidently-” he declares, waving his hands around your empty apartment. “He’s not. And you’re clearly in no state to be alone.”
“I’m fine.”
“Right,” he says, grabbing his phone out of your hands and eyeing the app. “And you also didn’t almost cry when I said his name earlier- pick something, I’m not picking for you.”
“I ate already..” Minho isn’t a particularly intimidating person once you get to know him. But given how little you do, you roll your eyes before taking the phone back and adding food. You won’t deny your excitement. It would be your first takeout in a while. Your first unhealthy, unplanned meal for months. You stave off thoughts of what that was meant to mean before. When you’re done he reads through it before looking up. “What?”
“Is that it?” When you nod, he shrugs, probably adding on some extra sides for good measure. It’s a few more seconds before he realises you’re still watching him, unmoving. “You gonna sit?”
“You’re in my seat.”
“No,” he says, pointing at the stretch of emerald beside him. “That’s your seat.” Glaring at him, you wonder whether it’s worth a fight. You decide against it. You’ve got no fight left. It’s suddenly quiet, minus the sound of the show on the television. Until Minho ruins it, of course. “It’s on its way.”
Ignoring him, you keep your eyes on the screen, taking nothing in. All you can think is how does he do it? Chan. How has he found a way to be controlling from all the way across town?
“Where’s Felix?” You nearly jump, his voice loud in the otherwise silent space. “Why isn’t he here?”
“Not everyone goes crying to their best friend after a breakup.”
“Don’t let Jisung hear you say that,” he laughs, unperturbed. “But a breakup you say?”
“Sorry,” you mock. “I know you’re not familiar with the term. It happens at the end of a relationship. Should I explain that one too?”
“Oh, I know about those,” you hate that he’s enjoying this because you know he’s goading you. “I just know he’s not calling it that.”
You also hate how good he is at it. “What is he calling it?”
“A misunderstanding.”
“A what?” Minho might regret saying that. No, actually he does, especially when your eyes start to fill with hateful tears, your nails nearly cutting your palms. “A misunderstanding?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he tell you what he said to me?” You nearly cry, seething at the idea of Chan belittling what was meant to be the end of your almost six year relationship. “A misunderstanding? There was no misunderstanding! Does he think I’m stupid? A misunderstanding? How can I misunderstand when he kept saying it to make sure I didn’t fucking misunderstand?” You turn to see Minho watching you, his face expressionless bar the growing concern behind his eyes, sprinkled with a pinch of fear. “I have tried- for months, months- to give that prick what he wanted. Months! Months of no drinking, no smoking, no nothing! Months of fucking crystals and fish oils, and vitamins, of- of counting calories, of dieting! Of his constant nitpicking, months of lying, of being blamed, being babied, of being a fucking sex doll! Months of fucking hating my life!”
“Hey, I’m sorry I-”
“And he calls it a misunderstanding!”
“Y/N!” He’s on one knee in front of you at this point, hands on your shoulders. He has to shake you a little bit, his eyes wide as he stares right into yours. They’re streaming, right down your cheeks into your lap. It’s quiet for a while after, his hands awkwardly squeezing your shoulders as you pant, your body weak from a full day of barely moving to such an intense excursion of energy. When he raises his brows in silent ask, you nod, watching him stand before he quietly asks- “You been outside today? D’you need some air?”
Grabbing his coat, he pats his pockets as he waits by your kitchen door. You don’t say anything, you just sigh and get up, leading the way to your fire escape. Unlatching the kitchen window, he climbs out first, moving along to make room for you. When he moves to shimmy the window back down, you almost yell when he rushes- “This isn’t my first time, chill,” before wedging a broken piece of wood in the gap. Digging around his pockets, he explains- “You guys have alright parties but I’m not doing two flights of stairs just for a cigarette.”
Eyeing the cigarette he offers you, you’re hesitant as you take it. As much as you hated Chan when he suggested you quit, stopping was one of the only choices you don’t regret making. “You’re smoking again?” You’re not sure why it surprises you so much. Minho smoked in college, not often sure, but often enough to deem him a smoker. You hadn’t seen him smoke since he graduated though, when he took up dancing professionally. So the sight is slightly jarring.
“Not really,” the wind blows when he sparks up, so you cup your hands to protect the flame. “Cheers- I just have them for when I’m stressed.”
“Oh.” He lights yours with far more ease, pocketing his lighter when you ask- “So, you’re stressed?”
“No, I just haven’t slept in twenty four hours.” He says, staring out at the street below. Taking another drag, the smoke billows in the wind when he admits- “And I’m not having this for me.”
“I’m not stressed.” You see his raised brow from your peripheral, forcing you to add- “I’m angry.”
It’s silent for a moment before he reluctantly asks- “Do you want to talk about it?”
You’re not dumb. You know whatever you say will go straight to Chan. “Not particularly.”
“Okay.” It’s silent for another moment before he adds- “You can if you want. I won’t tell him.”
“Sure.”
“Seriously,” and to his credit, he does sound serious. Which is another word you wouldn’t attach to him. Minho wasn’t a serious guy. Sure he looked it, while dancing, while listening, while doing.. anything really. Actually, based on first looks alone, you wouldn’t think Minho was anything but. You forget your point when he speaks again. “Look, I know he’s my friend, but if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”
Chewing your lip, you consider it. But this is Chan’s friend, one of his best. He’s at his house for god’s sake. They’d been friends a whole lot longer than you’d even known them. What loyalty does he owe you?
“Plus, you’re quite scary when you’re angry,” he admits. Tempting, you think, but not enough. “And..”
“And what?”
Straightening his back, he stands, leaning over the railing, he looks down onto the street. Voice slightly muffled by the light traffic below, he sighs. “I’ve been trying for years and I still haven’t gotten under your skin. So if Chan can do all that-” he pauses to nod his head towards your kitchen, to your living room more specifically. “In a few months? I wanna know about it.”
“And what?” You scoff, feeling light headed as you take a long drag. “Take notes?”
“No.” Looking at him, you see something new. Annoyance. Though you think it might be misdirected when he continues- “So I can check him for it.”
You stare at him for a second. A long one. Or it feels that way as he holds your gaze, letting you decide whether you trust him or not. You decide you do, even if it’s on Felix’s merit alone. At least that’s what you tell yourself.
“We’re- we were- Chan and I. We were trying for a baby.” He doesn’t seem surprised, but you reckoned he knew as much. Every other fucker did. “It has been a while since we started,” you lie. Well, not exactly. It has been a while, but ‘a while’ suggests you don’t know how long. You do. You always counted the days in your head whenever Chan said something that made you want to quit. “And it hasn’t been working. I had enough.”
“Right.” Ashing out his cigarette, he reaches for a manky tea cup before offering it to you. “And that started the fight?”
“No,” you laugh. “The shitty ice-cream did.”
“Right..” Watching you oddly, he asks- “How?”
“Well, I was just sick of everything. So I said, ‘is this our life now? Shit sex and ice-cream’?” You laugh when he does, joining him at the railing. “I couldn’t do a thing for myself anymore. It was like I went from a mother who didn’t give a fuck to one who did, in every sense of the word. I was suffocating. So I said enough.”
When you don’t say anything more, he turns to you. “But what did he do?”
“Nothing.. bad bad. Just- said things I didn’t like. About me, my mom..” You swallow, realising you don’t ever talk about her to anyone. Barely to Felix, even less to Chan. Because even with as little as he knew, he still managed to weaponise it. “She was bipolar, lied a lot. She wasn’t a terrible mom, just shouldn’t have been one. I guess it’s made me feel like.. like maybe I shouldn’t either. Like all our issues was a sign of that. That’s what upset him. That I wasn’t looking at it how he was, that I wasn’t letting go of that, wasn’t believing everything would work. And I said because I didn’t. I don’t. Not anymore. I was done trying, and the worst bit is it wasn’t because of my mom, or me, or anything else making me want to stop. Just him.”
You don’t realise you’re crying until the wind blows because it’s sharp, like little knives to the cheek. Minho doesn’t say anything for a while. What is there to say? You think what Felix would say were he here. ‘Babe.’ It always started like that. He wouldn’t mention you not telling him. Felix wasn’t like that, not when you needed him. He’d just hold you. Chan would do the same once upon a time, words tumbling out of his mouth to calm you down, bring you back to him. Your mother? She never saw you cry. You never let her.
But Minho? What will Minho say? Something funny maybe, something about your poor taste in men and his likewise poor taste in friends. You’ll probably correct him, ‘you know Felix, you prick’, to which he’d agree, before reminding you he said ‘friends’ as in, in general, not all.
But he doesn’t. He just says- “I’m glad you did that.”
To which you say- “What?”
Zipping up his jacket, he shrugs. “What what? I’m glad. No one should do something they don’t want to, especially something so serious. And whether you’re to ‘blame’ or not, whether he’s sorry or not, what he said was wrong. Deal with your shit in your own time, it’s not up to anyone else, not even you. If it was, you wouldn’t be so unhappy.”
Blinking at him, you watch him look away. You both stay like this for a while, a long while, letting the cold air bite your skin as you bask in the night air. An unpeaceful peace.
“Oh,” Minho says, digging his phone out. “Foods here.”
+
It wasn’t spring rolls or prawn toast Minho was adding. It was booze.
Though maybe he should have, because he did say for you not to touch his extra order of vegetable chowmein, before giving up after thirty long minutes of your annoying pleas, and now you’re feeling all kinds of tipsy. You’re both only a bottle and a half of red wine deep, but you hadn’t drank in a while. Which explains why the sight of him on your upholstered couch doesn’t bother you as much as it did before. You also don’t know how you got onto the topic of your diet plan, but he’s cringed from start to end.
“So, wait-” forgoing his glass, Minho reaches for the bottle, drinking straight from it. “You’re telling me, you couldn’t eat steak?”
“Not unless it was well done. But who’s-”
“Who’s eating that?”
“I know. Yeah, he didn’t let me do a lot. Which is crazy because I wasn’t even pregnant, and I was like, ‘can I do nine months of this?’”
“Of what?”
“I’ve been eating like an olympian for the last six months. You know, I can’t even look at Changbin without wanting to scream. Which is unfair but you know what else is? I have muscles in my jaw, Minho. My jaw, from biting my tongue every time I heard ‘Changbin said’. One time I was just gonna ask if Changbin wanted to join us one evening. Make sure he wasn’t fucking me wrong.” Minho splutters at that, but you’re on a roll. “No word of a lie! One time, I’m geared up, you know? I’m ready to go, actually in the mood for once and this idiot goes- ‘Oh! Changbin said..’ while he’s fucking sliding in.. and I’m like, you know what, he might as well fuck Changbin seeing as he loves him so much.” If you stopped then, you reckon that would’ve been fine. But it’s not the first time you didn’t stop something you thought wasn’t right before unthinkingly adding- “By this point, I was already imagining other people, he was this close to sticking Changbin’s face up there and I couldn’t imagine you guys while fucking, what if I said your names?”
By now, Minho has mopped up as much red wine as he possibly could without you noticing, but even if he hadn’t he’d have stopped at that, watching your face quickly disappear behind your empty glass. “So what..” he starts, question forming as he goes. “If you- if you weren’t scared you’d moan our names you’d do it? Imagine us?”
A bit slower on the uptake than usual, you still clock on. He’s goading you. You know it. He’s looking for a reaction.
The issue is, what reaction is it? Does he want to embarrass you? Or get under your skin?
You could never tell with him.
So you do what feels most natural. Most true to you.
With a shrug, you quickly snatch the bottle before he can, refilling your glass carefully as you eye the mess you watched but ignored him make. “Yeah.”
Minho always had no tells. You realise nothing has changed while you watch him wait for the bottle, taking a long sip before asking- “Who?”
Your shrug is less natural this time, you can feel it in the stiffness of your back. Your words are even less so. “I dunno.” You take an emergency sip, before adding- “Hyunjin’s cute.”
Hyunjin is a natural first. Who wouldn’t want to fuck Hyunjin?
“He is.” Minho agrees, staring blankly at you. When he doesn’t say anything more, you feel the urge to continue. To keep proving him wrong.
“And Seungmin,” you admit, thankfully a little less timid, though you think the drink is to thank for that. “I don’t think I’ve got a type, but I dated a lot of guys like him before Chan.”
“Like him how?”
You don’t shrug this time in fear you might get stuck that way. “Just chill. I feel like he matches my vibe.”
Minho nods at that, watching as you down the last of the wine. It’s quiet when you see him remember something. Something you too remembered. Something that if you had remembered sooner, you reckon you would have steered clear of Seungmin’s name the whole night.
“Wasn’t there this time you said,” Fuck. “And I quote-” Double fuck. “‘How are you two so alike, yet I don’t want to punch Seungmin everytime he opens his mouth?’”
“Cute that you remember.”
“Cute you think I’d forget.”
“Remind me why you’re in my house again?”
“I’m babysit-” The joke ends as soon as he cuts himself off. All of it. The banter, the light mood. The term wouldn’t have bothered you this time. It wouldn’t be personal, it wouldn’t be a dig, it’d just be a word. But when you see concern flash over his eyes, you feel them coming. Tears. Hot tears. Hateful tears. “Hey, I’m sorry-”
“No, it’s fine-”
You don’t think you have ever hugged Minho. Not once. Of course, you have seen him hug everyone else, but you pitied them all, even going as far as refusing to hug Felix after he did so. It wasn’t only something you had never imagined happening, but something you never once imagined needing. But even though you deny it, you have always craved attention, or rather affection. You realise this as soon as you’re engulfed by him, finding it impossible to forget him and just focus on the feeling. His arms aren’t as big as Chan’s, and they aren’t as slim as Felix’s, Minho’s resting at a happy middle. They’re.. good. The hug feels good in the way Chan’s feel safe, and the way Felix’s are affectionate. It feels good, though fleeting. As if you don’t need them around you forever but just long enough to make you feel good, feel better.
Minho holds you like he will for as long as you need.
And he does. Some time passes as Minho just cradles you in his arms, sitting there, limp though gripping as you cry, a palm firmly rubbing up and down your spine. It’s surreal in a way, how fast things change. How one day, Minho was the elusive friend of a friend, then suddenly your anchor. A stranger at times yet so familiar too. How he could be the last person you look for in a room, though the safest place when you need him to be. Like now, as he slowly purges you of all anguish, with nothing but his touch.
Minho holds you like he will for as long as you need. Which is about ten minutes, your warm tears soaking his shirt through to the skin. You can imagine the feeling, the discomfort. It’s what pulls you together, sniffling as you rest your head on his firm chest.
“You did that on purpose,” when you feel him stiffen beneath you, imagining his defensive face, you clarify- “You obviously just wanted to make a move.”
You relax when he does, his words wedged between a scoff. “You act like I have shame,” pulling away from him, you look up to find him smirking. “Like I need an excuse-”
Only then do your eyes meet, his full of guarded concern, yours red, wet, tired. He’s close, close enough to see where the warmth in your iris’ end, and the red begins. When he doesn’t waver, just holding your gaze, you clear your dry throat, thinking of something to assuage the awkward air.
“I’m gonna go shower,” you say suddenly, throwing yourself off the couch. “Get ready for bed.”
“Cool.”
+
When you return, you find him sitting in the same place, your dent more or less gone. Your eyes almost meet when he looks up from his phone, yours still focused on the spot over his shoulder, a question forming.
Where would he sleep? The obvious answer is the couch, but would he be comfortable? ‘What choice does he have?’, you ask yourself. ‘It wasn’t me who displaced him-’
“I’m not-” again, you have to stop yourself jumping when he speaks suddenly, his spine straight, face unreadable. “I’m not.. texting anyone if that’s what you’re-”
“What?” His sudden assurance comes at an odd time, especially when the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. “I-I didn’t.. I wasn’t thinking that.” He raises a brow, locking his phone before he tosses it aside, waiting. “I was just thinking where you’d sleep.”
“Oh.” When you look at him, you think he’s- and it could be a trick of the light but.. he’s blushing. Was he being defensive? He couldn’t have been. Not for no reason. But if he thought you were accusing him, maybe he was worried.. offended? Maybe concerned. He doesn’t give you more time to think when he clears his throat, ‘solving’ the issue. “Well, here’s fine.. though Chan is in my bed, so I would think an eye for an eye-”
“And I would think I missed the part where that’s my problem,” you hum with a faux pout, pointing a thumb down the hall. “Come, I’ve got pillows and stuff.”
Groaning, he still stands and follows you to the end of the hall, watching as you open a door to the tiniest nook you call your utility room. It’s nothing exciting. Just a washer, dryer, sink and storage. Swinging a little cupboard door open, you reach for two pillowcases and pass them to him. Stepping up onto the nearest machine to the wall, you grab two pillows and a blanket from a little gap in the wall you’d stuffed them in. When you move to sit, you feel his hands hovering by your hips, steadying you. “I got it,” you say, sitting before taking a pillow case from him.
“I didn’t know this existed,” he says, a little too loud for the small room.
“We call it Felix’s room,” you joke, remembering when you first dubbed it that, imagining him one day haunting the small room, kindly turning the pillow case outside-in for future owners. When he just stares at you, you huff. “You don’t think he looks a bit like a cat?”
“No.”
“Whatever.” Looking at a little corner by the dryer, you explain- “When I first got this place, I always pictured a litter box tucked in right there.”
“You like cats?” He asks, watching you nod. “Why don’t you get one?”
“Chan’s not a fan..” when he raises a brow, you laugh. Oh yeah. It feels awkward for just a second before you remember- “You have a cat right?”
“Yeah,” he nods with a smile, trading you the second pillow case for the first pillow. “Three.”
“Three?” You don’t realise you’re smiling until he tilts his head. Shaking your head, intrigued by the softness on his face, you quietly mumble- “That’s sweet. I didn’t expect that.”
“You’re not the first person to say that.”
“What?” Aghast, you ask mockingly, “You mean there are other people who don’t think you’re a cat person?”
“Har har”, hitting you with the pillow before he looks around the room, he points out- “It’s really warm, mine would love it in here.”
“Stop, you’re tempting me.”
“Why not?” He shrugs. “What’s stopping you?”
What is stopping you? Not Chan.. though you’re not sure the two are unrelated.
“I guess it’s just a bit.. weird,” explaining as you roll your neck- “You know, downgrading from a kid to a cat.”
“Downgrade.” He scowls with an eye roll. “Sure.”
“I take it you’re a cat dad?”
Shrugging again, he agrees kind of shyly. “Basically. Feels like having kids sometimes.”
“That’s cute.”
“Woah,” when you look at him, he’s smirking. “Sweet and cute. Stop flirting with me.”
“Shut up, that’s not how I flirt.” When his eyebrows raise, you roll your eyes. “I’m more of a tease,” you explain, straightening out the pillow in your lap. “I like making them think I hate them.”
“Hm.”
It’s quiet for a second before you realise what you’ve said. What you’ve confessed to.
“What?”
“What what?” Finally hitting him back, he jumps out the way, laughing. “What? I didn’t say anything. Don’t get mad at me because you admitted you’ve been flirting with me for the last six years.”
“As if!”
“Then what would you call it?”
“Not flirting!” When he just laughs harder, you groan. “And you’re one to talk! You did it back!”
Then, like the most casual, simplest thing in the world, he says- “That’s ‘cos I liked you.”
You blink. “What?”
He shrugs. “I liked you, before obviously.”
“Before what?”
“Before you and Chan.” You blink hard, silently urging him to continue. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. Felix did.”
“He did?”
When he shrugs again, you realise something that would’ve helped you these past six year. You might both have the same tell. He’s shy. “I mean- it was nothing. Left as quick as it came.”
“Which was how long?”
“Dunno,” looking around the room, he counts the dates on an invisible calendar. “A few months.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” At that, Minho looks at you like you’re an idiot. “Ah, right.”
He wants to say Chan. You almost laugh. Maybe Chan is the ghost that’ll one day haunt this room.
“Well, you should’ve.” You say. “Things could’ve been different.”
“You say that now..” When he laughs, you frown in confusion, making him roll his eyes. “Come on, you fell hard for the guy.” That is true. What you could contest is what he says next. “No one could compete.”
“You don’t know that..”
Crickets.
“..You were flirting, weren’t you?”
“No.” You say, averting your eyes when you add- “I mean not- not the whole time. That’s just how we were, you know?”
“Sure.”
“You’re annoying.”
You always knew how small this room was. But only now do you notice just how small when you recognise the warmth on your legs is his body pressed to your knees as he places the other pillow on your lap.
“You say that.. but I wasn’t the one flirting with you.”
“Yes you were!”
“But you did it first.”
“I didn’t!”
When he just laughs at you, a smile lingering, you hit him. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just flirting.” You want to scream, because you know he doesn’t mean before. He means the whole time. “I mean, if it was just flirting like you say..” When you don’t say anything, you groan at the smug look on his face. “I knew it.”
“Well if you knew, then why didn’t you say anything?”
“I already told you why.” Chan. The ghost haunting this conversation. When he doesn’t say anything for a while, you wonder aloud if Felix was the only one who knew.
“Did Chan know?” Met with further silence, you blanch. “He knew?”
Coming to his friend’s defence, he shrugs. “I dunno. I mean I reckon he must have had a clue, I talked about you a lot.”
“You did?” You watch him force a glare at the softness in your voice.
“Only bad things of course.” He adds for good measure, visibly pleased by your timely eye roll. “But..” he starts looking away. “I never talk about anyone.. so yeah.”
All press is good press you guess.
“Wow.” Chan knew Minho liked you. And he still went there. “Well he’s not a very good friend is he?”
Minho just shrugs again. “I would’ve done the same.”
“Really?”
“Have you seen you?”
What is happening?
“What do you mean?”
He doesn’t shrug fully this time, you can see him stopping himself. Oh he’s definitely shy. “I mean just that. You’re-” Oh, he is so shy. “Stop fishing for compliments.”
“It’s hardly fishing if you’re just handing them out.”
Tongue in his cheek, he nods, “Right. Speaking of hand outs..” He’s fully resting on you now, folded arms on the pillows in your lap. “If I asked you out back then, would you have said yes?”
You feel yourself warm as he watches your lips. How the words start then stop forming, how your tongue rests on the back of your top incisors, the ‘no’ struggling to materialise. Why should I lie, you have to ask yourself. Though you can hear your mother’s unusually righteous voice urging you to do so. “Yeah, I would’ve.”
Still staring at your mouth, looking annoyingly pleased by this, he says- “Guess I shoulda done then.”
“Guess you should’ve.”
Aside from your hug earlier, this is the closest you have ever been to Minho without your fist swinging into his arm. Now, and in the insanely warm room you’re both in, you can almost feel his breath on your lips. “Guess I lost my chance.”
That holds weight and rightly gives you immediate pause. He guesses? Is he saying it as in the chance is lost, or is he checking? Is he even serious? Is this Minho taking a joke too far? Is this Minho goading you? Or.. or is this Minho finally taking that chance?
Why should I lie?
“Yeah..” you swallow, eyes on his. You have to clench your fists to stop from trembling when you find his eyes still stuck on your parted lips. “I guess.”
“You guess?” He hums, finally looking up just as your eyes fall. “Or you know?”
Oh. He is definitely taking that chance.
It’s silent for what feels like hours before you breathe- “I guess.”
So. Today, you have gone from avoiding being around Minho for longer than a few minutes at a time, to letting him stay in your home, to hugging him, to kissing him.
And while that seems like a misstep on your part, you can’t find it in you to care. Not when for the first time in what feels like years, someone is kissing you just to kiss you. Just because they want to.. because they want you.
