#and something about a parent and child sitting in said child's childhood room before the child moves out GETS ME!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingmochi · 2 months

Text

part 1

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader (ft. the peeps, enhypen, and other idols)

synopsis: when you told your long-term rival and latest hook-up, heeseung, that you are pregnant with his child; you didn't expect said topic to be involved in your rivalry!

genre: romantic comedy, slice of life, coming-of-age, slow burn, drama, rivals since childhood to [redacted], college/university au, pregnancy au, future parents au, fluff, angst, mature content (explicit smut)

word count: 24198 (24.2k) out of 60550 (60.5k)

warning(s): pregnancy (what did you expect?), so many curse words!, description of explicit sex (in a flashback sense), rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, manhandling, vomiting, mention of drugs (marijuana, alcohol), mention of blood, dark humor (if there is something that i forgot, let me know)

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

first fic of 2024! i've ideated this since like 2022 and it's here what the heck!! this is part 1 of 2 of a 57k-58k word count one-shot (yes, this is supposed to be a one-shot) but tumblr hates me so i have to divide it into two. thanks for the 200+ notes on the teaser/character intro and i hope you enjoy it!

soundtrack (spoilers for part 2!) | part 2

prologue: a town called valentine

it was valentine 2002 when you and heeseung first met. well, if you consider babies who can’t even talk to each other will know of each other. you have to thank both of your moms for that—getting pregnant around the same time and giving birth in the same year as well.

but the earliest—vivid—memory you have of him was on valentine 2005. you hid behind your mama’s leg as she talked with someone: another adult. you glance around the outside space you’re in, the plants and pathway unknown to you as mama can see your eyes wander with your tiny mouth agape when you look past the other adult to recognize the widening door right beside them. you heard your mother giggling with the other person as they converse about something your 4-year-old mind wouldn’t be able to understand.

“(y/n) sweetie! say hi to auntie.” your mama caresses your hair with her hand as she guides you to stand beside her, her hands moving behind your small set of shoulders before you. the small hands reached for one of hers, holding it tight as you stood beside her.

“hello…” you looked up to meet a beautiful woman. her eyes are wide as they remind you of the mother deer you last saw when you watched bambi with mama and papa. and you can feel a ticklish feeling inside you as you watch her eyes smiling softly at you. as she smiles at you softly.

“hello (y/n)! you’ve grown so much since i last met you.” her hands give a wave, making you raise your hand up as you mirror her while you pick up your mama’s chuckle. the lady moves back, extending her arm as you see a clean hallway full of photos on one side and a cabinet full of shoes on the other. some of them looking similar to your own shoe size.

“please come inside. i’ve set the toys so she can play with them if she wants.” the lady—well, auntie—said as your mama guided you inside with her trailing behind. sitting on the hidden seating area by the cabinet, she helps you take off your shoes before opening her hands to let you hold them. she lets you walk in front as both of you enter a big room with a sofa in front of a television. as per told by mama every time you enter someone’s home: sit down beside mama or papa as you waited for the homeowner to guide you next. the back of the sofa is too tall for your height now and you let your hand graze against the side of the soft sofa when you encounter a large mat laid in between the sofa and the screen.

your brain tingles when you find a few toys you can name—like the ones you own back home—while a few of them you don’t recognize at all. eyes on the toys, you throw away whatever your mama has told you and tug her hand to let her know the existence of them. looking up, she looks down at you, glance at the pile of toys left behind, and gives nods, making you grin as you both sit on the playmat. your eyes immediately look at blocks stacked shaping like a house; its triangle roof, square walls, four windows, and door makes you easily imagine it. you crawl towards it and the box beside it, finding the other blocks left behind as you pull some of them out to make your own little house. as you slowly stack up the blocks—hearing the sound of wood tapping against each other—you heard the sound of giggling coming from behind the sofa.

“sorry, he just finished taking a bath.” auntie said to your mom who was behind you, walking closer to the sofa as you turned your head to face her. that’s when you see another person walking into the room with a small pitter-patter heard behind them. the steps are getting louder and louder as you see a small figure enter the room, walking towards the person laughing. the person wipes his face with his small hand before pausing, turning his head to you.

“hi heeseung!” you heard your mama say as the boy’s laugh slows down and he looks at you and your mama. auntie, who now looks more like the bigger version of the boy, steps in to help him move and sit down beside you. you see him crouch down as you can see his face clearer. yet, his eyes wander on the house made of blocks—his house—and the house you’re making; wider by one block than his.

“that’s (y/n). you were too young to remember but auntie and i always bring you two to playdates since you’re not even one year old. she’s the same age as you.” you heard auntie say as you felt your mama help you to scoot closer. his hand reaches for the box of blocks as you place the final block on your house while he’s pulling out more blocks. you look at the boy’s action as you feel mama, with her larger hand, holding onto your smaller one. your palm is now open as you see heeseung was told to do the same by his mom, putting away the blocks on the mat. your hands meet each other as you say your name. mama helps in closing your fingers, wrapping your hand in his as he follows.

“my name is (y/n).” the boy’s hand also uses the same force when you shake it. both women let go of their children’s hands as both of your little hands are floating, connected, and shaking. your eyes meet his as he looks back at the two houses made of blocks.

“my name is heeseung.” he smiles.

1. stay soft, silly

the way the corner of his mouth twitches makes you think outside of the plan you are executing now, nearly done in telling him what he needs to know.

your hands rested on top of your stomach, feeling a little bulge that was not there a month ago. his ice americano contrasts with your hot jasmine tea as you sit across from each other. years upon years of history went on pause for this moment. for a truce that you are proposing.

“and they’re mine?” heeseung sounded. your eyebrows folded, looking down at the swollen part beneath your stomach as you pouted your lips, holding back your giggling as you glanced back at him.

“i haven’t had sex with anyone this past month besides you. so, yeah. the baby is yours.”

it’s funny, you see. with the amount of carefulness you and your friends have taught you of the college hook-up culture you got roped into, you never expected to hook up with your rival. yet tension does what tension does, and it snaps as you both stumbled to kiss each other.

when it comes to your “relationship” with heeseung, the closest to a positive one was when you were in kindergarten, as you’ve known him before by the amount of playdates both of your mothers set up.

little did they know that one time at a playground during one of those playdates, you were left alone to play with your sandcastles as heeseung ventured to play with the other boys, running around the sandpit playing tag and how you see the familiar little jeans pants walks in front of you, knocking the castle down and flying the specks of sand to your face with your slower reaction speed—because of your younger age—not making you close your eyelids quicker. your eyes watering as you wail out, getting the attention of your mama but not the jean-wearing boy’s attention as you hear his mom telling him to stop. apologizing is simple for your younger self, just a plain “sorry” is okay. but when lee heeseung—who you consider your friend at that time—said “sorry” with a grin on his face, you caught onto the impression that he was not sorry at all.

at age 7, you came back from the cafeteria to your class to find heeseung and his gang of boys pulling on a girl’s hair, the familiar sadness showing on her face as you caught her eyes. you’ve known that they’ve played “dirty” and have been teasing other girls in your class before—just not you, which is strange in itself. with a tense set of hands, you push the boys away with your might and stand in between them, helping the girl who cowers behind you. you look down to watch heeseung on the floor, teeth showing and face crunched as he sees the scratch from when you pushed him near his elbow.

“what was that for?”

“to stop you. she doesn’t like it.”

one of his boys helps to pick him up on his feet as you can see him limping. your arms still wide as you protect the girl as best as you can. he pushes his sweaty bangs off his face as you can define the same gaze he had given you when you were 5 at the playground, now fiery. and you exude the same thing with your glare as you see the other boys helping carry him out to the nurse's office, his eyes staying on yours as you feel the girl’s hand holding you back from not walking after him again.

stickers become score markers as you and he tried to compete to get the most out of them, which comes with being nice and clever during classes. you were 10 when you had the same class as him once again, having to compete to be the quickest when raising your hands. but also the lowly giggles you give each other as you both realize just how wrong each other’s answers that comes with the teasing annoyance. it also comes in gym class as the teacher divided you up into different teams during team games—basketball being the most competitive as you are familiar with it. heeseung doesn’t hesitate to run towards you if you have a ball and try to dribble it across the court, pulling it as you try to pass it to your teammate, resulting in a tug-of-war where you both just don’t want to let it go. even with the whistling from the teacher as one teammate gets a hold of it to continue the game, you instead continue to have a screaming match with him.

it continues through middle school as you remember him not hesitating with his power to slam his dodgeball at your stomach during another gym class, making you curl up on the floor as your friends help you to the nurse's office, hearing him screaming “that’s what you get from stealing my lunch” as you remembered the taste of the chocolate bread you pick up from his tray yesterday. at high school as you and him argue in front of the vice principal about each of your club’s fundings, him with his basketball club who is already so successful with their winnings money that they can’t seem to let go to help other clubs who are staying afloat. even with your school having pride in the basketball team and other sports club achievements—making it a staple for the students to watch at least one game during their high school years. you never went to one as you rather babysit your neighbor’s kid for money than watch heeseung’s smug smile as he won another mvp trophy for that tournament.

when college came and you got into hybe uni as a business major, you didn’t expect to see heeseung on campus. you’ve known that since he focuses more on basketball in middle school, you are winning when it comes to academics. but when his smirking face tells you he got into hybe with a full scholarship because of basketball, your heart plummets into the fathoms. you were glad that he’s not in the same faculty as you, but the college environment is so small that your acquaintances recognize each other. you can’t seem to stay away from him who still has his smart for balancing his gpa and non-academic activities.

so when your lips met his own as you sobered up after having the party busted by the police, your mind is telling you to out-better him in lust and pleasure.

“who can make each other cum the most? never thought of you as that filthy, (l/n)”

the grip of his hair on your hand tightens as he trails his own to get a grip of yours. both of your heads now straight as you can’t look away from each other even if you want to.

“i take that you’re saying that because you don’t know how to make girls cum with your dick, lee.” you chuckled. heeseung’s gaze is still meeting yours as he pushes your head forward, making your forehead touch his as he mumbles something only you can hear.

“i know i can make you cum on my dick just by the way you’re clenching your thighs, baby. how do we tally the score?”

“start a kiss on the lips when you know you can’t hold back?”

“deal.”

“by the way, who won?” heeseung asked, leaning his body forward on the table as you peer down at his position from you, holding yourself as you stretch your back to help with the pain.

“how many times did you cum? and don’t fucking lie.”

heeseung’s bed is rocking beneath you as he folds you up in half, your knees on either side of you as he pounds into you. gasps fall out of your mouth as you pull on his hair, something you realize he likes after the amount of groan coming out of him from when you tug him. praises come out of your mouth as you try every method you can to turn him on first; to make him cum first. but the way he is pushing down on your abdomen makes you clench harder.

“look at how you’re clenching onto me. you’re close, aren’t you?” he whispered as you felt the breeze blowing onto your saliva-stained neck you are certain had hickeys on it. heeseung had to remind himself that he couldn’t kiss your lips, no matter how delectable they were, changing to kissing your neck.

“n-“ you moan as heeseung’s hand traces down to grip your ribcage, pulling you closer to him so he could find another angle to reach you deeper, pleasuring you both in return. “no.”

“don’t lie to me, (y/n).” his head pulls back from your crook as you watch his bangs faltering from the hard pounding to his mattress. “god, you’re so fucking hot when you’re under me.”

“fuck, just like that.” you retaliate with your own dirty talk, hands holding his waist so he could stay longer in your cavern as you grip him. but when you sense his breath against your skin, nose upon nose touching, the grip on his waist trails up as you cup his face. nodding your head as you feel him getting faster, you pull his head down and make his lips meet yours. you bit your bottom lip as your muffled moans vibrated between the two of you. your body giving up for a moment as he continued to thrust into you, making you let go as you let out a silent scream when you felt the moist gushing against him inside you. heeseung’s lips are unhesitant to kiss between your eyebrows as your body calms down from shaking, eyes rolling back to their original place as you continue to caress his cheekbone before a surge of energy comes back to you. you push him to the side, placing him down on the mattress as your hands grab both of his wrists to rest beside his head.

“i can feel you twitching inside me, hee. i know you’re close,” you said as you bounce on his lap, feeling the way your essence fell out and how much slick is on his penis because of you. as you have the upper hand, you decide to tease him by falling on him slower than the pace you have familiarized, making his wrists flinched under your hold as you click your tongue.

“you like how my walls are sucking you?”

“fuck, yes,” he mumbled under his breath.

“yeah..?” you replied as you leaned forward, making heeseung reach up to kiss your areola as best as he could.

“come on. you don’t wanna cum again?” heeseung asked in such a whiny voice that makes you snicker at how needy he has become. you decide to continue your teasing when you trail your nose along his face as you give a tiny kiss underneath his earlobe where you see the hickey you made on his clavicle. you move your hips so slowly as you feel how he becomes more erect even when he’s inside you.

“you’re the one who denies it yourself. i’m currently helping you here.” you poke your tongue and trace down his adam’s apple to his chest, reaching his nipple and giving it a suck. heeseung’s hip shoots up into you as he wants to take control. your hand moving closer to his palm with the grip that is getting loose as he pushes both his arms to let go of your hold. yet, you pull them back up as you reposition your fingers to interlock with his, withholding what he wants to make you move faster as he thrusts up into you.

you stare at how his doe-like eyes are begging for you after the number of times you have hated and feared the same eyes. how it glistens with tears because of how uncooperative you are even with your pace getting faster. with that, you lean forward as you stretch his hands and place them on your moving hips, letting them go so he can grip it hard as he tries to chase that feeling once again. you drape yourself above him as his blown-out eyes stare right at yours, his orange fiery flame meeting your own blue.

leaning forward more as you sensed one of his hands resting on your back, you brush away his hair that is sticking on his forehead as you whispered the death blow.

“you can cum in me-“

he leans up to connect your lips with his as you understand the signal, making your hips help to stimulate him more. his tongue flicking out and even wetting the skin around your lips as he moans out your name, letting out an exhale as your forehead is on his.

“want to breed you…” he whispered as you nodded, knowing just how much you like cum staining your walls as you give him a peck.

“breed me then.”

as he spoke to you about when he cums in your walls cowgirl style, you couldn’t help but snicker at the memories of his newly known breeding kink and your own creampie kink makes the resulting bun in your oven, making him flick your hand as you stare at him.

“that’s one for you and one for me- what are you thinking?” the way his voice pitches up at the end of the question makes you giggle even more.

“i swear-“ you lean forward as you realize the stage you are in, “the way our kinks create them,” you point down to your stomach.

“with the way your body shivers when i cum in you,” he said as he also leans forward. “i knew you like it. but i didn’t realize how feral you got because of that.”

“how feral we got, heeseung. fucking correct that.”

“oh fuck!” you moaned out into the mattress as heeseung held your hips up when he thrusts back into you from behind. you can sense how every time he pounds into you, his release is coming out alongside him as the wet clapping noises penetrate even the sound of both the cricketing bed frame and both of your moans. his hand goes up to your head and pulls your hair as the other pushes against your stomach, making you bend back towards him as the moans you let out of your mouth are clearer. his lips sucking another hickey onto your shoulder as you lean your head back on him to widen his access. your hands gripping onto both of the hands that are now resting on your abdomen and one on your breast, respectively.

“who can make you feel like this?” the question triggering you right away.

“y-you.”

“say my name, baby,” he said as he kissed your cheeks, making you turn your head towards the side as you opened your eyes to meet his, continuing to pleasure you into oblivion.

“heeseung…”

“go on.” he squeezed your flesh and you bit your bottom lip.

“heeseung!”

the hand on your abdomen leaves to crawl to your nub as your free hand reaches up to his nape, letting you connect your lips with his as best as you can. your body doing gymnastics before it is overcome by your second wave of cum when heeseung stops and twist your upper body to connect both of your lips fully. with his hands enveloping you, you push both of your body down as you let him spoon you.

grinding your hips against him, you reached down to gather both your cums as you give it a lick, making heeseung groan as he helps you push against him. “fuck, (y/n), how are you still so tight?”

“only for you-“ you reply as you shift away, just wanting to kiss heeseung, but then you remember the rules. with your shoulder, you push heeseung so he lays back on the bed as you lie on top of him. your knees folding so you can put your heels on the mattress as you lift yourself up and down on his shaft. you push your hands against is so you can sit and let you see the messiness yourself: both of your thighs are now covered in whiteness as you continue, realizing how sticky your skins are against each other. instead of letting you observe the messiness, heeseung pulls your upper body back to his as he also folds his knees and pushes his heels to the bed, thrusting upwards and making the pace quicker.

both of your moans combine with each other as he rests his arms around your midriff so you can’t move away from him. your head tilts to look behind you at the way heeseung is closing his eyes. as the point of your nose touches his skin, he doesn’t hesitate to turn to you and brought your lips onto his as he gives a few sputtering thrusts before you felt him cumming in you once again, making you fuller than ever.

“and that’s another two for each of us,” you replied as heeseung let out a snicker.

“still a tie, huh?”

“yeah, but we decided on a tiebreaker, right?” he responded with a hum.

with how sweaty, sticky, and tired you both are, you decide to do a tiebreaker with you sitting on his lap in a lotus position. your breath meeting his as both of you work in tandem (with a little burst exerted once in a while) to make any of you cum first and declare to be the winner of this messed-up game you made. heeseung licks the skin below your neck and plays with your breasts as you let your fingers experiment with his nipples and the way your nails scratch against his back muscles. you know that both of you are exhausted because the only sound that comes out is the small moans and whines left over. you looked down to see the messy environment you made between both of your crotches, making you scoop it up as you lift your cum-covered forefinger to your mouth, sucking it in, before pulling heeseung’s head so you can let him taste both of you.

his wide eyes glance up at you as he puts on a show to make you turn on more, swirling his tongue around your middle finger as the hand that was holding your shoulder blade reaches to your face, making his thumb pressing against your bottom lip so you can suck it. your hips grind on him faster, bouncing a few times, as both of your moans are muffled by both of your fingers. pulling your finger back, a string of saliva connected it and his lips as you cup his cheek. heeseung bites his lip as he pulls the thumb out to see your swollen lips. as you stare at each other—thinking back to the past few hours that have gotten you here in this position—you sense something strange within you. something so unfamiliar when you stare at him than the other moments you blatantly glare towards him. with the way he glances around your face as he connects your forehead with his, you recognize he might have sensed the same things too.

you don’t remember who is the first one to reach out, but as both of your lips connect, you let yourself envelop him as he did you. both of you not stopping and helping each other out as both of you cum in quick succession. not letting go of each other’s lips as you both pull away slowly; looking at the string of saliva connecting both of you as you stare at each other.

“we don’t need to discuss that.”

“no, we don’t,”

both of you replied right after the other as you see heeseung looking away from you to glance at the window beside the table. you glance at the condensation forming on the glass of his americano before glimpsing towards the booth where he sat. a duffle bag beside his backpack; you guess it will be for his basketball practice, it is near the college basketball season after all. but as you glance up at the man himself—you notice how different he has been since you were children. the way he muscled up and the baby fat on his face sheds away from the amount of sports he has to consume weekly. but, with all the invisible scars you both inflicted on each other from then until now, you weigh in just how ridiculously complex your relationship is that you don’t know if he wants to agree with it or not.

“well, now that you know…” you started, rubbing your hand against your sweater paws, “you don’t have to contribute to their life.”

heeseung hums, turning back to look towards you with confusion written on his face.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to get involved in taking care of them. it’s hard enough to be a senior-year college student, let alone raising a baby. it’s my choice to keep them, so i have to take responsibility for that.” you grabbed the now lukewarm cup of tea as you take a sip from it, placing it gently on the small plate as you continued with, “especially knowing how complicated we are.” you use your forefinger to point between him and you.

the man’s face is hard to read. he jutted his lips, biting the inside of his cheek as you see him blink whilst looking towards you, trying to get a read on you as well. being 8 weeks pregnant, you just wanted the meeting to end because you have all the other things you need to organize: telling the girls about your pregnancy diets and symptoms, telling the university about them and maybe they could give you leeway with the tests and studies, setting up appointments for with the ob-gyn and the doula of your choice, and telling your parents.

your parents who knew heeseung’s parents.

this will be awkward as fuck to experience.

“and i wish we could have a truce for the next 40 weeks.” you said, already with an exasperated voice that seemed to even surprise heeseung. “with this lifelong rivalry going on and how both of us doesn’t even want it to stop, please just… give me a slack to take care of them as best as i could.”

when you expected heeseung to reply with an okay—knowing your status as an expecting mother to at least give you some slack—you were met with a piercing gaze instead. how he looks between your face and your hidden stomach behind the table. he rests his hand on the table when you watch him considering something, and you didn’t even fucking guess he will do what he does.

“no.”

“what?”

“no. there’s no truce.” he leans forward, recognizing the gaze in his eyes as you just want to punch it out of his face for even thinking about what he’s thinking.