And it’s nice. It isn’t rushed, or urgent, it’s just a kiss. It’s oddly gentle, Minho always seeming like the clashing teeth, bitten lips kind of guy. It jars you how slow his kiss is, how timed it is. As if he’s waited years for it. And then you remember he has. Minho liked you first. Before you ever got with Chan. Maybe before you ever met Chan. Seconds pass like this, his lips moving against yours, his breaths shallowing when you lean into him, your hand on his jaw. You nearly mewl when he hums into it, his tongue licking a slow stripe along the seam of your lips, sliding it in before you finally push the pillows onto the dryer, letting his arms wrap around your waist.
Now would be a good time to stop, to regroup. Realise what you were both doing. You - making out with your ex’s best friend. Minho - making out with his best friend’s ex.
But you don’t. You just let him pull you closer, pressing your chest to his, a hand pressed flat to the top of the machine, leaning his body over yours as he moves his lips to your jaw, pressing them down your neck before sucking. He grins against your skin when you whine, your hips rising up to his, your thighs stuck either side of his.
“What do you want?” He breathes over the cool spot he’d left on your neck. Laughing when you just grind into him again, nearly keening, he repeats- “Tell what you want, I’ll give it to you.”
“I-” he places both his hands either side of your neck, thumbs stroking your jaw, silently coaxing the words from you though unknowingly pushing them down. “I just- I just want to-”
You try to think this through. What do you want?
On the most animalistic, instinctual level - you want to come. For the past six months, maybe more, you have just wanted someone, anyone, to give you the most mind blowing, limb numbing and hip breaking orgasm. You used to want it to be Chan. But now? Now, it could be the delivery guy who left what feels like hours ago now. So you think what’s wrong with it being Minho? What’s left of your sound mind is telling you that you know what’s wrong with that. It’s Minho. Lee Minho, Chan’s best friend. Chan, who you were devoted to. To the point you were prepared to put your whole life on pause to start a family with him, to spend the rest of your life with him.
On the same instinctual level - you wanted a family. You wanted everything Chan did. As a kid, it used to be with a faceless person, the boy down the street. Whenever you played together as kids, it was with Felix when the game suited. Him in a crooked, double knotted tie and oversized dress shirt, you in a stained and tattered white dress with a cushion stuffed under it.
On an emotional level - you just want to feel something. Anything.
What do you want?
“I want you.” You whisper, hoping he just gets it, hoping he just does it.
If he sees the tears forming in your eyes, he ignores them. He ignores them along with all the sirens screaming in his head, telling him this is not why he’s here. This is not why Chan sent him, this is not what Chan said when he meant to take care of you. He ignores that in favour of nodding, a small- “yeah?” falling from his lips as his fingers pinch the ties of your shorts. “In here?”
Where else? You hadn’t changed your bedding. It still smelt like Chan. It didn’t feel right.
“Living room.”
You don’t have to tell him not to go to Chan’s couch. You don’t think he knows the intricacies of your relationship to that level, you don’t think he cares. You just gasp when he drops you on your couch, the one you’d both spent the last few hours undoing all the wrong Chan did just to do some wrong of your own.
You - letting your ex’s best friend kiss a path down your jaw, neck, chest. His fingers slipping into the waistband of your untied shorts, dragging them down your thighs to your knees before trailing them back along the bare path. Minho - letting you, his best friend’s ex, knot your fingers in his hair, reeling as he groans against your skin, his lips sucking a path up the inside of your thighs. His tongue lapping at the sore skin, soothing it as he did the ache his best friend left in your core and chest.
There’s a second where your heart sinks, when you feel him hovering, lingering, praying his second of clarity assuages when the filthiest moan leaves you, his lips sucking gently around your clit.
Love can’t fix everything. But fucking might.
+
You wake up alone.
Fighting through the pounding in your head, you slap around the coffee table for your bleating phone, turning off the alarm before unlocking it, eyes squinting as they land on the final tip.
‘Finally, always remember the golden rule of breakups: The easiest way to get over someone, is to get under someone else!
You dislike the post.
2 MONTHS
Sixty seconds.
There are times when minutes pass like seconds.
During that one minute count of hide and seek at your rich cousin’s house. During that last minute of pregaming before the cab arrives. During the last minute before bedtime on the night before the summer break ends. During the last minute of your favourite band’s encore stage. During the last minute on the last day of the year. The list goes on. There are times you think it cruel, time. How it slows and speeds at its leisure, both just as torturous, as dreadful. Time always seems to fly by when you need it most, and drags when you don’t.
Like now.
“How long has it been?”
“Uh-“ with his mouth hung open, Felix taps his phone back to life before answering- “Three seconds.”
Fifty-seven seconds.
“And now?”
“Um- six.”
Fifty-four.
“What about-”
“Y/N.” Kneeling on the cool tiled floor, he lifts your head from where it rests in your palms, taking your clammy hands in his before offering them a gentle squeeze. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy.”
“Too late.” You whisper, dragging your eyes up to meet his. “It’s like- I feel like I’m going to be sick.. but I’m not sure if that’s because I’m so nervous or..” He follows your gaze down to your lap. Well, your belly to be exact. Your belly where your fate currently lies. “How long now?”
“Y/N..” He taps on his phone screen anyway, calling out forty-five seconds left on the timer before leaving it on the ceramic tub edge. “You have nothing to be nervous about, this is exciting!”
“For you maybe. Time?”
“Twenty.” Forty seconds. “Listen. You’re going to be a wonderful parent, Y/N. Come on, you have your own place, a growing little business, and I know you and your family aren’t that close-”
“Felix-”
“Twenty-eight seconds- but you have an amazing best friend-”
“No, it’s not that-”
“And a boyfriend who’s crazy about you.”
“Chan and I are done, Lix.” In the silence, you think you could hear Felix’s heart break again, the notion of true love dying behind his eyes everytime you say it. “We’re done and nothing is going to change that. I love Chan, I do, I just- I can’t be with him. Not anymore. Not after.. Not after everything that’s happened.”
‘Everything’ is a topic you and Felix have mixed views on. His view of it being the forgivable - though the jury is still out on whether Felix is the right person to deem it such - drunken night of sad, passionate sex you had with his friend. Your view being the one night stand you had with a now estranged Minho.
“I know that- Y/N, I know that. But this-” he pauses, pointing to the window ledge with the tests on “this might change things.”
“And if it can’t?” He almost argues when you groan- “Lix! What if it isn’t.. What if it’s his?” You don’t have to say it. He knows who he is. “If I- if I am pregnant? This baby is not going to change anything, okay? So can you just drop-”
You’re nearly thrown off the toilet seat by the jolt Felix’s alarm sends through you, his phone sliding into the tub as your bodies rise at the obnoxious bleat coming from it.
“Hey,” he whispers when your hands begin to shake, eyes welling as his fill with understanding. “I’m with you whatever happens.” Grabbing your hands, he smiles. “No matter what, okay?”
Sixty seconds seemed to drag right until you needed them. You think back on the other seconds you’d spent in this same position. Hoping, praying for the opposite of what you did today, only to go unanswered.
And why would today be any different?
You hear Felix muffle his gasp from over your shoulder, his hands landing on your shoulders as yours cradle the two tests.
Two positives.
It’s a funny time to, but you think back to religious studies. The cup of milk. You think back and wonder if maybe God had misheard you, maybe He was the one who misunderstood. Because, yes, this is what you wanted all those months ago. A baby, half yours, half Chan’s. With your warm eyes and his defined nose, dimpled smile. Tufts of tight curls, pointing out in all directions. Small wrinkled fingers clinging to yours. Healthy. Happy. All the things a parent wishes for their child. All the things you wished for yours.
All the things you still wish for.
“So.. do I say congratulations or..”
“I’m gonna be a mom.” You breathe, the pad of your thumb swiping over the two parallel lines. A baby. Your baby.
“Guess that means I should cancel our booking at Levanter this weekend, huh?” Felix jokes, giving your shoulders a small squeeze. When he feels the beginnings of a sob rip through you he coos, “Hey, come here.”
Just as you turn to hug him, you get interrupted, almost dropping the test when your doorbell rings, your eyes snapping to Felix who flinches under your glare. “Who is that?”
“I-I don’t know-”
“Who did you tell?”
“No one!” When the door rings again, the wood shaking under a pounding fist, he adds- “I mean, I may have mentioned it to Jisung when I was leaving- he asked where I was running off to and he swore he wouldn’t- I’m sorry!”
Slamming the bathroom door behind you, the incessant ringing drowns out Felix’s apology.
‘Calm down,’ you tell yourself. ‘It’s just Chan. Just- tell him the truth. Tell him you’re pregnant.’
‘Don’t tell him’. You ignore the haunting dissuasion from your mother’s voice as you swing the door open with a deep breath, but feel it catch when your eyes land on him.
“Is it true?”
Because it’s not him.
“Are you pregnant?”
It’s Minho.
“Is it mine?”
Sixty seconds. Where are they when you need them?
4 MONTHS
There’s an awkward air permeating Changbin’s apartment for a number of reasons.
The first being it’s your first time in a room with them all since you found out. After Felix told Jisung, the line of communication easily gets a little bit fuzzy. You know Jisung does wonders with a story, so you’re certain Felix’s quick bit of news was spun a hundred different ways before it finally reached the second point of contention.
Minho.
Minho who now stands beside Jisung, the two talking in low voices, the latter blatantly tilting his head towards you before the former follows. The second his eyes find you, they drop to your stomach, softening a touch before they find yours then look away. You wonder if you can blame Minho for this, because you’re the one who demanded he keep this a secret - though you’re unsure how well he did such - for a little while longer. But it’s hard to care abot that right now, especially when he’s the reason why the awkwardness is a trifecta.
Chan knows you’re pregnant because of him. Chan had heard some news regarding you going around, and now without a direct line of contact, his first port of call had been Changbin, who directed it to Jisung who - sworn to silence by Felix’s kind pleas and Minho’s threatening warning - couldn’t see a reason not to inform the most likely father of your child. So.. it wasn’t directly Minho’s fault but, you weren’t going to blame the self-titled godfather of your future child for this. And for someone so terrifying, you’d think Minho could handle keeping his best friend quiet.
You don’t need to see Chan to know he’s here. His eyes have been glued to you since you walked in, and the whisper of what can only be your no longer barely there, but rather definitely there baby bump seemed to come with senses to the most heightened level. You feel all the eyes on you, but most of all his as Felix holds his arm out to you, failing to guide you away from every watchful eye, around the drinks table and straight for the snack table.
Seungmin seems to be the only one without a sensor on you, displaying genuine surprise then elation at your arrival.
“Hey,” he says, holding his plate out to you. “Cucumber?”
“Thanks.” You stiffen when Felix leaves to grab two beers for them and a club lemon for you, the seconds following his departure ticking by slowly in your head. Seungmin, always more observant than most, seems to sense this, standing in a way that forces your eyes away from the room full of staring eyes. Relaxing a little, you ask earnestly- “How’ve you been? How’s freelancing treating you?”
“Good. Thanks to you,” he nods with a humble shrug. “I got a few weddings booked from spring through to summer which should keep me fed until winter at the very least.”
“Oh shit, that’s amazing! They all got back to you then?”
“Yep, they loved my portfolio, may need some extra help but Jeongin’s up for playing caddie for some free booze so-”
“Hey.” You can’t make yourself turn towards him, not when you see Seungmin’s eyes widen a touch, quickly searching for someone you assume is Felix before they find yours. He knows. “Sorry, Min. Can I borrow her for a minute?”
You have an excuse readied on your tongue when a body slips between you, a head of dirty blonde hair filling your vision. “Hey, I got you a drink.”
“Should she be drinking-”
“A coke?” Minho jokes, voice empty. “Yeah, I think she’s good.”
“Y/N,” Chan calls, glaring at the cup, easily ignoring his friend. “Can we talk?”
“I said she’s good.”
“Minho.” His eyes are unnaturally soft when they meet your hard ones. Soft for him at least. “I’m good.”
Following Chan to the backyard, you force a smile when he holds the messily scrawled and crookedly hung ‘Happy Birthday Hyunjin’ banner up for you to pass under. The signs of early spring and open air flood your lungs as he guides you past the drinking games set up, to the rattan garden set.
Naturally, everything is weird, given your recent break up and growing bump. It’s especially weird because his eyes won’t leave your lap where your clenched fists lay, pressed to the no longer baggy t-shirt you opted for today.
Given the past few months - his departure from your life, your radio silence and what he must have heard through the grapevine - you know what’s coming. Chan knows it isn’t his. So you just brace yourself for the inevitable when he clears his throat, his voice coming out in a low whisper-
“I’m sorry.”
Looking up, you find his soft eyes have finally found their way to yours, admiring the faint glow.
“You’re sorry?”
“Yeah, for-” you blink a few times before you realise.. he’s crying. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.” Either he ignores your confusion, or he just can’t place it when he continues- “I know what I said wasn’t fair, blaming you for all of it, for everything. It wasn’t fair and I know it’s my fault you didn’t tell me, that you didn’t think you could tell me. But I thought if I gave you space you would eventually and- I’m sorry.”
“Chan-”
“But- but I’m here now. And I want to be here for you, for him..” Him, you think, watching in a sick slow motion as Chan raises then lowers his outstretched hand to your belly. “I’m ready for us to be a family.”
Fuck.
“Chan,” you start, words jumbling in your head, sticking in your throat as you catch on. “Chan, I-”
“Listen, I know. I know it’s not how we planned.” His eyes shine when he smiles at you, thumb rubbing over your t-shirt slowly. “I wasn’t there for you and I should have been but I am now. I’m here now.”
“Chan-”
“And I’ll spend everyday making it up to you,” he promises, wiping his cheek with his other hand. “To both of you.”
Could you do it? Say the words to ruin this undeservingly tranquil moment? The love of your life, beaming at you as you carry what could’ve very well been the ticket to your future together, his eyes wet as he strokes the bump of what he thinks is his son. Chan’s son. Chan’s baby. Your baby with Chan, the love of your life. You wonder if you could lie. Pretend. Act as if there isn’t a hateful truth kicking down the door of your perfect life together - a paternity test you’d quickly and embarrassingly asked for nearly two months ago. Even with that, you consider it. Could you act like you didn’t destroy everything the second he left? You think you could.. But when your mother’s voice in your head even agrees, the idea dies in your head right as the very reason you couldn’t decides the same.
“Get your hand off her.” Your head snaps to Minho when he speaks, his presence and voice too hard for the moment you’re trying very hard to cling to. Chan was right. This isn’t how you planned it. And you’re only now realising that maybe that’s what you deserve. “Now.”
“Minho, man,” Chan laughs emptily, clicking his tongue. “What is your problem?”
“Right now?” Minho asks, eyes stuck on Chan’s hand. “It’s you.”
“Listen,” Chan sighs, the veins in his now awkwardly placed hand rippling. “This has nothing to do with you. So can you just-”
“It’s not yours.”
In your last few seconds of peace, you wonder. How the words that have spent the last minute screaming in your head suddenly make their way into the air when your own lips couldn’t make them. You wonder, as you stare at Chan, his head turning from his friend back to you, wondering the same, your shaky breaths and the tears welling in your eyes slowly making sick sense. You wonder if things will ever be the same.
“He’s-” Chan tilts his head, withdrawing his hand as the words sour on his tongue. “He’s not mine?” The mood drops in a flash, the warmth in his eyes vanishing as you shake your head, shame flooding you. “Then who-”
Your eyes drop to your lap when you see his gaze flicks back to Minho, his presence and growing discomfort the final clue.
“It’s his?” ‘It’. The term grates at you. How readily he’d been to claim his child, to call ‘it’ his. “You fucked Minho?”
“Chan-”
“Did you?” He spits, venom coursing through him as his blood seeps to his cheeks, chest, ears. “Did you cheat on me?”
“No! No, it wasn’t like that!”
“So, what? I didn’t give you what you wanted so you went and fucked my best friend?” With every acute inflection in his tone, you feel Minho draw nearer. “How could you do this to me?”
“Chan, I didn’t- I just-”
“Were you even going to tell me?” He yells, his voice cracking with every word. “After everything we went through? After everything I did for you? After everything I did for us to be a family and you were fucking around? With him?”
“Chan.” You would envy him right now if you weren’t so angry at him. How calm he seemed, Minho’s firm, grounding presence stood between yours and Chan’s. “Don’t raise your voice at her. She told you, it wasn’t like that.”
“Oh shut the fuck up.” Though so uncharacteristic of him, you don’t have time to flinch when Chan curses, because his face is in Minho’s and two small hands are pulling you away, Felix’s face filling your vision as Minho steps in front of you. “Who the fuck-”
You try to listen over the sound of Felix’s rushed checks, looking you over as you watch them over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Bleeding into- ‘..advantage! I knew you always wanted-’. “You should come inside, Y/N/” Merging with- ‘You’re just mad you were the problem-’
“Lix! I’m fine!” You try, pushing him off of you when Minho threatens Chan.
“Or what?” Chan laughs, the sound stuck between a growl and a chuckle. It’s almost frightening. “Am I wrong? She’s a fucking mess!”
“I told you to stop calling her that.”
“And what are you going to do if I don’t, hm?”
“I’m gonna make you.”
“Make me? Make me then.” Chan scoffs, glaring at your trembling form in Felix’s arms before growling- “Y/N, you’re a fucking messed up whore-”
Time slows to a complete stop when Chan falls straight through the rattan table, his body landing in a heap as the wood snaps around him. If it had stopped there you could’ve sworn you saw nothing. Because one moment Chan was standing there, a snarl curling his beautiful lips and the next he was on the ground, a halo of wood circling his head. But it didn’t stop. Before anyone could think to stop him, Minho was on him, Chan’s wits slowly returning to him as his friend landed punch after punch, his knuckles surely splitting with every smack. You hear Felix call for someone behind you but it’s hard to hear over the sound of Chan’s grunts, his hands almost circling Minho’s neck before a blur of bodies appear, Changbin and Jisung dragging Minho off their elder.
Shoving him off of you, Felix nearly tumbles when you throw yourself down beside a dazed Chan, ignoring Minho who tries to fight his way out of his friends’ hold. Your fingers stroke along his bloodied cheek, the skin hot, wet to the touch. He hisses before he looks up at you, strength waning as he struggles to push your hand off of him.
“Don’t touch her!”
“Minho, just stop! Please!” You can see the rage pouring out of him before he slowly relents, watching with hateful eyes as you turn back to Chan. “Chan, please. Just- just let me help you. We can fix this- I can fix this.”
“You?” He scoffs, spitting blood out of his mouth. “You can’t fix this. You couldn’t even fix yourself.”
“Uh-” call it awful timing, but maybe looking back, you would call it comedic that this is when Hyunjin decides to walk into his surprise party. Minho restrained, Chan bloody, you knelt beside him four months pregnant. Call it ‘the world’s most depressing freeze frame’. “The fuck is going on?”
You’ll find it in you to apologise one day. You’ll add it to the list.
+
“That fucking hurts- Y/N!” You don’t look up, deciding instead to press harder against the wound on Minho’s split knuckle. It’s laughable. Him now leaning on the same dryer you also blame for the fight that had ensued just a few hours ago, sink basin swirling with a mixture of blood and floating splinters. When he pulls his hands away from you, you finally look at him, glaring before throwing the rubbing alcohol and clean cotton wool back in the open first aid kit. After shoving it back in the cabinet, you turn off the lights and shut the door on your way out, pettily leaving him in the darkness of Felix’s room. “You can’t ignore me forever, Y/N.”
You almost laugh. If you ever talk to him again, you’ll do better to explain the relationship you had with your mother.
You hear Minho groan from inside the utility room before he pushes the door open, following you into your living room. It has only been a few hours since the fight but apparently you’re really the only one still reeling over it, evidenced by Felix, Jisung and Seungmin eating snacks they stole from the party on your couch. Well, not your couch but the other one. You walk straight past them, seething as you head into your kitchen with no intentions but to be alone. Minho doesn’t give you that though, following you straight inside, forcing you to pretend to look for a snack. Scouring your cupboards, you silently pray they hadn’t gotten their hands on your peanut butter when Minho speaks. Big mistake.
“Is that mine?”
“Is what yours?” Glaring over your shoulder, you glance down, following his eyes to the t-shirt you’re wearing which is in fact his. “Do you want it back?”
“No, dummy,” he’s right behind you, both hands at the ready if you fall. When you first noticed this strange habit of his, you ignored it. Until you felt his hand always hovering near the small of your back, his hands usually free for possible impact. Your eyes nearly fell out of your head when he dared mention that scene from Twilight. “I’m making conversation.”
“Well, don’t.” You have half a mind to push him away from you. If you didn’t hate him right now, you would even find the gesture quite sweet, like you had gradually come to. You decide instead to continue digging through your cupboards before quickly changing your mind. “Actually, seeing as you want to make conversation, how about you tell me what the fuck that was?”
“What what was?”
“What what- are you fucking stupid?” With all the audacity he can summon, Minho frowns cutely. It’s not on purpose, but that isn’t the point. “At Changbin’s! What is wrong with you?”
The idiot shrugs, helping you down from the counter before going into another cupboard, taking the peanut butter out and grabbing a spoon before handing them to you. “Nothing.”
“Minho. You beat up Chan.”
He fails at fighting off a smug smile when he says- “He was being rude to you.”
“You think I couldn’t handle him?”
“Wait,” it irks you to no end, how he raises an eyebrow before taking the jar from you and opening it with ease before handing it back. “Are you mad because I beat him up? Or mad because I thought you couldn’t handle it?”
“Both!”
“It can’t be both,” he frowns, his ultimatum hanging in the air. “Because for the past hour you’ve been all, ‘Minho, how could you do that?’, ‘Minho, what were you thinking?’, and now you’re mad because you wanted to do it yourself.”
“No, I’m mad because you made this already bad situation worse!”
“Oh,” with a low chuckle he gazes up at you. “Listen, if you still feel guilty about what happened, you need to drop it. And if you thought I was going to just stand there while he ripped into the mother of my child..” You almost soften when his voice trails off, his eyes quickly looking away from you. “Look. As soon as we decided to keep it, we became a family and you signed up for all this, alright?”
“’It’?”
“Well, you don’t want to know what it is so-”
“Don’t call our baby ‘it‘!” You seethe before taking a deep breath, placing a hand under your bump. Sighing, you miss his fleeting smile. “Minho, you can’t just fight everyone who has something bad to say about me.”
“Watch me.” When you glare, he just blinks back, resting his head on a cupboard door. “In a few months, it’s going to be you, me and-” when your glare hardens, he makes himself stop. Your blood pressure has become a concern of his after your last check up. So he slows his mind down, thinking out his words. “Our baby. Meaning I’ll only get worse, so try and get used to it, yeah?”
“Worse than this? Are you insane?” When he just shrugs, smirking as your fingers tighten around your poor spoon before you point it at him, warning- “Don’t piss me off, Minho, I’ll kick your ass. Pregnant and all.”
“I’d love to see that.”
“Minho. Don’t play with me.” If you weren’t so irate, you’d realise he wasn’t joking, but he had never taken you seriously before. Why would he start now? “I’m not kidding.”
“I know,” he shrugs, pushing himself off of the counter. “At least I hope you’re not.” Taking a few careful steps, you squint as he approaches you, stopping a foot away. “You know you’re kinda sexy when you’re mad?”
Staring dumbly, you watch him lean in before you glare at him mustering all the anger you could to turn him down. “You better not think because I’m having your baby that we’re a thing. Because we are not a thing. Not even close. So don’t even act like we are when we’re not.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
“Minho, shut the fuck up.”
“Make me.” You think you might scream when he rests his palms on the counter behind you. It’s only then you ask yourself the big questions. What game is he playing? Does he win if you pull away? Does he win if you don’t? Do you want to pull away? Is there any version of this where you come out on top? “Make me then.”
“I swear to God, I will.”
“You will?” The answer is yes. To his question, and your own. There is a way to win this. Whatever this is. You’re just not sure you're happy with such a murky victory. You go with it anyway, Minho watching as your glory and inevitable defeat merge into one, darkening your angry eyes, his taunt fanning your lips as he bumps your nose with his. “Go on then.”
You have to keep reminding yourself you’re meant to hate this man. The father of your child. The best friend of your ex. It’s hard though, especially when you’re the one to close the space between you, your lips closing around his smirk, drawing the softest hum. Hands firmly on the counter he leans into you, avoiding your bump with effortless skill, sliding his tongue into your mouth as your hands find his jaw and nape pulling him closer. When you push up into him, wanting to feel him on you, nails scraping along his scalp, he swallows a groan before he turns you, resting his back on the counter, pulling you flush against him. Again, he takes care. Moving his mouth against yours as he savours you, every lick, suck and pant, angling and cradling your face with the same hands that bled just hours ago. Minho handles you like the most valuable, most revered, most important thing in the world to him.
Fuck. This is a thing.
The realisation has you reeling, mindlessly pawing at the waistband of his sweats, fingers trailing to the small tent forming. He groans into your open mouth, pushing his hips up into your closed fist before pulling away, watching you with an unfitting softness, one you’re no longer able to detach from him. It’s all you think of, all you see when you look at him. When you lean back in, he smiles, pecking your lips before resting his forehead on yours, running the tip of his nose along your bridge, whispering softly- “You want me?” When you nod, he nods gently, kissing you a final time before moving to leave. “Let me get rid of them.”
“What?” He points at the door, the living room. Right. “No, don’t. Leave them.”
When he smirks, skin slightly flushed, you frown. “You wanna do it with them here?”
“What? No!” Flustered, you glare when he laughs. “I just-” returning to you, he kisses the top of your head, rubbing your back. You think he knows he was being unfair, goading you at a time like that. Resting your head on his shoulder, you sigh- “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah?” Nodding against his neck, he hums. “Cool. Go sit down, I’ll order something.”
Only when you slip away do you notice his hand was in yours. You notice it more when you stare at your linked fingers, feeling him pull away as you walk away. “You okay?”
“Do I look okay?” You look down when he points, laughing as he pulls his phone out his pocket, trying and failing to readjust himself. When you pout, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, it’ll go away. What do you want?”
You blink.
“One of everything?” When you nod, he nods back. “Okay.”
This is when anyone else would say thank you. You don’t. Instead you walk back to him, kiss him and say- “You’re still a prick,” before trying to walk away again.
Trying, because he pulls you back, holding you in his arms for a second before staring right at you. “I need to say something.” Confused by the sudden pensive look of his gaze, you frown. It’s funny, how seeing Minho so serious has become so worrying in as little as a few months. Funny how much can change in a few short months. “I’m never going to apologise for what I did.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know-”
“No, seriously. I’m sorry that I upset you, and I’m sorry you had to see it.. to hear it. But I’m more sorry I ever had to, because you shouldn’t have. You didn’t deserve any of it. And if you thought for a second that anything you’ve done deserved any of that? Then I’m going to spend every day undoing that.. because it’s me and you now, okay? If someone has something to say about you, they’re saying it to me too. And that’s it.”
You’re quiet for a moment, unsure why your immediate response to this all is to kiss him, cry and run to Felix all at one time. Of course, you do none of that. “You’re just saying that because of the baby.”
“No.” He says firmly, holding you tighter when you try to pull away again. “That night? When you told me everything? When you decided to trust me? I was on your side. And I’ll always be. Nothing’s going to change that. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He softens when your eyes well, his thumb wiping the apple of your cheek. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Letting you go, he asks again- “One of everything, yeah?”
“Yeah, but no-”
“No fish, yeah I know.”
6 MONTHS
Tonight is the night you decide Changbin’s home is cursed. Its inhabitants, its parties, its gatherings, the lot.
It starts off like any other night. You’re perched on the edge of Changbin’s couch, Minho behind you, his knuckles digging into the knots in your lower back, eyes focused on the television. Jisung is chewing his ear off about the film on the screen, probably fueling the strength he’s using to undo the tension that’s been gradually tightening around your spine. Pausing, he shuffles forward for his beer, one you coerced him into having after hearing he refused the drink in solidarity with you. When he rests his chin on your shoulder, you nudge him off of you, whining when he digs it into your skin. Placing his beer on your knee, he lingers there, finding reprieve as Jisung turns to Seungmin in his absence. It’s then your phone lights up, a text coming through. You miss it, eyes glued to the screen ahead. Like you assume his are. But alas, no. No, Minho’s eyes, distracted by the sudden glare from your phone, have flown to your lap, reading the preview of the brand new message.
“Aren’t we?” Minho says suddenly, taking another sip from his beer when you look at him, eyes looking across the room. When you follow his gaze, you find the person he was addressing staring back with wide eyes, the round pair flicking down to your lap. Looking down you see the silent observation he responded to aloud.
[20:23] Lix: you two are so cute :(
You swallow a groan, digging your elbow in Minho’s chest. The others look over when Minho chokes, fixing you both with a glare. “Stop being loud,” you say to him, gesturing to the room.
“You two are cosy..” Hyunjin coos, looking equal parts disgusted and intrigued.
“That’s what I said.” Felix agrees, the brave fool.
“No,” Minho corrects, back cracking as he straightens up to lean back into the couch. “You said we were cute.”
“Well-” when you glare at him, Felix swallows as he realises he played into Minho’s game. “I mean, of course you guys are cute! You’re going to be parents.. together.”
“Speaking of-” Changbin says, smirking. “Are you?”
“Are you what?” Call it pregnancy rage, call it months of Changbin being the object of your misdirected hate, you glare when his smirk widens, eyes squinting.
“Are you together?”
Your answers blur into one, the rest hearing a ‘yo’ and ‘nes’, which really just sounds like a maybe. And a maybe might as well be a yes. You huff when they all coo mockingly, their teasing drowning out the film on the screen.
“You guys are so annoying.”
“Us?” Hyunjin gasps, a hand flat to his chest before he points an accusatory finger. “Not the two of you pretending you’re not a thing for the last two months?”
“Yeah,” Jisung’s smart ass chimes in, turning his head to look you in the eye, revealing- “Minho doesn’t fight for just anyone, you know?”
“Speaking of-” always fucking speaking of- “You owe me a new rattan table.”
“Put it on my tab.” Minho says simply, squeezing your thigh when you scowl at Changbin.
“You know, it wasn’t funny the first time and it’s not funny the tenth.”
“Can we watch the film?” Seungmin asks over the laughter filling the room.
“Yes, can we?” You agree, making the mistake of reminding everyone of your presence after staying so close under the radar.
“Hey,” pointing toward you, Changbin decides- “if you two are together now, you owe me a table too.”
“Oi, cool it.” Minho says stiffly, his hands returning to work on your back. “Before I send you through a fucking table and all.”
“Chan’s a better man than me,” Changbin groans, shouting over the volume Seungmin just turned up. “I would’ve rocked your shit.” Minho laughs at the idea, rolling his eyes when Changbin smirks. “But to be fair, every man and his dog could see how you felt about Y/N, so even you’re a better man than me.”
“Wow,” Seungmin deadpans, eyes not leaving the screen. “Everyone’s a better man than you, we are so surprised.”
“What- I- mean- is-” Changbin whines, hitting Seungmin with a cushion, warm at the sound of everyone’s laughter. “If you two are together, I hope the reason you’re not telling us isn’t because of everything that happened. We’d be happy for you.”
When he gives you a warm smile, you think tonight could be the night you forgive Changbin. The night you realise maybe Changbin was doing what he thought would help, that he was being a friend. You try to keep this in mind after he stands at the sound of his doorbell ringing, announcing Jeongin’s arrival halfway through the first film of the night. But then suddenly he stiffens, standing straight as a board. Jeongin enters with a big smile, slapping Felix on the shoulder. Felix, who looks aghast at a sight beyond the threshold, Jeongin’s smile dropping as his gaze falls on you. When you feel Minho stiffen behind you, his hands stilling as they journey up your sides, you remember why you hate Changbin.
It isn’t him, or his house.
It’s Chan.
“H-Hey man,” when Jisung stands to greet him, you feel Minho’s hands tighten, pulling you closer towards him. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” he sounds strangely calm, as if he just spent the last ten seconds listening to Changbin’s rushed rundown of what he was about to walk into. Or maybe he’s just calm. Something you’re not right now. Your heart is threatening to hammer a hole right out of your back and straight through Minho’s chest. He must feel it because his hands continue rubbing up and down your sides, trying to calm you as Chan turns to you both, pausing for just a second before he speaks. “Hey.”
“Hey.” You say, feeling Minho nod, his hands still running along your sides. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he lies, lips pursed as he nods. You’re sure he can feel everyone’s eyes on you three, you definitely can. Jisung is hovering close behind, as if scared that Chan would lunge on Minho at any second, even with you sitting between them. “You? How you doing?”
You think this is the time your mother meant it was okay to lie. Because the truth is.. you’re fantastic. You’re the happiest you’ve been for a long, long while. But that feels like gloating, and that’s unfair considering you’re pregnant and the father of your child - his best friend- well, ex best friend - who beat him up just months back is holding you firmly to his chest.
So you lie. “I’m good.”
“That’s good..” with a small smile, he quickly turns away, looking for Changbin, saying something about putting drinks in the fridge before he disappears into the kitchen, Changbin following close behind. A few seconds pass before your ears start burning.
As soon as he’s gone Felix turns to you, mouthing ‘you good?’. You nod, because you are. Sure it’s sudden, and weird, and down right fucking awkward, but you’re good. Especially with Minho’s lips on your shoulder, his fingers slipping into the gaps between yours, kindly ignoring the clamminess lining your palms. You wonder if you should leave. Minho wouldn’t refuse if you asked, but he hasn’t asked, which tells you he too knows this was inevitable.
You couldn’t spend your lives avoiding Chan, it wasn’t feasible. You have all the same friends, things like this are bound to happen time and time again. And besides, Chan isn’t a bad person. He’s a great person. In fact, Chan might be one of the best people you know. You like to think you wouldn’t have fallen for someone anything less than. You try not to think what life would be like had none of this ever happened. Not you and Minho, but rather all of your complications. What would life have been like if you tried and succeeded. If you hadn’t-
“Oi,” you turn at the poke in your side, finding him glaring at you. It isn’t hard to see what hides behind it. “Stop thinking so hard, you’re not that bright.”
“Fuck off,” you huff, slapping his thigh as you lean into him further.
“Felix text you.”
[21:01] Lix: chans here
[21:02] Lix: look alive
[21:03] Lix: i wanna be you when i grow up
[21:03] Lix: cos i could neverrrrr
[21:04] Lix: will you stop fucking spacing out!!!
[21:04] hey bestie: You’re worse than Jisung sometimes
When Chan walks back in, your phone lights up again and you glare at Felix whose eyes follow Chan as he texts hurriedly.
[21:04] Lix: how are you not throwing up right now?
[21:04] Lix: do you wanna leave? fake a baby thing
[21:05] Lix: omg hes back
[21:05] Lix: go into labour or something
[21:05] hey bestie: I’m fine don’t text me again it’s obvious
[21:05] Lix: kl kl kl x
This is going to be a long night.
+
Seungmin gets his wish to finish the film in peace. But at what cost? Because it’s hard to think this silence is peaceful when every heart in the room, bar maybe Minho’s, is beating a mile a minute. His chin on your shoulder, you feel his hand under your shirt, thumb drawing small circles on the side of your bump. It’s not too unlike a night in at your place, minus the added tension and bodies of your friends and ex. For the most part you’re alright, and you know that has everything to do with Minho, and nothing to do with your best friend whose eyes haven’t left you since Chan walked in the house. And they don’t leave you when you pat Minho’s knee, his warmth leaving you when he shifts to help you stand.
When Felix gets up too, you groan when he follows you. “I’m going to pee you creep, go watch the film.”
“Meet me in the kitchen!” He whispers, practically sprinting towards the rendezvous point.
Sitting with a huff, you realise you haven’t given much thought to your actual pregnancy. The science behind it, the feeling of it, the instincts that come with it. You’re growing a life in you. A baby is sitting on your bladder, forcing you to pee at least ten more times a day. The baby is heavy, resting on your knees when you sit. Your baby is.. your baby. You want to protect it. You have to protect it. You tell yourself that’s what fuels your calmness in light of the evening ahead. The humbler part of you tells yourself it’s Minho. How relaxed he is when faced with adversity. He doesn’t run from it, or repel it. He faces it head on. Maybe a bit proud, maybe a bit deranged. Whatever it is, you thank God for it. You thank god for Minho.
What you don’t thank God for is your best friend who stands at the island, bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for you to meet him in the kitchen like he asked, just to find him nervously talking to Chan whose head is in the fridge, digging out another beer. You haven’t run in months and think you might before you see him turn, closing the fridge to find you standing there.
You can’t think of anything to say, so you look to Felix. Big mistake. He’s just standing there looking between you both, nervously worrying his lip. When your eyes find Chan’s, a small smile on his lips, you swallow. Chan isn’t a bad person. He’s a great person. In fact, Chan might be one of the best people you know.
“Lix,” you call, reluctantly deciding to save the poor guy. “Can I talk to Chan for a minute?”
“Huh?” When you just raise your eyebrows, he nods his head in agreement. “Uh, okay. I’ll keep your seat warm.” He jokes, squeezing your arm before running to tell everyone.
If the last six months have taught you anything, which they clearly had not, you’re not one to think of the consequences of your actions. You realise this when you just stand there, not at all prepared to talk to Chan. It’s not like you knew he would be here. But if you had, would you even be here? Would this conversation ever happen? Is this the kind of thing you can plan? Why is this so hard? You think he sees your panic, because he says- “Let’s sit down.”
“Hm?” Your eyes follow him as he pulls a chair out for you. “Oh.. thanks.”
He just smiles back, turning a chair towards you before saying- “I actually wanted to talk to you.” When you tilt your head, he rubs his hands down his jeans, his eyes falling to your bump, a sad smile on his lips. “I went-” when the words stick in his throat, you frown, placing your hand over his. Scooting forward, he flips his hand palm up, holding your hand, staring at them joined on his knee. “I saw my doctor. I told him everything, you know. About us, and- yeah. There are these kits, like for-” He laughs then, scratching his neck. When you squeeze his hand, his eyes fly up to yours, calmed by the softness there. “It’s literally a sperm counter, I-I mean a test kit for it.” When you nod, he scoffs, “he was saying if we’re not actively trying right now, why am I doing it? And I didn’t really have an answer, but I think he got it. Anyway, he said it wasn’t too bad, but way lower than it should be.” At the worry on your face, he squeezes your hand. “Nothing to worry about, it should be all good. There’s nothing else to it, just a low count.”
Nodding, you smile. “That’s good, I’m glad.”
“No,” he frowns suddenly, laughing bitterly as he pulls his hand away. “You shouldn’t be glad, Y/N. It was me.”
“What?”
“I’m the one with the problem.” He says, eyes on his lap. “I kept focusing on you, and what you could be doing better, what was wrong with you but it was never you, it was me.”
“Chan, it’s not anyone’s fault-”
“How can you say that?” Pulling away, he holds his head in his hands, sniffing. “I blamed you for everything. I-I ruined everything. If I just took a step back, if I just stopped trying to fix you-”
“Chan, can you just-”
“I kept trying to fix you when it was me, it was me who was broken.”
“Chan!” Pulling his head up, you hold his head in your hands, ignoring the tears on his cheeks, staring right into his wet eyes. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. It might feel that way, but there isn’t. You don’t need fixing, you’re not broken. You’re Chan, okay? You’re more than this. You’re not a measure of your fucking sperm count, or your ability to make a baby. Even if it’s what you want. It doesn’t make you or break you. It’s just something you have to face and deal with. And, god I wanted to do it with you. I wanted all of that with you, I wanted you. And if we knew we would have dealt with it, we would have found a way. But we couldn’t, and nothing’s gonna change that, but that doesn’t mean you should blame yourself.”
“But it’s my fault..”
“It’s not anyone’s fucking fault! You’re not to blame for wanting a family and not being able to get it. You didn’t know, you didn’t choose this, it’s just life. It’s shit and painful, and it’s not up to anyone, not even you-” the words get caught when you hear them loud and clear in your head. His voice. Turning to the door, you find him there leaning against it, Minho’s eyes on you, watching you with a small smile. “If it was up to you, you wouldn’t be so unhappy.” Turning back to Chan, you see he’d followed your gaze, his eyes on Minho. You bring him back, wiping his cheeks with your palms, before dropping them to his fists.
“You know, I actually wanted to apologise, when I said I wanted to talk.”
“Y/N, no-”
“No.” You say, groaning with a laugh. “You’re done talking, it’s my turn.” His eyes dart to the door, flushing at the proud smirk on Minho’s face. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for how this all went. That I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, sorry for..” You swallow then, the idea of apologising for how things turned out curdling your dinner. “But I’m not anymore. I’m not sorry, because I don’t regret any of it: pretending I was happy, lying as if it was what I wanted.. because at first I did, you know? I wanted all of it with you, but after a while I realised I just wanted it because you did, and I wasn’t ready, I was terrified. I’m still fucking terrified. Maybe a little less, but it’s still there. The idea I’m making a big fucking mistake thinking I could do this. Be a mom.. but at the very least, at least I don’t feel alone anymore, I don’t feel like an extra, like a- a willing surrogate. I mean, yeah, I’m still fucking scared, but I’m ready. Ready to do everything I can to give my baby everything my mom couldn’t give me. And I don’t think I’d ever be if we didn’t break up, if all that didn’t happen, if I didn’t have-”
He knows who you want to say. His eyes fly to him, a sad smile on his lips when he watches you copy him, your smile growing when Minho winks at you. You gulp down your guilt, deciding pretending does count as lying, letting Chan see your wide smile, your gleaming eyes.
“I am so sorry I hurt you and I’m sorry you’ve had to do this all on your own. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you like you always have been for me. And I know it’s selfish and unfair and just fucking shameless, but I miss you. And I want you in my life, to whatever extent you want. If you want to say hi and bye, that’s cool. If you want to go for coffee, that’s cool. If you want to talk about- you know, anything- that’s cool too. If you need a friend, I’ll be there, okay? If you can forgive me, I promise you that I’ll be here.”
Chan isn’t a bad person. He’s a great person. In fact, Chan might be one of the best people you know.
“Only if you can forgive me, too?”
You can’t speak, you just nod, lips pursed, salty with tears. “Of course.”
“Okay.”
+
It pays to have your own personal masseuse. The pain in your back has pretty much subsided by the time you get into bed, your head on Minho’s arm as his free hand works the last of the knots. He digs a bit harder, when you laugh at him, defending himself. “I didn’t laugh at you. What kind of name is Renesmee?”
“I didn’t say I wanted it for us, I just said I didn’t get why everyone hated it so much.”
“Because it sounds like a virus.”
“You’re a virus- okay! I’m sorry! Ow!” When he snickers, you whine. “Mean.”
Rubbing the spot sweetly, he asks- “Okay, what about a colour?”
“Like what?”
“Vermilion?” When you say nothing, he agrees, “Yeah, maybe not. Sounds too much like vermin.”
“What about something religious?” He laughs then. “What?”
“That’s pretty broad, dummy,” shuffling towards you, he slips his hand around your waist, letting you lean your head further up his arm, wedging his thigh between your two. It came as a big surprise to you how clingy Minho was. At least behind closed doors. When you were with the guys, it was always under the guise of you needing a back massage, or somewhere to rest your head. But alone? You’re touching more often than not. Like now, when he clings to you, engulfing your body with his own. His lips press to your shoulder when he jokes, “What about Christian?”
“Har har.” You wheeze, shoving him. “That’s a little too on the nose.”
When you say nothing more, he sighs against your skin- “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”
“What about Samson?”
“Doesn’t he die?” It’s quiet again. You can picture his eye roll. “I know they all die, dummy. I just mean, isn’t his death the worst?”
“Crucifixion is definitely worse than getting crushed by rocks.” You have a brainwave. “Oh! What about Jaime?”
“What, like Lannister?” When you nod, he refuses. “We’re not naming our kid after someone who fucked his sister.” When you don’t respond, he kisses your shoulder. “What happened to not wanting the kid to burn in hell?”
“..Did you say our kid?”
“That’s what you’re having right?” He jokes. “Because if you tell me it’s Chan’s this far in-”
“No, dickhead.” Though reluctant, you let yourself laugh at that, suddenly overcome by the fact jokes like that might get made, or rather, the fact jokes like that could be made now that Chan is back in your life. “You didn’t say ‘it’.”
“I mean, that was just a slip of the tongue, it’s still an ‘it’.” When you bite his bicep, he yells- “Fine! I said it! Whatever. So?”
“So.. nothing,” you hum, kissing the same spot on his arm. “It’s just nice.”
“You’re so easily pleased,” he says. “This could get boring real quick.” When he feels you smile against his skin, he sighs, hand wandering back down your spine. You’re spun by how quickly he quells the dull ache, his thumbs dipping into the skin. You spoke too soon. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just a sharp pain.”
“Pain like back pain, or a me pain?”
“You pain.” He ignores the double meaning, laughing against your skin. “What now?”
“So, you’re saying I’m strong?” He thinks he hears your eyes roll. “Good to know.”
“You’re so fucking annoying. What does that even mean?”
Shrugging as best he can, he puckers his lips, letting them drag up the length of your shoulder towards your neck, sighing when you lean into him. “Better?” When you hum, he continues, letting his thumb work your spine as he kisses up your neck, lips closing just below your ear. Try as you may, you can’t stop yourself purring, his body pressed firmly into your back as he moves his hand to toy with the hem of your t-shirt. “You know..” he halts when you gasp, his hand parting your legs pushing his leg up further. “For someone who says we’re not together, you sure don’t act like it.”
“Well, we’re not.”
“Let me change that.” You may not hate this man, but you sure don’t like him. Not when he presses his thigh to your heat, his hand on your hip pushing your weight onto him. It’s embarrassing how easily you follow his lead, rolling your hips slowly against his tensed thigh as he kisses a path back down to your shoulder. “It’s kind of inevitable.”
“Get over yourself.” You agreed to a thing. Yes, mentally. But now that he’s said that, he’s really given you no choice but to refuse. Even if your brain and mouth don’t connect, another major organ getting in the way. “I don’t see you like that.”
“Come on,” he breathes, smiling softly as you struggle to grind against him. “You can do better than that.”
Pressing his leg up higher, a particular grind forces you to mewl- “I’m working on me right now?”
“Good job, anything else?”
“I just- fuck-” the excuse catches when his hand slip under your thigh, fingers working you clit as your hips faulter. You can’t lose Y/N. Not again. “I just broke up with my ex.”
“Ding ding ding.” He laughs, letting his hips meet yours, his desire pressed hard to your thigh. “Almost thought you were short circuiting then. That one was right there.”
“Minho,” you whine, half annoyed, half turned on, fully exhausted. “Stop playing.”