“no fucking way you’re thinking about this.”

“why not, (y/n)? think you can’t take care of yourself enough for the baby?”

your palm is now against your forehead, brushing against your face as it trails down when you let out a groan, “you’re trying to make a rivalry on taking care of this baby…” you let out your guess as heeseung lets out his signature smirk and a voiceless ‘bingo’.

“how? they’re in me, heeseung.”

“by giving them good nutritious food, interacting with them, i don’t know. but i know from knowing you for years that you can’t take care of yourself, knowing you have three other roommates-“

“you also have three other fucking roommates. sheesh.” you shake your head as you lean back. “anything for the baby has to go through me first, you know? i can deny it if i want.”

“then we can argue who’s right. they’re my baby too and i have the right to be involved even if you don’t want to.” your phone vibrates after heeseung’s brash reply as you see the silent alarm of your next schedule of the day. you tug the strap of your bag to your shoulder and gulp the rest of your tea.

“whatever, i have another thing to do.”

“does it involve the baby?”

“no. unless you wanna join my research class.”

you stood up from the booth as you straightened your sweater down, making heeseung glance at your abdomen before looking back at your face. “just so you remember: i’m doing this for the baby, not you.”

rolling your eyes, you flip him the bird as you walk away from him to your only class of the day, making heeseung let out a strangled smile.

“what the- what do you mean?”

the game continues as the other three guys look towards heeseung who is obliterating them with his king dedede, the sound of the fighting comes from the tv of their living room apartment as his fingers nimbly move on the switch controller, making the other three characters fly from the platforms as the familiar “game!” announcement calls.

the boys are sitting in various ways; beomgyu and jeongin are on the floor and jimin is beside him. the soundtrack of the super smash bros ultimate is playing in the background as heeseung smiles.

“i’m gonna be a dad.”

jeongin, the closest to the main port of the switch, quits the game as beomgyu lets out another loud shout—outside of the game—and jimin, who is sitting besides him, shakes his body with outstretched arms.

“BROOO!” beomgyu rubs his hand across his long hair as he faces heeseung fully, who is regretting not recording the reaction of his best buddies about this.

“how does heeseung, who doesn’t even like hooking up, get someone pregnant?” jimin asks to himself but also to the others as jeongin now stands in front of him, shielding the tv from his sight.

“forget that. who did you knock up, lee heeseung?” jeongin cuts through as heeseung leans back against the headrest of the couch. a mix of expressions showing on his face cause he doesn’t know if he has to laugh, be angry, be sad, or what else. he lets out a sigh as he picks the right voice tone to tell them.

“it’s fucking (y/n).”

“okay, now hold on!”

jeongin jumps, shedding the stern aura that he just created a few seconds ago. heeseung glances down at beomgyu who has his jaw dropped with jimin gripping on heeseung’s shoulder very hard.

“SINCE WHEN DID YOU TWO HOOK U-“

“shush!” jimin stands up and covers his hand on jeongin’s mouth, not wanting another complaint from the neighbors both horizontally and vertically.

“when?” beomgyu asked jeongin’s questions concisely as heeseung glanced towards the sofa and the kitchen right beside the front door of their apartment.

“you remember the party that got busted by the police?”

“yoon keeho’s party?”

“yeah, that one.” jimin acknowledges beomgyu’s answer as heeseung continues.

“long story short, (y/n) was alone and i went past her, teasing her for seeing that her friends left her behind when the police showed. she was tipsy which she shows by how easily stumbles. so i dragged her with me to our apartment when we escaped. i don’t know where you guys were, but she’s gotten a bit too annoying so i have to sober her up. we talked, and the tension was just too…” heeseung remembers as he was the one reaching for your face, to tell you to shut the fuck up, but the tension melted away before both of you proposes the game that you did. “so, we did it. and she asked me to meet up this morning and told me the news.”

“and what are your thoughts?” jimin asks, making the high-stakes emotions lower as he lets his friend talk about what he is feeling.

well, for heeseung, shock was an understatement. when he heard you utter the three words to him as he asked you what makes you want to meet up, never did he expect that to come out. surely, he has a breeding kink, and he had expected that to happen. but you told him you’re leaving early to get a plan b pill. maybe it didn’t work, but he doesn’t want to assume much about your body. then, he can sense the hidden sheer happiness blossoming within him. he wanted to smile and give you a hug, but then he remembered that it was you. that outside of his bed that night, you didn’t see him as a friend.

for someone who doesn’t hook up with people, heeseung knows how the hook-up culture works. he had heard multiple women fucking his three roommates from within his room and he could use his noise-canceling headphones against them. people might presume he is picky—a basketball jock who stays hidden and doesn’t want to hook up with anyone unlike his younger teammates—but the level of comfort is different when he has to do it with someone he doesn’t know and that’s why he rather stayed away. you? well, you are an anomaly.

though close because of your upbringing, he doesn’t know you outside of what he knows. that you were the kid who broke his truck even after he said sorry for ruining your sandcastle at that playground. that you were the kid who pushed him to the floor back when you were 7. that you’re the girl who he competes with to get the most stickers and not letting go of the basketball even though he stole it from you correctly. that he saw you stealing the bread from his tray as he came back from the vending machine. that you were the one telling the vice principal his basketball club doesn’t need as much money as they do because of their successful run, not knowing that their assistant coach stole the winning money.

so when you decide to create walls from your words, try to spin it so he doesn’t have to care about his baby, he had to say no. it’s as if you’re trying to keep the baby to yourself and not letting him in even though it takes two to tango. so, he found the most relevant way: competing for who takes care of that baby the right way—even if they’re in you. he doesn’t even think far from that thought no matter how ridiculous it is as now he realizes what a logistical nightmare it’s going to be.

“you’re making a game out of taking care of your own child but not your baby mama?” jeongin questioned after hearing heeseung’s rambling about this.

“yup…” heeseung paused, a pregnant pause. “and i need all of your help.”

jimin’s face changes as he hears the way heeseung described his face, rubbing his palm against the creases forming on his forehead as he can’t comprehend how beomgyu easily accepts his role. jimin’s head perks up at heeseung calling his name.

“yo!” jimin replied.

“since you’re the only one out of us who has a direct connection to (y/n) through chaeryeong, you’ll be my eyes, okay? asked about (y/n), how she’s doing, and all that stuff.” heeseung nodded as he expectantly looked at the boy who stood beside jeongin.

“gotcha,” he replied, his eyes wide as heeseung turned towards jeongin.

“innie, you’re my source. find any article about pregnancy and what my role is gonna be as a dad. yadda yadda yadda. all that stu-“

“i do you one better, seung.” jeongin said as heeseung lifted his eyebrows at him, tilting his head.

“my mom is an ob-gyn doctor.”

“miss (y/n)!”

“wear this!”

there is sounds of pitter-patters all around you as you sense the weight getting heavier on your figure. a small cape hanging off your shoulders and a crooked crown on your head, you sit down cross-legged against a round table full of toy food and kitchen utensils. girls and boys alike sit on the chairs by the table with their own capes and crowns, playing around with their cups as they all have a tea party—with the other side of the room playing with legos.

“here is your tea and cake.” you see the girl beside you giving the plate of rubber cake and an empty tea cup.

“thank you, princess rami.” picking up the teacup into your hand, you let out a loud slurping noise to drink it, before flinching away as you fan your tongue.

“i’m so sorry. is it too hot?” rami asked as you shook your head.

“i’m okay. thank you for asking,” you replied as best as you could.

“you must be careful, princess rami.” the boy across from her spoke as you tilt your head to him.

“i’m alright. prince yujin. i will be more careful with the tea.” he gave out a smile as one girl called out.

“if we are all princes and princesses, how should we call miss (y/n)?” hyunseo asked across from you.

“well, miss (y/n) should be a queen!” woonhak replied enthusiastically.

“but if miss (y/n) is a queen, should she have a king?” hyunseo continued.

“or another queen. i have two queens at home.” yujin filled in as you gave off a smile with the implication. but then the kids started to bicker with each other as you looked around the room once again.

as you entered high school, you were determined to beat heeseung in another way other than school-related activities. and what other way by being independent and richer than him at a young age? so you raked your head of a simple work that can help you gain more pocket money when one of your aunts asks you if you can babysit their daughter and how she will pay you. seizing the opportunity, you get to take care of your baby cousin as you go to your aunt’s home to help her with her food and stuff. hearing your enjoyment by the dining room table, your mom suggests more opportunities to babysit children of your family members from both sides—to your youngest uncle’s 4-year-old son and your oldest cousin’s 6-month-old baby—you have an array of skills gotten from doing childcare as your mom recommend you to babysit her juniors’ children at work, making you who wanted it for the money now wants it for the children.

it needs a certain level of charisma to charm a child so they can listen to you and with the array of children you had to babysit, you’ve met and adapted as best as you can to all of them. from being the calm tutor for a baby who is training his motor skills to help a child practice balancing on a bicycle, you understand what a child wants under their tantrums. that love you give and the love you accept makes you want to contribute more to childcare. so you started volunteering in non-formal schools and orphanages, helping to at least make their days a little better. and that’s why you worked part-time as a daycare attendant since you entered university as it is a more established institution where you can shuffle your study schedule alongside your work schedule, meeting kids who are being sent here that are still younger than school age. it reminded you of your own childhood and you’re hoping that your inner child could be happy and satisfied that you let her feel that feeling again.

“guys…” your spoken voice cuts their conversations, and they all turn to you. “a queen doesn’t have to have a king or another queen by their side. a queen can stand alone too.”

“but wouldn’t that make the queen lonely?” rami questioned, making you pout your lips as you still can’t comprehend just how blatantly honest children are that it pierces through each layer of your heart to find the right spot.

“yes, the queen will be lonely. but she also has her princes, princesses, knights, counselors, and more around her. love doesn’t always come from one person, it can also come from a group.” you replied, making the group rowdy up as they converse about love and being independent—well, ‘lonely’ as they called it—when you feel a light pat on your shoulder.

turning your head, you see a younger girl other than those around the table holding a paper, stretching it towards you.

“for you, miss (y/n)…”

you slowly pick the paper from her small hands as you observe the drawing. a simple figure made of circles and triangles with different colors. a pink filled-in shape on one side of the triangle with the circle-shaped and another taller one holding the figures hand, a yellow crown-shaped drawing on top of a circle with a smiling face inside.

she drew you.

“awww. this is so sweet and nice.” you return to look at the younger girl, a warm smile showing on your face, “thank you, hyein.” you rub your hand on her hair—something you remember she likes—as her smile widens before she runs away towards her table, where she has a few more papers scattered.

you glance at her before looking at your own stomach, unconsciously rubbing it as you can feel your own child inside you now growing along with time. then, it all came so suddenly when you felt yourself regurgitating, hand coming up to your mouth as you stood up as fast as you could towards the staff bathroom. knocking open the door of the open stall, you kneeled down as you puke out your lunch for today, feeling your gag reflexes kicking in. you sensed a hand soothing down your back as you reached for the flush to drain it down the toilet bowl.

“you okay, (y/n)?” you hear the familiar voice of your supervisor, yoonah, behind you. nodding your head, you reach for the toilet paper and tear it apart as you wipe the remains and saliva off your lips. reaching for the crown that fortunately doesn’t fall when you puke your inside, you hold on to it as you stand up and veer around to the sink to clean your mouth, gargling and spitting out as you wipe the droplets of water from your lips.

“how is it going with the pregnancy?” she asked as you watched her reflection behind yours in the mirror. you nodded your head and chuckled.

“didn’t vomit for the past three days and i thought that was enough, and well, here i am.” you stare at your face, seeing your eyes glistening with tears with the number of times you had to cough out until your phlegm came out. you turn your head to face your boss as she gives you a solemn smile.

“so, i have already talked to hr and we agree to have you reduce your work day to just one per week. you can enter anytime between the weekdays depending on your schedule because you have lots of things to juggle with your ob-gyn appointment. we don’t want to weigh you down more.”

you looked sideways when yoonah didn’t seem to see you being glad of it. though it helps with not exerting your body—as per doctor park’s request—it will definitely reduce your money because of the appointments and others. you haven’t told your parents yet and maybe you can ask them for more money after but with the way your friends have already helped ease your part of the rent so you have enough money for your own diet and consultations; you don’t want them to provide more for you.

“that’s great and all, but what about my pay? can it be adjusted? it doesn’t have to be 200%. like, do I only work one day for a pay of two like usual? or is it the regular one day pay? if it’s the latter, maybe a 25% increase will be great? for the consultations and others…” you said, not realizing that you had a few stray tears leaving out your eyes. nice fucking job, hormones.

yoonah picks up the crown from your head and she places it above your head, straightening it up as it rests right at the top of your head, “i will take about it to hr. you know that i’m on your side with this.” she pats your shoulder as you let out a faint “thank you” and see her walking away out of the bathroom. you brushed the tears away as you wet your hands to help unswollen them, even if it is for a bit. staring at yourself in the mirror, you pull your body up straight as you turn sideways, rubbing your abdomen as you can feel the life being put into you; piece by piece, cell by cell, forming into a human being.

as your feet enter the room one by one, tons of footsteps greet you as you look down to see the crown-wearing kids you are playing tea time with approaching you. their faces showing weariness so explicitly that you feel your heart tugging at them.

“are you ok, miss (y/n)?” hyein—the first one to be there—spoke as she was surrounded by kids taller and older than her. you notice someone holding onto your hand with their tiny one, seeing rami brushing the skin as you feel soothed.

“i am now. thank you, hyein,” you replied, letting your body fall as you kneeled before them, seeing the number of children you have taken care of for the years you had worked here. in your mind, it seemed ridiculous to think of your next move, but in a way that they have taught you so much about taking care of others, it’s proper to tell them yourself.

wiping the corner of your eyes as you feel your hormones acting up again, you speak, “what do you know about your moms?”

“mommy is very sweet to me,” hyunseo replies as she steps forward to stand next to hyein, their height difference looking so cute.

“mom is the one that picked me up from here.” woonhak also replied when you can see his mom’s smile on his own from the number of times she picked him up and showed that same smile.

“both of my mamas are the best in taking care of me and my brothers.” yujin added as there were more children rambling about their mothers, creating a wall of cacophony that seemed more like the background noise you heard each week as you worked. their voices dwindled as you looked expectantly at them one by one, a smile urging them to wait for something to come out of you.

“well, you see, i’m going to be just like your moms.”

yujin was the one that caught on first as he stepped closer and hugged you. while the others still looked confused, he turned around to looked at them and state it himself.

“MISS (Y/N) IS GOING TO BE A MOM!”

“miss (y/n)!”

“no wa-“

you heard the surge of children hugging you as you laughed out loud, seeing yoonah by the door as she also followed your laughter while you were surrounded by the children who were either hugging you or asking you questions.

“settle down, children. miss (y/n) needs a space to take a breather.” yoonah spoke up as she approached you who has a grin on your face.

“you said that you don’t have any king or queen?” yujin said as you felt your cheeks getting warmer, he now held onto the crown that slipped down your head from the number of kids that is surrounding you. while you could feel a hand on your stomach as you looked down to see hyein sitting down—remembering that she also has a pregnant mother with a little sibling on the way for her.

“it, it will be hard for me to explain it to you, but…” you felt yoonah’s hand on your shoulder as you glance at the closest clock in the room—finding the time for them to go home has come. “your moms are waiting for you to go home.”

you push yourself up to stand as yoonah guides the kids to pick their items up by the cabinets as you stand up straight, seeing the children walking around you when you see rami stepping beside you, arms wide open as you crouch down to give her a hug. you felt other sets of arms surrounding you as you giggled, pulling away your arms as the children noticed it.

“i’ll see you all next week!” you stated as yoonah brought all of them to the door of the daycare before opening them, seeing all of them going to their respective parents and guardians as a few of them acknowledged you. you turned around as you started your usual clean-up process, picking up the drawings that the children made and putting them in their own folders so you can give them to their guardians when they graduated, putting back the toys into the boxes, returning the costumes back to the wardrobe as you place the robe and crown you were also wearing, and you wanted to do one more thing, but you heard someone clearing their throat.

“i’ll clean the furniture and floor. you have done so much and you needed to eat and rest.” yoonah told you as you sighed, knowing that you seemed to be hungrier after you vomited out your food.

“thanks, boss.” you winked as she chuckled, bringing yourself to the staff room with the drawing that hyein gave to you—pinning in your mind to collect it with the drawings the kids you’ve taken care has made for you.

when collecting your things into your backpack, you glance at the paper that you printed out from your laptop as you scan the words, seeing your inked signature on the bottom as you see the blank space with the name right across from yours. heeseung’s name.

since he decided to be involved—you remembered while you talked to your faculty about your pregnancy and how they asked who the dad was, you decided to bring him up as a “student from another faculty.” it might make him think twice if he wants to be involved or not because he will get his name pin up on a note somewhere, which will be noted to his coach, lecturers, and more of his status. you are ready to be mentally burnt by the judgment your peers might give you, but is heeseung also ready?

you haven’t thought of the way you’re going to give heeseung the letter when you see minjeong’s name from your vibrating phone as you pick up the things you are bringing home and you hear yoonah talking as she sees you already leaving.

“carpool picking you up?”

“yeah, my roommate and her boyfriend.”

“okay, take care of yourself and i’ll follow up with your request.” you felt yoonah giving you a side hug as you gave a smile and wave when you pushed the door open. you breathed in the outside air to see the dark gray chevrolet camaro parked near the front of the building. walking to the back seats, you opened the door to be met with the music playing as minjeong greeted you.

“how’s work, (y/n)?” she instantly asked as sungchan lurched the car to a drive when you glanced at the bags of things beside you.

“freaking embarrassing. i vomited suddenly when i hadn’t vomited for the last 3 days but the kids reacted to it pretty okay. and i told them i’m gonna be a mom.”

“that’s so sweet!” she said, glancing back from her seat in front of you as she reached to touch you, making you sit in the middle with the console right in front of you as you see sungchan’s playing with the volume of bluetooth-connected car radio play the song that sounds so minjeong—which you can recognized right away.

“what did you guys do today?” you wiggled your eyebrows as you heard sungchan’s laugh from the way he looked at you from the rear-view mirror.

“you know what me and jeongie usually do, eat, shop, fuck, repeat-“

“no, we didn’t fuck today-“

“we did a quickie before we left to pick (y/n) up, winter.”

“okay! ughhh…” minjeong said, rubbing her face in embarrassment before replying, “i brought him to this cafe that has all these criterion collections that aren’t available on any of the streaming services we own. so i bought so many dvds for us to watch.”

“which are?”

“older movies, foreign movies. you did say that you enjoyed watching japanese movies, so i bought some of them for us to watch.”

“fuck, i love you so much for that, kim minjeong.” you replied as you heard sungchan’s little tsk, making you both giggle as his possessiveness is showing at the most ridiculous time.

“so, (y/n),” you hummed to sungchan’s starter words, “you haven’t told me who is your baby daddy.”

“guess!” you tugged yourself forward as your face was between their seats.

“how should i guess when i never see you hook up with people?” he replies as you glance at minjeong who is just watching him, an amused smile on her face.

“what if i say it’s song eunseok,” you mentioned his fellow frat bros.

“eunseok is dating that junior of his he has classes with. and he’s a loyal guy so i don’t think so.”

“what about park jisung? he’s hot in my eyes.”

“you don’t seem to be the kind to hook up with your junior,” he replied, making you squint your eyes.

“zhong chenle? he’s a fellow biz major like i do.”

“you’re definitely not his style.”

“now, that’s rude.” you hunch yourself back on the back seat as minjeong’s giggles compete with the music playing.

“you’re gonna be so shocked if we told you who he is.” she added as you nodded along, “two hints though: he’s our age and he’s a fellow jock-“

“that’s too much, jeong-ah.” you cover her mouth as her muffled nagging rings in the car. you can feel her lapping your palm, tickling your nerves and making you pull away as it’s now sungchan’s turn to have a giggling fit while watching his girlfriend and her roommate bickering. the trip was close between the daycare you work and the apartment tower you rented off-campus—but since you’ve mentioned to your roommates that you’ve been having back pain and vomiting sessions, they decided to help you out by being by your side as they drop you off or picking you up—just like what chaeryeong did as she drop you off to work before going to the dance studio.

so, when you stare out to see the small lobby of your apartment, you’re already with your backpack tucked to you as you open the door of the backseats. sungchan helped widen the door for you before going to the other side to help minjeong with the things she bought from their date. as you stood by the tiled floor of the lobby, minjeong gave sungchan one last kiss on the lips as you heard him say, “bye, babe! bye, (y/n) and hope you rest!”

“see you next week, baby.” the girl said as both you and her are waving your hands at the boy, who has entered the car driving off into the ending sunset of today. stepping inside the entrance of the apartment, you and she enter the empty elevator as you catch a glimpse at what other things minjeong had bought when you see a box from a chicken fast food brand, making your mouth water as you think about it, but you knew that you’ll be nag by dr. park for eating junk food.

pushing the handle after you put the pin on the keypad, you enter and instantly kick your shoes off as you are met with ryujin who is tying her hair up, walking towards you as she helps with minjeong’s bags. the apartment was left as you remembered this morning: a few scattered papers from either you or ryujin’s homework, the weighted blanket by the sofa now folded, and the smell of hot choco on the coffee table alongside ryujin’s laptop as you remembered that she only has online classes today.

“what did you bring?” ryujin wiggled her eyebrows as she rummaged open the bag that you’d seen when she instantly brought it to the kitchen counter when you saw her already cooking something. out of all four of you, you and ryujin are the ones talented in cooking so it’s not a surprise to see her cook for herself, but when you see the large plate that is places beside where the stove is, you know she has been making dinner for all four of you—as only chaeryeong’s the one who is not finished with her work today.

“why did you bring back fast food, minjeong? we promised to also have (y/n)’s diet.”

“that’s my leftover. chan said that the boys had too much stuff in their fridge so i brought it to us.” you then felt minjeong’s hand behind your lower back as she stood beside you, “hope you are okay with that.”

“of course, i’m okay.” you give minjeong a smile. “all of you aren’t obliged to follow my diet cause i know you love red meat, jinnie.”

“it feels wrong if i don’t follow you, though.” ryujin replied as you and minjeong go to your separate ways—she walked to her room while you stepped into the kitchen to see the food that minjeong brought. the chicken was a leftover but you also see her bringing back different meats and seafood.

“i almost forgot to ask you, but can you give me the list of the food that you can and can’t eat? just so i can help with the recipes and so we can pre-made food.” ryujin said as she put her arms behind your back, soothing you as you viewed her making japchae and beef on the pan.

“will do, ryu.” you give her a salute as she gives your cheek a squeeze before you let her be. taking your bag handle as you step towards the direction of your room, the bell of your apartment rings as ryujin turns towards you, making both of you tilt your head as you volunteer to get to the intercom.

when you press the button, the screen shows you someone you don’t expect to see as you can recognize the wolf cut hair you’ve seen while scrolling on your instagram. your footsteps immediately go to the door as you hear the ringing “hello”s from the intercom, opening it up to see the boy you’re trying your best to mask your feelings for with a box.

“heyya, (y/n)!” he replied as you widened the door to gaze at the box.

“h-hi beomgyu.” you give him a small smile as you try your best not to lock your eyes on him. to be having a crush on a boy like him is ridiculous, especially knowing that he is your RIVAL’s best friend. and the fact that you still have a crush on him since high school to then be found being in the same uni as him. if he doesn’t have heeseung by his side, you know you will brace yourself to approach him first. but now with his success as an indie musician, you know you are probably in a losing battle knowing just how spicy heeseung talks about you knowing that he has so many fans aiming at him and how you can’t compete with them—not as much as yeonjun though.

“wha, what’s this?”

“it’s for you.” he pushed the box towards you as you tried to peek inside when you felt a presence behind you.

“let me get that.” another pair of hands open by your side and you see the smirk on beomgyu’s face falter to see ryujin pulling the box against her.

“hi ryujin,” he said, a slight tremble in his voice as you finally be able to look at him with your heart eyes before back at ryujin.

“beomgyu,” she replied before leaving the door to put the box away. you eye the boy who is staring at the empty space for a few seconds too late before you are back in his attention, returning to the cheeky smile you adore.

“thank you for that!” you felt your palms getting sweatier than ever, rubbing one of them against the door to dry it.

“you gotta have to thank heeseung for that.”

the way beomgyu named he-who-shall-not-be-named shutters your fantasy as you were met with the reality. of course, it’s from heeseung, not from the boy you had a crush on—even if it means that the baby daddy trusts his best friend so much to tell him that he is having a baby with his rival. beomgyu seemed to be the nicer guy between the two. so, a girl can hope, right?

“oh yeah, wait for a minute!” you were so caught up in the way heeseung terrors you and slips back into your mind and how you wanted to slam the door when you heard his name when you remembered the paper that he had to sign. you pull the paper out of your folder as you pull one of your sticky notes and write a simple note to him. giving a smile to beomgyu, you handed him the paper as he stared at the words printed on it.

“give it to heeseung and send it back to me after that, or if he wants to submit it himself, then that’s fine. i have to give the contact person the info if he decides to send the paper to the administration himself.”

beomgyu nods as he chuckles at your note before giving a last “i will” before walking and waving away, making you close the door as you wonder how did he know where you lived. eh, that’s fine. you got to see what heeseung gave you as the box rested on top of the counter right beside ryujin who was pouring the japchae into the bowl.

slowly opening it—scared that he might have a jack-in-the-box mechanism inside it—you were met with plastics covering greens as you tugged a few of them out to be met with a bunch of fruits and vegetables still packed in their grocery’s packing. your shoulder meets ryujin’s as she took a glimpse at the new ingredient you picked out of the box.

“from beomgyu?”

shaking your head, you feel a piece of paper inside the box as you pinch it between your fingers. straighten the creases, you see the scribbles on the note as you read it in your mind.

eat them for the baby’s health and your own sanity - lhs

“heeseung,” you replied after you finish. ryujin gives a small hum as you catch the smirk on her face before you shove her with your shoulder. both of you open the plastics of the greens, vegetables, and fruits that heeseung bought for you, ryujin saying out loud the names of the greens as you and her bounce ideas of what kind of food she can make to cater to your diet.

“kale, cabbage, broccoli…” she picked another vegetable, carefully pulling away the plastics as the waft of the smell entered the kitchen. you knew of the vegetable, but being pregnant equals being sensitive to smells. and the way that you instantly wretch at the smell makes you scurry away from ryujin.

“hey, who rang the be-“

minjeong was pushed away as she saw you opening the door of their shared bathroom, making her turn around as she heard you wretch out the remaining food and saliva inside of you that is followed immediately by a flush from the toilet bowl. she walked to the kitchen to see ryujin holding stems of leaves on her hand.

“well, now we know she can’t eat arugula.”

the chime of the lock unlocked rings alongside the opening of the door of their apartment as ryujin and minjeong stare at it, seeing chaeryeong trying to breathe as she takes off her sneakers.

“WHY IS JIMIN PESTERING ME ABOUT (Y/N)?”

thumps and squeaks are what beomgyu heard as his eyes gazed at the lights coming out of the gymnasium. his feet working in tandem echoing through the night as he took another glance at the paper, another step away from the door as he pulled the handle to see a bunch of boys running around the wood-floored gym. beomgyu’s eyes searched for heeseung as he bit his lips, not wanting to be late for his own band practice with the boys.

turning towards the bleachers, he’s seen one of the boys that beomgyu remembered being on heeseung’s profile. his hands on top of his knees as he leans forward to see the 3 x 3 half court game beomgyu realized isn’t a part of training—but more of them having fun. he is taking a glimpse at heeseung who is muttering a curse word under his breath because the ball was stolen from his hold.

“hey, uh, sheep!”

the boy turns towards beomgyu with squinting feline-esque eyes before they widen, realizing who called him.

“your jersey has ‘yang’ on it. so i called you sheep.”

“nah, that’s okay. you’re beomgyu hyung, txt’s guitarist…” the boy stands up, their height almost the same as each other, but beomgyu knows that the kid can grow taller—from both basketball and his unfinished puberty phase, probably.

“i’m jungwon! i’m guessing you’re here for heeseung hyung?”

beomgyu glanced down at the paper as he nodded, “i couldn’t stay until he finished cause i have band practice. so, this document is for him to sign.” he told jungwon what you told him as his ghost patted himself on his shoulders for being right. beomgyu uses his thumbs to point behind him after jungwon picks up the paper that he pushed towards him and gives him a thumbs up before a loud "thank you" rings as the gymnasium door opens, leaving jungwon with a slight chuckle creeped out of his lips.

the boy couldn’t stop his curiosity as he turned the paper so he could read the writing, skimming it down as his eyebrows as he couldn’t stop his speech before it was too lat-

“HEESEUNG HYUNG IS A DAD?!”

jungwon’s shout makes movement screech to a halt as he looks up at his boys, also staring at heeseung, who is glaring at jungwon and the paper he is holding. but, his reaction speed was too slow to pull it off his grips as heeseung lost against the other five boys who had huddled towards jungwon.

“shut up!” sunoo exclaimed.

“it’s true, sun,” jongseong replied as he could hear jaeyun and riki screaming and laughing before they scurried to run around heeseung.

“who is this (y/n), hyung?” jaeyun speaks into his ear, making heeseung grimace as the three walk towards the crowd with sunghoon now holding onto the paper.

“isn’t (l/n)(y/n) your senior, jjong?” sunghoon calls out, making said boy read carefully the name with the signature on top.

“oh yeah! we had a marketing communication class together. didn’t know you knew her, hyung.”

heeseung steps in between them as he snatches the paper out of sunghoon’s grip in a quick frame. his eyes scan the paper that is written—the letter to the university administration about your status—and he can see his name printed on the side of the paper from yours. then, he finally read the note you have sticking onto the paper.

sign it and give it to the administration office. if you’re serious.

“won, it’s your turn to play,” he said as the boys stared at him. “i have things to do, plus i have a morning class tomorrow.”

“okay, hyung.” jungwon’s answer was followed by his offer to the older boys to continue the match as he felt another hand holding onto his forearm, turned to see the youngest boy with a small smile on his face.

“you gotta have to let us meet this (y/n) noona. i bet she’s pret-“

“go back to your place, riki-kun. jake’s calling for you.”

“hey, lanky. come on before i make you and jungwon switch.” jaeyun’s voice penetrates through the conversation at the correct moment as the smirk on heeseung’s face is growing. they’re leaving him alone as he walks towards his backpack and duffle bag—finally feeling the surging soreness from pushing himself hard while training and off-training. sure, it’s excessive. but the tournament is a month away from now, and he had to train for that, knowing that the matches would be back-to-back if he passed the quarter-finals.

the wood of the bleachers screeches beneath his body as he pulls out his pen, staring at the paper one last time—trembling breaths coming out from him. who knew that a single signature could hold so much power?

yet with how you are trying to deter him, to remind him that signing this will mean that the whole university will now know lee heeseung is a future father: that actually made him shake. he could feel the boiling anxiousness giving a few pumps of steam into his mind, clouding the plans he had already made in his mind from the information jeongin told him. he knows the future scenarios on both sides.

but fuck it, right? he’s not usually caring about what other people perceive. so what if he is known as a dad in nine months? but, he had to think about the parental leave you’re proposing—it might actually make him graduate late.

yet, the view is clear as he lets his pen glide on the paper.

the baby and your scowling face as you realize that his doing is the one that makes that baby so healthy.

tucking the paper in between his laptop and his wireless earbuds on his ears, he waves goodbye to the boys who are playing with sunoo giving a beautiful lay-up before he pushes the door to get out of the gym. the streetlights shining the pathways as he still can see students roaming around the campus at night—most are going to the library to maybe pull an all-nighter.

the screen illuminates his face as he scrolls down at the text jimin had sent him about you. but he had to do another victory lap first when he dialed the generic full name’s number.

“hello?”

“that will not work, (y/n).”

heeseung heard the grainy chuckle in his ear as he let his muscles’ memories take him home in the night's dark. eyes staring at the path that opens up onto the sidewalk where sparse vehicles are going about on the asphalt streets.

“so you sign it?” he caught the way you sigh against your phone while heeseung is focusing on both the conversation and what jimin texted about your condition.

“and i’ll be giving it to the office.”

“hmm, okay…” heeseung’s eyes scan through the words, letting his face contort and relax as he consumes it to his mind before it’s broken by a grainy sound of metal from your end.

“also, thanks, by the way. for the arugula. made me vomit my stomach out.” heeseung heard you reply as it slowly became more mumbled, hearing you eating your dinner’s food as the noises of the night came back into his cochlea, shaking his nerves as only white noises entertained him as he looked around—seeing his apartment building at the distance.

“and don’t make jimin ask chaeryeong about me again. she’s traumatized now and we have each other’s number saved.”

heeseung didn’t want to save your number at first. but when his mom brought him to her meeting with your mom, catching up after a long time and discussing that both of you have been accepted by the same university, they insisted that you both to have each other’s numbers saved. “for emergency sake, so you both have each other to rely on.” his mom explained, making him discreetly roll his eyes while you continue to listen to your music without giving a glance to him. yet, you’re the one that gave him your phone first so he can type his number, making a small “:p” the first thing you text to him.

“i’ll tell him.” he clicked his tongue as he caught the way you omit another information from him.

“but you’re not gonna tell me you have a doctor’s appointment next week?”

“how’d you kno-“

“jimin, from chaeryeong, and so, from you.” his smile gets bigger. “gotta have to thank jimin for that one.”

“so you want to join? what if you have a class?”

heeseung’s feet brought him to the lobby of his apartment building, his vision now on the elevator as he stated something so obvious to him.

“i have questions and i rather miss class than leave it unanswered.”

your hands are tugged inside your hoodie’s front pocket as you wait for your name to be called. the usual soreness is tamed as you let chaeryeong massage your back carefully, relaxing most of the tender muscles that are holding you up. you can see a little bump protruding out of your stomach that was not there when you discovered you were pregnant in week 8.

remembering the way you have to buy five pregnancy tests is ridiculous when your only symptoms are headaches and vomiting. but it quickly escalates to morning sickness and how you notice just how sensitive your senses have become—the way your fingers realize little grains of crayon as you pick up the kids’ drawing to how you’re triggered by little noises coming out off your room. it feels too strange for it to be food poisoning and with all five tests showing two blue stripes: all the problems you have faced for the past month—why your period is late, the morning sickness—all click inside your mind.

your girls were the first ones you spoke to, recalling how they waited in front of your shared bathroom as you flipped the tests around, hitting you one by one with the truth of your condition. then tears start to show as overwhelming emotions compete to show dominance and you hear chaeryeong’s voice from behind the knocks on the door. you open the door to feel them hugging you as you show them the tests, how they can’t wait to be your baby’s cool aunts from differing perspectives as they know of your history related to children, pregnancy, and motherhood from taking care of so many children, how your parents open up to you about why they couldn’t give you a younger sibling, and the responsibility you are willing to take care for them. at that moment they hugged, you’ve already fallen in love with your baby and you are determined to let them have a happy life.

the obstetrics and gynecology department’s walls were more pastel than the other parts of the hospital. maternity pack posters hanging as you read the words, planning your next steps as you waited by the door to your doctor. your fingers interlocked and thumbs twirling around each other as you attentively listen to the open door and your name being called. scouring your eyes around, you saw a little playground area for kids barren as you eyed the small set, mothers around you waiting also for their appointment—some with a sleeping baby in their hands, another with a large bump. the atmosphere is so serene that you can collect your thoughts and arrange them for the next seven months from your due date.

“hey, (y/n).”

your eyes blink as you turn around in your seat to face forward once again, looking up to find the familiar face you’ve been thinking about for the past few days.

heeseung wears a simple hoodie like you do, both of his hands tucked into the front pocket as the strap of his bag crosses his chest. a thin-lipped smile on his face as you didn’t see his usual resting bitch expression.

“heeseung…” you reply as you gnaw on the inside of cheek as he stands there, “i haven’t gotten the call from the doctor yet. so you can sit down.” your eyes glance quick at the vast space beside yours on the sofa you are also sitting down. he gave a quick nod before sitting on the space beside yours, a noticeable space between the two of you as you both lean more against each of the tables placed as the barriers between the sofas. even if you felt a piercing presence beside you, you tried your best not to look at him. the phone call when he called you was the last time you spoke with your voice to him—you having small talk with him as he found in the hospital doesn’t really count—yet he still gave you another box of ingredients for your unborn child this week, no arugula this time.

well, you are glad to see beomgyu more and you don’t mind seeing beomgyu every week if he’s the one that does heeseung’s errands for his child.

both of you stare forward at the doors and wall in front of you, nearing mirroring each other even by the slight twitch of both of you wanting to look at each other. but, also not really. the tension is stronger than when you told him you’re pregnant with his child. the fucking effects of the continued declaration of rivalry as you can calculate how far both of you are willing to push even for the past week and you can guess what you both will push more for the next 7 months.

“miss (l/n) (y/n)?” the door opened as the nurse spoke of your name making you jump up from your seat as heeseung followed behind you to enter the doctor’s room.

“(y/n)!” the young doctor said enthusiastically as you sat down on the chair in front of the desk.

“doctor park!” you answered, cadence matched hers.

“how have you- oh.” dr. park looks at the man entering behind you, looking between the three women in the room and the empty chair near the door before he hears her speak, “is this the dad?”

“yes, i’m the dad, lee heeseung,” he replied steadily as dr. park, who is standing up, shoots her hand out to him.

“i’m dr. park jihyo, (y/n)’s ob-gyn doctor. didn’t expect to meet you as (y/n) said that the dad might not be involved.”

heeseung’s eyebrows were raised, chortling as he realized what you implied, “after she told me, i decided to be involved.” his eyes peek from the side to see you giving a stare with no movements on your lips, sitting down on the chair beside of yours as you want to continue with your appointment.

“well, welcome to your tenth week of being pregnant. how are you feeling?” dr. park asks, looking at you with a warm smile as you see the nurse taking care of your document.

“the morning sickness kinda gets pretty worse and overflows out of the morning. definitely more sensitive towards scent, flavor, and texture. i also have already sensed growth on the bump since it is a bit more protruding than usual.” your hand unconsciously caresses the hoodie covered in your stomach, feeling the tenderness of the skin that is just muscles of your abdomen being pushed to cater to the baby.

“your stomach and intestines are being pushed by the uterus as the fetus grows and it’s very normal. since we already did the blood and urine test and went over your family history back in your first appointment, we can go to an ultrasound to check the growth of your baby.” dr. park replied as she nodded at the nurse who instantly walked to the bed and set things up for your scan.

“i’m sorry to bother you, doctor. but i have a question.”

your head shifts towards heeseung as he asks, the doctor just giving him a nod.

“(y/n) said to me she’ll get a plan b pill after our… time. yet, she still got pregnant, but isn’t that still supposed to work?” the way his voice pitches makes you hold on to a smile, recalling to when you asked the doctor the same question in your first appointment. you gave the doctor a big nod for her signal.

“well, (y/n) said to me she consumed a plan b pill less than 24 hours after your intercourse. but plan b pill, or levonorgestrel, works by delaying the release of the egg from the ovaries. she also said that her period, which started around a week or two weeks before she discovered she was positive, was late. so, we can assume that while you two have sex, (y/n) was already in her early stages of ovulation with the egg being released into the fallopian tube and the egg got fertilized.”

heeseung nods along with the doctor’s words as you remember the same explanation given to you in the previous meeting. you’ve tried using pills before but you know it will affect your hormone and physical health in the long run—you are not a serial fucker unlike a few people you recognize—so you rely on protection like condoms and morning-after pills right after that. heeseung not wearing one makes you want to laugh at how funny the scenario is and how you can just remain rivals for the rest of your life if you remind him to put on the rubber.

the nurse calls for as you follow her, stepping out of your shoes as you lay down on the bed. she gently brushes your hoodie up as your skin is exposed while she also pulls the band of your pants down below right above your underwear line. the chairs move as you glance at heeseung following dr. park as she takes the seat beside you to check on the machinery. the liquid is cold as it touches your skin as your eyes catch heeseung who is looking at the exposed stomach where his unborn child is.

as the transducer spread around the gel on the stomach when you feel it pressed down, you looked at the screen across from you hanging on the ceiling as the doctor moved around, marking the size of your uterus. you heard her gasp as you turned to look at her warm smile that widens into a grin.

“congratulations to you both!” she replied as she continued to move the transducer around, making you and heeseung realize that there’s a fetus inside you, but not just one.

“TWINS?!”

2. katana-like knife

heeseung gazes at the ultrasound he is holding with both hands, seeing the way the doctor has assigned twin 1 and twin 2 on the screen. the twins are in different sacs; he remembered what the doctor said, making them fraternal twins. she also says that not only you were ovulating when you two fuck, but you were releasing two different eggs around the same time and he got both of them pregnant.

he recalled both of you doing a hilarious staring contest as you couldn’t stop yourself from making funny faces as the doctor described the growth of your twins. fucking heck, he hadn’t told his friends that he was having twins. how his body trembles as the realization hits him while he’s looking at his babies—yes, plural—makes him even want to be more attentive, to now realize that he had two to take care of. and those two make him know you have to adjust your diet once again.

if it weren’t for him buying ingredients, he doesn’t think you would adapt easily to what the babies need. he’s won on this occasion. but what comes next?

his phone vibrates on the table as he takes a glimpse of the text message showing on the lit-up screen.