“Who’s playing?” Pulling his sweats down, you think he rises to angle himself but instead just crouches over you, turning your face to his. There’s a subtle flush to his cheeks, even in the low light, the lamps illuminating his skin perfectly. When he leans down to kiss you, his hips resting ever so slightly on yours, lips moving slow as he draws moan after moan, you think he’ll take mercy on you but he instead just breathes- “Be my girl.”
With a whine, you huff- “If I say yes, will you fuck me?” He nods. “Fine.”
You take that as a win. You would’ve said yes regardless.
8 MONTHS
It’s pouring when you arrive, both feet in a shallow puddle as you duck under Felix’s ready umbrella. Tall, mossy gates greet you all, a short cobbled path disappearing somewhere in the thick morning mist. The sudden shower clears a way through it, your feet heavy as you swallow before moving forward, Felix in step with you, Minho a few steps behind. You had never visited the graveyard before. A few miles out of the city, though far enough to deem it a bit too far, your mother’s final resting place was still close enough to fill you with an unquellable guilt. Felix often defended your decision with a few easy truths: you didn’t talk while she was still here, why should death make a difference? Which was true. What difference did death make, minus its insistence on a final goodbye?
When you left your mother’s house, your childhood home for the final time, you didn’t exchange a word. She just sat there, watching with lifeless eyes as you packed up, poor Felix trembling every time he passed her unmoving figure in your living room to fill his parent’s minivan waiting outside. After a final look over the room you had once called yours, you went to say goodbye, only to watch her pass you in the hallway like a stranger in the street, before entering her room and shutting the door.
That was the last you saw of her. That was your final goodbye.
Until today.
You think the July sky had opened just to show it's displeasure with you, God slicking the path up to your mother’s grave. It’s only then you realise. “I don’t know which one it is.”
Turning to you, Felix nods, mumbling something behind him before passing Minho his umbrella, forcing his denim jacket over his head. It’s quiet for a moment before Minho speaks.
“He’s going to find it.” When you just nod, you feel his fingers slip between yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “Do you want to sit down?” Shaking your head, you look around, seeing the wet petals on every other grave. It shouldn’t take him long. Just then, you hear him shout. Turning, you squint through the fog to find him just a few yards away knelt before a headstone, the flowers he insisted on buying resting on it. “You ready?”
You don’t answer, you just let his hand go, feeling the rain kiss your cheeks as you walk towards him. With a hand under your belly, you immediately feel heavy. The weight of the rain on your cardigan, the mud under your boots, the dread in your chest. That’s when you feel it, the bile rising in your throat, a wretch pushing itself out. You swallow it down along with the sudden urge to turn back, strengthening with every step you take. Felix reappears through the mist, his hair and shoulders drenched. He turns when he hears you, a sad smile on his face.
“It’s not so muddy here,” he says, holding his hand out to guide you to the spot by his side. You don’t take it though. You don’t move. You can’t. Because hot, angry tears are spilling onto your cheeks, mingling with the cooling rain, eyes dark as you read then reread the words on your mother’s headstone.
‘Life is not forever, love is.’
A liar in life, and a liar in death.
“Where are you going?” Minho calls when you move to walk past him, headed for the gates mere minutes after you’d arrived. When he grabs your arm, you pull it away. “Hey.”
“Let her go, man,” you hear Felix sigh, seemingly expecting your reaction. “We can come back.”
“No,” Minho laughs, moving to stop you again. “We just drove through two hours of traffic to come here.”
“And we can do it again-”
“We’re not leaving.” Like hell you’re not leaving. It’s what you do, leave when things are too much. Your mother knew it, Felix knew it, Chan knew it, and now Minho was going to learn it. “Y/N-”
“Get off of me.” You move to walk around him, his body slipping in front of you before you can reach the path leading back to his car. When he stops you again, you groan. “Look, I’m sorry I made us come all this way, it was a mistake.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He says, voice annoyingly soft for how hard his eyes are. “You wanted to do this, so you’re doing it.”
“I’m not doing anything!” He squints when you shout, the sound shrill in the quiet churchyard, a silent warning in his eyes. “I’m going home.”
“Do you remember what you told me?”
Yes.
“No, and I don’t care-”
“You said not to let you leave before you said goodbye.”
“And now I’m telling you that I’m going home!”
“And I’m telling you-” he says, gently leading you back towards the grave. “That you’re not.”
“Minho, don’t upset her, if she isn’t ready-”
“No,” he says firmly, pulling you past Felix, bringing you back to the her. “What will upset her, is if we let her back out after making it this far. Look-” ignoring your scowl, he holds your shoulders, letting Felix take his umbrella back. You hate that you can’t help but notice how pretty he looks, drops of rain resting on the tops of his lashes, hitting his cheeks when he blinks, looking you in the eye. “I know this is hard-”
“You have no idea how hard this is-”
“Fine. I don’t. I don’t know how hard this is for you. I’ll never know, and neither will he-” he admits, nodding his head towards Felix. “Neither of us do. We don’t get what you’re feeling, why you wanted to do this in the first place, why you had to come here to do it. I don’t know. But I do know you. And I know you wouldn’t have asked us to come all this way if it wasn’t important to you and if it’s important to you, then I’m going to make sure you see it through, okay?
“She’s gone, Y/N. She’s gone, so there is nothing she can say or do that can hurt you.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“If I’m wrong? I’m never wrong.” When you shove him in the chest, he laughs, wiping your cheek with his wet palms. “But if I am wrong? If- if she somehow rises from the dead trying to get to you? She has to get through me, okay?”
Closing your eyes for a second, you almost picture it. Your mother’s corpse rising from the earth, reaching out for you. You don’t think you’d need Minho’s help. Pregnant or not.
“Okay?” It’s a few seconds before you sigh, nodding. With a final stare, he kisses the top of your head, taking the umbrella from Felix and handing it to you. “We’ll be over there.”
As they walk away, Felix smacking his friend over and over, Minho nearly shoving him into a nearby grave, you watch them, gulping as they disappear in the cloudy distance.
“Why am I here?” You ask yourself, feeling a lump form in your throat.
‘You know why,’ you think. The voice patronising, impatient. ‘To forgive.’
“But I can’t,” you tell yourself. “I don’t think I ever could. Not before, not now..”
‘But you want to,’ it lies. Your mother’s voice sounding so sure, so confident, so smug. ‘You want to forgive, you just always think you’re better than everyone else. Better than me, better than Chan-’
“That’s not true.” You say, defensive. “I-I dont. I never have. You made sure of that.”
‘You could, Y/N. Everyone is capable of doing wrong. Even you.’ She rightly accuses. ‘You think the world owes you some big debt for the card you were dealt. As if you couldn’t have had a worse life. But your life was perfect. You had a home, friends, a family, a mother who loved you-’
“You never loved me-”
‘You don’t know what love is.’
“And whose fault is that?”
‘It’s not about whose fault it is,’ she reminds, throwing your own words back at you. ‘It’s about what you do about it. When I was a child, I thought love was everything. I thought it could fix everything. I thought it was all rainbows, clear skies, prancing through daisy fields, flowers free for the picking.. It was years before I realised I was just killing them all.’
“That wasn’t my fault.”
‘It’s not about whose fault it is.’ She repeats, voice soft yet stern. ‘It’s about what you do about it. It’s not just about love, but everything that comes with it, comes from it. It’s about seeing the world for what it is. Unfair, unjust. It’s about seeing that and taking the little that you get, the good and the bad and making something of it. Taking everything ugly in this world and loving it anyway. Every awful truth, every white lie. It’s about the people around you, taking them as they are, their faults and their merits, and loving them anyway.’
“Is that what you did?” You wonder, fiddling with the petal on her bouquet. “Loved me anyway?”
‘No,’ you almost hear her laugh. You almost miss the sound. ‘I loved you double. I made you strong.’
“Do I look strong to you?” You seeth. “Does this look like strength?”
‘I see you’re everything I couldn’t be.’ She admits, pride bleeding into it. ‘I saw you do everything I couldn’t do, saw you leave because you were unhappy. I’ve seen you get everything you ever wanted, seen you stumble and get back up again. I’ve seen you learn to forgive, learn to fix things yourself. Not let the world have its way, I saw you become strong.’
“No thanks to you.”
‘No,’ she agrees. ‘No, it was thanks to you. I know you don’t agree with my methods, I never expected you to. I never intended for you to hate me, but if it made you what you are today, then I’d do it all over again, in this life and the next. I’d be your mother in any lifetime, just to see you become who you are today.’
“But you didn’t,” you cry, the fog waning as you glare at the headstone, the rain slowing to a near stop, droplets rolling off of her. “You didn’t. You’re not here to see and that’s your fault.”
‘It’s not about whose fault it is. It’s about what you do about it.’ She repeats a final time. ‘I’m not here, and if I was I probably wouldn’t admit it anyway, but you’re better than I ever hoped you’d be. I will never apologise for that. I will never apologise for trying my best, even when you felt I didn’t. I will never apologise for letting you go, because that was what you had to do. You’d still hate me if I didn’t.’
“I do hate you,” you say, a weight filling your chest, hatred seeping out of you every time you fight to cling to it. “I hate you for not being here, to help me, to tell me how to do this. I hate you for not trying harder.”
‘All I could do was my best, Y/N. You’ll see that one day, the same way I did. One day, you’ll see it makes no difference, my being there or not. Because no one can tell you how to be a mother. You just figure it out as you go. And you may have hated me for it, but there’s no version of you I would have rathered make. None.
‘Great mother’s might have skipped a few generations in your family,’ she says forlornly, her voice growing distant. ‘Mine was too soft, and yours too firm. I know that will end with you.’
“And what if it doesn’t- what if I can’t?”
‘Well, I don’t know.’ She breathes, voice fading with the mist, ‘There’s only one way to find out.’
+
It’s well past sunset when you finally get back to your apartment. Minho close behind you on the stairs, a hand on your back as you climb each step slowly.
“I finally see why Felix is the way he is,” Minho comments randomly. You had tried to drop Felix at his parents house before heading back earlier, only to be whisked inside, doted on like the child they never had but happily took in. Which isn’t far from the truth. The summer before college, you moved into the Lees’ spare room, slowly shedding the idea you were imposing with every family dinner, every picture of you placed on a wall. “They’re sweet.”
“Yeah,” you agree, opening your front door. “Don’t know what I would’ve done without them.”
They were the guarantors for the place you currently call home. You remember the day you had asked, or tried to at least. You and Felix had both returned for the holidays. You were settled in a small flat a few roads away from where you live now, your heart set on this place. It was awkward, for you anyway. Once Felix had gone out, begrudgingly promising not to interfere, you got started making dinner, certain his parents would say no if you offered. It wasn’t anything special, just spaghetti bolognaise, the sauce wafting through the house just as it was ready.
It took a few tries to force the topic out, your viewing a few places, being accepted for a one bed just a short walk from Felix’s current place with Jisung. They loved the idea, they were happy, proud you were thinking of your future. Before you ever got the chance, you watched Felix’s dad speak around his mouthful of garlic bread- ‘We can’t wait to see it. If you need anything - some furniture, a guarantor - anything, you let us know, okay?’
To this day, Felix still tells everyone the story of how he came back home to find you and his mom weeping at the dining table, his dad watching with wide, confused eyes.
Throwing your coat off, you head straight for the couch, collapsing in a heap as you watch Minho sit on the coffee table to take off your boots. “Thank you.”
He just grunts, placing your foot on his lap before tugging. “My mum said if there’s one thing I should do, it’s this.”
“Take off my shoes?”
He shrugs, “something about not being able to bend over,” laughing when you lean forward, trying and failing to reach the other shoe.
“What else did she say?”
He shrugs again. “That you’re cute.” When you roll your eyes, sliding down the couch a bit as he pulls the other boot off. “She did, she said we should get married too.” When you blanch, less at the idea, more that she said it, that he repeated it, he adds- “That’s what I thought, me, marry a whore?”
Kicking his knee, you glare when he takes both feet in his hands, and turns you before sitting beside you, resting your legs on his lap. “Just a few months ago, you beat someone up for calling me that.”
Laughing, he raises a hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. “And I’d do it again.” It takes some effort, but you scoot forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you gaze up at him. “You know, people like us used to make me sick.”
“Hm, like what?”
“People in love.” The words so easily from his lips, it takes you a while to realise what he’s said. He doesn’t give you time to comment on it. “It’s disgusting.”
“Not when you’re in it,” you breathe, kissing his shoulder. He just hums, accepting your silent declaration. It’s fitting, you think. It’s quiet for a while, his hand trailing up and down your back, cheek resting on the top of your head. “You staying tonight?”
“Y/N,” he says flatly, “I haven’t slept at my place in weeks.”
“I know,” it doesn’t stop you worrying, that one day he’ll want his space. That he’ll just go. “Just checking.”
A few seconds pass in silence before he asks- “Do you like this place?”
That’s random, you think. Well, not so random, considering your story earlier. But it feels that way, feels loaded. Nodding beneath him, answering- “Yeah, it was the first place I ever got that really felt like home, you know?”
“Ok.” When he says nothing else, you lean back to look at him, finding his eyes stuck on the black television screen.
“Why?”
“Nothing.”
“Minho,” he huffs before looking at you, his guarded gaze a little unsettling. “Why?”
“Nothing,” he repeats, before adding- “Just a little small.”
“Well,” you hum, suddenly defensive of your just a little small sanctuary. “I was one person then.”
“And now?”
You try to bite back a smile. You fail miserably. “Well, now we’re two.” He smiles when you let it show, his eyes falling to his hand over yours, the one resting on your belly. Soon it’ll be three.
“So?”
“So, nothing. It’s just..” When you raise an eyebrow, he looks away again, watching your reflection on the shiny black screen. “My place is kinda far..”
“Yes?”
“And I’m kinda sick of going to feel the cats everyday.”
“Mm?”
“Because I’m always here, so..” Unable to make out your expression in the matted glass, he looks down to find you smirking. He glares, huffing. “Forget it.”
“No no, go on.” When he moves to remove your legs from his lap, you grab his hands. “No, seriously, what were you gonna say?” When he just glares, looking away, you lean up to kiss his cheek, then pout when he turns back to you. “I’m sorry. Please?”
Staring at you, he sighs. “..I don’t see why we need two places.”
“Well,” you start, begging your face to stay neutral. “That’s because we don’t live together..”
“I know.” When you just stare with hopeful, encouraging eyes, corners of your lips upturned, he groans. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
“Just say what you wanna say Minho.”
“No,” he refuses, crossing his arms. “You ruined it.”
“Whatever.” With a shrug, you lean your head on his shoulder before he nudges you off of him. Pressing your lips to his shoulder, trying and failing to muffle your laughter. The shoe is finally on the other foot, and he doesn’t like it. Serves him right.
“So this is how that feels.” He muses, rolling his eyes at the sound of your laughter before silencing you with a kiss. His palm meets your cheek, his thumb rubbing your jaw with slow, near hypnotic strokes. Resting his forehead on yours, he breathes- “Move in with me.”
Pursing your lips you hum, pretending to think, jumping when he pokes you in the rib. “Okay! Okay.”
It’s funny how in just a few months, Minho went from your mutual friend, to the catalyst for so much change in your life. How you went from mere strangers to lovers, acquaintances to parents. From alone to together. You and him. Him and you. It’s.. bliss.
And then it isn’t. Suddenly, it’s anything but.
“Fuck.”
Minho feels you stiffen beneath him, eyes blown wide. “What is it?”
“I think-” No, you know. It’s just less embarrassing to outright admit. “I think I pissed myself?”
You watch him bite back a laugh, his eyes rolling to feign nonchalance. For whose sake, you don’t know. You appreciate it regardless. He was right, you two are disgusting.
Kissing your forehead, he goes to move you off of his lap when you grit your teeth, hands balling into fits as you muffle a scream. Sitting up fully, he holds your head in his hands. Your eyes screw shut as you try to navigate the pain, try to locate it. He doesn’t move, until you gasp, teary eyes flying open, the pain subsiding as quickly as it came.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” you force out, winded. “Fuck- I don’t know what that was.”
“Where does it hurt?” He asks, thumbs running over your cheeks.
“All down my back,” you breathe, bringing a hand under your belly. “-and right here.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds before he stiffens, eyes wide.
“What?” He says nothing, shifting you slightly to look at the dark spot on the couch.
“Shit.”
“What?” Even in his haste, he moves you off of him with the utmost care, placing your feet gently on the carpet before getting up. “Minho! Don’t go!”
“Hey, hey,” still a little pale, he turns to you, kneeling on the ground, rubbing your knees. “Wait here for me, okay? Deep breaths.” When he tries to leave again, you latch onto his arm, blinking back tears. “You didn’t piss yourself, I think you’re in labour.”
Labour.
You’re in.. labour?
“No, no, no- I’m not. It’s too soon- stop that! Just- stay! Where are you going!”
“I need to pack your hospital bag,” he says with as little smugness as is possible for Minho. Which isn’t much. You had been putting it off for a while, swearing he was being over prepared. “Don’t move, I’m coming right back.”
“Minho!” He’s gone for what feels like hours, the pain dull but lingering as you think over his words. Labour. Hospital bag. Deep breaths. It’s then you realise you’d been holding your breath. You curse him on your second inhale, a pain shooting through your groin, all the way up your back and over your shoulders. He runs in at the sound of your scream, frowning at the sight of you, tears streaming down your cheeks. Through the pain you feel him stroking your head, mumbling about something. “It’s too soon,” you cry, watching him unbutton your dress, helping you stand. Your eyes catch the sweats and t-shirt slung over his shoulder. “We still have a few weeks.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” he rushes, stripping you with just enough care. “It’s just a few weeks, baby.”
Dropping your head to his shoulder you just weep. Baby. You haven’t heard that from him yet. It’d have you reeling if it didn’t happen now. Especially when your baby is coming. Shit. Your baby is coming. “No. I wanted more time..”
“It’s okay,” kissing your temple, he strokes your head, patting his pocket, checking for his phone and keys. “We’re ready, we don’t need time.”
“No.” You cry, sniffling. “I wanted more time with you.”
“I told you, dummy.” He smiles, kissing your forehead before he walks you to the door, grabbing your hospital bag. “I’m not going anywhere.”
10 MONTHS
Clenching and unclenching his fist, Chan exhales before letting his knuckles hit the door with three soft strikes.
Except the few times he forgot his key, Chan can’t remember ever knocking on your front door. It’s jarring, to think of himself as a guest in your home after years of the opposite. It’s even more jarring to see who welcomes him: a visibly exhausted yet ever handsome, Minho.
Neither of them speak for a few seconds, Minho’s tired eyes warming slightly as Chan’s rested pair look him over. “You look like shit, mate.”
“I feel like it,” Minho laughs, pulling the door open a bit more to welcome his old friend inside. It’s surprisingly quiet, Chan thinks, for a house with a newborn. “They’re sleeping.”
“Right.” He was never subtle, he remembers you saying once, evidenced by his eyes slowly scanning the living room. It’s neat, bar the moses basket and brand new bottle cleaner sat atop the coffee table. “Good thing I didn’t get that then,” he says, pointing at the contraption.
“Yeah, Felix dropped it round when we got home last week,” Minho grumbles, scratching his head. “Still can’t figure it out.”
“Want me to take a look?” Minho doesn’t say anything as he raises his hand, gesturing to the couch. The space has changed slightly. His- the other couch, is against the wall now, the moses basket in its place. Sitting, he digs out the instructions, eyeing them quietly.
“Want a drink?”
“Yeah, sure.”
When Minho heads into the kitchen, Chan swallows. He hadn’t spoken to Minho. Not a word since the fight. He’d spoken to you though. The odd text here and there, you’d met for that coffee you promised, awkwardly steering clear of the topic of you both and sticking to catching up. He asked about the baby, you told him about the baby. You reluctantly asked about his spiders, and he told you about the spiders. It was amicable. It was nice.
He and Minho however? “Here.”
It was weird. He knew him before he ever knew you. The pair met at your college open day, the elder of the two spending the day guiding the latter and his parents through the near mile long campus, quietly telling him all the best spots for studying, partying, even doing laundry. Random tips and tricks to making it through college life. His parents spoke more than he did, still unsure about their only child moving to a college so far from home. Chan had happily soothed their concerns, complimenting the college dance programme, watching Minho’s eyes light up at its mention. Like they do now, when Chan asks about you.
“She’s good,” though like always, behind them lingers some restraint. It isn’t for his sake, Chan thinks. Minho, though one to downplay something for his own discretion, unknowingly gives something else away. Something is wrong. “Just adjusting.”
“What d’you mean?”
Looking up from the finally assembled and currently cleansing bottle cleaner, Minho sighs- “She’s still trying to get used to everything. Feeding, changing.. it’s all still new, I guess.”
Nodding, Chan sips his beer, watching Minho dig the heels of his palms into his eyes with a yawn. “But she’s okay, right?” Blinking, Minho sniffs. It was weird. Seeing Minho so pensive, so troubled. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” shaking his head, he swallows. “No, it’s just-” the words catch in his throat. Chan thinks he’s over stepping when his eyes widen, catching the gleam in Minho’s eyes. “She’s- she’s struggling.”
“With what?”
“All of it.” He doesn’t say anything for a while, wringing his hands before he looks at Chan, seeing the warmth, the concern in his eyes. “She was early,” he says, thinking back. “So that came as a shock, and because of it they couldn’t come home straight away. Baby had to stay, get monitored. On top of that, Y/N got an infection which freaked her out a bit. I had to stay here, she wasn’t able to see her all the time. All the weeks alone in hospital, I think everything started getting to her.”
Chan just nods, a little antsy at no sign of you in the time he’s been here. He isn’t proud of it, but hearing from you has really helped him. Going from spending nearly every night with you to radio silence, the slow stream of contact has done wonders for him. When he’d only heard the news from Felix after you promised to update him, he panicked. It’s why he’s here.
“She’s active, like, she’s proper eager to help. But- just not with her? I love doing it, all of it. And she’s been amazing, she’s cooking, cleaning, tidying up, making bottles.. but when it comes to the baby, it’s like she’s terrified of doing something wrong. And she wants to, I can see it. When I walk in on them, when she thinks I’m not looking, I catch her playing with her, poking her cheek, shaking her foot or something,” Minho remembers with a soft grin. “But, besides that? Nothing. As if she can’t? Or isn’t allowed to? Or thinks she doesn’t deserve to, doesn’t deserve her. It’s like she thinks she might hurt her, as if she ever could. And I don’t get it but after all the complications, I think she’s- it’s like-”
It’s weird, but Chan doesn’t think twice before getting up, hugging Minho tight as he cries. Sobs ripping through him as he muffles the sound in Chan’s shoulder. It’s terrifying. What could be so wrong that Minho could be like this. The Lee Minho. Chan has never seen Minho like this. He wants to know why.. until he doesn’t.
“I think she thinks it was her fault.”
Chan squeezes tighter at that, his own words screaming back at him, mocking him.
‘Maybe your dad had the right idea, getting out before it was too late, because I’m not sticking around while you fuck up our kid too.’
“Can I talk to her?” Chan breathes suddenly, worried at Minho’s confused glare, his red eyes scanning the paling face of his old friend. What would it do? Chan telling you to grow up, to get up and be a mother. Chan almost backtracks at the distrust in Minho’s eyes, the same warning look he remembers from the party darkening them. But he holds his ground. “I think I can help.”
After a long second, Minho sniffs, daring him- “Say anything to hurt her-”
“I won’t.” Chan promises, swallowing. “I swear.”
With a hard stare, Minho nods. Sighing- “You know where she is.”
+
It’s quiet, bar the soft breaths from the cot beside your bed when the door knocks, your eyes moving toward it, a grin already forming on your lips. It lessens into a soft smile when he doesn’t appear but Chan does, a pink, paper gift bag in his hands. Sitting up, you tilt your head. “Hey you.”
“Hey,” Chan smiles, eyes meeting yours. “I come bearing gifts.. Well, one gift.”
“You didn’t have to.” You try, laughing when he glares playfully. It’s easy with you, Chan thinks. Not so much in a bedroom he once shared with you, his eyes catching the box marked Minho, dance trophies spilling out. But it’s easy, almost like it used to be. “What is it?”
Stuffing his hand in the bag, he pulls it out to reveal a stuffed wolf, a pink bow wrapped around its neck.
“You look adorable.”
“Har har,” he grumbles, moving to hand it to you, watching you twirl it between your hands. “It was Felix’s idea.”
“That explains it,” you say, watching his brows knit. “I think he told you all the same thing,” you smile, pointing at the array of stuffed animals at her feet, most impressed by the pig-rabbit hybrid at the end, the quokka and chicken nestled just north of her tiny, perfectly round head. Turning back to you, his brows almost blend into one as you hand it back to him, telling him- “Put them together.”
“No, you do it,” he tries, watching you stiffen only just. “I don’t want to mess up the arrangement.”
“You could never.” You say simply, folding up a pile of muslin.
Though the words give him pause, they’re not enough to prove Minho’s point, but they’re something. Chan has seen you with kids. They gravitate towards you, and you to them. It’s part of the reason you two started discussing trying, traversing your early hesitance at the idea of becoming the very thing you feared the most. So, to see you, smiling eyes glued to her round face, sitting a good few feet away from your newborn.. it’s strange.
“How you feeling?” He asks suddenly, your head turning at the sound, as if you’d forgotten he were there. “Felix said it wasn’t.. easy?”
“Is it meant to be?” You joke, shrugging. “I’m good. She was-” you frown at the memory, shaking your head ever so slightly, patting the folded muslin in your lap. “We’re good.”
“That’s good,” he nods warmly, eyeing the half packed boxes. “Almost all packed up?”
“Yeah,” you grin, pointing to a box of Minho’s stuff, “his stuff is already done from his place but still got all mine to do. Lix’s parents said they’d take some of it in their attic but just need to decide what.”
“Right, right.”
“Did Lix show you it?” When he shakes his head, you reach for your phone, going on about the cute two-bed a couple blocks away. He thinks he gets it now. How ready you are to talk about anything and everything except what is wrong. He’s about to think up another way to bring it up when the baby wakes, the beginnings of a cry already cutting through the room.
Looking toward you, he sees it clearly. How you shrink into yourself, a frown forming on your delicate features, your body rising sharply as you go to call for Minho. “I’ll just go get him-”
“Hey, hey,” you’re almost at the door when he rushes- “It’s okay, may I?”
You nod immediately, the trust in your eyes warming him. He feels your eyes on him as he walks to pick her up, his voice low as he coos at her, large hands carefully lifting her from the cot before cradling her in his big arms. She was tiny, but even more so with Chan, her small body sinking into the puffy sleeves of his sweatshirt. He silences her with a few gentle rocks, arms still swinging side to side before he looks up, finding you watching them in silent awe. Chan has always been good at everything, why would this be any different?
When she cries again, probably unfamiliar with his smell, or the ridges in his arms, the depth of his voice different to her dad’s, he’s quick to navigate it, soothing her- “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, there you go-” Ah, this is awkward. “Felix never sent her name when he text.”
Looking up, he finds you chewing your lips, rubbing your palms down your top. “She- she doesn’t have one yet.” Swallowing, you nod towards the door. “I told Minho to just pick one but he kept saying ‘no, that’s not how it works’, so we’re still deciding.” He keeps rocking her, nodding gently as you continue. “You know, without a name, she technically doesn’t legally exist because we can’t get her a birth certificate? It’s very Matrix, don’t you think?”
“Yeah..” he breathes, looking at her then back to you. “Have you thought of any names?”
“Uh-” You think for a moment before shrugging, coming up short. Kora comes to mind. Soon to be cursed to a half life in hell, the rest in fleeting happiness until her return there. Maybe Persephone, like she came to be known. You say neither. “Nothing really suits her.”
“None?” You shake your head, sitting when he does. “She doesn’t look like anyone?”
You remain silent for a moment, a sad smile on your face as you whisper, “She looks a bit like my mom..” his eyes dart to your cheek then, watching you swipe your hand over it as you laugh. “Poor thing.”
“Hey-”
“Ignore me, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Chan, it’s fine.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m fine!” You say suddenly, a shout quiet enough not to wake her. A loud whisper of sorts. “I’m fine, she’s fine, we’re all fine. She hasn’t got a name yet because Minho won’t pick and I can’t decide because.. because every time I look at her, I see my mom. I look at her, and I remember how.. how everything is my fault.”
“Y/N, that’s not true-”
“Yes it is. Everything is. Her, me and you, my mom. Her bipolar came after I did, she lived her whole life before me, and I came in and ruined it. She spiralled after I left, and now she’s gone. So you know, maybe if I never did, she’d still be here. Maybe she’d tell me what to do, how to fix this, how to- how to be a fucking mom.” Your breaths shallow with every word, your eyes still stuck on Chan’s arms, tears finally spilling over the edge of your welling eyes. “I hated her because she didn’t want me but had me anyway. And now look at me. I wanted her so bad, and I have no fucking clue how to take care of her. So which is worse, huh? Having a baby you don’t want and still trying, only for her to walk out on you? Or having one you do want and fucking everything up? I finally went to see her a few months ago. Being there finally made me realise that maybe I should’ve cut her some slack. That maybe she did everything she could, that everything she did was to make me strong, to prepare me for life, for this. And she did it all on her own, all by herself. I have someone to help and I still can’t do it. I’m still fucking it up.
“But hey,” you shrug with a small smile, eye’s gleaming. “She’s only half me right? The other half is the only thing saving her.” Your laughter cuts through the hate you feel for yourself, staring at the spot where Chan once sat as he rises to place your sleeping daughter in her cot. “Minho’s perfect with her. It’s the only thing getting me through every day, seeing them together. It just clicked for him. Like he was born to do this, to be a dad, be her dad. She stops crying the second he enters the room, she’s barely two months and smiles when she hears him. She’s gorgeous, just like him. She’s perfect. He’s perfect. And I’m-” it’s then your eyes find Chan, his so full of concern, full of pity. It makes your stomach turn. “I’m just- I just can’t do it.”
Is it wrong? To miss Chan holding you? To miss him comforting you? To miss the way his presence alone can fix so much without so much as a word said? Encasing you in his arms as he squeezes every drop from you, his damp shoulder pressed to your cheek, your nose breathing in his scent, soothed by the very smell of your ex lover? You think not. Not when you experienced so much together, lived together, loved one another.
And you think you still do, just not in the way you once did. Not the way you love Minho, or the way you love Felix. It’s something else entirely. You love Chan in the way you think you would have had your lives been different, had he not taken Minho’s chance so many years ago, had he just been your friend.
You love Chan how you think you always should have. Not as a lover, but a friend.
A friend who takes you as you are, who has seen every part of you, both good and bad and loves you anyway. A friend who holds you tight, stroking your hair with gentle pats, rocking you side to side before breathing- “I’m going to say something you’re not going to like-”
“That isn’t new-”
“And I want you to listen until I’m done,” he laughs, squeezing tighter. “Okay?”
It’s a few seconds before you nod, giving him a final squeeze before pulling away.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” The words come out softly, echoing your own. “You- Y/N, you? Are the best person I know.” He glares when you open your mouth, watching it shut as the words die on your tongue, leaving you to think them instead. You both know Felix Lee. “We were together for over five years and those were five of the best years of my life. You gave those to me. And I know they weren’t all the same for you, I know you put a lot aside for me. Everything with your mom, everything you were feeling, everything you wanted in life. I wanted a family and you tried for me, you tried because you wanted what I did and I didn’t think of you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry because maybe if I did, if I just thought about you for a second, we could’ve worked on everything together, instead of trying to patch everything up with a baby. If I thought of you then, then maybe we could’ve been happy.. maybe you would’ve been happy. Maybe if I tried to show you that you weren’t just your mother’s daughter, but that you were so, so much more, things would be different.
“But they aren’t. And maybe that’s how it was meant to be. Y/N, you’ve spent your whole life on your own. You raised yourself, you loved yourself. You did everything yourself. And a few months ago, it would’ve killed me to admit it, but now you don’t have to. You have Minho, you have her,” he smiles, looking at your now awake, humming daughter. “You have a beautiful baby, a beautiful life. And it may not be how you planned, how you wanted it, but it’s your life now. And I wouldn’t want it for anyone else. Your daughter is so lucky to have you. And sure your mom wasn’t the best, but she made you Y/N. You’re loving, and caring, you give everyone who walks into your life so much of yourself, you don’t even see that you’re hurting. And I know you think you’re helping her, by staying away, by standing aside. I know you think you’re doing the best thing for her, but you can’t hurt yourself just to protect her. There’s nothing to protect her from! You say Minho’s the best chance she’s got? This girl is already half you, which means half of her already has the best chance she could ever have. There is no version of you that doesn’t deserve her, deserve everything you want. You don’t have to learn how to be a mother, Y/N. You just do it. You just figure it out as you go. And you already wanting the world for her is proof enough that you’re a good mother, great even.
“How everything turned out with your mom is shit. It is. But you’re not her. You’re you. Yes, you are your mother’s daughter, but this girl is yours. And she’s going to be okay, more than okay.. because she has you.”
You read once that babies can sense sadness, and though that isn’t even close to what you’re feeling, you think yours can sense something as she suddenly cries, her swaddled body shifting side to side. When the door opens at the sound, Chan also moving to grab her, you wipe your cheek, grabbing his arm-
“I’ll get her,” you breathe, looking toward Minho, rolling your eyes at his teary, almost annoying astonishment.. “I am her mom, aren’t I?”
“Go on then,” he glares, watching in quiet awe as you walk over to her, only slightly hesitant as you lower your hands to her head and feet before raising her out of the cot.
“She’s so small,” you whisper, smiling at them both, before holding her close, feeling her settle as she rests her head over your heart. “Hi love,” looking up at you, you watch her lips curl, the whispers of a smile on her face. It’s then you see it, in the soft curves of her cheeks, the slight arch of her brows, the tiny dip of her nose. You think you saw it all along. She doesn’t look like your mother, or maybe she does, because- “She kinda looks like me.”
12 MONTHS
“At this time we call on the parents, grandparents and chosen godparents of Love Lee to come forward.”
Looking over your shoulder, you glare at your group of friends gathered in the second row pew, quickly silencing their snickers.
“‘Love Lee’, whose clever idea was that again?”
“Y/N’s,” Minho grumbles, flicking Jisung’s forehead before getting up. “We didn’t realise until we went to the town hall- wake him up.”
“Why are you flicking me? I wasn’t the one who named her,” Jisung grumbles, rubbing his forehead as he nudges Jeongin awake. “Wake up, you’re drooling.” Watching Felix and his parents get up to approach the baptismal font, Jisung slouches a little before announcing to no one in particular, “I didn’t want the first one anyway, the first kid is always boring. I want the second one. The fun one, ya know?”
“Whatever makes you feel better,” Changbin smirks, giving Felix a thumbs up when he straightens his suit jacket.
“No seriously,” Jisung defends, watching you place Love in the priest’s waiting arms. “Think about it. Harry and William, Anna and Elsa, Solange and Bey- no not that one. Yeji and Hyunjin!”
“Hey!” Hyunjin warns, glaring as Jisung turns to a grinning Yeji a row behind, winking.
“Yep. Firstborns are overrated. I’m getting the second one.”
“You keep telling yourself that, mate.” Chan says suddenly, patting his friend’s shoulder as he shuffles along the pew to join the others at the font.
Glaring at his retreating figure, Jisung muses- “And besides, if anything happens to Chan or Felix, I’m next in line.”
“Who said?” Seungmin laughs, kneeling beside Jeongin to snap a shot of you all gathered by the font, Felix and Chan listening carefully to the priest. “Because I’m pretty sure they’re not picking the bitter friend with no money to raise their kid if they die-”
“Hey, fuck you man-” at the chorus of gasps, a revenge elbow in the rib back from Jeongin and a glare from Minho’s parents at the front, Jisung bows his head, whispering- “Why are they doing this anyway? Are they even religious?”
“I think Minho said something about Y/N not wanting Love to burn in the eternal flame.” Jeongin yawns, shoving him as he stretches.
It’s silent for a second before Jisung nods. “I love The Bangles.”
+
“Hey Love! Hi! Hi, look at me! There we go.. everyone say ‘Happy Christening’.”
“Happy Christening!”
With a final few snaps of the shutter, Seungmin’s job is done for the evening. “Okay, Seungmin, you’re done. Nope, you’re done. Take this-” you say firmly, placing an open beer in his hand, grabbing the camera off of him. “Go have fun.”
“I just want to get a few more-”
“Go!” With a glare and failed final try, he concedes, taking a long swig of the beer before moving to stalk off when you pull him back. “No, wait!”
“No, no, I’m not in the pictures, I just take them.”
“But what if when she’s older she asks why you weren’t here?” You pout, grinning when he sighs, following your line of sight to find the four month old bouncing on Jeongin’s lap, squealing as she rises in the air. Just then, your eyes catch on a familiar head of blonde hair. “Quick, go grab her before Felix gets her. You’ll never get her off him.”
Rising to the challenge, he takes quick a few quick, short strides in her direction, snatching and spinning her in the air before Felix gets a chance. “Hey!”
“You snooze, you lose,” Seungmin yells over his shoulder before posing. “Hurry up, I think he might kill me.”
Taking a few blurry, a few excellent shots, you look through them before looking up, finding Felix and Jeongin flanking Seungmin. Snapping a few more, you look up to see the rest of the guys approaching, relinquishing their seat on the last piece of furniture in the empty living room.
One of them is missing.
You realise who as you take a few steps back, trying to get them all in. “Oh!”
“Watch it, these are my expensive shoes.”
“All of them are your expensive shoes, idiot.” When he tickles your sides, you gasp, warning- “Careful, if I drop this, Love’ll be fatherless.”
“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll happily take his place.” Jisung says honourably before leaning forward to find someone. “Unless of course, Chan wanted to..”
“Oooooo.”
Rolling your eyes, you look towards a laughing Minho, whispering, “No one could replace you.”
“I know,” he whispers over your lips, capturing them with his before the jokes start up again.
“You mad Chan?” Jeongin tries to a less successful reception, Chan’s hand swinging out and grabbing his tie. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Hey, watch the kid.” Minho warns, leaving your side to take Love in his arms.
“Or what?” Chan says, taking Love from Seungmin before he can, freeing the latter to grab and pack his camera before anything happens to his baby. “There’s no table to throw me through this time.”
“Don’t,” pinching Love’s cheek as he lets Chan hold her. “You’ll start him up again.”
“Who, me?” Changbin shouts, crossing his arms. “The guy whose table still hasn’t been replaced?”
“Well,” Felix muses, “If we hadn’t thrown that party, that fight wouldn’t have happened.”
“Exactly,” you agree, nodding. “So technically.. it’s Hyunjin’s fault.”
“For what?” Hyunjin yells. “Being born?” There’s collective agreement before he huffs. “Love,” he says, walking up to your baby before kissing her forehead. “Goodnight. Thanks for a great time,” before walking out of your apartment, threatening- “Whoever came in my car better find a ride home because none of you are coming with me!”
“I didn’t agree, Jinnie!” Jeongin shouts, kissing Love on the cheek and waving goodbye before running after him.
They suddenly all begin to trickle out, Chan and Felix the last as they grab and slip on their shoes. Minho has to pry Love out of Felix’s hands for you to hug him, his pout lingering when you remember. “Oh!” Running to Felix’s room, you grab something from the cabinet before returning. “We have something for you two. Well, Love does.”
Gasping, Felix turns to the infant. “You didn’t have to get us anything!” Grinning when she reaches for him, squealing as she slaps him across the cheek. “I’m gonna let that slide.”
“Seriously, though,” Chan says, looking at you both as he digs into the bag, pulling out a small box. You feel Minho lean into your side, his slipping onto your hip as Love bounces on his own. They open the gifts in silence, the silver bangles glistening in the low light. Chan catches it first, the tiny inscription. A love heart. “Aw, that’s cute.”
“I love it! Thank you, baby!” He says with a grin, eyeing Minho expectantly before he just shakes his head. With a dejected sigh, a final kiss and a hug goodbye, Felix shrugs his suit jacket back on before he heads for the door, certain Seungmin and Jisung are about to leave him behind. “Chan, need a ride?”
“Uh, yeah. Just give me a minute?” When he’s gone, you feel Minho lean his cheek on your head, Chan smiling softly. “I- uh, I just realised I never said thank you.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just something to remember today-”
“No,” he laughs, already forgetting the little cuff on his wrist. “Not that- I mean, this is amazing, really. But I meant-” looking at Love, he smiles again. “Thanks for choosing me. I know you could’ve chosen anyone, and I’m honoured you guys picked me.”
“Yeah,” Minho huffs, “Well it was you or Jisung, and I wasn’t picking him.”
“Yeah, he’s a bit pissed about that..” Chan laughs, scratching his neck.
“He’ll get over it,” Minho shrugs. “But you’re my brother, man. Of course.”
“Yeah.” With a clap, he drops a kiss on Love’s head before hugging you both. “I’ll see you guys next week, at the new place?”
“Yes. See you then.”
And then it’s just you three.
When you say it like that, the number feels so small when seven people have just left. But when you remember not even eight months ago, it was just you, it feels like the saying goes: a crowd. No, not a crowd.
A family.
“I thought I told you to stop thinking so hard,” you hear Minho say, turning to find him watching you from the couch, Love napping in her cot next door. “You’re not that bright, you might hurt yourself.”
“Har har.” Walking over to him, you drop yourself in his lap, thinking back to all those months ago when the sight of him jarred you. Now, it wouldn’t feel right without him. It’s funny, how well you fit in his lap now, the reason you're together snoozing away one door down. You bask in the peace for a moment, feeling his hand settle at your lower back, before inching its way up, working the muscles like they once had to. When it meets your neck, turning it towards him, he guides your lips to his.
Kissing Minho is the most natural thing in the world. It’s practically necessary at this point. Feeling his lips move against yours, his hands pulling you over him, slotting your thighs either side of his. Perched on his knees, you feel his fingers slip under the hem of your dress, the white satin gathering on his cuffs as you untie his tie with shaky fingers. When his fingers meet the lace, he pauses, pulling away to look at you, then them.
“These for me?” He asks with a smirk, the smugness almost ruining the gesture. Almost. When you nod, he squints. “You wore these to the church?”
“Mhm.”
“You know,” he says with a low voice, unbuttoning your dress slowly, “If you told me that then, the service would’ve gone a lot differently.”
“Minho,” you warn, or try to, it’s more a whine as he pulls back your dress, knuckles dusting over your clothed heat. “We’re already cohabiting, having sex and had a baby all before marriage. I don’t need sex in a church added to my list of sins.”
“Is this you proposing?” He breathes into your neck, lips latching to the skin when you hit his arm. “Don’t be shy, I would’ve said yes.”
“Fuck off, I am not proposing to you.”
“What?” He asks, unhooking your bra before pressing firmly against your back, bringing your chest to his mouth. Looking up, he watches you through his lashes, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick your nipple, guiding it into his waiting mouth with a gentle suck. “You said it yourself,” his words send a shiver through you, his lips curving as you push your chest toward his waiting mouth. “We’re moving in together, we’re fucking, we have a baby.” Rolling it between his teeth, he grins when you gasp, placing a kiss to the skin just above. “Let’s get married.”
Sitting back on his knees, you glower at him. Not this again.
“You choose the worst times to play games with me.”
“I’ve never played a game with you, baby,” he confesses, looking up at you in earnest. “You just called it that.”
“So you’re admitting you were actively flirting with me when I was with Chan?” He nods. “So you’re a homewrecker?”
“Well,” he shrugs, passing his thumb over your clit, watching your lips part. “There wasn’t really a home to wreck, was there?”
“Have I ever told you you’re really fucking annoying?”
“Yeah, once or twice.” Bringing you back down to him, you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the cool buttons of his shirt biting at the skin on your chest. Sliding down further, you wrap your arms around his neck, feeling him shift before he lifts you to unbuckle his belt and trousers, slipping them down his legs before kicking them off. “Did I ever tell you, you’re beautiful?”
“In less words,” dropping your hand down, you watch his head fall back on the couch, swallowing as you palm him, fingers slowly wrapping around him.
“In less words than two?”
“Yeah,” you laugh, teeth grazing his Adam’s apple, forcing a breath out of him. “You’re pretty selective with your compliments, baby.”
“Well, if I said it too often, it wouldn’t be as meaningful would it?” You suppose, the words are still swimming around in your head. “Kinda like ‘I love you’.”
“You’ve never said you love me.”
“But you know I do,” he says simply, hips rising to your hand as you slip them in his waistband, freeing him with nimble twists of your wrist. Watching you, he hisses- “You do right?” When you raise a brow, letting your thumb graze over his tip, he forces out- “You know I love you?”
“I know,” you pout, letting him take it between his teeth as you slide your closed fist down around him.
“Then marry me.” You look into his warm eyes with exasperation, biting back a smile, biting back a yes as you slide your fist up and down, feeling the weight of him increase beneath your palm. He struggles to retain that warmth, darkness seeping in with every tug, his lips parting as you lean in to kiss him, before he pulls his lips away again. “Marry me.”
“Minho!” Releasing him, you watch him scowl, pouting at your indignation. “Stop messing around!”
“I’m not!”
“Look,” you warn with a sigh, feeling him drag you closer, his breath catching as the lace of your panties rubs his cock just enough to feel a hint of relief. “If you were serious, you’d have a ring and be on one knee, and it wouldn’t be while we’re half naked about to fuck!”
“Well, I’m not on one knee, because we’re about to fuck,” he points out, leaning to the other end of the couch to grab his suit jacket. “But I do-” digging into the pocket, he pulls out a little box, a miniature version of the one’s you’d just gifted your daughter’s godfathers. “Have a ring.”
Opening the box, he turns it towards you, looking awfully smug for someone flushed as red as he is. You stare at it for a while, the silver band topped with a perfectly cut diamond. It’s clean. It’s simple. It’s perfect.
“You’re the mother of my daughter. You’re-” looking up, thinking he might be choking up, you only find him.. Annoyed, begrudgingly admitting- “You’re my best friend at this point,” softened by the tears he finds swimming in your eyes. “I’m- I’m fucking whipped, Y/N. Me. I’m in love with you, okay? I’d do anything for you. Be mine.
“Marry me.”
Oh, you definitely win.
“Okay.” You say, pecking his lips. “I’ll marry you.”
Plucking the ring out the box, he slides it onto your second to last finger, watching it glide on with impeccable ease. When you raise a brow, he confesses- “Felix helped me.”
“He knew?”
“Yeah.” Funny, how good your best friend is at keeping Minho’s secrets and not yours.
“Now, are you gonna sit on my dick or what?”
“I don’t know, can I take my yes back?” Shaking his head, he pumps himself a few times as you slide your panties off, smiling at him. Rolling his eyes, he eyes the piece of fabric as it rolls down, slipping his hand between you two, his middle finger slipping into you with equally impeccable ease. You hear the words before he speaks them. “I swear to god, Minho-”
“Who you been fucking?”