(l/n) (y/n): i’m heading home for the weekend. my parents will definitely see that i’ve been knocked up.

even he can see it as he had walked past you before on campus. you’re now wearing more oversized clothing pieces—t-shirts, hoodies, cardigans—as he realized the slight bump on the surface of them. it’s been over two weeks since that check-up appointment and the growth has been faster than he expected.

(l/n) (y/n): not asking you to join me.

(l/n) (y/n): if you aren’t brave enough to take the consequences, i’m fucking winning this :p

“that’s it” he shakes his head as he tugs the ultrasound picture into his wallet before putting it back in its place, hands opening the messages.

lee heeseung: threatening much. i’m in.

if you want to make this a competition, let’s make this a competition.

lee heeseung: hey mom. sorry for texting you randomly. but i’m going back home for the weekend.

all he had to do was wait, as he could hear the sound of his mom talking with your mom on the phone about how their children would be home together, asking to meet up.

and that moment goes exactly as he had expected as he drove the car with you in the passenger seat, leaning against the door as you both let the radio play boring-ass repeating pop songs from some random radio station. none of you seem to react, just to make each other annoyed enough to know who will concede and connect to bluetooth first—even not listening to good-ass music is a competition between you both.

you sighed extra loud as you listened to an old-ass pop song from the mid-2010s the radio seemed to have a lifetime contract for it to play for fucking ever. you wish you were the one driving now, but you didn’t bring your car for this semester because it needed maintenance and you were in a healthier mood for this year. you catch a look at your phone, seeing your mom asking where you are right now as auntie lee has arrived at your home—cooking up the food for all your family to enjoy.

“which one is your car’s bluetooth?” you gave up on hearing the radio station as you playfully checked every menu to find the bluetooth menu.

“the brand of the car, duh,” he answered, still focusing on the highway as you remembered that it’s nearly a few exits away from the side of the town you and he grew up in. he took a glance at the bluetooth speaker as he sees,

“‘mitski’s brainchild personified’? you liked her that much?” he actually snorted, making you see the name on your phone on the screen in the middle of the dashboard.

“shut the fuck up. she’s my comfort musician, just like kaede from slam dunk is your comfort character.” the way your fingers lightly tap against your phone, makes him chuckle as he can hear you holding onto your emotion from not spilling through your words, not commenting on how you mentioned his liking for slam dunk as if you remember it so well, even if it also stuns him.

you’re playing a playlist of yours that is just… instrumentals. a perfect playlist to hear whilst commuting as you let yourself take a breather from this world. eyes gazing to the window outside as you rested your phone on your lap. the scent of heeseung’s cologne accustomed your memories as you let the music speak while you both remained quiet. maybe, because it is an instrumental track that you both couldn’t comment on, that he can’t take a jab at your music taste unless you put on mitski or boygenius, that it gives a soundtrack so vague it resembles the way you perceived your relationship to each. sure, you still hate him for everything he has done to you in the name of winning. but, with two babies on the way, the concept of the rivalry between you both is there yet so blurry. which one is a concrete rivalry? which one is the softer one? why should you trust what he gave to you? why did he join in to take care of them?

the car zooms fast on the highway, yet you can see slower cars on the outside of the highway and faster cars zooming past you on the other lane. it’s like what your dad had said before—"you don’t feel how fast life is until you look at other people’s lives"—and to think that you will be home in overtly large clothing to hide your bump to know that he’s going to be a granddad just concretes the idea of that in your mind. you turn your head to glance at the backseat, seeing the shopping bag you had prepared besides what heeseung also has for his family, who he’ll meet at your house.

stepping out of the car, you stood at the carpool of your house filled with cars—other than yours and your parents inside the garage—when you watched your mom and heeseung’s mom walk out of the porch, barefooted, to greet you. the warmth of your mom’s hug felt so overwhelming that you had to sink your emotions as you blamed your hormones for making you too sensitive.

the interior of the house feels so lively from the last time you went home during the semester break. maybe it’s because of the way your mom has another guest in the form of the lee family and the smell of the delicious you know both of your moms had made together with their aprons still on as they guide you inside. even as they walked to the kitchen, you could hear them whisper.

“since when did (y/n) and heeseung arrive here together and in the same freaking car?” auntie lee asks.

“(y/n) didn’t bring her car this semester so i guess she doesn’t wanna waste any more money for transport.” mama answered.

both of your moms have always tried to make you close and you’ve always tried to tone down your rivalry in front of them, effortlessly acting in front of them as nice friends when you give him a snide look behind their backs any chance you can get. your bickering can escalate so much that you will have a shouting match in the arcade as heeseung doesn’t want to give up his time to play for you, making both of your moms force you to apologize to each other before that bickering returns at school’s classes where they’re not there for you two to mediate. maybe that’s why you don’t perceive heeseung as an enemy. merely a rival; because your mom never talked bad about heeseung no matter what happened between the two of you and it seems that heeseung’s mom has also done the same to him.

the two shopping bags sit on the coffee table as you watch both of your dads talking about dad stuff. heeseung’s attention is on his phone as he’s typing something on the screen while you unconsciously rub your stomach hidden beneath your top, waiting for all of them to settle down around the coffee table as they want to open the shopping bags together.

“what did you bring me?” mama asks in a sing-song manner as heeseung’s mom giggles beside her. you stood beside heeseung with your hands behind you as the husbands looked at the similar-looking gift boxes in each of their wives’ hands.

“don’t tell me. is it the jewelry i showed you those months ago, hee?”

“nah, it’s not. dad’s planning to buy that one for you.”

heeseung’s dad’s face turns into a scowl, seemingly angry as if his son has spoiled his plan while the boy just widens his smile before gazing back at his mom.

“well, together?” mama asked to his mom.

“yeah, 3, 2… 1!”

the box opens as you’re holding your breath, also holding back your smirk as you can view the way papa’s eyebrows crease as he can’t believe what he is saying. heeseung’s mom was the first one to openly express her shock by literally jumping from her seat and box thrown towards his dad’s as he took a good stare at it, making you glance at him you actually won the bidding on who would be shocked first between the two.

“NO, FUCK- WAIT?!” his mom stares between the two of you before your mom jumps from her space to also gaze at you, holding onto the paper. giving him a nudge with your elbow. you didn’t expect him to wrap his arm behind your shoulders.

“yeah… the babies are ours-“

“no fucking way!” your mom actually shouted as she hyperventilates while heeseung’s mom covers her mouth, contemplating on what to do when she felt her body being squished by her best friend, hugging her tight as they turn to hug each other while heeseung’s dad gives his box to your dad so he could see it clearly.

“since when are you two together?” papa asked as you tried to let heeseung’s grip from your shoulder.

“uncle, we aren’t together. we just hook up and-“

“WE’RE GOING TO BE IN-LAWS.” you can hear mama cheer as both of the women twirl around the small space, making you feel even more guilty for breaking the immersion as you stop budging away from heeseung’s hold. rolling your eyes, you stare at heeseung and lean in close to his ear, whispering.

“bad fucking idea…”

“at least they’re happy, right? well, i won because of that.”

mama interrupts both of you as she gives you both an enormous hug while heeseung’s mom comes from behind. you could see the tears coming out of mama’s eyes who rested her head against your shoulder.

“ughh, too tight.”

“stop it, honey! (y/n) looks so uncomfortable.” papa reminded.

“oops, sorry!” your mom lets go of her hold as heeseung’s mom slotted between the two of you as she pushes in on the excess fabric of your clothes, making you grip both sides of your top and pull it backward so she can see your bump already showing.

“hi, baby!”

“it’s babies.” heeseung’s dad cuts in as his wife follows with, “there’s two of them?”

“i swear to god.” heeseung’s old man brushes his face, unbelievable that his wife didn’t see the two sacs from the ultrasound as you give your mom a nod, her hands carefully holding onto your waist.

“fraternal twins,” you confirmed to her as you watched another batch of fresh tears coming out of her eyes.

“hello, you two. you’re going to have the best mom ever.”

“and dad too.” heeseung’s mom replied as she moved to stand in front of you two, seeing his grown son seemingly glowing as she spoke of him being the best dad to his two unborn children.

“okay. i gotta have to make the red meat well done then.” mama cuts out as she hastily moves to the kitchen to cook back her meat-based meal, letting auntie lee replace her place as she caresses the bump gently.

“how long has it been?” she asked as you opened your mouth to reply.

“we did the ultrasound two weeks ago. so it’s week 12 now.” heeseung cuts you off as she gazes back at her son.

“what have you two already prepared?”

“we gave a letter to the university for future parents and they agreed to let me take online classes entering 5 months because i only have three classes, one is that's doing a study case, and they let heeseung have parental leave if i give birth. i haven’t found the right doula yet but my supervisor at the daycare has a connection to one and i think it will be her. she has given me the number so i just have to text her,” you answered.

“is it near campus?” she replied.

“yeah, because i don’t want to graduate late. that’s why i decided to stay near campus during it.” you have thoughts on if you should just take a break this semester to focus on your pregnancy or not multiple times by now. but, of course, the rivalry comes back as you still want to keep pace with heeseung and your friends who will be graduating next semester.

“you should take a semester leave, (y/n).” heeseung cuts off your thought as you peek at him.

“i’ve already got what i wanted from the uni and it’s fine, heeseung. i can keep up.”

“well, you can, but what if you don’t take care of the babies?”

“of course, i can take care of the babies-“

“not by being stressed over college.”

“heeseung-“ you turn your body towards him as you grip both of his upper arms, firm hands holding him as you stare down at him. “i know what’s best for me. i know what my limits are. i’ve trusted you enough with the food but you should also trust me to know how to take care of myself outside of nutrition.”

your teeth are grinding against each other as your fiery gaze stays on him, even as you let go of the grip. it stays for a few more seconds as you turn back to head to the dads who seem to be forgotten by the sofa, seeing papa teary-eyed as he hugs and kisses your head before you let heeseung’s dad hug you.

his mom turns towards him, cupping his cheek. “she knows what she’s doing, heeseung.”

“but how should i know it’s right? cause that’s not right for me. my friend’s mom said that a pregnant woman should focus on preparing herself for her birth and doing college doesn’t seem to prepare her for that.” heeseung sighed as he looked at his mom, not expecting a slight hurt on her face.

“i was still doing my job when i was pregnant with you, heeseung. your dad trusted me for that cause he knows my limits, might be even more than i do. let her be and you might learn that she knows how to take care of herself, too.” her hand brushed away the fringe on his forehead, eyes glistening as she let out a small warm smile at him. the hurt falling away as heeseung sees her mom’s signature smile of knowing before she brought him in his arms, hugging him tight as he glances at you who is giving him a small look with a tight-lip smile before you turn away to the dining room.

heeseung stares at the glow-in-the-dark stars sticking on the ceiling. his back being stretched out on the floor as he laid on the comforter beside the single bed where you’re still playing with your phone. he remembered how he begged—trying to persuade—his parents to bring him home with them. but knowing that he’ll only be staying for one night and you two are “together”, they decide for him to stay with you instead. you can see how his fuming breath was held as you glanced at him with an unidentifiable look at the dining table, his parents believing you would let him stay in your bed.

but he insists on lying down on the floor, knowing the history between the two of you they don’t know, as you silently agree.

printed pictures still hang on one side of the room when he looks at them as long as the bedside lamp is still on. he remains silent, eyes tired from looking at his phone so much to distract him from his reality when he hears the rummaging movement on the mattress as you put the phone on the table.

“well, night, heeseung.” the click of the lamp is big in the white-noised room as darkness envelops the space, letting in the moon and streetlights outside beam their shine inside. your eyes easily adjust to the surroundings as you puff your one-less pillows on the bed to find the right position—knowing the ache of sleeping in the wrong position when you are carrying two fetuses inside you.

“since when did you work in a daycare?”

the man’s words overcome your action as you brush the cover of the pillow.

“why do you wanna know?” you put the pillows in the right position as you lay your head and back against it.

“since your mom proclaimed that you’ll be the mom ever.”

heeseung is reminded of the way you look when your mom says that, a look of pride coming out of your eyes as you unconsciously nod knowingly. even if you and him are close by proximity—by being your moms’ children, by being schoolmates, by having roommates who stay in proximity with each other—there’s still something that you don’t know about each other. because if the opposites know, they can use it as leverage to bring any of the two down.

“had a few babysitting gigs during high school days. i started to like it more and decided when i go to hybe, i’ve volunteered for a non-formal school for children and more. i decided to do a part-time job at a daycare and yeah…” you replied, laying down by your side as if you could see heeseung beside you when he is, in fact, below you.

“it doesn’t match with your major though.” heeseung gives a snide comment as you sigh loudly.

“so what if a business major can’t connect with my passion for childcare- fuck me.” you stopped to remind yourself to stop taking the bait from heeseung because you know he was making these comments to break your confidence within yourself. you could discuss how making and taking care of a business could resemble making and taking care of a child, but with the way he had pissed you off today in more ways than one, you rather stick that thought to yourself and instead, take offense towards him.

“why did you wrap your arm around my shoulders?”

heeseung glances towards the bed, seeing your silhouette on the top forming a dark shadow because of your comforter shielding it.

“i had to. so they know the babies are ours,” he replied with the thought that first came to mind after he already had his arm behind you—blaming his underlying consciousness for doing that.

“and it makes them believe we’re together when we’re not. look at us now.” both of your arms stretch out of the comforter to tell him just how big the situation you got yourself into cause how many white lies must you tell your parents to hide that this is because of a hookup, not because you are romantically linked?

your staggered giggles drop as you try to glance downwards at him, the arm nearest to the floor left hanging as heeseung didn’t comment on what you said. “well, this just got more complicated.”

“our situation is complicated since the start, (y/n).”

“well, i know who to blame for making our strings get more tangled with our parents cause fuck you, heeseung.”

he saw the lone middle finger standing tall from the silhouette of your figure before you picked yourself up and lay all your weight on the bed, turning the other side as heeseung followed; both of you staring at the opposites of the room, knowing that your bodies needed to rest so you can face each other again in the morning.

the time between that night and how you both lived after you went back to your own places near campus was a week when you texted him about the doula that you had told at your parent’s home. the car was left in neutral with the handbrake lifted as heeseung waited at the daycare where you work. his eyes gaze at the differing modes of transport each guardian is picking up the kids with before looking at the lobby as he sees you and another attendant saying goodbyes to the kids. he watches as a few of them hug you and even a few let their cheek rested against your growing bump before you take a glance forward at them who is going back to be with their parents, noticing his car for a few seconds before you return inside to take your items.

the backpack is hanging off your shoulders as you take another sliced fried potato from the container when you enter the passenger’s seat beside his driver’s one, resting your back against the seat with your bag there to support you. “hello! i’ve sent you the address, right?”

he stares at you with his squinting eyes, “you should not eat that.”

“it’s cravings, heeseung. it’s totally normal. the doula can count me on that.” you chew another fry as heeseung lets out a mumble under his breath as he moves the handbrake and puts the gear to drive, reeling the car forward as he drives you to the doula’s office. both of your moms have suggested several doulas for you to choose from, but you reminded them you’re having twins. so having a doula who specializes in taking care of moms birthing multiples will be helpful as it is also your first time.

playfully, you fly a french fry like an airplane towards heeseung as he drives, like the usual time you try to feed kids at the daycare. it nudges against his lips a few times before he bit it, pulling it off your fingers; making you let out a chuckle cause he can’t even resist it himself.

the parking lot was pretty barren as you only saw a few vehicles when you both walked out of the cars. you adjust the backpack once again on your back as the chime from the car tells you it is now locked as you enter the office building.

thanking the receptionist, you and he stood in front of the doula’s office as you knocked the door.

the door opens as a soft-spoken woman says from the inside, “miss (l/n)(y/n)?”

“yes, i am.”

“oh, come in. come in.” the door widened as heeseung could see the things inside the large office room. a desk in one corner and a cabinet stood behind it. accolades and certifications by the desk with a sofa on the corner beside the door. a box of what seems to be baby toys beside the sofa as posters are hanging on the wall. from the anatomical look of a baby inside their mom’s uterus to words of encouragement towards mothers.

“i’m haseul. nice to meet you.” the woman shook your hand as she then glanced at heeseung who was still wandering around.

“oh, uh, this is heeseung, the babies’ daddy.” you refer to his name as he looks at the lady, shaking her hand as she looks between the two of you.

“so, both of you aren’t married or dating-“

“no, we’re childhood friends and hooked up, and this happened.” heeseung blurts out as you raised your eyebrows, poking your tongue in the cheek. haseul nodded her head as she let both of you sit down in front of the desk.

“first, congratulations on the twins. you must be nervous to find that out.”

“of course, especially as a first-time mom. but, i’m feeling pretty okay.”

“that’s good, i’ve also sent you the questionnaire for you to fill on your plan for giving birth…” haseul’s voice traces out as heeseung glances at the portrait frame of her holding onto a baby with a mom, a glance at the book about post-partum, and a baby doll on top of the cabinet right in front of a corner window. he could only catch onto some words he recognized from jeongin telling him—birth, dilation, cramps, anesthesia, cesarean—as he sensed himself getting overwhelmed, especially when he had the second preliminary match in two days and his gig in being the documentation for a baseball match for hybe uni too.

his thumbs caressed his fingertips as he sensed the sweat forming on his palm, the same feeling he has every time he has to go to match. to then realize just how ready you seem by how eloquently you say the words for your requests to the doula like you’ve grown up much more than he is even though both of you are the same age. sure, he felt the leverage the first time when he sent you food and a few tips he makes beomgyu do; but his knowledge couldn’t compete with yours and it scares him to know he is losing his stance from above you. to know that you’re much more ready than him.

“heeseung…” he heard someone calling for him, before something wrapped around his wrist, taken aback to see you brought him back to the room he was in.

“sorry… what did you say?” heeseung replied as haseul gave him a warm smile.

“i’ve heard from (y/n) that you have known some knowledge of pregnancies but i could give you some sources to read because it is your first time as a dad as well.” the woman said to him calmly, looking at heeseung as if she can read his body language. your hold on his wrist stays as you rub the inside of his wrist with your thumb. “we have also discussed that (y/n) will try the normal route with water birth and if she can’t handle it, she’ll be going with cesarean. we could also do an appointment every two weeks as both of you are students now, but it is best if you come so you can understand each process as she is entering the second trimester.”

“i understand. i’ll try my best to set my schedule so i can join her.” heeseung glanced at you, who was giving a nod before you let go of your hold as he seemed to be anchored back in the room. the woman gives a small smile as she starts a lecture on the process of pregnancy, childhood, and parenthood. another class that heeseung doesn’t want to get in the first place, but knowing his determination to be the best dad ever—as what his mom believes him to be—he follows along with writing notes in his book as you have with your laptop. the class that he has to pass so he can take care of his children as best as he can.

even with the music booming from around his space, heeseung still felt like something was different. his eyes rested on the plastic-colored cup filled with a concoction of alcohol he didn’t know—he could taste the gin and what seemed to be fanta in it. the sigma mu’s frat house lits up in motion as he eyes the way the expensive big-ass speakers are scattered around the room, gazing at the familiar faces of his peers and juniors he has seen while walking around campus.

something stirs within him as he eyes his friends who are here—beomgyu who is by the speaker as he talks with the dj, jimin with his dance crew friends, jeongin with his class friend, while heeseung sits with sunoo and sunghoon on either side of him. that’s when he caught onto the silhouette of some familiar faces every time he comes across a certain person; every time he comes across you.

“excuse me, gang.” heeseung would like to thank himself for being able to stand up so stable even with the nearly empty cup, excusing himself from his basketball teammates to walk towards the frat boys of sigma mu to find the vp and his girlfriend by his side.

“winter…” he calls with the nickname he heard you and others call her before as said girl turns towards him with her boyfriend’s arm still behind the sofa.

“lee heeseung.” she spoke out with a grin on her face, “what makes you come in front of us?”

“i was wondering,” ‘fuck it’ heeseung drinks up the whole liquid that remains inside the cup, hoping that his alcohol tolerance still be able to support him to be stable, “has (y/n) ever talked to you about a doula check-up or some other thing?”

“she should’ve told me if there’s gonna be a checkup but i don’t think there is one nearest from now.” minjeong replies as she lets sungchan take care of her drink so she can comfortably talk to the boy in front of them.

“ah, really?”

“yeah!” minjeong replied before giving another smile. that’s when someone crashes to wrap their arms around minjeong and sungchan, making the two jump as they turn to see ryujin’s head between both of them before giving minjeong a peck on the temple.

“hey, (y/n)’s baby daddy. whatchu up to?”

heeseung chuckles as he looks between the two girls—”no wonder you have them as your friends, all of them are similar after all”—before he opens his mouth.

“just checking what’s (y/n) up to-“

“well, she’s not here. for your information.” ryujin lets out a smirk, “you must really wanna talk to her about something.”