“I had a baby, you dickhead.”
“Mm, sure-” you cut him off as you take him to the hilt, lips closing around his as he grunts, the sound only half the assurance you need. When he looks at you, he mirrors your frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Am I-” you swallow, watching a flush creep down his neck and chest, the words having to force their way out. “Do I still feel good?”
He pouts at that, thumb swiping the streaks left behind on your cheeks. “Yeah, you’re perfect.”
“It’s just..” he watches you, holding himself back from begging you to move, though concern still fills his gaze. “You’re not usually loud but you’re never this quiet.”
“Well, you haven’t started, have you?” He pants out, pushing your hair out of your face. “And Love is asleep next door.”
“Okay,” you concede, feeling him stiffen as you shift slightly, the motion making you squeeze around him. He kisses you then, and again, and again, lips moving slowly, hands finding your hips before he lifts you up and brings you back down, a long, quiet groan leaving his lips as you begin to take over, your knees working extra hard as you rise and fall, his hands creeping up your sides, thumbs rubbing the soft skin beneath your breasts.
His groans slowly fill the air, mingling with yours as you tighten around him, every drag of him along your walls earning increasingly louder mewls, his hands gripping you tighter as you force yourself up and down, a burn growing in your thighs. He senses this as you begin to slow, a smirk pulling his lips to one side. “Need me to take over?”
Fucking liar. He did play games.
You pull a new found strength from this, your hands rubbing their way up his chest to his shoulders, forgoing the action entirely, instead rolling your hips, pushing him against a soft, gradually hardening spot within you with each thrust into him. Each one makes him heady, his jaw tensing with every motion, every squeeze. You feel him pulse inside you, his head falling back on the couch on a particularly slow drag of your heat.
“You better not come in me.”
“Come on,” he whines, feeling you slow to a devastating stop, his thumb moving to rest on your clit. “Chan was right, Jisung’s pissed.”
“If you think I’m having another baby for Han Jisung, you’re insane.”
“Maybe I am,” he huffs before inhaling deeply and turning you both, letting your back fall into the emerald couch, his hips snapping into you with a new found vigour. “Let’s have another.”
“Minho.”
“Fine,” kissing your neck, he lets his thumb find your clit again, fucking into you with his lip between his teeth, releasing it just to say- “You’re swallowing it then.”
“Fine.”
“Fine- fuck,” he slows when you tighten around him, gripping him tight as he circles your clit. Watching your face contort, he laughs to himself. “Close, baby?”
“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting yourself not to scream, as he shortens his strokes, but sharpens them, hammering a spot that has your jaw hanging open. It’s dizzying, the weight of him above you, the angle of him in you, his thumb working on your clit. It’s all too much. A good too much. “M-Minho-”
“It’s okay, baby. Go ahead.” He whispers, kissing your bitten lips, swallowing your scream as you cum, your walls closing around him. Nearly milking him, he’s forced to pull out as he keeps working your clit, kissing your open mouth. “Good girl, that’s it.”
You’re trembling beneath him, the couch soaking up your light film of sweat as you pant, feeling the last of your orgasm fading away, just as you look up, finding him watching you, oddly sweet.
“Come here,” your eyes drop to his slick cock, his fingers gripping the base tight, literally holding back his release. “Hurry.”
“Hold on,” you laugh, gripping his tensed thighs when he kneels, your hands rubbing them as he places the head in your waiting mouth, his hands finding the back of your neck and couch to steady him, the last of his energy draining out of him with every bob of your head and hollow of your cheeks. He shivers when you pull him out, your lips sucking on his tip, tongue swirling.
“Just like that,” he whispers, thumb rubbing along your jaw as you take him back in, letting his hand guide your head. He smirks when you glare at him, almost gagging as your lips touch his base. “Sorry.”
He’s not sorry. Not even a little. But you can take it, he knows you can. If your first night together a year ago was anything to go by.
A year.
A year with Minho. Well, not exactly, but it’s easier to believe that in a full year so much could change. That in one year, Minho went from a stranger at your front door, to the love of your life. That in one year, you went from the lowest point in your life to its peak. That in one year, Minho made you his.
“Shit-” he hisses, feeling you swallow around his head, your cheeks hollowed, milking his cum straight down your throat. Hands still rubbing up and down his thighs, you feel them soften with every gulp, his hand loosening around your neck, his other coming to pull you off him completely, tilting your head up to kiss him as he collapses over you.
“Get- off!” You whine, laughing as he drops his full weight on you. He hums when you wrap your arms around his waist, the tiny pitter patter of paws sounding from down the hall. “Go open Felix’s door for them before they scratch the wood.”
He just groans, a defiant no readied on his lips before the timely cries of your waking daughter sound. “Okay, babe.” He rushes against the skin of your neck, quickly kissing you before running down the hall.
One year ago, you couldn’t imagine being a mother. Now? Now you couldn’t imagine being anything but.
Grabbing your dress, you throw it on, laughing when you see Minho glower, his eyes catching the mess in the litter box. “Hey babe? Wanna trade-”
“Nope!” Closing the door behind you, you switch on a lamp. “Hey, lovely,” you coo, buttoning up your dress as you hear the sound of your voice alone cutting through her wails. “It’s okay, I’m here.” Gathering her in your arms, you grin as she settles, her writhing slowing with each gentle whisper. “Shh, it’s okay. Mommy’s here.”
Some time passes as you sway side to side, perching yourself on the bed, looking around the empty room before looking back down at her fluttering eyes.
“Did you sleep well, angel? Did you dream?” When she just garbles, you nod like the unintelligible sound is the most interesting thing in the world to you. “Oh really? Then what happened?” She murmurs on cue, fingers latching onto one of yours. “Right, right. My mommy used to say if you fall asleep again quickly, you might be able to finish it.” She moves side to side, an obvious no. “No? You’re up?” She squeals. “That’s a shame, but it’s okay. You have so much time to dream and make every one of them come true..” you frown then, back tracking. “But Love, even if they don’t?” You whisper, kissing her tiny fist. “You can just dream again, and try again, and dream again, and try again. And mommy will be there. No matter. Daddy too, okay?”
She squeals again, the sound forcing a grin on your face.
“Does that sound good? Mommy’s gonna do her best for you, and she might make mistakes sometimes, but I don’t want you to ever forget how much I love you. How much daddy loves you, how much your uncles love you, nana Lee, papa Lee.. times two!” You laugh, pressing your lips to her tiny hand. “You’re gonna do great, chicken. I didn’t always think so. Your nanny, she wasn’t always there.. but she taught me how to love, she taught me how to be a mommy by showing me how not to be,” you laugh, wiping your cheek. “There’s a lesson in everything, in every good and bad thing in life. Even the ugliest things, you can take them and learn from them, learn how to carry on. So one day if I’m not here anymore, if Daddy isn’t here, you’ll have every memory, good or bad, to keep you going. You’ll take them as they are, all their faults and their merits, and you’ll love them anyway.”
She whines then, lips down turned. ‘What if I can’t?’
You shrug, kissing her forehead before breathing against her skin, “There’s only one way to find out.”
You are your mother’s daughter. And maybe that in itself is a testament to yourself, your mother, to her mother. One day you will teach your daughter the same. That she is your daughter but that’s not all she is. She is yours, but she is also hers.
You’ll teach her that mother’s lie, but mother’s also love, just like yours did.
Your mother lied, love can’t fix everything. But maybe Love could. Maybe Love did.
#stray kids#stray kids fanfiction#lee minho#lee know#lee minho fanfiction#lee know fanfiction#lee minho fic#lee know fic#lee minho fanfic#lee know fanfic#lee know x reader#straykids x reader#lee minho x reader#lee know imagines#lee minho imagines#stray kids imagines#lee minho smut#lee know smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#skz#skz x reader#skz fanfic#skz fanfiction#skz fic#skz imagines#jisungparker#i love this more than myself
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‘Wedding Crashers’ - Katsuki Bakugou
A/N: Sorry for my inactivity but here’s a little sorry and thank you present for me hitting 1k! I love you all sm <3
Pairings: Pro Hero!Bakugou x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+, ooc deku; but it’s more of a headcanon, semi-public sex
Summary: Your ex-boyfriend Izuku Midoriya inviting you to his wedding is a definite stab in yours and Katsuki Bakugou’s backs. But you’ll show him.
Word Count: 5k
masterlist
You had considered your morning to be relatively normal, breakfast not burnt, coffee just that right amount of bitter to stir you awake. But those happy moments of peaceful bliss were soon to be fleeting as your mail arrived. Sifting through the pile to what you assumed would be bank statements and bills; your fingers landed on a cream white envelope. Your name printed neatly in a cursive font that when you followed it with your eyes for too long it almost made you want to puke. Tearing it open haphazardly, you read the perfumed content inside.
‘Dear Y/N Y/LN,
We are very proud to invite you to the blah blah blah wedding of pro hero blah blah Izuku Midoriya and blah blah blah.
RSVP blah-‘
Wait what? The taste in your mouth was pitiful. Yes, you and Izuku had dated years prior and after being childhood friends, yet it didn’t end… swimmingly. But this didn’t feel like inviting a childhood friend to your happiest day, no, this felt like a backhanded swipe at your ex-girlfriend who was well known to the media to be single. Pro-Hero gossip magazines made sure of that.
Throwing the invitation onto your countertop, your eyebrows furrowed with spite. You felt weak almost, watching your ex-best friend grow up to be this bountiful hero with merch in every store that you went to. Though you had triumphed well in the hero charts yourself, nothing ever seemed to compare to him. The golden boy. You never really got over the fact that he ended things because being a single hero was more postable than one who was tied down. Until now. Mr. Big shot getting married. It really made you question your integrity,
Recuperating your thoughts, you realised your phone was buzzing on the couch next to you. Checking to see the influx of text messages, you saw Katsuki Bakugou’s name fill up your lockscreen with notifications.
Bakugou: tell me you got the stupid fuckin invite too
Bakugou: the nerve that nerd still fuckin has
Bakugou: inviting his childhood ‘friends’ after all this time
Bakugou: tch, one big publicity stunt if you ask me
You chuckle as you scroll through the messages, gladly knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling this way.
Y/N: so what’re we going to do about it?
Bakugou: what do you mean?
Y/N: well we can’t show him up at his own wedding but we can sure stir something of our own
Bakugou: well that idiot is marrying some nobody extra
Bakugou: probably to show how ‘great’ he is
Bakugou: so how about if two top pro heroes rsvp’d together?
Y/N: you mean us?
Bakugou: no, midnight and grape juice. of course us you idiot
The idea brewed in your head for a moment. Izuku had always been nice when he was younger, and Katsuki hadn’t exactly been the nicest towards him in return. You were always the mediator in those situations. However when Deku grew and grew in the hero charts he started to lose touch with reality. Not really remembering what being a hero was about besides having his face stuck on a lunch box and raking in the dough for it. It was sad. You didn’t know who he was anymore.
Y/N: fuck it, i’m in
-
“You know, don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tux before.” You chuckle, arm linked around Bakugou’s as you stepped out of the chauffeured car together. You were here to make a scene. Paparazzi glistened everywhere like a moth to a candle flame. You couldn’t wait for the tabloids in all honesty.
“Shut up.” Bakugou grumbled, almost in embarrassment. But his smile didn’t show a hint of it. “Not looking too bad yourself.”
You had coordinated well. Your maroon dress flowed in the gentle summer breeze and matched perfectly to Bakugou’s equally coloured tux. You two were such a pair it was nigh impossible to not think that you two were together today. And the paparazzi made sure of that indefinitely.
You couldn’t lie about how the service was beautiful, because it was. However you didn’t need to hear the shutter clicks of a camera go off every few words they spoke. It was distracting, and you and Bakugou shared a glance each time it occurred. Stifling a giggle, you hoped no camera would pick that up. Even if they did, they’d probably pin it to ‘look at these other heroes wishing that they were the next to get married!’ they’d eat that shit uplike ambrosia.
“Can’t wait to see the reception.” You mumbled towards Bakugou, your plastic smiles never fading for the cameras. Izuku making a show of himself and his new bride.
Watching him was almost bittersweet. The happy memories of you three as children flashing behind your eyes. Now replaced with a fame hungry number one hero. Where had all the time gone?
“What’s got you so perplexed?” Katsuki asked, filtering your way through the crowd, making your way to the cars that would deliver you all to the reception.
“Just-“ You sigh, allowing the cover of other heroes to hide you from the all seeing eyes of the paparazzi. “I miss him, y’know? Miss how we used to be.”
“Tch.” Bakugou didn’t care about the scowl present on his face, your words ate him up like some sort of bacteria. “Thought you said that he was the most selfish guy you’d ever dated?”
“He was but like-” You watched Izuku’s back as he held his new partner’s hand. Waving to the cameras and not watching her, as lovely as she looked in her wedding gown. “As weird as it sounds, I sometimes miss high school.”
Bakugou’s eyes scanned your face, following your eyesight to Midoriya. Fucking extra. The thoughts swam around his head, polluting his mind. He knew Izuku’s break up with you had been a massive toll on your mental health and your ego. He made you think that you weren’t good enough for him, and Bakugou never got over that fact. How could he pass up on you for anything else?
Breaking apart from the conglomerative of wedding-goers, Bakugou lead you to one of the specially hired cars to take the guests to the reception. Despite Bakugou’s abrasive and rough nature, you couldn’t help but notice how delicately he held your hand. Not tugging you along or haphazardly grabbing you by your wrist, making you follow him. No, his fingers interlaced with yours and you felt the coarseness of his palms due to the explosive nature of his quirk.
“Katsu?”
“Hm?”
“You can let go of my hand now, we’re in the car.”
“Yeah- whatever.”
Catching up in the car, you both realise how little time you have to actually spend with each other. Though you and Bakugou communicate 1000 times more than you do with Midoriya, heroing keeps you both busy. No times like these to goof off and be with each other. You missed it, you missed your hot-headed idiot friend.
“Hope there’s less fuckin’ paparazzi here. Think I’m gonna go blind with those extras pointing them in my face.” Bakugou rolled down the tinted window a smidge to watch as the car drove into an old looking manor hall where guests had already begun to arrive.
Flowers decorated the ground and just as you two got your hopes up, you saw a line of paparazzi at each side of the staircase leading to the double-doored entrance.
“Well, it was worth a try.” You remark to him, patting his back as you chuckled to him.
Bakugou was the first to exit, standing beside the door so he could reach for your hand to help you out while you fixed your dress. Just as the two of you began to reach for each other's arms to walk into the reception together; there was a brusque tug to your dress. Upon further inspection, a member of the shutterbugs had stood on a long section of your dress. Allowing himself to get pictures of it stretched out and flowy.
“Hey!” Bakugou didn’t waste time on pushing him off the tail end of the dress. “Try anything funny like that again with my girl and say goodbye to that shitty camera of yours!”
The man nodded, slowly letting his camera hang loose on his neck. The rest of the cameramen easily caught the scene but you both couldn’t care less. What’s a wedding without a little drama?
“Thanks Katsuki.” You note with a soft smile.
Bakugou’s hand tenderly makes its way around the small of your back until his arm is holding you close to him as you walk inside. His hand sitting in a caring way at your hip to assure that nothing could come between you both. You could not wait for the media to plaster this fake-ness on every outlet that they could! However, you liked the thought of relishing in the attention right now.
Once the dining festivities had come and gone. It was time for their first dance. Watching as he held her under the blue lighting had your heart hurting slightly. The thought that that could’ve been you. But Bakugou was right. He’s probably marrying some quirkless nobody not only to make himself look better, but being with another hero is messy. You both had media eyes on you; but… you couldn’t help but wonder how different your life would be like if Midoriya was how he used to be.
You didn’t even notice Bakugou’s eyes on you the whole time. Not wanting to waste a second of his eyesight on the show Izuku was putting on. You were a sight of your own. How could you not see that you deserved someone better? Someone like him. You always spoke about how everyone was under a facade when supporting Deku, but you never correlated that to yourself.
After a short while, others began to join in on the large dance floor. Perfectly spacious for all the famous faces and their egos. Bakugou’s hand traced down your arm until his hand clasped with yours, gently leading you to the floor yourselves.
“What’re you doing?”
“Come on, who’s to say we can’t have some fun too huh?”
Smiling at him, you followed his lead. His hand occupying your waist before pulling you in closer to his chest. Flowing with the music, you couldn’t help the cheesy smile on your face; nor the one that spread to Bakugou’s.
“Why’s no one ever tied down Mr. Ground Zero then?” Your question takes Bakugou by surprise, showing a small blip in your combined graceful swaying to the music.
“No ones good enough.” Such a Bakugou answer.
“You’re sounding like Izuku, but he probably got that from the old you.” You jested, earning an eye roll from Bakugou. “I’m being serious! Come on you can tell me.”
It takes him a moment to figure out an answer, so much so that he doesn’t focus on dancing anymore. He just stands there holding you before locking eyes again.
“Just haven’t found the right person to deal with my bullshit I guess.”
There’s a beat of silence and your eyes search his face for answers. You didn’t even realise how close you were to him. His breath fanning your face, the smell of oak and fire and burning sweetness engulfed your senses. You also didn’t realise how the two of you sank closer and closer into one another.
“Hey Kacchan, mind if I steal her from you?”
Izuku’s voice almost sends you two flying away from each other like same sides of a magnet.
“Ask her yourself she’s not mine.” You turn from Bakugou to give a friendly smile to Midoriya, allowing your hand to rest in his. “I’ll be at the bar. Free drinks and all.”
His answers are short, curt. Yet before you can ask him if he’s alright Deku spins you and begins to dance with you in his arms at the tempo of the new music track that’s playing.
“Long time no see Y/N!” His manner has always been so chipper, despite the facade of it all. Though Bakugou and you went there to purposefully to cause discourse; you don’t think you have it in you to be mean to Izuku’s face.
“Yeah, look at you! Married man now, must be scary.” You chuckle, almost nervously. It was like speaking to a stranger.
“Well I guess I’ll find out! But come on that’s been the subject of the whole day! I wanna know about you and Kacchan.” You felt like Bakugou right now, the old nickname boiling your blood as it did his. There was no doubt Izuku took influence from Bakugou and his fiery personality; but he took it in all the wrong ways. Using confidence to become cold, uncaring.
“Oh- haha, Katsuki and I aren’t-“
“Y/N. Don’t lie to me! I can see the way he’s burning holes in my tux from over here.”
Turning you to the music so you could face where Katsuki was standing, you peaked behind Midoriya’s arm to see Bakugou with an all too familiar scowl on his face. Chasing down a beverage in a crystalline glass in one easy gulp.
“If you ask me Midoriya he’s always looked at you that way.” You laugh your statement off but you meant it with malice.
“Midoriya? Feeling formal today are we Y/N?” He had completely lost touch of who he used to be. “I used to look at you like that when I saw you with other guys, I know what that look is.”
His comment stops you dead in your tracks, not allowing for him to swing you to and fro to the music.
“Actually Midoriya I don’t even remember you looking me with jealous intent other than when I was higher than you on the hero charts.” Shaking yourself free from his towering position on you, you stormed off to the patio doors, letting yourself be eaten by the oncoming darkness of night.
Crying at your ex’s wedding. Not something you’d think you’d ever do in your lifetime but here you were. Thankfully you couldn’t see any reporters or such outside so for now, it was just you and your tears. Maybe you were too harsh on him? You used to be friends right? What happened to that kid who wanted to be a hero who you looked up to? What happened to the boyfriend you had who kissed you goodnight and ignored you when your face was on the TV more than him or snapped at you when he was announced lower than you and broke up with you because ‘heroes dating are messy!’ No. Bakugou was right. He was a self-righteous bastard now.
“Y/N?”
You half expected Midoriya to come out after you but he was probably entertaining other guests. Luckily, as you turned you saw Bakugou standing outside with you, signature hands in his pockets with a dumb, sympathetic smirk on his face.
“Hey.”
“I promise I didn’t punch that asshole at his own wedding but I can tell you he got a fuckin’ earful from me. Hope the paps got a good pic.” His tone was joking but it hadn’t cracked a smile from you yet.
“S’alright. Wouldn’t give two shits if you did.” You sniffled, collecting mascara tears on your fingers and wiping them on the decorative concrete bannisters of the balcony. “Shouldn’t’ve fucking come. This was stupid I have too much baggage for this shit.”
You turned away from him, allowing yourself to lean out on the barrier, looking into the distance on the warm night. You could hear Bakugou give a small sigh before his arms snuck around your waist, pulling your back into his chest before placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head.
“That fuckin’ idiot didn’t know what he lost and it’s my fault for influencin’ him.” The pain in his voice was evident. Did Bakugou blame himself for the hurt Midoriya caused you?
“Katsu-“
“No. That extra is so blinded by the shit everyone has to say that he’s forgotten what real life is. Doesn’t care about his stupid fans or his friends or the best most understanding girl in the whole fucking world. A girl I know does the best for everyone no matter what her own situation is.” You turn around to face him, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Y/N. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to fuckin’ win I’ve just wanted the best for you. And when that bastard did what he did to you- I- fuck. You look at him, like you’re waiting for him to just notice you; but every time I see you it’s like I’m seeing you set the stars in the sky every fuckin night. You just- you’re fuckin’ everything to me Y/N.”
It was completely silent on the balcony besides the low thump of the music from indoors, but it was deafening. But it all faded when his lips attached to yours. It was so clear. All that pining over Midoriya when he was just copying the one who actually saw you for who you were. He even copied Bakugou’s crush on you, most likely to make him jealous. But your mind had no time to think of that when all you could feel was Bakugou.
It was like you had never been kissed before, never felt the love and sensuality behind it. Soft and moist but breathy and warm. For once Bakugou didn’t wish to win a battle, he wanted unity and to be together with you. His hands danced over the delicate curves of you in your dress; taking in every inch of your perfect body. The gasp that fell from your mouth was perfect entrance for Bakugou’s tongue to mingle with yours. The sparks hot and electric between you both was like liquid lightning.
Just as your hands found home in his hair, you heard the all too familiar sound of today of a photo being taken. Bakugou is the first to break the kiss to find the intruder of your special moment. Your lips already feel blushed and bruised but your heart was nearly pounding out your chest.
“Fuckin’ print that in your gossip magazine you extra!” Bakugou couldn’t help but heartily laugh at the man as he shook with worry after catching the intimate moment. He wanted to show you off. He wasn’t ashamed that his lips had captured you to be his.
“Let’s go somewhere more private.” He whispers into your ear and you eagerly nod, grasping his one hand with your two as the both of you manouvered your way through the wedding guests until you finally found a small closet down a hallway where no one from the party had entered.
Slamming the door shut behind you, your eyes drank in Bakugou’s frame. How had you missed that small boy you once knew had now become this beefy, beautiful man? Who was looking at you with the same awe and intent? Bakugou cornered you against the door of the supply closet, latching his lips together with yours once again as if he was scared he’d never be able to taste you again.
“You’re fuckin’ perfect.” Katsuki’s lips mashed with yours as his hands slid up your dress, the coarseness of his fingers against your soft skin sending shivers down your spine.
All those years of being a hero really showed on Bakugou, he lifted you with ease as your fingers traced scars on the back of his neck; holding on for support. His hips pin you against the door and you feel his cock hardening between the fabric of your underwear and his suit pants, you can’t help the whimper escaping your lips at the friction of him.
Bakugou’s hands slip under the straps of your dress, letting them fall delicately to your sides as his lips ensnare yours. His grunts and your whimpers enough to make any passerby know what was going on in the confined space of the closet. His fingers glide beneath the dress which allowed it to fall further as Bakugou felt the weight of your breasts in his palms.