“a doula appointment.” sungchan replied, “and you know how (y/n) is about…” the boy glances at, “him.”

heeseung’s teeth grit against each other as he senses they are hiding something from him. maybe because of your doing so you can prove to everyone that he isn’t as committed to his children as he spoke about.

“you and minjeong aren’t home, so i presume (y/n) is with chaer-“

“someone’s calling my name?”

heeseung sighs as he turns towards the voice of chaeryeong who is holding two cups of drinks as she gives one to ryujin.

“he’s asking about (y/n).” minjeong nods toward chaeryeong when she lets out a small ah before turning her head to stare at heeseung.

“since chan here invited all four of us at the frat party, she really wanted to be here but, of course, cause she’s preggo with YOUR children, she couldn’t. but all of us went out of the apartment together and she was holding a duffle bag of some sort.”

“where is she going?” heeseung doesn’t hesitate to ask, making your three friends look at each other and giggle.

“you seem desperate enough. she’s at the park near our apartment complex. she complained about needing a light workout because of how much her back is hurting.” ryujin said as heeseung could picture the park, knowing where you lived because he had picked you up for your trip back home for the weekend.

“okay, thanks all of you.” heeseung places the cup on the table beside the sofa where minjeong sits and turns away, letting the sense of fresh air flowing inside the frat house guide him to the nearest exit as he arrived on the pavement, feeling the stuffiness inside him getting lighter as he gave a text in his group chat he’ll be leaving early.

the walk there was pleasant, to say the least, because the suburban town the campus is in is pretty sparse compared to the city where heeseung and you live. there is enough place for it to be called a big town but not enough skyscrapers to be called a metropolis. and with the inconsiderable amount of apartment complexes available near campus, he already pinpointed the park where you might be.

crossing the black-and-white stripes, he arrived at one of the entrances of the park where he still could see a few people doing their activities inside—night jogging, playing chess under the streetlights, and a couple who was on a date. he was reminded of what ryujin said about how you might need exercise, but the duffle bag says to him you might stay in one place rather than walking around the park as the main event of your exercise time.

heeseung’s feet instantly brought him to the place that he had gone before in this park as it is the same park near where sunghoon, jay, and jake live—maybe they live in the same complex as you do—when he finds the silhouette lightly jog behind the trees from the path he is on. the sound of rubber meeting the concrete slaps across the night’s atmosphere as he sees you in the middle of the basketball court, wearing a sweatshirt where he could see the bump pushing against the fabric. the basketball bouncing between your palm and the ground creates the familiar sound as you jog toward the ring and shoot your shot. the ball hits the backboard enough that it bounces into the basket.

“fuck yes…” you exclaimed as you grabbed the bouncing ball into your hand, heaving as you brushed the sweat of your skin right underneath the spotlight shining on the court.

that’s when you pick up the scraping on the concrete and clap when you turn around to look at the last person you want to see tonight.

“you still got it,” heeseung commented, making you scoff as you took a few steps back so you stood adjacent to the free throw circle. holding up the basketball between your hands as you tried to remember the position before pushing towards the ring. the basketball curves as it hits the edge of the box instead.

“dammit!”

“you spun your ball,” heeseung replies as the ball flies into his arm, naturally guiding it into a dribble as he walks towards you.

“i didn’t.”

“your wrist was twisted and it makes your hand doesn’t flop straight towards the ring.” he walks towards your side as he shows you the way to hold it, making you glance at the arm muscles that form from holding the ball so much as he throws the ball, creating a perfect arch that it bounces on the back of the rim before it flies and the basket catches its fall. your body immediately reaches for it before heeseung can as you return to your spot whilst dribbling alternating between left and right.

“i know.” you lightly roll your eyes as you grab onto the basketball once again, wiping your sweat palm against your sweatshirt before you feel the right grip as you return to your position, reminding yourself to let the ball fly and not twist your ball before you threw it.

you heard a click of the tongue as you saw a pair of hands reaching to hold yours, making your hand move to the position as you picked up heeseung’s breath beside your ear. startled, your shoulder nudges against his chest as you hear a small “ack” before you throw the basketball, seeing it twirl in the air. you can hear heeseung saying “i told you so.” before it bounces against the backboard, but you are ready as you stride towards it to grab the ball before heeseung catches it and you quickly do a layup, gliding the ball as it bounces right at the small box above the rim as it bounces inside. you turn your body to face him, head tilted with a smug smile as the ball bounces before it rolls to heeseung’s feet.

but the smile falls as you see heeseung who is in his element, walking back to the three-point line and shooting his shot as the ball, once again, creates a perfect arc. the basket catches it into its net as heeseung walks towards the center of the court with a wide grin on his face. the ball bounces near you as you hold it and dribble once more, glancing at it, the court, and heeseung once again as you shake your head, scolding yourself to take things slow for your and your babies’ sake. the sudden epiphany makes your eyelids flutter as you dribble away at a steady walking pace around the court.

your footsteps are met with another as heeseung’s legs stride towards you, a smirk on his face showing as he replies, “that’s why you were put in the point guard position.”

“hmm…” your reply is small as you continue to dribble away the basketball, making you and he walk around the court together before he cuts through the silence.

“why did you stop playing basketball in high school?”

your body stood still as you let your muscle memory do your job of dribbling the ball, shifting your head towards his even if you look away.

“you were, well, it seems to be still are, good at it,” he added.

the memories of your first year in high school from the extracurricular showcase come back as you are already determined to stop playing basketball, focusing on doing something else that you were interested in.

“i got tired of it,” you replied, but heeseung seemed to notice that it was not all the truth.

“and…”

the ball stops bouncing as you hold it against you, wrapping your arm across your front along with the ball as you glare at him and reply, “you.”

“me?”

“yeah, you. i stopped playing because of you.” you turn around and set your eyes on the bench where your bag is. your water bottle calling for you so you can hydrate yourself as you give in.

“really, huh? wow, that was another victory i didn’t expect-“

“fucking hell, heeseung. that’s why- this-“ you gulped down your saliva, “what you become because of it is why i stop. i know our moms are outstanding basketball players at their time and we’ve gotten the signal to be like them but-“ you hold back as you throw the bottle inside the bag, holding yourself down as your hands form fists.

basketball has always been a large part of your life before you were even born. your mom and heeseung’s met because of their love of basketball as they became skilled players together. your mom and dad meet up because of basketball. you still remember the amount of pictures of your parents in their high school days in their basketball jerseys in the photo albums. even if they don’t pursue it professionally, it still becomes a large part of their life as it also spills onto you.

with the amount of time you have interacted with children—as it makes you see your own experience as a child in a different view—many of them like to mimic what their parents do before they form their own sense of self. you can see it with the way one child at the daycare is always playing doctor with dolls, figures, and plushies because one of their parents is a doctor. you were like that. you’ve heard and seen just how impactful basketball is to your mom that you want to be just like her, making you join the teams during your elementary and middle schools.

to see and feel the influence of your rival during practice and tournaments around you was overwhelming.

the tug-of-war between the basketball in between both of your hands is just the beginning of what kinds of rivalry you and him have during practice. even if your coaches assigned you to the same team, you or he, depending on who is first, will reach out to the coach to be put into the other team. even if you two had to practice together, hidden aggression is flying to the roof, which includes passing the ball so hard that it had even made your nose bleed. as time goes on and the many matches you and he have to compete in as you two have to watch each other to “encourage” each other’s team, you had notice the way you fell out of love of basketball because of how there are more bad memories associated with it even if you were being trusted as a captain for one season and scoring many buzzer beaters to let your team and school win the tournament.

“you’ve become so much better with it as i lost interest. i still remember when the coach brought me to the nurse’s office cause you passed the ball so hard that it hit my face. in the middle of practice for the last season in middle school, that’s when i knew…” you take steps closer as you now stand in front of him.

“i knew i’m in a losing battle against you.”

your muscles twitched as you wanted to let out a smirk when you noticed the hidden expression heeseung failed to hide, the little shock he had gotten to show. yet, the emotion that is enveloping you held it down, as you now had to tell him the truth. why your rivalry seemed to expand outside of the scope that both of you are in.

“that’s why i quit basketball. that’s why i decide to pursue my own path even with you tailing behind me to comment on my every move. because i am sick of you. yet, i held back. i had to retaliate, just like what i did on that fucking playground when we were 5. cause i’m not afraid of you even though i know i’ll lost in the end.” you chew the inside of your cheeks as heeseung seems to read your face while letting his brain figure out what you meant.

“that’s why i wanted a fucking truce.”

with the way your facial muscles contort, it hurts you more and more as you feel the tears of pain forming, harboring the feelings you have felt for nearly two decades now. with your hand raised, you wiped the small drop of tear as you let out a huge breath, feeling just a bit of the weight in your rivalry falls off—right along with you.

as you let your body sit on the concrete ground, you push yourself back slowly as you settle and lay on it. heeseung’s conflicted face peeking from your vision while you’re trying to blur it out by focusing on the night sky. though the light pollution is still around you, you can still see tiny specks of stars behind the shadow of clouds of the night. stretching your back on the ground as you let your backbone rest after trying to make you stand upright while carrying two growing fetuses.

eyelids close, you let nature take control in calming your emotions and let heeseung process the information himself. the first time you truly open up yourself behind the mask of your persona—maybe when he stays the night in your childhood room is one as you recall your feet resting against his sleeping figure, contemplating if you want to wake him up or not before gazing at the dusting basketball that you decide to bring back to your apartment after papa helps in blowing more air so it doesn’t sag too much.

the sound of rustling leaves seems to be louder as you rest still, hearing a muffled thump beside you as you open your eyes, looking at your feet to then find another pair lying down right beside yours.

“you’re the one that was throwing a fit and ruining my toy truck after i apologized.” you sighed as you took a peek to see heeseung’s head turning towards you, asserting dominance once again before looking back. you knew that if you replied with the same vibe to assert your own dominance, it would actually break you apart faster than the rate that you are now. however, you have one question that will be the right one to ask him about.

“did you mean that?”

“‘mean’ what?”

“the apology? did you mean that? cause i want you to look at it from my eyes, lee.”

heeseung traces back to that memory when he sees you teary-eyed face and his mom beside him, the boys he was playing with snickering on the side as they saw him getting in trouble with his then-friend. the “sorry” mumbled out of him with his eyes on you but mind on the boys, who seemed to not snicker at him, but at you for being a pissy fit. but, deep down, he knew…

“i meant it.” his reply makes you turn your head, mirroring his form as you let out a slight pout.

“with that smile you were giving? hell no-“ you rolled your eyes.

“i genuinely meant it. the boys that were there, they were behind you and they were laughing at us. i had to juggle facing you and them. i had to look fierce yet still can give you an apology. maybe that’s why you see the smirk that you see. i was a fucking child, (y/n). we’re not as good as we are not in hiding complicated emotions to only let out one.”

your chest rises and falls as you see the apology smirk in a different light. you don’t know if you should easily believe that or not, but after taking it into consideration, you could feel a small part of your inner child healing up before you realize the damage that you also have done to him.

“if it is genuine; i’m sorry, then. about the truck. you know how i felt now and why i did that.” you return to look at the sky once again as you hear the rustle beside you before peeking at heeseung who is also staring into the night, listening to him humming before you return to gaze back again.

“what would happen if i actually have the emotional intelligence to know that you were sincere that day?” your words cut off the silence as you felt the guilt pouring for it to be transformed into humor that was reciprocated well by heeseung’s chuckles.

“well, we wouldn’t have these two.” he playfully poked your belly, making you let out a small shriek before holding onto his wrist as you held his hand down between the two of you and you pivoted your head to see him.

“in all seriousness, i think we might have been the friends our moms see us to be because let me tell you, they see us differently than what we are having.” his words are replied with a hum as you added,

“i notice that too. glad we can be more civil in front of them.”

“we still could, you know.”

with the way you didn’t hold on to his wrist tightly, you felt the limb moving under your touch before his palm rested underneath your own. the wind blows against your sweaty top as it gives you shivers from the cold, hoping that your own temperature and a lifeline can help warm it up. and you can feel it warmer as you see heeseung pivot to mirror you. his fingers slid between yours as if he knew the little shivered breath you led out.

“have each other’s backs. emulate what they want.”

your eyes are galloping to the way the spotlight shines half of his as the other one is cast in shadows from facing the concrete. you could smell a faint scent of alcohol on him but with the life in his eyes, you knew he wasn’t drunk. the way his eyes are also peering with slight twitches as before connecting with your gaze.

pushing one side of your upper body, you cup onto heeseung’s cheek as he leans up to connect your lips. your shoulder is pushing down against the ground as heeseung’s grip on your hand tightens, making it steady as you can hear his muffled hum from your kiss. your fingers curl to hold yourself up better before you feel his other hand reach for your waist and push you down so you both lay on the side.

both of you take turns to take a breath as you sense the tip of his nose brushing against yours. every time you let out a breath, the other’s lips linger before connecting once. your legs curled as you felt the ticklish sensation surging through your nerves before heeseung pushed your lower back so it could stay for one last long kiss before he pulled away. your noses touch each other as you feel his hand on your waist trails to your bump, pressing it down gently as you lean back to see him looking down at the body he is holding. then, his eyes flick back to you as he can sense you slip away, turning yourself away from him as you push yourself up with your arms.

grabbing the lone basketball and putting it in the duffle bag, you zip it up and shift to find heeseung now upright, yet still with his legs stretched out on the ground.

“baby steps, heeseung.” you pull away before giving a small salute.

“baby steps.”

your voice echoes as heeseung watches you walk away, biting his bottom lip before a chuckle falls out of him as he knows he had to text you back his question about the appointment, knowing that you will reply to him.

beomgyu breathed out as the elevator opened up to the now familiar hallway, holding onto the box that he had still had to bring even if heeseung already told him he’ll do the next one himself because of what he told him. the box held fresh ingredients that jeongin also pinpoint—courtesy of his doctor mom—on what you should eat, considering now that there are two of them inside you. beomgyu couldn’t help but feel melancholic knowing that this was the last time he’d probably visit your apartment complex as… well…

but, other than bringing you today’s box, beomgyu is here to pick you up for the doula appointment as heeseung will follow suit after practice. even his bandmates are weirded out as to why he has to do the errands, but knowing that they’re in the process of rest mode whilst preparing to create new music and focusing on academics, he allows it, especially with how long he has been best friends with the guy.

he huffs as he positions the box again against his upper body, sliding his pointer finger to the bell as he picks up the familiar bell sounding in the room. but it seems like there’s no one inside. he’s glad that he remembers the pin ryujin has given him as he pushes inside the door to see the clean empty living room of the apartment he has been in countless times when he had to put the box in himself. pushing off his shoes, he walks to the kitchen and places the box on the island counter before rushing towards the intercom to turn off the bell.

that’s when he heard the noise of something familiar.

a guitar strumming sound of chords and the changes he recognized.

beomgyu took tiny steps towards one of the ajar doors in the hallway as the realization of the familiar sound widened his eyes. of course it was familiar to him, it was his song.

the nearly acoustic rendition of “skipping stones” with a familiar voice he had heard makes him peek through the door to find you sitting cross-legged on your bed, holding a nearly all-white guitar as you strum while having headphones on your head, singing the daylights out as your window lets the stream of lights in through the window. he lets you sing as he can see you glow—jeongin had mentioned to him that pregnant women have this whole glow on them. maybe that’s what he was seeing in you. the way your fingers glide against the fretboard with your eyes on it or close as you sing the lyrics makes beomgyu mesmerized.

the last ring of strings strummed is heard from your rumble speaker when you notice clapping from outside of your headphones, making you look up to find beomgyu behind your slightly open door. his clapping turns to hollering as lets out a wide thin smile before looking away; you don’t want him to see you flustered. that is when you realize why you’re here.

“oh fuck, the doula appointment.”

“yeah!” beomgyu replies outside as you quickly tidy the guitar up into your case and you step into your wardrobe to grab some more clothes that are much more appropriate for your appointment.

“sorry, about that. beom.”

“nah, no worries. i can wait.”

“thanks!” you close the door as you quickly change your clothes, deciding for a flowy blouse with a rubber-banded culotte, needing to remind yourself to buy maternity clothes because you are slowly running out of clothes that fit you. you wore a bit of sunscreen as you got a message from mama telling you to embrace the pregnancy glow your friends seemed to notice is exuding out of you as you’re in the second trimester. wearing the eau du toilette that doesn’t make you as dizzy—unlike perfume—you open the door to see beomgyu leaning against the wall where it hangs a frame of you and your roommates in photo booths.

“you ready?” he held his hand out as you nodded, you put your hands out before beomgyu grabbed the strap of the bag from your hold, startling you before you returned to your usual state. if your face isn’t warm enough, it’s now warmer from the embarrassment.

the walk down to his car is silent as he helps with buckling the seatbelt to the side. seeing how much your stomach is rested underneath the strap makes him giggle as you recognize the smell of pot from beomgyu’s very appropriate old sedan car.

“hopefully you aren’t high while driving me.” you give a cheeky grin.

“of course not. heeseung will actually kill me if he finds that i dui with you.”

beomgyu twists the key of the ignition as the car turns on—yes, that’s how old his car is—as the sound of a loud rock song plays from the rock fm you recognized. his hand reaches for the button as you react,

“no need. i’m okay with it.”

he hums as he reaches for the volume to turn the sound down, not letting the rattling of the sound in the interior startle you as he pulls the car out of the parking space and into the road.

“can you check the quickest route to the office?” beomgyu said as he brushed his wolf-cut hair.

“of course.” you lean back against the leather seat as you open the map app on your phone, telling beomgyu the roads to the doula’s office. the song has changed to a familiar song by tom petty playing as you notice how beomgyu glances at you.

“what?” you called out with a few chuckles.

“i didn’t expect you to like my song, well txt’s song.” his reply is met with your own giggle as you lean back.

“even if i hate heeseung. that doesn’t mean i have to hate his friends, you know?”

your eyebrow is raised as he gives another quick look before focusing on the road, “if you don’t believe me, i’ve been a fan of band your band since, like, sophomore year when you formed.”

“why? i really wanna hear from a fan's perspective.”

your giggle warms his heart as you answered, “i just relate to it, ya hear? a band that talks about the hardships of finding oneself and the struggle of growing but in a more intelligible way other, especially ‘skipping stones’ from your newest album.”

both of beomgyu’s hands are on the steering wheel as you feel the brake of the car before turning to the curb of where the office is, parking nearest to the entrance as the car stops and he pulls the hand brake. both of you sitting inside as you waited for heeseung to arrive in a few minutes from the last time he texted you.

“why ‘skipping stones’ specifically?”

“hmm…” you suppressed the grin that is threatening to go out before replying with, “interpreting self-struggle with the idea of skipping stone is… in it of itself, very poignant. to correlate the body of water with your own and the stones you’re throwing as the struggle you’re facing.” you let out a huge sigh, “i don’t know- it’s something i understand, especially if someone else is doing the skipping stone to you, feeling that emotion sinking into you, replacing the water’s place…”

you glanced at beomgyu who was definitely staring at you, his hands on his lap as he let out a solemn smile, agreeing with what you said. you quietly nod and take a sharp intake, trying to find the right words to cut the rising awkwardness between the two of you, “other than that, the freaking dissonance on the harmony is so good. it gives a sense of unbalanced buoyancy as if you’re a leaf floating on the water and the skipping stone makes it unstable. great job on that.”

“thanks!”

“of course.” you nearly slapped yourself for leaning closer to the middle console, but beomgyu seemed to not react as much when you felt a bit of your finger touching his. “can’t wait for the next release. no pressure.”

the corner of beomgyu’s lips rose as he giggled, a boyish grin on his face before his expression changed, “don’t worry, me and the band won’t let the fans down.” he replied as you leaned back, head nodding. that’s when you hear the rumbling of the car right beside yours as you see the appearance of heeseung’s newer model car.

“gotta go. thank you so much for bringing me here,” you said as beomgyu helped pick your bag up from the backseat.

“of course, (y/n). gotta have to thank heeseung for letting me do so, but hey…” you felt his hand reaching and now touching your wrist, making you turn your body while nearly opening the door.

“i've known you since high school but we never hang out together cause of heeseung. maybe we could hang out, with your girls and my guys? if heeseung is already melting his ice down then i think that’s okay for us and our friends to hang out. it’s up to you, though.”

you suppress an amused smile as you think about it. thinking about how long have you been crushing on the boy in front of you and how you wanna shake heeseung a thank you for letting him do the errands, maybe even to your noise-canceling headphones that make him notice just how much you like him- no, his band. yeah.

“i’ll think about it. heeseung and i don’t have a formal truce yet but based on what we talked about last time, maybe it could work.”

“sweet-“

you heard a knocking on the door before you turned around to catch heeseung’s silhouette behind the glass window.

“i’ll talk to the girls so we can arrange a time.”

“me too with the guys.”

“okay, bye beomgyu.” the car door unlocks as you nuzzle the door open while hearing beomgyu’s own “bye” from the driver’s seat. heeseung helps to hold the door as you step out.

“thanks for her ride, gyu.”

“don’t mention it, hee. we might even have to ride with her often.” beomgyu said right as the door that heeseung held closed. the engine turns on as the car drives off the parking. you stand right beside heeseung as he looks at you, who still has a lingering smile on your face.

“why are you smiling, (y/n)?”

he lightly nudges your palm with his as you turn your head to him.

“you’ll see, hee.” as you took off towards the office, leaving heeseung once again alone as he then followed you.

part 2

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @reallysmolrenjun @stelanity @possibly-zoe0218 @enhypenilycometoaus @jaysupremacy @jungwoneez

#k-labels #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung x reader #rsc: laurel hell #cr: heeseung #cs: enhypen #sc: regina

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babygirl-riley · 6 months

Note

Hi can i please request something where simon and his wife find out one of their kid's friends has abusive parents so they decide to adopt them😢💔

Guardian Angels

You noticed it, the bruise, the way the little girl would ask things. So when you brought it up to Simon, immediate action came through

A/N: OH MY HELL, this hurts a lot. But I am so glad that the child will have a safe and loving home. My heart HURTS!

Hope this is something that was worth waiting for! 😌

Warnings: mentions of abuse, physical abuse, neglect abuse, childhood trauma, child abuse, angst, trauma, PURE FUCKING DEPRESSION, fluff, wife!reader, husband!simon, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

You froze, your blood turning ice cold, your heart breaking. You noticed a small scratch on the child, when you lifted their shirt it was worse. “I got into the snacks. Daddy didn’t like it.” She whispered holding back the tears.

You inhaled deeply feeling the shake of it. You never would believe it. No way someone would hurt a 6 year old child. The puzzle pieces started to form together, the way that she would flinch whenever you would lift a finger. The way she would be shocked about handing her a snack. A small snack anything. It made your heart break even more knowing that there were signs.

“What about your mom? Where is she?” You asked softly putting her shirt down.

She looked away from you. “I don’t know.”

You looked into her beautiful blue eyes. God a child. You nodded and told her that she was spending the night, that you would talk to her dad. Luckily her dad approved acting like nothing was going on. You noted that you would drop her off the next day. You called Simon right after that.

“I’m almost done here sweethear.’ Do you need me to pick anything up for dinner?” He asked sweetly right when he picked up.

It was silent on your end. Making him perk up a bit. Until he heard the sob. A sob that he never heard before, he adjusted himself. “What’s wrong,” He asked softly but with concern. When you kept quietly sobbing he started to pack up. “I’m comin’ home.”

“Okay…I will tell you when you get here.” You choked out in more sobs. Trying to get yourself together, hearing little footsteps pattering outside your bedroom door.

“Mummy,” Your daughter said through the door. “Lilli and I want pizza! Can we get pizza!”

“Of course hun, one second mommy is in the phone. I will let daddy go grab some!” You said back in which you heard little cheers before the footsteps sprinted away. “Grab pizza.”

“‘lright then I will be home soon. I love ya.” He whispered feeling more concerned.

The girls were excited to see Simon coming in with pizza. Your daughter running to him squeezing his leg, giggling when he moved his leg up to walk forward as she clinged harder. You looked over at Lilli who stood in the corner waiting for him. She just watched as he placed the pizza down on the counter then looked up at you.

“Is it okay I can eat?” She mumbled. You nodded and knelt down.

“You can always eat here sweet girl.” You whispered as her face beamed running over to your daughter.

Simon looked over at you as he placed pizzas on plates. You still stood in the hallway, hugging yourself. He looked down at Lilli. “Here Lills use both hands, go sit with Millie. Y/n and I will join soon yeah?”

She cautiously and gently grabbed the plate from him. “Thank you.” She whispered before sprinting to sit next to Millie.

Simon came and kissed you softly. “Let’s go to the room.” He mumbled before you followed him in.

Right when the door shut the sob came out. Simon quickly grabbed you pulling you into a hug. “Love, what’s goin’ on?”

After a few quick breaths you spoke. Explaining everything, from the time he was out on his 3 month assignment and finding the bruises and cuts. Simon listened to every word, asking questions to make sure you knew what you saw. That it wasn’t just a kid being a kid.

Simon’s leg was bouncing hard up and down. You knew of his past, you knew saying these things would bring up memories of his that he tucks so far away from him, was coming to light. Simon stared at the wall for a moment, thinking. He knew the signs well, it was the same signs he gave when his father would beat him and his brother.

He thought about every scenario, the first one was to go to the bastards home and beat him until he saw god himself. Kill him and possibly have the team help cover it up. Make the man get the taste of his own medicine.

Simon thought about how tiny Lilli is, how quiet she would be when he would come around. It wasn’t for a couple months before she warmed up to Simon. Loved playing with him when his daughter would invite for a tea time. Would always sit on the other side of him when watching movies. It was like she was a Riley.

Simon thought of the time when he was her age. The things his father would do to him. “Do you think he ever…”

“Let’s not think that,” He said quickly shaking his head. You nodded and sighed he knew you were worried about him too. The way you waited and watched him. “We have to get her out.” He said darkly, trying to pull himself together. “Now. Not tomorrow now. We get pictures we get everything that we need to take it to the police.”

“How? I just don’t know what to do for tomorrow. These things take time what if…” You started to say before trailing off.

“Laswell,” Simon said standing up quickly. “I’m calling Laswell.”

Two years, it had been two years since that incident happened. It took months before having your daughter have her best friend become her sister. However, papers took longer than expected but court said that both of you can take her in, unless things changed. It made both you and Simon nervous. “We will keep goin’ day by day until we find out yeah?” Simon said comforting you as you shared your thoughts of how long it was taking.

But today was different, giggling and happy screaming echoing through the house. It was Lilli’s birthday, friends of her came and your family. Balloons and decorations plastered the home. Presents lined up neatly on a table as everyone talked to one another. The kids playing with each other.

You watched as Lilli and Millie played together with their cousins. You smiled as you placed some plates down to some guests. You felt a hand gently grab your shoulder. “Do ya have a second.’” Simon asked as you connected eye contact. When you nodded yes, he said he would meet in your shared room. You walked yourself up as you waited. When you heard the door open Lilli and Millie were with Simon.

“Daddy I was havin’ fun.” Millie groaned as she came next to you.

Simon smiled as he looked at both Lilli and Millie. You noticed his eyes were red. You frowned as you thought of the worst. “I wan’ to do this privately. Mum doesn’ even know,” He grabbed an envelope on his dresser looking at you and handing it. “Read it love.”

You curiously grabbed the envelope and grabbed the paper inside. You gasped as you clasp your hand on your mouth looking at Simon whose lips trembled. “What’s wrong?” Lilli’s voice said quietly. “They said no huh.” Looking away and Millie grabbed your leg about to cry.

Your heart broke but soon swelled when Simon knelt down to her. Gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, with tears in her eyes. Simon’s heart raced in excitement. Love. Relief. He heard his voice crack as he tried to say something. Then inhaled deeply. “No Lills you are now Lilli Riley. You are our babygirl now. Ya staying here forever.”

Lilli gasped as she looked up at you then at Simon. “Really! Thank youtha kyouthankyou!” She started crying as she wiped her eyes constantly.

Simon chuckled and nodded as he cried with her rubbing her shoulder. Millie yelled in joy and ran to her. “Lilli! Lilli! We can have forever sleepovers!”

Lilli giggled as she hugged Millie jumping up and down with her. You looked down at Lilli’s birth certificate and adoption papers. Stating that indeed Lilli is now yours. You looked at Simon as he wiped his eyes before looking at you smiling. Before he said anything he was tackled by the girls, the three of them laughing as they hugged.

“Mum come on!” Millie yelled as Lilli came to grab your hand to lead you to both Simon and Millie.

You went on the ground as both you and Simon hugged the girls. Your girls.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost x reader #call of duty simon riley #call of duty simon ghost riley #simon x reader #simon “ghost” riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x reader fluff #simon ghost riley x wife!reader

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haru-natsuka · 7 months

Text

Left with father (Malleus Draconia x Child)

Genre: Fluff

(I will do for Ace Trappola tomorrow for both a daughter and a son)

Out of everyone, Malleus knew the best of the meaning behind loneliness. He spent most of his time in his childhood alone because almost everyone was scared of him due to his excessive power. His only companion was Lilia at that time who was willing to do anything for him, becoming a parent figure for the dragon fae. Therefore, when he had his own child, he promised he would never let him feel the loneliness that used to consume him. There would be no moment where his child would eat a whole cake by himself.

When he saw his wife was contemplating the decision to accept her friend’s invitation, he was about to disagree at first. Although he knew his one-year-old child was a big resemblance of his features and strength, it was well known the prince was a mama boy as he always wanted to stick with his mother whenever he saw her. Even when his wife tried to take a shower, his child would crawl up to her and hold her legs to follow along. Indeed, his son followed him in terms of stamina too but dear my child, I bathed with my wife first before you came so, please wait in line.

Malleus never wanted to confine his wife in the castle as she deserved to have her own freedom and ever since their marriage, this was the first time you conveyed to him about an outing. It took him for a while to make the decision but he chose to let you have your own free time for a while as you deserved it more. He could take care of our child so just trust him and go and yet he was surprised when you showed him your reluctance to leave.

"Maybe I should just stay at home. It's not an obligation for me to meet them. I should cancel my reunion" You babble a lot as you get ready in your outdoor outfit, sometimes stop in the middle to give a thought whether you should go out meeting your friends or not.

"Dear, you can go this time to have some meaningful moments with your friends. You already did a good job as our son's mother." Malleus tried to calm your nerves as he combed your hair. A sight that no one even witnessed for him being very gentle.

"But I love spending time with you and our child more and our child just learns to walk" You stared at Malleus through the mirror, still contemplating whether you should go or not. "Dear, it is just for 5 hours. I will be with him for the entire time" "Alright, I will go but please, don’t let Lilia food be near our child and stop Silver and Sebek from spoiling him so much, especially Sebek"

He promised to do as you said but not more than 10 minutes after you left, his life became hectic already. He was just trying to get his child's meal ready before he woke up from his deep slumber. Unfortunately, when he returned back to his child’s cradle, he had already disappeared without any trace left. It was impossible for a fairy clan to betray their master and any assassination attempt would be futile as the whole castle had a special spell for every intruder. Only the worst among worst actions left which Malleus did not want it to be true. Today, he still has yet to meet Lilia, Sebek and Silver. He tried to spot the prince with his magic and found out he was in the throne room. As he arrived in the room, his prediction was correct as the missing three were playing with his son. It was fine if they just wanted to play with him but what happened to his son now? There were a lot of jewelleries on him from head to toe and the boy was even properly sitting on the throne chair as if the rightful owner was him while Lilia tried to feed him something which the prince was about to eat if it was not for Malleus to intervene in the situation.

“Lilia, it is not a good idea for my child to eat your cooking yet.” Malleus gaze at the purplish dish in the bowl Lilia was holding and immediately stand in between him and his son.

“Doesn’t he get bored eating the same food every day? You used to eat the same food too when you were a child. Look how healthy you become” The latter tried to feed the prince again, who just stared at him in confusion whether he would get to eat or not.

“We will save your food for another special occasion, Lilia and why was my son decorated with all of these jewelleries?”

“Young Master! Look at my effort in making sure the rightful prince is satisfied! I have given him all of my jewelry and he likes it so much!” Sebek clearly wanted to be complimented with his effort by his master.

“Lord Malleus, I’m sorry that I fail to stop them”

Malleus did understand why you tried your best to not let the three of them be near the prince and he just could laugh at the situation. It was so hectic but not to the extent it was that bad except for Lilia’s food.

“You guys just show your care for my child, there is no need to be angry off”

“It feels like yesterday you were this big Malleus. Now, I can feel the age get to me. You even married to The Queen and have your own child” Lilia smiles contently as he recalls the past and the current time of Malleus' life.

“Lilia, never mention-“ Malleus' eyes went wide when he realised the word said by Lilia. He looked at his child who started to look on his left and right, clearly trying to find a certain figure near him. The child whisper,

“Ueen? Mama?” When the boy realised his mother was not by his side, the once confuse voice turned to a high pierced screaming as he continuously called for his mother. The four people inside the room were in panic as they tried to comfort the kid but everything was futile as he was just screaming and crying louder than before.

“My child, I have a gift for you to play with. You must love it as the game is very interesting” Malleus took out his retro digital pet game only for his son to throw it across the room and destroy it into pieces which made Malleus just look at the destroyed gadget but paid it no further attention.

“MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!” In the end, his son never stopped crying until you returned back to the castle and he saw your face and happily greeted you at the door, playing an innocent card with his adorable face and doe eyes. You picked him up from the floor but was caught by surprise with the face of the 4 guys who were also waiting for you at the door who looked more tired than ever. Moreover, why was the castle being covered with ice?

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wndaswife · 1 year

Text

a change in you | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

A strong friendship had developed between you and Wanda after she moved to the compound, but ever since you'd gotten a girlfriend, she grew distant and abrasive without explanation.

Word count: 5228

Tags: smut, angst, jealousy, fluff, fingering, this was written in september and i needed to get it out of drafts, so there will be stylistic differences, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader. MINORS DNI.

gif credit to creator.

“What do you like about sitcoms?” you asked Wanda, looking over to her as you lifted a handful of popcorn to your mouth. She was leaning against you, your head resting atop hers as her eyes were focused on the black-and-white scene in front of her. Your cheek was pressed against the top of Wanda’s head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

Wanda shrugged, reaching up to take a few pieces of popcorn from your hand instead of the large bowl laying in her lap. “I’ve always liked them,” she answered. You loved hearing about Wanda’s childhood, the life she held so dearly to her heart.

Beyond the Strucker experiments, beyond HYDRA and Ultron, beyond being an Avenger, Wanda Maximoff had an innate devotion to love and be loved in return. Everyone she had ever loved and lost were held deep within her. Wanda was driven by those lucky enough to be loved by her, driven to appease, to create a universe within your busy lives for the two of you. The reason she fought, dreamt, and lived was for the profound depths that laid beyond the guises of being a fighter, formed with the intention of filling it with a life surrounded by family.

Watching sitcoms became a tradition for the two of you at the end of the week, cuddled up under mounds of thick blankets and snacks that you introduced Wanda to. Tonight, it was something simple- Maltesers and popcorn.

“As a child, my family would drop everything to watch sitcoms together. My father worked all day. My mother homeschooled Pietro and I,” Wanda recalled. “We were poor. My parents tried their best to make a life for us. When we sat together in front of the television at the end of the day, it was one of the only times I felt like we were a normal family. Like a better future was plausible.”

She lifted her head from your shoulder and looked up at you. With a smile that never ceased to make your heart swell, she said, “And now, it’s a tradition for us.”

That was a month ago, and the last time you and Wanda spent time together.

Wanda left the communal kitchen and lounge area whenever you entered the room. She never answered when you knocked on her bedroom door. During meetings and conferences, she would choose not to sit by you, and if she had no choice but to take the seat beside you, she wouldn’t utter a word to you nor even meet your eyes. Sometimes she’d even choose to stand for the meetings entirety.

You’d gotten Natasha to speak with Wanda for you, and that seemed innocent enough until she brought you up.

Maybe someone detached from the Avenger life would be more effective in getting information from Wanda. You asked Marie to speak to her for you.

Marie was your girlfriend who you’d only just started seeing. She was funny and big-hearted, and insanely smart. You had met her on a mission while she was interning for the Avengers’ lead nursing team. Despite everything, Wanda hated her, and that wasn’t an exaggeration.

You’d heard from some of the others that she’d been talking badly about her ever since the day you got Marie to approach Wanda while she was making lunch for herself. The things you’d heard that Wanda said about her was entirely uncharacteristic of her. She was never like this before.

She’d done a complete one-eighty — one day she had been cuddling up to you on a Friday night like you’d always done with her, then avoiding you all at once and telling your mutual friends that Marie was a gold-digging whore who only wanted you for your title as an Avenger.

Wanda’s validation of your relationship was evidently important to you, yet you didn’t question why it was for a moment through the weeks you craved her approval of Marie. What lay in deep slumber like a sleeping dragon within you beyond layers of confusion and frustration was something you would’ve classified as heartbreak if you had paid any mind to it. You found it was easier on you to be shrouded in infuriated shadows rather than to feel the pain of having Wanda turn on you the way she had, like the flick of a switch as if you had meant nothing to her.

Months of movie nights and conversations and hours spent comforting her and making her laugh- was it no more than a fleeting memory? Had Wanda always intended it to be this way?

Sightings of the Sokovian became scarce. She had taken up a significant amount of missions despite Steve’s advising against it as she volunteered to be dispatched for the smallest of expeditions. Even the Avengers had their working hours, and ever since she’d met Marie, Wanda had been working overtime. When she wasn’t on missions, she was out.

Always out.

Even while Wanda hadn’t been seen by you in days, Marie refused to come around the compound anymore. She was a particularly conflict-avoidant woman, and once she got word of what Wanda had been saying about her, Marie told you that she refused to intrude into Wanda’s territory any longer. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship with her.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t seen Marie since Wanda’s criticisms of your girlfriend reached you, because you had. You often met with her outside the compound in the city, or her apartment in Queens. But it wasn’t enough to patch whatever rifts had formed between the two of you. Perhaps it was also the tension Wanda had put on your relationship; the strange wire you were walking on while both evading confronting Wanda and wanting to defend your girlfriend.

Wanda was your best friend, and she still was, wasn’t she? If there was a chance to talk about what she had said about Marie as friends rather than people deluded by misinterpretation and blind anger, then you would take it. You just had to wait for the chance to come.

But as time went on, waiting for Wanda to apologise and anticipating to see her in the hallways one day, your relationship with Marie only continued to slowly fracture, from her cancelling plans to ignoring your calls entirely. Not only was time for Wanda running out, but you had quickly grown tired of waiting for her as it became clear that she wasn’t going to approach you or take her words back.

You weren’t sure why Wanda had stopped talking to you, why she had suddenly belittled your partner, or why she had completely flipped a switch on you, but you had no more patience in waiting for answers. You needed one, at least. If Wanda could tell you why she had given up on her friendship with you, things would be easier. If she refused to befriend you, even without rationalisation, you would build up from there. An answer — that was all you needed.

There were no missions today, no excursions, no errands that needed to be done that Wanda could take up as an excuse for avoiding you. When you asked her room neighbour, Vision told you she had left early in that morning and was yet to return. You had even asked him if he knew what was wrong with her, and he simply told you that she was concerned for you. Within his ever wise and omniscient advice, he told you that you should’ve considered how distressed she was, how heavy conflict could be for particularly-affected individuals.

Bullshit.

Wanda wasn’t ‘distressed.’ She was being a bitch, and you had enough of waiting for her to take responsibility for what she's done and be a good person, to apologise for what she said. Because she wouldn’t on her own.

You pushed open the doors of the compound’s training room. Clashing metal echoed through the illustrious room, filled with ever-updating technology and machines set up solely for training and practice. The newest addition to the gymnasium was the holopad. It was a four-dimensional holographic platform for hand-to-hand combat training.

You rounded the training room’s equipment to see the holopad being used, a figure of flashing red and ivory white reducing Ultron bots to holographic pixels. His familiar robotic voice spoke gibberish as they approached Wanda from all angles.

She was quicker than she had been during the battle in Sokovia. Her senses were peaked, her fingers flexing and her arms outstretched to take the approaching holograms by their heads, detaching them from their necks. Pixelated metal torsos were ripped from their bodies, robotic cries of defeat echoed against the otherwise empty room as their bodies dissipated and formed new training targets.

One of the program’s more impressive feats was that the user could program for the machine to conjure any adversary. Sometimes, for Tony, it was Steve. For Wanda, Ultron. But today, you expected for the pixelated opponents to be of Marie’s face.

You approached the holopad, standing at the base of its staircase before calling Wanda’s name out.

The sudden noise made her flinch, breaking her focus and allowing the Ultron bots to reach her. Their holographic arms permeated her body, causing a myriad of colours to reflect against her before the holopad flashed red and reset to its blank state.

She looked down at you, panting as she steadied her breath. Wanda pushed her hair back and looked down to her hands to take her gloves off, sensory coverings that helped the pad tell where her hands were and the magic she was using as she fought. Wanda stepped down from the platform, velcro sounding loudly as she slipped the black gloves off and laid them on the control tablet’s stand.

“What do you want?” she asked in vexation, placing her hands on her hips and staring straight at you. She was wearing black leggings and a grey tank, strands of dark hair slick against her forehead.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?“ you snapped, taking a step towards her, demanding an answer even through the way you approached her.