“God you’re fucking everything princess.” His fingers slide beneath the lacy fabric to thumb your nipples, perking and tugging it with his forefinger.
Breaking the kiss, his head lowers to encapsulate the bud in his mouth. Gently suckling it before rolling it feverishly between his teeth. Your hands snaking through his hair only spurring the assault on your supple flesh. Biting your lip to stop the obvious moans that were threatening to spill out of your mouth. You swore you could see stars as his tongue flicked against the pointed nub- sending your nerves wild.
“Bet that fucking extra never treated you like this baby.” He matched your height, his gaze never leaving your own as he took both of your tits out of your bra; kneading the flesh and buds of your nipples as he spoke. “Just wanted to get himself off, I know how to fuckin’ treat you right.”
“Then do it… Kacchan.” You spoke with such gusto in your breathy state, knowing that the old nickname would make him see red. And god did it send him feral.
His body pressed you further into the door, even if it felt like he couldn’t. The aching feel of his cock rubbing against your clothed core made you mewl in want of him. His fingers slid beneath the hem of your dress and made little pricking motions into your inner thighs until he traced a slit over your panties.
“Shit you’re fucking wet.” The pads of his fingers kneading against where you wanted him most, a chuckle falling his lips as your hips did their best to try and get any sort of relief.
“Katsuki please- please fuck oh my god-“ Your neck craned back as you felt your body take control. The low growl in Bakugou’s throat at the sight of you barely touched and already begging for him.
Tracing his fingers along your décolletage he stopped when he met your parted lips before roughly shoving his fingers in your mouth, pressing down the body of your tongue.
“Please please please-“ Katsuki mocked. “Please what princess? Better use your fuckin’ words or else.”
An insufferable smirk played upon his lips as he felt your cunt clench around nothing at his dirty words. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he wiped the remnants of your spit across your tits; awaiting for your response.
“Fuck me Katsuki- please you’re all I want. God you’re all I need.” Although said in your aroused state. You meant it- and he knew that.
Not wasting any more of the precious time you two had before you were inevitably found out considering your blatant disregard for being quiet; Bakugou used his hand to tug off his belt. Nearly setting his suit pants on fire as his quirk crackled in anticipation for you.
Your body clung to Bakugou’s for support, his whole body easily keeping your pinned high between himself and the door. Once his lower half was sufficiently stripped, it was easy enough for him to rip the sides of your underwear off.
“Katsu-“
“Shut up.”
Not wanting to disagree; you did. Hips bucking against nothing as the cool air prickled at your hot cunt. Bakugou held his manhood in his hand, rubbing the head of it in your slick and providing stimulation to your clit. Your thighs tightening around his waist like a vice grip at the well needed attention.
“You’re fuckin’ soaking baby. So needy.” Bakugou mumbled against your neck, allowing himself and you to get off momentarily at the friction. You could only nod to his words which were making you more and more wet for him. He was such a tease.
“Come on princess. Tell me you want my cock. Tell me.” His voice growled as he repeated himself, leaving marks upon your nape that would surely bruise because of his harsh bites and sucklings.
“Katsuki I need you- only you. Only you.” Your repetition is barely a whisper but he heard it, and despite his rough nature Bakugou confines your lips in a kiss as he sheaths himself inside of you.
Taking a few slow thrusts to allow yourself to adapt to his size, it’s only a moment before Bakugou completely bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face shiver in pleasure which he mirrors. He clasps your hips so firmly his knuckles turn white; it didn’t even hurt as all you could focus on was him inside you. Your hands find their way to his biceps, gripping on for some tension relief and you could still feel his muscles flex even beneath his suede blazer and the shirt.
“What a good fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this.” Bakugou’s voice is a low growl as he thrusts into you, the sounds of your clothes brushing against one another and the slaps of your skin interacting was like a sinful symphony.
The smell of caramel danced in your brain as Bakugou worked up a sweat absolutely pummeling himself into your sex. You grasped onto him as if your life depended on it, moaning into his neck as his cock slid in and out of you. You didn’t even know how much time was passing as he rutted himself into you relentlessly- yet as you both came to your highs, you could both barely move from the thrill of it all.
Steadying your breaths back to a regular pace; Bakugou slid you down from where he had pinned you against the door and let you fix yourself as he then did himself. You sorted your dress and pulled any tugs from your hair when he had pulled it before slapping Bakugou’s arm.
“You dick! You ripped my underwear!”
“Hot.” He chuckled, fixing his belt loops and stuffing the ripped panties into his pocket.
“Not funny! I’m not parading about with no underwear on!”
“We’re getting the fuck out of this extras stupid wedding. You can wear my clothes at my place.” Suitably sorted and not looking like you had just had the brains fucked out of you in a closet (despite the reddening bites and bruises that were now appearing on your neck), Bakugou held you close. Yet instead of taking the corridor to the exit, he was leading you back to the main dance hall.
“Where’re we going?” You hashly whispered to Bakugou, your thighs still wet from your slick and the cool air against your unclothed pussy making you heat up from embarrassment.
“Gots to do one thing before we go.” There’s a shit eating grin on his face, you couldn't help but wonder what on earth he was planning now.
Midoriya stood talking to other heroes all dressed in their formal attire and Bakugou (with no consideration of their conversation) roughly tapped his shoulder to get his immediate attention. His arm around your waist was so tight but being see with Bakugou like this made you feel almost proud.
“We’re just heading off.” Bakugou had replaced his smile for his usual scowl, something he had always looked at Izuku with.
“Going so soon? It’ll be a shame you guys!” Izuku’s voice was plastered in falsehood. He probably regretted trying to gloat over you two. Bakugou held out his hand for Midoriya to shake it, your brows furrowed on what was obviously a stepping stone to Bakugou’s plan.
“I know I might not be better at you right now in the hero charts.”
Uh oh.
“I’m glad you’ve finally come to recognise that Kaccha-“
“But I am better at you at something for sure.”
Bakugou used Midoriya’s hand in his to pull him closer, readying himself to whisper in his ear.
“Cause I just fucked the shit out of your ex-girlfriend and I know you never made her come as hard as I did.”
Your face burned with the heat of a million suns, but the glower on Izuku’s face was priceless. And you couldn’t help but see the flash of a camera capture the moment as Bakugou’s hand fell from his and slipped once again around your waist.
#katsuki bakugou#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#yandere bakugo katsuki#katsuki x reader#bakugou fanfic#bakugou smut#bakugou angst#bakugou fluff#bakugou x reader#bnha#mha#mha x reader#bnha x reader#mha imagine#bnha imagine#bakugou imagine#bakugou headcanons#bakugou#bakugo#bnha headcanons#mha headcanons
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i have a request. y/n was in the studio with her bf jungkook while he’s singing stay alive and the waves of emotions hit her bc she never knew how much she needed to hear someone tell her to stay alive
Epiphany
You were done.
Done with the bustling environment of your workplace. Not that you ever hated your job, but you were mentally exhausted with the workload.
You cancelled your weekend plans with Jungkook twice in a row. He wasn't mad at you, but he certainly didn't like spending the weekend without you. Whenever you apologized for not spending time with him, he said that he didn't mind it, but he was starting to worry for your health, he just kisses your forehead and wishes you luck for your project. He's always so caring and supportive in all of your decisions.
Today, it was not about anyone else, it was about you. You made a decision to cut off this vicious cycle by getting up extremely early this Saturday morning to complete all of your work.
You glance at the clock, it was 4 AM. You begin working.
Being the productive CEO that you are, you get done with all the work by 8 AM. You smile, looking at the free schedule Infront of you.
And you do what any normal person would do... You sleep.
"Y/N, please wake up honey, it's 9:45, I wanna take you to the studio"
"Five more minutes please"
Your phone begins to buzz, "Sweetie, Some Smith guy is calling you"
"Oh Fuck!" You say, trying to clear your throat and sound less groggy
"Hello Mr. Brown- sorry, Mr. Smith"
"Meeting with the investors... Today?"
"Sir, I'm unavailable for today"
"Does Wednesday sound good?"
"Thank You" you say ending the phone call
"Jeez, Smith is annoying" you say to him
"Isn't he the condescending sexist that you were talking of?" He asks
"Yep, he's plain bothersome, he makes plans, tells us to free our schedule and doesn't turn up, and he reschedules it and expects everyone to magically turn up and once they do, he makes these Horrible remarks against women in my team"
"He doesn't deserve to work with you" he says
****************************************************
"Babe, I've got a song to record today, wanna join me? I mean, we'll have some fun"
"I'm sorry Kook but I have some laun-" he shuts you up with a kiss and you try to catch your breath
"As I was Saying-" he interrupts you with a kiss again
"The lau-" he kisses you again, you feel your face redden and you giggle
"Yes Sweetheart, please continue" he teases
"Screw the Laundry! I'm coming!"
"That's My Girl" He says
You drive him to the studio and watch the set up.
The moment he starts to sing, the world seems to stop. You were no longer in this world of trouble and pain. His voice caresses your soul as your brain turns foggy, filled with wonder. Before you even realise it, you feel a stream of tears run down your cheeks. It was so surreal, it felt like you were living a dream. Too absorbed in your own emotions, wiping your tears, you smile at Jungkook as he finishes. "Thank you" you mouth to him through the glass.
Jungkook moves out of the recording room and walks towards you. You pull him close for a tight hug. "I Love You Jungkook" you say to him. "I Love You More Y/N" he says. "Thank you so much for bringing me to the studio, it was-" the phone starts to buzz again, a frown forms over your lips.
Irritated, you accept the call, "Hello?"
"Mr. Smith, I regret to inform you that I'm no longer interested in your deal"
"I do not feel the need to justify any of this to you, this is based on the feedback from my internal team"
"Goodbye" you say disconnecting the call
"Finally!" You say
"Are you happy now, after cancelling the deal baby?" He asks
"I mean, I don't wanna be a hypocrite calling myself a feminist and then working with toxic people"
"I'm so proud of your decision" he says to you
"I can't believe I was about to choose doing the laundry over this" you say to him
"This is all that I ever wanted, you with your prettiest smile" he says and kisses your forehead
****************************************************
Hey guysssss~!
❤️Thanks For All The Love And Support!!!❤️
∆ Don't Repost only Reblog
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#jungkook#jungkook bts#kookznoona#jungkook scenarios#jeon jungguk#jungkookie#jeon jungkook fluff#jeon jungkook#bts x reader#jeon jeongkook#bts jeon jeongguk#bts#bts jeongguk#jeon jeongguk#jeongguk fic#jeongguk x you#jeongguk imagine#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk imagines#jjk fanfic#jjk headcanons#bts scenarios#bts fanfic#bts jungkook#anon ask#anonymous#request
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atlas
Alex Chen × Steph Gingrich fluffy comfort one-shot
(I was talking to a friend about the game and we were discussing how Alex is probably still carrying a lot of trauma. And even after everything that happened at the mines we still don't see her really grieve for the whole situation and herself. So- I had to write it, you know?)
Enjoy!
TW: mentions of suicide, death and mental health issues.
It's two months into their relationship now, and they are somewhere in a Californian town, living in a tiny apartment close to the beach. They play together in small venues and underground clubs. Alex bartends and Steph referees for DND campaigns at a nerd bar they found by chance on their first week there.
They're happy. As happy as Alex remembers being since she was- well, maybe nine.
Every day, it's a little like waking up into a dream. Living in an apartment with her first girlfriend, listening to music as they cooked dinner together. Getting to kiss her just because Alex felt like it. Because her heart went a little loopy inside her chest when she smiled. Because she knew Steph would hold on to her waist and make her feel like she was full of electricity.
The 'falling in love' business felt overrated before Steph.
But Being in the middle of it now, Alex doesn't think there's anything better.
Although a part of her still felt quite numb - she guesses it's not something that will go away that easily - and day by day, Alex felt a little bit more like she could breathe... like she was finally letting herself go, at least a little bit.
****
Now that she could comprehend and use her powers, it also seemed as if she'd started to become even more of a magnet for all sorts of emotion around her. And apparently Alex could do it in her sleep too.
The nightmares came in clusters most of the time, a badly cut-together mess of voices and feelings. The lady that lived under them, who lost her son when he was little. The couple from down the street, who were going through a hard time in their relationship. Even the little girl from upstairs, who had terrible night terrors of sharp-teethed monsters reaching from under her bed.
They all mixed inside her head until she woke up gasping for air and sizzling with emotion.
It was rare that she'd have a full dream, one that made sense and completed itself, but when she did they were always about Gabe. About sitting together at the rooftop of the Lantern and sharing a beer. Or climbing trees, like they used to do when they were little.
It was a relief from the usual doom.
And that dream was supposed to be nothing different. Or at least she thought it wasn't.
****
In it, they were at the ravine. A world of twinkling stars shining above their heads. The Colorado mountains all around them creating a landscape that was just as beautiful as it was bittersweet. Alex could see the log she'd crossed, still standing between her and the tiny outcrop of stone Ethan had been stranded on.
She hadn't dreamed of the ravine since leaving Haven Springs, but while she was there, Alex dreamt of it every night. She would see it when her eyes were closed. She could hear it, - the sirens, the terrible, deafening rumble of the ground splitting beneath them. The panic, pounding into her ears.
But this is different. Because when she looks around, Alex realizes she's standing over the elevated plateau, tied to the waist and leaning all her weight against a sturdy piece of rock.
Looking at her from below is Gabe. Lying on the cold ground. A cheesy smile spread across his face.
"Why are we switched?" Alex asks because that's all she can think of asking, as she stares at the rope that anchored her to the ground... to Gabe.
"Beats me. This is all your brain, not mine." He says, and Alex huffs in annoyance, "you know what's going to happen, but you keep coming here."
"I don't have a choice."
"Hmmm..." Gabe hums, but there's some humor in his expression as he stares intently back at her, "and that's exactly why... I'm here because I should say goodbye."
A coldness spreads over Alex's limbs. Around her, the very fabric of the dream dims into darkness as a strong breeze blows past them. She suddenly feels like throwing up.
"What- what does that mean?" It's a stupid question. This is her dream. Alex knows what it means.
Deep down, she knew she'd been conjuring him up for her own sake. Trying to bring back any morsel of relief into the giant hole he'd left inside her heart. However, Alex also knew at some point he'd be gone- she just didn't expect-
"You don't need me anymore, Alex." He says. As if it's that simple. As if she'd ever-
"I'll always need you, Gabe. Of course I need you." The words stumble out of her mouth, and she can feel the hot, angry tears falling down her face.
It feels like a hot iron pressed to the very top of her chest.
Like lava, boiling up into her bloodstream until Alex wants to punch something. The steam that prickles from under her skin, fighting to break free.
Anger always comes first when people feel cornered. It's something she noticed a while back. Out of all the emotions Alex had dealt with the past few months, that, at least, hadn't changed.
"Shit, Gabe. When you died I needed you more than ever."
"But we can't fix that, can we?" He asks, and another wave of anger rips through her. She looks anywhere but him, because Alex feels that if she does, she'll tackle and kill him all over again. But when he says nothing and they're left in the same pocket of silence - the one right before the whole world collapsed - her eyes eventually fall back to her brother. Tied to her and laid on the ground beneath. Looking at her like just as much the goofy asshole she missed so much.
Anger always felt urgent and fast, like a flash going through her body and leaving everything inside it in disarray. It demanded to be completely felt, but only for the moment it took for Alex to decide it wasn't worth launching the nearest object at a window.
Or trying to kill her dead brother.
"You might have needed Gabe. But you don't need this Gabe anymore, Alex. You can do it on your own now."
The fear and sadness that came after? They were usually much, much worse.
"But this is the only Gabe I have."
Those emotions, when mixed, turned into a horrible harmony that paralyzed her lungs and darkened the sides of her vision. They felt just as urgent as anger, but complacent. A beast staring at her from the very bottom of a pit. Tied to her by the waist and trying to lure her down into the abyss.
And, for Alex, the abyss was as deep as a ventilation shaft for a Colorado mining site.
"No, it's not. You'll always have me, Alex. And you know that." Not in the way that matters. Alex wants to say, but it's so redundant. He's the ghost. He should already know that. "And you have Ryan now, and Eleanor, Riley, Charlotte, Ethan... Steph..." he gives her a cheesy smile in the last name, wiggling his eyebrows back at her teasingly.
"Oh, God, way to ruin the moment." Alex can't help but chuckle a little through her tears. Is she blushing? You can't blame her for blushing, right? God, she feels like Diane.
"Hey. Let me have it. One of my only regrets is that I never got to tease the hell out of Steph for dating my little sister... and for being whipped as hell."
"That would have been so funny."
"I knew she'd get along with you but I guess I didn't expect... that. Shame on me. Should've had more artistic vision."
Alex chuckles as more tears run down her face. It's so bittersweet it hurts from the very inside of herself.
"All jokes aside. I'm glad you have her, and that she has you. She's good. Just make sure you tell her I'll haunt her from the grave if her dumb ass breaks your heart, okay?" Alex nods, and her body starts shaking with strangled sobs. So much emotion she just can't let go of. Because if she does, Alex is afraid there'll be nothing left.
"Hey. Don't cry. You can do this, Alex. You know how to live life now."
"I don't want to lose you again, Gabe."
"You'll never lose me. You'll just have to look a little harder." He smiles up at her, pulling jokingly on the rope, "now play your part - or is it my part? You get it."
And then- too soon. (Same as it was that night.) The sirens blast through the mountains, and somewhere above them, a giant explosion blows her eardrums, and boulders the size of cars come tumbling down the mountain.
She barely has time to blink. Barely has time to breathe one last time. Seen as she's Gabe, when she looks up all she sees is the giant rock, flying towards her, hitting her across the torso so hard, before she knows, she's flying way above the ravine, and one last glimpse of the stars catches hold over the veil of her memory before everything turns black.
****
She wakes up in bed, desperately clawing at the top of her chest as she gasps for air. Her lungs feel like they're made of lead, and all around her, she can feel the weight of the rocks, the explosion, the debris, weighing down her body.
Alex pats across the mattress for Steph, who is not there. Another wave of panic washes over her. So strong her mouth turns dry and her head aches as she tries to breathe in, but her lungs can only handle tiny, torturous gasps of half-breath.
Alex dispels a world of curses towards herself inside. Willing her own body to just calm down. In the bathroom, she can hear Steph singing softly to herself- she must have come home late from the DND tournament. Alex told her she'd swing by, but she'd had a long shift and ended up just passing out as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Alex hadn't had an incident like this in very long. She could control it now. Most times. It wasn't easy, with being on the road and constantly surrounded by people. Sometimes, she still got more than she could bargain. When she walked across a depressed person on the sidewalk, or heard one of their multiple neighbors yelling at each other through the walls, and suddenly she felt as if the world blended out of focus into a tsunami of feeling.
Feeling that wasn't hers but still felt so much like it was.
Steph helped whenever it happened. For a sarcastic punk rock mess, she was surprisingly stable and so very reassuring.
Just the fact that she can hear her voice. That Steph is there in the apartment with her, is enough to calm some of her nerves, and while Alex still can't keep herself from pulling in gasps of air as she tries to hold in any kind of oxygen, she at least has a plan.
Water. Water will make her feel better, right?
Almost as soon as the idea crosses her mind, Alex's half-delirious brain commands her to get up, but her body feels so very heavy. Like she's really been trampled over by a wave of giant boulders. And as soon as her feet touch the ground, her legs give up under the weight, and she falls onto the hard floor with a loud, heavy thud.
The girl's hands fly up to hold her weight against the bed, and thankfully that means she doesn't face plant the ground, but it sends her heart into a neck-breaking pace, and all air Alex'd been able to gather so far escapes her in a single huff until she's hyperventilating again, hot, angry tears running down her face.
You're so weak. You're such a fucking idiot. Of course, you had to go and lose Gabe twice, who the fuck would want to stay with such a mess-
"Alex, are you okay?" Steph's voice comes, as she opens the door to find her girlfriend sitting on the ground, looking like she might pass out from just trying to get her lungs to work, "Alex!"
In a second she's crossed their room and kneeled by her, both hands going up to her cheeks on instinct, smearing away her tears.
"Breathe with me, okay? We've done this before, you can do it." She always gets just a tiny bit of a scared aura around her when Alex gets like this, never for long enough that she can read it, but it's still there, the tiny flutter of fear, "come on, breathe."
Her eyes go up to find Steph's, her strong, glittering green gaze. Alex might be the one with superpowers, but it was Steph who could so easily reach in and soften her edges like it was nothing. It was Steph who could just lean in and hold Alex's hand against her chest, letting her feel the determined rise of her lungs. Strong. Stable. Even Alex couldn't possibly understand how she did that.
How she always made Alex's breathing slowly come to shaky, deep breaths, crawling painfully out of her dry throat, but still better than gasping like a fish. Inside her, Alex feels the furious hurricane of emotion, twisting itself into the bottom of her lungs, taking hold of every bit of her until she felt like she could throw up.
"Wait here, I'll get you water," Steph says, and Alex wants to complain, she doesn't want to be alone, even for a second.
But before she can, Steph has left their bedroom for the kitchen, and Alex feels as if she's stable enough to crawl into bed, so she does so at a glacial pace. She grabs Shu-Shu, holding her close to her chest as she sits and waits for Steph.
She eventually comes back in with a glass full and Alex gulps it down in silence, unsure if whatever dam of emotion that has taken place inside of her will break if she tries to speak. So she sets the glass back and lies her head down on the pillow, facing away from Steph and the rest of the room as she tries to reel herself back in.
She can hear Steph taking off her boots and climbing into bed, one arm winding around her waist as she pulls Alex in closer.
"Was it the lady from upstairs?" Steph asks, eventually, after they sit in a few long minutes of silence.
"No." She replies, and it comes out so strangled, so broken, a few more tears run down her face. Steph pulls her even closer, a tight, steady pressure.
"The couple again? I swear to God I'll call the police on that asshole this time."
"No." Alex says, and she detaches herself from Steph just enough so she can turn around and look at her, "I had a dream about Gabe." Simply saying his name makes her whole body shake. Steph is looking at her so intensely, Alex has to close her eyes, holding on to the fabric of her shirt with all she had not to explode in whatever terrifying, dizzying bomb of emotion she could feel brewing inside herself.
Alex felt so much from other people it overwhelmed her multiple times a day, and even then, it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to how much sheer strength it took from her not to let it blow.
It scared her. More than anything.
"He wanted to say goodbye." She says eventually, "it was- I don't know. This- I- this isn't coming from anyone- How do I get rid of it? It's like it's all inside of me and it's taking up so much space and I don't know how to fix it" The words come tumbling out before she can stop them, and she's rambling through tears.
Steph sighs. And Alex can feel the love and sadness mixed together, blowing from her in waves as she holds Alex's chin, bringing her up so they can look at each other.
"Baby..." there are tears in her eyes now, as she pulls her closer until their foreheads are touching, and they are so close Alex can smell her lemongrass shampoo, "This is all yours."
And such simple words shouldn't hit her this fucking hard.
But it all suddenly makes so much sense-
Alex was numb after her dad left. She felt nothing for months. It was one of the most terrifying feelings in the world, a deep and powerful depression that threatened to overtake her at any given point.
Like her whole body was nothing but dead weight and her brain was way too tired to even try and keep up.
Young as she was, Alex guesses she never realized the first time she felt anything at all after that was when she discovered her powers. The day a boy came to the orphanage and he was so angry it blew her across the hallway. Ever since then, everything around her was a cacophony of feeling. Coming from every direction. Every street corner, every store, every park.