Wanda feigned ignorance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned to pick her water bottle up from the floor, but you took hold of her wrist, forcing her to straighten and face you again.

“You called my girlfriend a gold-digging whore,” you reminded her with a scowl. Wanda forced her wrist out of your hold at the mention of Marie.

“And?” she retorted, her head tipping to the side, daring you to argue with her.

You scoffed, and Wanda bristled, almost disappointed you weren’t more angry. “And?” you repeated incredulously. Wanda’s eyebrows raised expectantly. “We didn’t do anything to you.”

Stiff lines formed on either side of Wanda’s jaw as she clenched her teeth, her eyes widening in apparent fury. She shouted as if the basic foundations of a relationship were unheard of by her, “We? Is that what you and Marie are now? You care about what she thinks?”

You shrugged with your palms upturned, your expression frozen in disbelief. “I don’t know, Wanda. Did you think things would be the same after we started dating?”

The muscles in Wanda’s neck flexed, her nostrils flaring as she exhaled heavily, her body trembling with restrained anger. She turned suddenly, picking up her waterbottle and speeding past you in a furious delirium.

You followed after her, picking up speed as Wanda did as she tried to flee from your vicinity. “We’re not doing this again! We’re not just going to stop talking for weeks, just for me to have to chase after you like this!” you called from behind her.

“Chasing after me? You’re such a mess,” Wanda scoffed as she pushed the gym’s doors open, not bothering to hold it open for you. It nearly crashed into your face and you stuck your hands out to catch it, pushing it forward and slamming it against the adjacent wall as you glowered at Wanda from behind. You followed Wanda into the hallway leading into the changing rooms and showers.

Your hand made contact with her shoulder and you pulled her back, spinning her around and causing her to stumble until she steadied herself to face you. The tears forming in your eyes made Wanda’s angry veil crack momentarily. “Why are you acting like this?” you asked her, your voice breaking. Having been masked with Marie’s company and utter confusion for the last month, the sorrow of losing Wanda from your life took seeing her in person to set in.

Wanda’s eyes flickered between both of yours. Her expression softened but her resolve did not. “I don’t understand why you care about me so much, Y/N. You have… Marie,” she whispered out, trying to meet your eyes through your glassy tears. The very act of saying your girlfriend’s name was an obvious struggle for her.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your wrists and laughed humorlessly. “Wanda…” you mumbled out. Your hands dropped to your sides and you met her eyes, the most sincere the two of you have been in weeks. “It doesn’t matter who else I have in my life. It never would’ve mattered. You’re you. Marie is Marie.”

She shook her head, her eyes not leaving yours for a moment. “What are you trying to say?” she asked you cluelessly.

“I mean that I missed you, and all you were doing was avoiding me no matter how hard I tried to get your attention. Do you regret getting close to me?”

Wanda inhaled shakily, her shoulders raising. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug and closing her eyes. “I missed you too,” she said into your hair, squeezing you tighter. “Y/N, you don’t understand.”

Anger scorched up your throat and you pushed Wanda away, causing her to stumble backwards. “What don’t I understand, Wanda? You can’t just keep doing this to me.”

“No, Y/N, I—“

“I don’t want to hear anymore bullshit.”

“It’s not! Stop interrupting me and listen.”

You pushed past her anyways, your eyes brimming with tears as your vision became clouded. To have Wanda see you like this, someone who was perfectly fine with pretending you didn’t exist for a month, was certain death.

Four words suddenly blurted out from behind you, attaching chains to your ankles and stopping you where you stood.

“Y/N, I love you.”

Your chin met your shoulder as you looked back at Wanda. Her shoulders were raised, her posture tense as her fists clenched.

“I love you,” she repeated, and you saw her shoulder raise when she inhaled sharply.

You turned around completely, your body facing hers. “I heard you,” you answered. Wanda might’ve fled the room in tears had it not been for the confused furrow of your eyebrows and the trembling of your bottom lip.

“I wished—” Wanda’s mouth shut and she swallowed before correcting herself, “I wish you had never met Marie. I wish you had never started dating her.” The confession spilled from beyond her lips as if it was hastily scripted, her words’ intentions clear but her execution painfully poor.

“You really don’t like her…?” you questioned meekly.

An exasperated sigh escaped from Wanda, her entire body deflating as you continued to misunderstand her. “I don’t like her,” she said. “She’s not good enough for you. Not funny or that smart.”

Your hand raised to your forehead and you massage your temple with your thumb. Your arm fell to your side and you looked straight ahead at Wanda with helpless eyes.

She was taking steps towards you without warning after dropping her waterbottle to the floor, not giving you a moment to even stumble backwards before one of Wanda’s hands wrapped around the back of your neck, her other coming up to cup your cheek. She pulled you against her, crushing your lips against hers bruisingly. You watched her eyes screw together tightly before your own eyes fluttered shut.

Your hands found her hips and you pulled her against you.

Desperate groans and greedy moans were exchanged into your mouths between warm pants. Without conscious volition, your hands began to roam Wanda’s body, taking your best friend in ways you had never before as your hands ran up her back, gripping her sides with possession that made Wanda melt.

You disconnected from Wanda’s swollen lips and leaned down to bury your face into the crook of her neck, her soft hair shrouding your face as you peppered wet kisses up the side of her neck. You could feel the vibrations of her moans against your lips.

“Y/N,” Wanda whimpered your name out. Your tongue ran flush up Wanda’s neck, making her shiver and stumble in your hold before your lips reached her jaw and you sucked at her skin. You found yourself walking forward, leaving Wanda to stagger backwards in attempts to catch up with you and avoid tripping. She was led backwards until her back was pressed against something firm, and she was trapped firmly between you and the wall.

You raised your head and looked at Wanda, a small smile pulling at your lips at the sight of her dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks. “I love you too, Wanda,” you finally told her, your forehead pressed against hers as she looked at you.

Wanda was an enigma. Truly. Her eyes began to well in warm tears and her head hung as she cried into your chest. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she sobbed. “I missed you so much. It was so painful to… But I didn’t know what else to do.” Your hands raised from her waist and you wrapped your arms around Wanda’s trembling shoulders, hushing her softly as she continued to cry. “I couldn’t stand seeing you with her, to know that I could never be what she is to you.”

Pulling away from her enough to cup her cheek and tilt her head up, you kissed Wanda’s tear-stained cheeks. “You are everything to me. With someone else or not, I love you, Wanda. I always will,” you said, your thumb stroking her cheekbone gently. “I shouldn’t have let you feel that way.”

“Don’t,” she argued. Wanda buried her face into the crook of your neck and closed her eyes. Her arms were wrapped around your waist and you wondered if she’d ever let go. You imagined that having Wanda hanging onto your waist until the end of time wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “I don’t want to think about that anymore,” Wanda muttered. She whispered, “Just be with me.”

“Always,” you replied. Your hand cradled the back of Wanda’s head, your other arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulling her into a tight hug.

After a few silent moments of being embraced by one another, Wanda pulled away from you, slipping out from between you and the wall with a small sniffle. Her arm that was wrapped around your waist fell to her side before she took your hand in hers. With a smile that made your heart swell, as it had hundreds of times before like it would in your future, Wanda led you forward. She pushed open the door to the shower room and the two of you walked in, passing Wanda’s locker and handfuls of others while you followed behind her and watched the swaying of her long dark hair.

Once arriving at one of the showers, Wanda pushed the shower curtain open and turned the shower’s hot water on. While steam began clouding around the two of you, Wanda let go of your hand and undressed. Eye contact was only broken with you when she pulled her shirt over her head. Her ivory skin glistened with a thin layer of shower steam and she stepped towards you when she was simply in her bra and underwear.

Your hands rounded her body as you undid her bra while Wanda tugged at your pants’ waistband before it fell to the ground. Her bra slipped from her shoulders and it dropped on top of your pants. You wrapped an arm around her hips and leaned down to press a kiss to the valley of her breasts. Wanda looked down at you with a soft smile while she played with your hair.

Slow fingers hooked the waistband of her panties and you pulled them down. Wanda stepped out of the garment once it fell to the shower room’s floor.

Wanda undressed you next, her hands running up the soft plains of your body. Green eyes flickered over every inch of your bareness in attempts to saturate you into her memory forever. Her palms ran up your chest and she placed her hands on your shoulders. Wanda pulled the shower curtain back again and she led you in.

Your fingers traced the stretch marks on Wanda’s hips as she walked backwards into the shower. The two of you were soon shrouded in its steam. “You’re so beautiful, Wanda,” you whispered, soaking in her bare body as a flower to the sun at the break of dawn. Her cheeks flushed pink and you kissed her when she tried to look away.

Neither of you bothered to close the shower curtain and you pushed Wanda into the shower wall carefully. Your hand found its way between her thighs and she let out a shaky breath against your lips. Both of your bodies became wet with hot water, but it was you who was responsible for the sticky slick that coated Wanda’s inner thighs.

Your fingers delved into Wanda’s folds while your thumb drew lazy shapes against her clit. Wanda’s head was lolled back against the wall, moaning out in pleasure. Her arms were wrapped around your neck, pulling you ever closer as if frightened that you might leave without warning. Your other hand groped Wanda’s breast, your palm running smoothly against her hardened nipple.

“Y/N, please,” Wanda pleaded, her eyes opening to meet yours, her emerald gaze seeping with desperation. Her hips jerked down against your fingers. Pride swelled in your chest as you watched her writhe for you, a sight reserved only for you. “I want to feel you,” she whispered against your lips. “I want to be yours.”

Moving forward to kiss Wanda’s cheek, you laid your forehead against hers as your slick fingers centred against her opening. You felt her thighs trembling against your own and pushed her further against the shower wall, holding her up. Smooth fingers delved past her opening and Wanda clenched her jaw, a restrained groan leaving her. With a fluttering heart, you watched as her eyes screwed shut, her mouth falling open to moan her hot breath against your chin.

Your lips captured hers, though it was short-lived as your fingers pushed through her velvety walls and Wanda panted out hasty exhales. Once before, you had discussed sex with Wanda. She wasn’t a virgin, although her first time consisted of a myriad of lazy kisses and disinterested fucking. From what you knew, Wanda hadn’t been seeing anyone, and although you had recently spent a month without speaking, the way she clenched around your digits and exhaled trembling breaths implied she hadn’t been touched like this in quite a while.

At the realisation, you ducked your head down and pressed openmouthed kisses to her neck, her wet hair sticking to every plain of skin it could find. Wanda's head was thrown back, her body arching into yours as her hips lowered in jerky motions. She craved more yet knew so little in what the tightening in her lower stomach meant with you. But you were receptive.

Fingers quickened and the Sokovian’s moans turned into what could only be described as squeals. She tried pulling back, pressing her ass against the wall at the sudden unfamiliar intrusion into her pussy, but your wrist surged forward, refusing to part from Wanda’s cunt. The heel of your hand met her clit and you flattened it against her sensitive nub.

Wanda whimpered in response, her entire body melting in your hold despite the juxtaposing quivering of her walls.

Leaving cold trails of saliva in your wake, your kisses reached the valley of her breasts and you let go of one to cup her cheek. At the feeling of your warm hand caressing her, Wanda’s eyes fluttered open. Her head tipped down and she met your eyes, audacious and unequivocal as you looked up at her from between her breasts.

With your hand still on her cheek, you made her look down at you when your lips wrapped around a rosy erect nipple. Shaky lips formed into a smile as Wanda watched the way you loved her.

“Y/N,” Wanda whimpered meekly, “that feels so good.” Amongst the pleasurable writhing deep within her lower stomach as your fingers continued to fuck her pussy was the intertwining of something warm that only grew the longer she watched you suckle at her breast gently. “You make me feel…”

Your lips found her other nipple and Wanda struggled to maintain eye contact with you. You allowed her to loll her head back against the shower wall in mindless pleasure.

“... So good,” Wanda uttered, her words mumbled out from her mouth weakly. The shower fogged up with hot steam as hot water continued to stream down on the two of you, which was a partial reason as to why the rising and falling of Wanda’s chest was perpetually quickening. You hummed in response, the soft exhaling from your nose teasing at her nipple.

The sound of your thrusting fingers found an accelerating tempo while Wanda’s cunt squelched with the repetitive penetration of her tight hole. The soft hiss of the running hot shower behind you turned into a muddled hum as your senses were filled with nothing but Wanda’s moans, the feeling of her cunt wrapped around your fingers, the feeling of her soft creamy skin running under your hands.

A teasing tug of Wanda’s nipple from between your teeth made her yelp, and despite the reaction, she pulled you closer. You raised yourself up to her face again and began rubbing the heel of your hand against her clit side to side.

“You gonna come soon, Wands?” you asked her, a teasing smirk on your lips.

Through her weak haze, Wanda grinned in return at the use of the nickname. It’d been so long since she’d heard it last. She pulled herself against you, her head resting on your shoulder. “Gonna come,” she confirmed, hugging her arms around your neck tightly. “I love being with you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

Your arm raised to wrap around her waist, your hand pressing flush against her back and pulling her closer. You kissed Wanda’s temple and felt her smile against your neck. “I love you too, Wanda. So much,” you uttered against her wet skin. “Come for me, my angel.”

Despite the curling of your fingers deep within her pussy, it was your use of the pet name that brought Wanda to her high. She buried her face further into your neck when she came, but you raised your head, pulling back slightly to watch her screwed-shut eyes and parted lips. Her knees buckled and she fell forward against you, but you held her up. The raspy cries that left her from beyond her soft lips were comparable to siren’s calls, tempting and every moment alluring.

You had never seen her this way before, and no one else but you ever would. Wanda was every inch yours as you’d be for her from then on, belonging to her, your best friend and the only woman you’d ever love.

Wanda’s arms were limp around your neck as her orgasm washed over her in its final moments. Her arms slipped from your shoulders and dropped to your hips instead, holding you albeit weakly. Her thighs trembled as she held herself up, her hips buckling against yours. She panted against your neck, her warm breath travelling down your chest and hardening your nipples.

With a proud smile, you slipped your fingers out of Wanda’s cunt and she whimpered, hips jerking down at the empty feeling. After running the tips of your fingers through her folds, you slipped your hand out from between Wanda’s thighs. Hooded green eyes looked up at you as you slid your coated fingers past your lips, cheeks hollowing in as you savoured her tangy sweet flavour. Wanda flushed at the sight and you took your fingers out of your mouth to lean down and kiss her.

No resistance was present when you pushed your tongue past Wanda’s lips, spreading the flavour of her pussy through her mouth. When you parted from her lips to press a kiss to her forehead, Wanda mumbled out, “I love you.” The words gave her an instant high, having been burying it deep within her ever since she’d known you, the closest she’d ever gotten to bringing it to the surface being in platonic humorous confessions of love between friends. But now it was different. Wanda could love you without hesitation.

Your hand came to the back of her head, stroking her hair as you whispered sweet promises against her warm skin.

If given enough time, Wanda would’ve been able to fall asleep standing up as you held her, hot water encapsulating both your bodies.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Wanda,” you told her and she smiled up at you sleepily.

For the next little while, you washed Wanda’s hair, scratching at her scalp gently as she leaned back into you. You pulled her backwards to run her shampooed hair under the shower, your fingers raking through her long hair as you washed it through. You pressed kisses to Wanda’s body at every given chance, on her shoulders, her neck, her ears, her shoulder blades.

It was true that things were different, and after that day, it always would be. But there was something so special about loving silence that both you and Wanda shared, and irregardless of the changes that would come about, your hearts would continue to swell larger than any spiel of words could at the stillness your shared love brought.

You’d never love each other from a distance again, no word gone unexchanged, no moment of time spent hiding the way every instinct screamed out with a fervent desire to reach out to one another, yearning for the embrace of the other.

You could embrace Wanda in a way you’d never been able to before, or rather because you hadn’t ever known what your feelings for her meant —the tightening in your chest when she had avoided you, the fluttering of your heart when she took your hand.

Throughout the years that would pass spent with her, one thing would always remain true; Wanda and you have always loved each other, in the longing stares and the hidden blushes, in the stabilising of your quickening heart when you took Wanda into your chest and listened to her steady breaths.

When you’d rinsed Wanda’s body of soap and her hair of shampoo, she turned to pull you close and looked up at you. “I’ll be yours forever, won’t I, Y/N?” she asked.

Without even a moment’s worth of thinking it over, you answered, “Always.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #bottom wanda maximoff #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen

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autisticshadowthehedgehog · 1 year

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What was up with Chris Thorndyke, anyway?

I think it’s safe to say that Chris Thorndyke is one of the most hated characters in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, which is... a bit odd, when you think about it. In a world of Ken Penders’s Daddy Issues Personified and Octopus Who Kills Children For Fun (the latter of which basically being a fandom sexyman), why is a twelve-year-old boy so polarizing?

It would be easy to chalk this up to the bad 4kidz dub, but I don’t quite think that’s it. A lot of the complaints I’ve heard can go to “he got the main character slot in Sonic’s show” or “I just don’t like the human characters,” which are valid, but pale in comparison to basically all I’ve seen being: “He’s just annoying,” “I can’t fucking stand him,” etc. That’s basically all I hear, and when asking why, it usually boils down to two things: 1) his extreme attachment to Sonic and 2) his status as a rich white american only child basically puts any and all of his problems at “first world problems” at best. Those also seem like valid reasons, right?

Thing is, while on the surface it seems like this kid has no issues, as a kid with a, how you say, rough childhood, something stuck with me when I watched the show for the first time. I remember sitting through episode after episode, wondering, When does Chris stop being sympathetic and start being annoying? Since, you know, that’s his reputation.

It didn’t happen.

And it slowly became apparent to me that a lot of the things that made Chris “annoying” and “obsessive”... were just obvious symptoms of a traumatized kid.

Join me for my thesis presentation: Chris’s “annoying” traits are not a writing flaw, but an intentional character flaw brought about by severe neglect, which is resolved through his character arc, and why the fandom reaction to him is so furious.

Note: Throughout this meta, we will only be looking over the Japanese version of Sonic X, as it’s the original script and 4kidz did not translate it accurately. So if you see some lines you don’t remember being said, those are from the English subtitles/direct translation.

Once again, it is possible (also likely, we’ll discuss that a bit) that the kidification and cuts to Sonic X did a number on Chris’s likability, but for most of the meta we’ll be discussing his Japanese characterization with only a few references to cut scenes or lines in the dub.

Part I: First Impressions

On the surface, Chris seems like not just a normal kid, but a very privileged one. He goes to regular school with regular friends, but also goes home to a mansion and millions of dollars. His parents dote on him, his grandfather has fun with him, the two servants treat him like their own kid. He should have no problems, right?

Except, honestly, the issues become apparent in Episode One.

You may be saying here, “What do you mean, episode one? The second episode is when Chris gets all his characterization and exposition.”

Except we get all this visually in the final scene of the episode. (I PROMISE the whole essay won’t be this analytic over small scenes but this is important.)

Before Chris rescues Sonic, kickstarting his part in the plot, we see him hear Sonic fall, peer out the window, and then run out to get him.

Firstly, the shots of his room. His room is huge– and we’ll come back to that detail later, so keep it in mind– but it’s also dark. Which tracks ofc, it’s nighttime and the kid’s asleep, but there’s also a lit desk light, which we see when Chris goes to the window. This together gives the audience the visual impression that Chris is in the dark, with the light only coming when he opens that window and sees Sonic.

Let’s get into the bigness of the house here, as Chris runs out of the room. In every shot we see him running, it’s emphasized how small he is. No, not only how small he is, but how empty the rest of the house is.

First the shot in the hall. There’s minimal lighting from a few wall lamps, the rest of the hallway is incredibly dark. Chris is shorter than the height of the lamps on the wall, his positioning keeps him small in the frame despite him running closer. He’s also centered in the hall, and when you look to the walls you can see several doors, implying several rooms, but only Chris is in the hall.

Then the stairwell– once again incredibly dark, but we see more of the grandiose nature of the house. A painting taller than Chris, a Grandfather Clock maybe twice his height. He also runs down the stairs with the railing up to his shoulder. It’s all finely detailed, which of course reflects the Thorndyke luxury they live in. But it’s still dark, and Chris is still so small.

A shot of him running across the floor. It’s shot from above, and we see that the tiles on the floor are bigger than his whole body. This shot is even darker than the rest, only a few lights reflecting on the ground. The above-shot also shows a ceiling fan in front of us, which makes it look bigger than it is, also dwarfing Chris in the shot.

There’s a shot after that of Chris running to the pool– it is actually near-impossible to see him here, but if you look he runs off the back porch. Once again the world is huge, everything around him is huge, and everything is dark, except the pools. The pools where Sonic is, not that he knows that yet.