Every moment of her life since she was eleven, Alex could only feel for others.
"I- I forgot." She realizes, half surprise and half so much sadness another sob breaks through her throat.
Now it made sense, the anger, the sadness, the fear, a hurricane of emotion so very powerful it made her ears ring.
"I'm scared." She admits. Because for someone who had been so focused on learning how to exist among other people's feelings, Alex had no clue how to handle herself, "what do I do with all of this? How do I fix it?"
"Alex. Look at me." Steph brings her face upwards until they are so close, Alex can see the speckles of blue in her eyes, "Gabe died just four months ago, and you were there to see everything- then you got shot and thrown down God knows how many stories into a dark abyss that you somehow walked out of, but not before also finding out about your dad's tragic death - and I haven't seen you cry, actually cry, for yourself, even once."
"I- I can't, it's too much. I don't know how, Steph." Alex had learned her lesson. She'd seen her life as it was and survived it. Deep down she knew it wasn't her responsibility anymore - that it never was her responsibility, to begin with - to hold herself together for others. She knows.
But old habits die hard, and Alex guesses it'll take a while before she starts feeling it too.
Because right now, it still felt like the world might collapse if she wasn't there to hold it together.
"Just- give it to me. Everything you have, I can carry it for you." Steph says, with such determination, Alex actually believes her, but she takes her eyes away, trying to avoid the bubbling of tears threatening to jump out through her throat "Let it go, please, Alex. I can't watch you carry it alone anymore."
At that moment, Alex glances at her again, and there's so much pain, so much love in her eyes, that inside Alex, the dam finally breaks and she's choking on sobs. Tears start running down her cheeks as Steph leans in and pulls her closer, one arm around her shoulder and one on her hip, squeezing tight in reassurance.
If she didn't know better, Alex would've guessed Steph was the one with the superpowers, with the way she coaxes wave after wave of emotion out of her with nothing but her steady presence and quick, light kisses she leaves on Alex's head and hair as she holds on to her shirt for dear life.
It overwhelmed her more than anything she'd experienced so far, and for what feels like hours, she just sobs as Steph holds her.
She cries for her mom. Dead before her time, trying to hold them together to the very end. She cries for her dad, dying a slow death deep underground, a picture of the two children he'd never see again dangling around his neck. She cries for Gabe, for the time they'd never have, for the time they did have.
Above all, for the first time, Alex cried for herself. For being the last out of all of them. For the little girl that had to love and lose every single one of them in succession.
And in the middle of all of it, like a speckle of golden light hidden under all the darkness, for the first time, she feels that it could all start to feel alright.
#send me chenrich prompts#i dare you#chenrich#chengrich#alex chen#steph gingrich#life is strange true colors#long post#chenrich fanfic#chenrich fic#alex chen × steph gingrich
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Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14
Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.
@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare
Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse
You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.
It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.
You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.
"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"
"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."
You leaned against the door. "Oh?"
"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.
"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."
"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.
"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."
"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"
Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."
You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.
"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"
Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."
"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."
"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."
You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."
"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."
"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.
"Hm?"
You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"
Max returned the smile. "Of course not."
You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.
"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.
"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.
Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.
"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."
"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.
"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.
"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.
"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."
Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."
"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."
"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.
"Hannibal-"
"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."
"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.
Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."
"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."
You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time.
“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember.
“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.”
You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.”
“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].”
You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found.
“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.”
Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.”
“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.”
“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story.
“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.”
"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."
You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"
"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."
"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."
"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.
"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."
"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.
"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."
Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."
You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.
"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."
"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."
"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."
"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"
"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."
"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."
"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."
You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.
"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.
"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."
"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."
"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.
"I know." You conceded.
He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.
"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."
You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."
#hannibal lecter#hannibal x you#hannibal x reader#hannibal nbc#cult girl#more cult girl#cult girl doctorate#cult girl 2#tw death#tw family#pregnant reader#hannibal x pregnant reader
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It’s Those Eyes
Title: It’s Those Eyes
Requested? Yes.
Plot: Derek having a crush on you and debating if he should tell you. You are Isaac’s older sister. Written from Derek’s POV
Word count: 1140
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There I was again, sitting in my car, with my glasses on, slouching a bit so she wouldn’t notice me, hopefully. This might appear to some as stalker behaviour and I would agree with that, but there is just something about her that makes me feel and act like I never have before. I can’t even remember the last time I felt nervous around someone, but when I see Y/N it’s almost like I’m back to when I was still a human and I was having my first crush. Everything about her was just fascinating to me, the way she talked, the way she moved, the way she thought, and I just couldn’t get enough of her. It had come to the point that I think I’m thinking about her way too much, that she has even invaded my dreams almost every night. I don’t know what it is, but she awakes this instinct in me to protect her, and to make sure she is constantly okay. So when I heard from her younger brother, Isaac that she was having a bit of bad blood with some of her teammates in her basketball team, I had to make sure they knew she was not someone they can win over.
That she will always have me to protect her, no matter if she ever returns my feelings or not. And to be clear, I’m not gonna go all violent on those girls, but if they ever try to hurt Y/N in any way, I’ll have to step in. She told Isaac that they insult her and pick fights with her just because she’s better at the sport at them. I was at the Lahey house one evening with the rest of the pack, we were discussing some topics about the new entities in the town and Y/N walked through the door with a grim look on her face, waving a quick hello to us and walking upstairs to her room. That’s when Isaac told us that they had probably picked on her again. And Y/N is a strong girl, she can defend herself, another one of her qualities that I find truly endearing, but that doesn’t mean that she has to do it on her own all the time. Being in a toxic environement all the time can cause dammage to her mental health and I don’t want that to happen to her.
So I was waiting outside the gym, listening in on what was going on inside, trying to pinpoint Y/N and if anyone was talking to her. One girl tried to insult her, and I was about to exit my car to walk in and say I came over to watch the practice, not because I wanted to settle the score or anything, Y/N is too strong to be brought down by stupid insults that these girls come up with, but I wanted her to not feel down and know that I’m there to cheer her on and cheer her up if she needs it and that if she has a thought to take any insult by heart she could look at me and know that what these girls were saying about her was lie upon lie and she would hopefully feel better. But as I was reaching to open the door, I heard her talk back to them, and smirked. Damn, this girl is way too under my skin, everything she does is just so intriguing to me, even if she’s just telling off annoying people who were trying to throw her off her game. I put my hand down, deciding against going in, as along with Y/N standing her ground, the coach had said she has private matters to attend to and today’s practice was gonna be cut short.
Y/N was among the first to come out, and I thought that she was just gonna put her earphones in like she usually does, press shuffle on her playlist and start walking home, and I would go home myself, and after doing some research on the new supernatural entities roaming our town, I’d have another debate with myself weather I should confess how I feel to Y/N. To tell her that I just constantly think about her, just everything about her, her face, her smile, her eyes. Damn, it’s those eyes that make me fall for her the most. Eyes are the first thing that I notice in a person and looking into Y/N’s eyes I felt like I could get lost in them forever. So you can imagine my shock when Y/N started walking straight towards my car. She probably noticed it when she walked out, or she had seen it before and was no confronting me. Oh god, I’m gonna look like a creep, just following her around, not even bothering to talk to her.
“This is the fifth time that you are here while I’m in practice, Hale. How long were you planning on doing this before you told me about it? You do realise you can watch the practice from the inside if you’d like?“
So she has caught me before but chose not to approach me, great, now I look like more of a creep. Now I have no debates to have weather I should tell her how I feel, I’ve scared her away. She folded her arms against her chest, her eyes squinting at me, and I almost said out loud how cute I think she looks when she does that.
“I know, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay, with the new entities running around you never know.“
I say scratching the back of my neck. What is this girl doing to me? No other woman has had this effect on me ever. Her lips curve into a beautiful smile, that beautiful smile that I’ve fallen for as she invites me to just come in next time and that she would love to have me there. I half expected her to say that I’d be there as a friend, but she didn’t, which has me thinking maybe she feels the same... I offered her a ride home, and she accepted with that same smile not leaving her face, shining through the night. During the car ride we talked about everything and anything, I just liked hearing her opinion on topics and my heart leapt in my chest when I figured out we feel the same way about something. My eyes widened as she kissed my cheek when I stopped in front of her house as a goodbye. Watching her walk into her home, I touched the spot where she had kissed, smiling like an idiot to myself, before driving off home. Maybe I do actually have a chance, now I just need a plan on how to confess.
---***---
@agentpretoria I hope you like it :) I left it a bit vague, so you can imagine the way you want him to confess and you can do it for yourself or we could work on a part 2 if you have something in mind :D I don’t know if you like baseball, but I just put it in because I didn’t want it to have a feel of Derek stalking her for no reason to keep her safe, if that makes sense I guess :D I was watching a game while writing and that was the first thing that came to mind to write :D
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Signing out for tonight, my throat is sore from BANGBANGCON21, and I’m getting sleepy :D See ya tomorrow my folks <3
#derek hale#derek hale imagine#derek hale x reader#teen wolf#teen wolf imagines#Scott McCall#scott mccall imagine#scott mccall x reader#theo raeken imagine#theo raeken#theo raeken imagines#theo raeken x reader#isaac lahey#isaac lahey imagine#isaac lahey x reader#stiles stilinski#stiles stilinski imagine#stiles stilinski x reader#mieczyslaw stilinski
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Halloween Special 🎃🦇
Monsta X: Thriller
Warning: mentions of blood, death and suicide, delusional, mental health issues, depression
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Midnight Video Prank
(Minhyuk X Hyungwon X Jooheon)
Minhyuk is a popular kid at school because of his fun vlog channel. Since the Halloween is approaching soon, he came out with an idea for his new vlog content.
He asked Jooheon, a timid friend from another class to be a volunteer for his Halloween special vlog episode. Casting up at the heavily rumored haunted old school building on midnight of the dark Halloween, Minhyuk and Hyungwon secretly setting up a prank on Jooheon during the live streaming. Just for a little tease. Because everybody knows how much a coward he is.
It was all fun at first. Until Jooheon is suddenly found missing.
"H-Hey.. Do you think that ..he went in to that class?" assumes Hyungwon as his voice quivering. Panic.
"Which class?"
"Class no.4 .. the last one near the stairs at level 3." tells him. "You didn't know..? 10 years ago, there was an incident happened where a student died in that class by commiting suicide. She.. hanged herself at the window."
Minhyuk and the other viewers gasped and gulped down nervously. Getting both anxious and frightened over the scaring story.. also the mysteriously disappearing Jooheon.
"I heard she would 'keep' whoever that enters the classroom for herself." continues him again. "We need to get there and save him before it's dawn."
"Or we can't get him back again. Ever."
****
The Graveyard
(Changkyun X Shownu)
Changkyun is in despair. His heart shattered when his beloved brother, Hyunwoo has been founded dead mysteriously at the woods near the graveyard a couple of weeks ago. He missed his brother very much that he would spent a time at his grave for almost every single day.
One evening, he unconsciously fell asleep under the tree while waiting beside the grave. And when he snaps up from his sleep, it's already dusk. So he hurriedly gets up, wave his brother goodbye before he starts moving to get back home. Oddly, the way heading to the main gate seems very far and confusing that he keeps on wandering aimlessly to find a way out. He ended up getting lost in the dark woods behind the graveyard as the night arrives.
A faint voice calling up for his name makes him wonder as his feet brings himself close towards the soft, familiar voice. A voice that he gets very fond with.
"Changkyun.."
His heart almost dropped when he sees Hyunwoo in front of him, crying sadly while calling out for his name.. as he's holding his unconscious body in his arms.
His eyes opens up wide. Horrified. What happened..?
"Bro.."
Hyunwoo finally sees the stunned him, and hurriedly brings him away to run inside the woods.. seeking for a safe hideout.
"Why are you here?! You're not supposed to be here at this time!" He looks panic and worried at the same time.
"It's not safe. They will come after you.." he breathes. Still looking all cautious towards the dark surroundings that only being lightens up in blue shades from the bright moonlight.
"Who..?"
"Those remorseless creatures .. They're aftering the human souls." he tells, slightly whispering. "When the Halloween is near, they started coming out for a feast. Hunting for human souls, especially the ones who gets near to this place. The graveyard."
"Last time.. it was my mistake to came here at the wrong time."
Changkyun is in flustered. He's lost. There are a lot of questions in his mind, too much feelings insides him that his breathings are getting cold and shaky.
"What do you mean?" asks him with a trembling voice. Either in fear or in shock. But Hyunwoo just sends him a faint look.
"Bro.. What happened to you..?" Changkyun is whimpering sadly, trying to hold on his tears from flowing out.
"They captured you.. a-aren't they? Huh? Tell me. Did you get captured by them??" he insists while placing a firm hold on Hyunwoo's arm, forcing him to tell the truth.
"They did.." he finally admits. ".. but I escaped."
"That's why I'm still here."
Changkyun is in deep surprise that he drops himself down to the ground with a soft thud. His breathes stuck in his throat as he starts feeling his body trembling in fear.
Is that means what it supposed to be meant..?
"What about me..?" he mumbles. "What happened to me then?"
It's dark and shadowy in here, but Hyunwoo still can clearly sees Changkyun's crying face with the tears starts flowing down his cheeks. He starts sobbing sadly in silence while thinking about this unfortunate event that happened to him. To the both of them.
"I'm so sorry, Changkyun.. I should've come earlier to save you. But now, you ended up having the same fate as I am."
****
Friends Forever
(Kihyun X Wonho)
Kihyun is a professional medical doctor. He has been taking care of his very ill friend personally by himself at the hospital. Wonho has been admitted here earlier this year after he went comma because of a tragic road accident, and Kihyun is the one who takes care of him along the time he is here.
Until one day, the medical staff contacted him, telling him that Wonho is dying. Surprised over the sudden news, he hurriedly goes to the private ward room to see his friend.
"No way.."
He's late. He's too late. Wonho is gone. Leaving him all alone by himself. He don't even get a chance to say goodbye to his best friend. He feels useless.
His world crumbles down. His heart is in sorrow. He starts to get even more emotional from times to times. Day by day. His condition is getting worsen.
He realized about his terrible conditions. And it's all because of this voice who keeps on calling out for him, telling him about things and all. It's making him anxious and stressed out. He is living his life in horribly terrified. Until he started to appear in front of him.
"Kihyun.."
"Wonho, please.."
"We promised, right..?"
"D-Don't.. Please don't.." Kihyun pleads desperately with his trembling voice as he's holding on to his head in stressed. Tears starts flowing down heavily on his face. "What do you want..?!"
"I just came here to fulfill our promise." says Wonho.
His face looks very pale and lifeless, covering up with bloods that flows down from his head. Bloods dripping down from his fingertips. Forming a small pool of blood on the floor. Kihyun is terrified as he's whimpering, hiding his face in his arms.
"You don't remember? We already promised each other to be friends forever. That not even death can separate us."
"I said stop!!!"
"I'm already here. Trying to keep my promise with you.. Now it's your turn. To show me that you're still keeping the promise between us."
"N-No.. Please, leave me alone .. Just leave me alone!"
"I'm not leaving you.."
"I wanna stay here with you. Forever. As being promised."
....
"Hey, have you heard about Dr. Yoo..?" one of the nurses starts whispering to each other.
"His condition is getting worse after his friend passed away. He starts being delusional about his dead friend. Crying and talking to himself like insane!"
"I guess he still couldn't take into realization that his friend has already gone. He must loved his friend very much."
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#monsta x#monsta x imagine#monsta x imagines#monsta x scenarios#monsta x scenario#jooheon#minhyuk#changkyun#hyungwon#shownu#wonho#kihyun#monsta x jooheon#monsta x minhyuk#monsta x kihyun#monsta x wonho#monsta x i.m#monsta x hyungwon#monsta x shownu#monbebe#halloween#happy halloween#october#monstober#Spotify
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like you a latte - matcha latte
← previous | series masterlist | join my taglist | next part ->
pairing: spencer reid x fem reader
a/n: SURPRISE i felt like dropping this a DAY early!!lololololol but here it is! i appreciate the love on the last two parts so so soooo much :) can’t beliEVE WE ARE HALFWAY DONE!! reblog if u enjoyed
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Needless to say, Twilight Time isn’t very crowded on Thursday afternoons.
You rarely pick up closing shifts anymore—for reasons totally unrelated to the doctor who almost exclusively arrives in the morning—but you’re covering for Sally, and it’s a nice day out. The rain has let up in favor of mild weather, the sun just barely peeking through the clouds as people drift past the shop. Despite the fact that there’s more foot traffic on the street, not many people come in to order. You don’t blame them. Why have hot coffee on a day like this?
Your back is turned when you hear a group enter, and your heart soars at the prospect of tips. For whatever reason, most people are more inclined to tip when they know their friends are watching. You call out to let them know you’ll be right with them, and after you’re done fidgeting with the settings of the coffee grinder, you turn.
It’s Spencer. But he’s not alone.
There are a total of four people before you, each intimidating you in slightly different ways. They’re all agents, as evidenced by their not-so-concealed carries. You recognize a few of the characters. Spencer’s told you about JJ, who you assume to be the friendly blonde, and Penelope, who is a vision in fuchsia. That leaves Emily, who’s whispering to JJ, eyes fixed on you. You try to absorb the sight, them together. Spencer looks at ease, a wide smile on his face as he looks between you and the group.
“Hey, Spencer. These your coworkers?” You crack a nervous smile, knitting your fingers together. He nods, introducing them each in turn. JJ grins in your direction, and Penelope waves at you with a fingerlessly-gloved hand. Emily reaches across the bar to shake your hand. You get the sense that there’s something Spencer hasn’t told you.
“What can I get you guys?”
Spencer shrugs, defaulting to JJ and Emily. Penelope pipes up, eyes bright as she peers at the menu above you.
“Do you have matcha, sweetheart? I’ve been meaning to try that. It’s great for your skin.” You nod, pulling a cup out and inscribing Penelope’s name on it. JJ and Emily both order americanos, exchanging a sheepish grin. After setting their cups aside, you turn to Spencer.
“Genius, you should really try the matcha. It’ll give you brain power. Not that you need any more.” Penelope does jazz hands to emphasize her excitement, and Spencer shrugs. You watch them interact for a moment before you realize he’s turned to you for your approval.
“Oh. I really like matcha. It’s green tea, and a matcha latte tastes light and sweet. I think you’d like it.” He nods, and orders it hot. Penelope orders iced; you smile as you consider that they compliment each other, eventually turning away to prepare everyone’s drinks. They’re all relatively simple, and you manage to include latte art in the hot drinks. Spencer’s is last, and you flick your wrist to finish the design. Crossing the bar, you hand each agent their drink in turn.
Penelope sips at her drink first, the bright green matching one of her rings perfectly. Spencer eyes his dubiously, poking at it with a wooden stirring stick.
“It’s very green.” He whispers to Penelope, who cackles in response.
JJ catches your eye as you watch, lingering between the bar and their seats. With a smile, she waves you over.
“You’ve totally ruined other coffee for Spence. We had to come try it for ourselves.” She whispers, leaning down. You aren’t sure how to feel about her tone; there’s a glint of something in her eye, something playfully secretive. You’re not sure what part of this you’re not in on.The idea of Spencer mentioning you at all is foreign—sure, you’ve told your roommates, and your coworkers found out that you do, in fact, have a favorite regular. Still, you never considered the idea that you bleed into other parts of his life. You steal a glance at him while JJ compliments her americano. He’s sipping at his matcha, a green mustache left behind.
“You have a magic touch, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever had coffee this good in the states.” Emily flashes you a grin as if she can sense your nervousness. You relax a little, asking her about her work abroad instead of getting lost in your head. She strikes you as a diplomat, and a compliment from her feels like something to be savored. Penelope raves to you about the health benefits of matcha, and you immediately feel welcomed by her. If you were to run a study comparing the approachability between pink polka dots and pantsuits, you're sure that polka dots would win.
“Are you an agent, too?” You ask, stirring your own iced coffee with a straw. Eyeing the clock, you’ve decided that this counts as your break. Tyler be damned. Penelope giggles, shaking her head.
“Oh God no. Well, technically. I’m a technical analyst, so I work on the computer and tech end of things.” She explains, and you nod. It makes a lot of sense. While both JJ and Emily exude the energy of most cops—authoritative, with a critical eye—Garcia does’t fit that mold. It’s this that draws you to her.
You learn that JJ has a son named Henry, a surprisingly Southern boyfriend to match, and that Emily has a cat named Sergio. Despite their highbrow titles, you don’t feel out of place. It’s easy to sip at your coffee, the cup cool against your fingertips, and listen.
“Are you in school? Spence mentioned that you majored in literature.” JJ sets her cup down, flexing her fingers against the air. You feel yourself flush now that the attention is on you. The fact that he chose this detail to divulge sticks between your ribs. You haven't told him much about your work—he insisted on reading your thesis, and even reread the source material to better discuss it with you—but apparently, what you have discussed has made an impression.
“Yeah, actually. I’m in my second year of law school.” You admit. Emily nods in approval, reaching out to high five you.
“Damn. With all the assholes you deal with in customer service, you’ll make a great attorney.” You high five her with a small smile on your face, stealing a glance at Spencer. He seems elated, clearly enjoying the dynamic he’s observing.
“Do you want to go into criminal law?”
JJ asks, eyes wide with curiosity. You shake your head ruefully. They take it well, shrugging their shoulders. To their credit, their branch of law enforcement deals with the process prior to prosecution. You shudder at the idea of what happens after they catch the bad guys.
“No, not really. I’m looking at either the entertainment or environmental sector.”
The group murmurs, and the conversation devolves into small talk about law. You look to Spencer for an escape, and he suggests that they take a walk. Once the girls have trickled out of the room, each hugging you goodbye, you’re left alone with Spencer.
“Hey.”
You laugh at the simplicity of his greeting, turning to toss your empty coffee cup into the trash. Spencer flushes a deep shade of red, raking his hands through his hair.
“Your friends aren’t how I expected. Really cool, though. Especially for like, Quantico professionals.” You wipe the counter down, and the reality that you’re on the clock hits you, a little dizzily. Did his coworkers really just want to meet Spencer’s barista? The realization tastes a little bitter, and you bite back any further questioning in favor of looking up at him.
“Yeah. They’re like family.” He looks out the window, hands deep in his pockets. His whole demeanor is stiff, and you resist the urge to reach out and force his shoulders down from his ears.
“Did you like the matcha? I wasn’t sure you would. I used the oat milk you like.”
Slowly, he relaxes. With a small smile, he nods.
“It was good. I like most teas, I’m finding. It wasn’t too sweet.”
You add matcha to the mental list you keep, of drinks he likes. It’s become your mission to expand it. In the months since he started branching out, you’ve managed to add a few drinks to his core rotation.
“You know you’re one of my friends too, right?”
This catches you off guard. You pause in the motion of sweeping the floor, carefully raising your eyes to meet his. While nervous, he sounds sincere. When met with your silence, he continues.
“I just wanted you to know.”
You nod carefully. The implications of this are something you’ll consider later, when you’re alone. He’s only confirming something you’ve already known, but something about it stings. The word crosses your mind briefly, but it sticks. It’s bittersweet.
“I know.”
Your voice is low, soft against the din of the coffee shop. Spencer doesn’t look satisfied, opening his mouth to say something then closing it again. He glances between you and the window.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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#i am spoiling y'all#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid series#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds self insert#i just love the idea of spence bringing the girls to like#be like LOOK#shEs REAL!#hence this chapter#anyways#rory writes#likeyoualatte
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