The pool still remains brightly lit as Chris dives in and saves Sonic. The first shot we see is him diving in, and then grabbing onto Sonic’s wrist. This is repeated multiple times later in the show as they reach for each other’s hands. It’s not only the first time we see this kid make contact with someone in the show, I’m pretty sure it’s the first time we see Sonic. In the first bit of the episode he’s only hitting robots, in the second bit he’s fleeing from everyone who comes near him. This first contact thus subconsciously establishes itself in the audience’s minds as important for both of them.

We finally see Chris clearly after he pulls Sonic out, where the two of them are lit by the pool’s light. Despite the long shadows coming off of them, they are both fully visible and sitting amongst the lit tiles, meaning Chris is now in the light.

This opening scene also establishes something important about Chris as well, and that’s that he’s... not a rich asshole. This kid woke up in the middle of the night, and for all intents and purposes saw nothing in the pool– he saw the ripples stilling, but that could’ve been anything. Could’ve been a frog. Could’ve been a bird taking off into the air. Could’ve been a bird shitting. But Chris still investigates anyway and immediately dives in, presumably once he sees something still in there. As he dives in, he also reaches for Sonic instantly, meaning it wasn’t just pure curiosity that drove him forward, but a deep desire to help whatever was in there. Likely he saw it moving and leapt in to save it without a second thought.

It’s established in the next episode that Chris knew full well he was not allowed to do this and it probably wouldn’t be safe; he’s not allowed to go outside at night or swim in the adult pool. Not to mention he’s also probably still half-asleep and wearing pajamas. Without hesitation he jumps in anyway because there’s something that needs his help. When he pulls Sonic out, he can clearly see this is a weird fucked-up thing he doesn’t recognize, but without even reacting to that fact he just asks if he’s okay. He only starts showing his surprise when Sonic begins talking. Even then there’s no screaming, he just introduces himself politely and then. Takes Sonic inside.

The next episode opens already in the next morning, and with Sonic still there we can assume Chris just hid him for the rest of the night without telling the other adults in the house. After Sonic mentioned people chasing him, Chris probably figured it wasn’t safe to tell anyone and took it upon his 12yo self to make sure this little guy didn’t get spotted.

Which, if it weren’t for Sonic’s impulsiveness, would’ve been incredibly easy.

The second episode opens with another panning shot of the huge mansion, with a voice overlay from Lindsey. The first thing we hear from Chris’s mother is that she’s sorry, but she won’t come home til “next week.” But she’ll send him a ton of gifts, so it’s okay!

Our next interesting shot is as she continues talking, and we see a ton of family photos tacked onto the wall. This immediately gives the impression of, of course, a family that really loves each other. It then immediately pans to Chris, alone on the balcony, talking minimally into a phone.

Chris then has another character beat of apologizing for diving in the pool. It seems like if he hadn’t mentioned it, nobody would’ve known, but he does anyway because he’s just like. A good little kid. Either that or it’s anything to keep his mom on the line longer.

Another thing to note is that Tanaka briefly enters during this scene, but doesn’t even look at Chris as he drops his food off and leaves.

When she hangs up, we hear a little kissing noise, and then Chris kisses the phone receiver and rubs the back of his head. His expression doesn’t seem embarrassed, though, especially as he didn’t notice Sonic staring at him until the next shot. He looks perhaps relieved, a soft kind of happy, perhaps at the compliment she gave him immediately before her abrupt goodbye.

Sonic then asks why Chris referred to him as a cat; he doesn’t seem upset, just a little curious. Chris’s reaction is interesting here– the first thing he does is ask if Sonic is mad at him, and then immediately launch into an explanation.

After Sonic seems calm, Chris then curiously asks Sonic where he learned to talk. They’re interrupted by the phone ringing, and Chris seems incredibly confused that it rung. He answers almost robotically, and immediately grows excited upon hearing it’s his dad, though his voice still indicates surprise. You can really hear it in the line delivery of his og actress, Sanae Kobayashi.

Chris continues smiling blankly as his Dad talks about how his mom told him that a cat got into the estate and maybe he should update security. Chris swiftly assures him that it’s okay, and then says, “But more importantly, you’re very busy, aren’t you?”

Basically he already knows that this conversation will be less than a minute long, but he’s still smiling until his dad’s already hung up.

The rest of the scene plays out as Chris googles what hedgehogs eat, tries to feed Sonic cat food, and then rightfully freaks out when Sonic leaves to get a chili dog, considering he’s a fugitive. And while his face and mannerisms at the end of the scene does effectively display this worry, they really do hold on that shot for a while as he fades back into a sadder expression.

These scenes both serve as introductory scenes to Chris, and both visually and through dialogue, we have established:

Chris is constantly alone.

His world is dark until he finds Sonic.

He has a kind personality and doesn’t seem to be at all jaded or spoiled by his privileged upbringing.

His parents love him but are so absent that he doesn’t even bat an eye at the fact he won’t see his mom for a week. He is surprised when his Dad calls but immediately puts his work before his own well being.

He’s relatively calm, but only freaks out when he thinks Sonic might be mad at him, and when Sonic leaves.

I’d love to do a fucking scene-for-scene analysis of the entire show, but we’d be here for like twenty years so instead let’s uh. jump ahead a bit.

We slowly unravel Chris’s backstory and mental state throughout the first two seasons, in a slow way that I think is very effective and won’t be effective enough through this essay, but I’m gonna try my best.

Anyway, let’s jump ahead and cover his whole... thing.

Part II: The Backstory Scene that 4kidz Cut

The youngest we ever see Chris is in the season two penultimate episode. There’s a flashback to him as what seems to be a toddler, or just out of toddlerhood. This scene, right here, was cut in the English dub for... no real reason I can think of. In fact, it just makes Chris look less sympathetic.

The first shot we get is of Chris and his parents. Much like the Chris’s first scene, he is tiny, even tinier. But unlike that scene, everything is bright. It’s blinding, actually, as the doors are open and Chris’s parents stand in front of it. This is obviously from baby Chris’s perspective, representing his emotional state. With those doors open and his parents in front of him, he is covered in light. Covered.

His parents are quite formal in their parting words. “We’re leaving now,” his dad says. His mom then says, “I’m sorry, Chris. Make sure you behave until we return.”

Once again, I mentioned that this scene is from baby Chris’s perspective, so maybe they weren’t as formal when this actually happened. But that’s how it came across to Chris.

Sidenote, but honestly? Considering his age, this could very well be one of his earliest memories.

Little Chris says, “If I behave, will you come home right away?” While of course operating on little kid logic, this also reflects on how much he loves his family again, as all he wants is for his parents to be home with him.

His parents look at each other, confused on how to answer. They then give the worst answer– “Of course.” We see how happy this makes him, but it’s only a temporary happiness. They’ve just made a promise they cannot keep and they know it, and at baby Chris’s age, he will NOT understand that.

When they turn to leave, Chris’s face falls. They once again have a formal goodbye, and as they leave, the doors shut, and the light is gone, and he stands there for again a long time. I don’t think I need to explain what this symbolizes.

The next shot, we see Chris is reading a picture book by himself on the couch. Once again a small little guy in a big world; the book also seems to be The Little Matchgirl, which... oof. The story is about how a lonely orphan dreams about having a family as she slowly freezes to death, in case you weren’t aware. The two shots we see from the book are first of her freezing, and then of her looking in a window and imagining a family. As Chris reads this, he repeats that if he behaves, his parents will come home.

He then hears the door about to open and immediately leaps up and smiles widely.

It’s not his parents, it’s Ella, but she has presents from his parents!

Despite being a little kid who would normally be ecstatic at the prospect of new toys, Chris just looks numb as she speaks.

He takes no joy in the toy either, because his parents aren’t there with it.

So. I have worked at a daycare and as a babysitter for about... seven years now. Kids? They have separation anxiety. They will sob and scream and shout and kick and run if their mom is out of their sight. I recently babysat a kid who learned how to unlock the door so he could try and run after his parents which was terrifying for me tbh.

Chris’s reaction of just immediately falling into a numb depression isn’t something I saw in the kids I watched. At this age, they cry at the very least. Chris doesn’t even do that, he’s just staring. We get one voiceover at the end of this scene, as Chris just says, “It never came true.” Obviously referring to the promise– he behaved, and his parents still stayed away.

What impression does this give a kid that age? One of two things, if not both at once:

I am not behaving enough and I need to behave perfectly.

Mom and Dad don’t care enough to come home.

From knowing Lindsey and Nelson, we know this is not true. They’re busy, and they hope to show their love through gifts. But Chris’s love language is very much not gifts, it’s quality time. And he doesn’t. Get that.

From anyone.

Part III: Chris’s Abandonment Issues

As I’ve made it clear, Chris’s parents are never around. He doesn’t bat an eye at his mother saying she’ll be gone another week, and is surprised that his Dad even bothered to call. We saw all those family photos, but looking at them again, how many of them were taken at the same time, one of the few times his parents were home? How many is Chris standing stiffly, properly, instead of relaxing like a kid?

Another line from episode six really drives his home, one I think a lot of people miss.

Upon being told his parents are coming home, Chris remarks that it has been months since he’s seen them. Months.

Later in the episode, Chuck remarks on how it’s a miracle to see them both at the house at the same time. They laugh this off, and spend the rest of the episode anxiously waiting for Chris to get home because, yeah, they do care. When Chris gets home he immediately calls for them and gets tackle-hugged. As they do, he stiffens upon the physical contact, and looks awkward the whole time, like he’s not used to physical affection.

He’s then later surprised to hear his parents were worried he was late.

The next episode, Chris’s dad has already left by the next morning. When he hears his mom has unexpectedly left, he is upset, but not surprised; he immediately resigns himself to this and sighs before leaning back on the couch.

When he brings this up to his uncle, Sam immediately remarks that his sister is never home.

This is where Cream breaks, because she has seen Lindsey herself break down over not being there for Chris. Chris has not seen that. All he knows is that his mother was there and then was gone, despite their elaborate dinner plan, despite knowing he was bringing a guest to meet her.

Once again, he’s not surprised. Neither is Sam.

Similar with his Dad; in the previous episode, when they were worried, Nelson implies that he has a guard service making sure Chris doesn’t get abducted. They’re two seconds away from calling the US Military to find him. But they stop short of going after him, because they don’t want him to think they’re being overbearing.

We’ve firmly established this by now, okay? His parents are never home and haven’t been since he was, what? Three? Four, tops.

Nobody else was really there, either.

Ella and Tanaka seem to have done most of Chris’s raising. And while Ella and Tanaka are amazing, and definitely care a lot about Chris, it doesn’t change the fact that they are paid employees and Chris knows this. They’re paid to hang out with him. If they weren’t getting paid, Chris has no idea if they would even give a shit about him. Even with that, there’s not a ton of evidence they like. hung out with him outside of making sure he was alright. As mentioned, in the second episode Tanaka doesn’t even look at him as he delivers food. Not for lack of care, but probably because they’re busy as only two servants in a huge estate. This isn’t their kid, too, they’re under no obligation to raise him. Ella is the cook and Tanaka is the butler-bodyguard, they’re not childcare experts.

What about his grandpa? Sorry to break this to you but Chuck wasn’t around, either.

In episode 51, which we’re gonna keep coming back to as it’s the culmination of Chris’s arc, Chuck says this while reprimanding Nelson and Lindsey. He says, “I never blamed you for neglecting your household because you were too busy with work. That’s because I also did whatever I wanted and continued my research.”

Back to the second episode, when we first see Chuck, you notice on the second watch that Chris 1) doesn’t trust his grandpa enough to tell him that he’s hiding a fugitive in their house, 2) didn’t seem to expect him (or ANYONE) to walk in on them in the LIVING ROOM, 3) seems to not know a ton about his personality. He’s surprised when his grandpa closes the door on Sonic, and surprised that he’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie. It seems that instead of spending time with his grandson, Chuck spent most of his time in his shed tinkering with machines.

His uncle? Seems to visit on occasion, but has a government job. You know he’s never around, either.

So Chris is growing up in a huge house, which is serving to give him a constant reminder that nobody’s home. There are two servants going around working and sometimes saying hi to him, there’s a grandpa in the shed somewhere who might come in once or twice to watch TV, and there’s photos on the wall of parents who aren’t home. He’s like that for at least eight years.

OH, and let’s talk about the friends argument which I’ve confusingly seen. He’s got two friends at school. His parents seem to recognize Danny’s name, so Danny might have been a longtime friend, or at least friend he talked about before. But Danny and Frances, being barely in any episodes, we can assume they also have their own lives and things going on and thus don’t, like, hang out with Chris after school a lot. He uses Danny as an excuse for being late in ep6, but the fact that nobody seemed to expect him to be late implies this is not a usual thing. And of course it is ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY not on the shoulders of these other 12yos to emotionally support another kid, but it’s not like they’re immediately moving into his house and giving him attention 24/7. They’re friends. Which is all they need to be. But for a neglected child like Chris, they’re just another part of his life that comes and goes. Him having two buddies at school that he shares a table with (thus probably just. friends by proximity) doesn’t negate the neglect.

Looking at the photos on the wall again, there’s one photo of Chris with some kind of sports team, probably baseball. Considering how bad Chris played in the baseball episode, he probably didn’t stay there long, and considering we never see anyone even resembling the kids in that pic, we can assume they didn’t stay long-lasting friends. The other photos, they’re dressed in suits, like they’re taking professional photos. Once again stilted, stiff.

But I hear y’all on twitter now. “Oh, boo-hoo, his parents weren’t around. He was still living fancy, it’s fine.”

So let’s talk about the effects of emotional neglect on the childhood psyche.

Part IV: Connie Read Actual Research Papers and Scholarly Articles For This Instead of Doing Actual Work

So, here’s something that’s been seen recurrently in neglected children: kids are psychologically dependent on parents or caregivers throughout their whole childhood and adolescence.

From New Directions in Child Abuse and Neglect Research by the Committee on Child Maltreatment Research, “Children who have experienced abuse and neglect are therefor at increased risk for a number of problematic developmental, health, and mental health outcomes, including learning problems, problems relating to peers, externalizing symptoms [aggression or conduct disorder], and posttraumatic stress disorder. As adults, these children continue to show increased risk for psychiatric disorders, substance use, serious medical illnesses, and lower economic productivity.”

Let’s talk mainly about the mental health outcomes. Without a present caregiver, neglected children often fall behind on the abilities to regulate behavior or emotions. Several parts of the brain will end up altered due to early childhood neglect, including the stress response system, the emotion processing and regulation system, the learning and memory system, etc.

The stress response system is the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenocortial axis, aka the HPA. The HPA is incredibly sensitive to early childhood experiences and an uncertain childhood can effect a lot of things, such as sleep patterns and hyperactivity. Abused children will often have higher spikes of cortisol, a high enough number of which can cause damage to the brain and premature aging.

The behavioral regulation is also most commonly affected in these victims; neglected children will often show “behavioral and emotional difficulties that are consistent with effects on the amygdala, such as internalizing problems, heightened anxiety, and emotional reactivity, and deficits in emotional processing.”

Other mental health issues are also seen; children with trauma experiences will show similar mental patterns as those with ADHD, and can have serious issues with inhibitory control– aka, controlling your impulses.

Then there’s the corpus callosum. (Insert SnapCube dub joke here.) The corpus callosum manages communication between the two hemispheres of the brain. Several studies have found that abused children have a much smaller corpus callosum than non-abused children, even those who are mentally ill; these effects are also more pronounced in boys than girls, which is relevant to our analysis of a 12yo anime boy from 2003. This means that their brain development will often be behind that of their peers, and it could take a while for them to mature.

That was long and boring Connie. Give us the tldr.

Okay don’t worry, the article got to that right about now. Children dealing with neglect will show several issues related to the interrupted development of these parts of their brain, including:

Extreme Deficits in Executive Functioning

Difficulty in regulating attention: As a note on this, 18.6% of abused and neglected teens are diagnosed with ADHD. Compared to 5% of other children. That’s like three times the amount!

And, most interestingly, the behavioral outcomes:

Difficulty forming trusting attachments to caregivers

Both Disorganized and Insecure Attachment Issues, usually getting severe Attachment Disorders

Reactive Attachment Disorder: Inhibited or emotionally withdrawn behavior, rarely seeking or responding to comfort

Disinhibited Social Engagement Disorder: Basically the opposite; it’s marked by a pattern of overly familiar behavior with strangers.

Emotion Regulation: infants learn how to deal with distress via their parents– how their caregivers handle stress, how they take care of problems and slowly introduce the ability to deal with them. Without that, abused and neglected children will often fail to develop effective strategies for regulating emotions. This will probably cause a lot of the following.

This also includes recognizing emotions in others. While abused children will identify anger quickly, neglected children tend to be worse than non-neglected children at identifying any facial expressions.

Their emotional issues can also cause them to feel isolated from their peers, as their peers do not understand them and do not act like them.

Anxiety

Depression– nearly a 3x chance compared to non-neglected kids

Dissociation

Conduct Disorder

PTSD

Physical issues include stunted growth and motor development, and lower health.

Note that these do not appear in all victims of neglect, these are just common symptoms.

Part V: Every “Annoying” Thing Chris Does is a Fucking Symptom

Difficulty forming attachments to Caregivers

In episode 43, Chris deals with a situation that’s obviously alien to him: his parents coming home to care about him.

His parents hear that he’s sick and drop everything to come home. This is clearly something that’s unusual, judging from both Chris’s and his grandpa’s reactions to it. Chris is confused and embarrassed, kinda numb and still, until his grandfather and father start arguing. Even then, he only reacts when they bring up Sonic.

He then yells that he hates his family and orders them to leave him alone. This doesn’t last long as they’re immediately attacked by more badniks, but it’s a beat they definitely put in there intentionally.

Also, he doesn’t seem to trust Chuck as an authority either. He really just sees him as an impulsive adrenaline junkie at best; in the cruise ship episode, Chuck is drunk the whole time and Chris doesn’t seem to care. It also says something that while Ella and Tanaka are present, he doesn’t trust them to tell them they might be finding an alien in the attic until they find out for themselves.

Difficulty Understanding Others’ Emotions

This one’s gonna be easy, as I talked about it earlier in the essay. When Sonic asks, “Was the cat supposed to be me?” Chris immediately assumes he’s upset and tries to placate him with an explanation. This happens throughout the show as well; let’s take Mr. Stewart for example, that man is obviously spying on him and inserting himself into his life and Chris thinks it’s maybe a little weird, not that much though. He also spends most of his time hanging out with Shadow standing there in complete obliviousness as to what Shadow is thinking or feeling. He doesn’t even seem to really register Shadow as a threat, instead throwing himself at him in hopes that he can convince him to help Sonic. In doing so, he also doesn’t think that Tanaka would at all be worried about him, and is surprised at their reunion that Tanaka was upset.

Aggression / Delinquincy

This was very underplayed, but in the Sonic Battle arc, we literally see him start to rebel. He tells Sonic that he’s sick of being the perfect rich kid, that he wants to be a problem on purpose sometimes. Sonic seems to completely understand that, as that’s a point Chris needs to reach. He has to realize he cannot be perfect and that’s okay.

[except that dialogue was all cut in the 4kidz version no im not bitter]

Only Chris explores his imperfection in a really bad way.

And now. Let’s get into the attachment.

And to do that, we need to get into...

Part VI: What Sonic Represents

This is a fascinating part of Chris’s psyche since I think it occurs both subconsciously and consciously, but when I drew attention to Sonic bringing the light back into Chris’s life? Yeah, that’s cause he did.

Everything changed only after Sonic arrived. Suddenly Chris’s parents are... visiting??? For once??? TOGETHER??? His grandfather wants to spend time with him! His friends at school are hanging out with him more and he’s even made new friends! And most importantly, he has the mobians around him constantly. He’s got constant attention from all of them, and while he quickly takes on the figure of the Responsible One, he’s still WITH PEOPLE. He’s gone from being alone all the time to surrounded by a rowdy-ass found family.

Most of all is Sonic. Chris seems to have attached himself mainly to Sonic, likely because in his mind Sonic represents the moment when everything changed. Of course, Sonic would probably have been the worst of the gang to get attached to, seeing as he runs off all the time. The first several episodes, even after they stop hiding from the public, Chris is noticeably upset whenever Sonic leaves. He only calms down after several, several episodes, after assurances from every character that this is just a thing Sonic does, he never sticks around anyway, don’t worry about it.

But still, he definitely attaches himself to this hedgehog for better or for worse.

And it gets worse.

Part VII: Even More Trauma

First we gotta talk about the end of Season One.

At the beginning of the arc, Chris is noticeably... incredibly depressed. He’s also disassociating hardcore. He’s constantly staring into nothing, his face upset, but as soon as someone snaps him back to reality, he forces a smile on his face, acting happy despite going through a ton of negative emotions at once. Almost like he’s trying to behave perfectly.

Chris realizes throughout the episode the attachment he’s gotten to the mobians, and especially Sonic, but even then he still does his best to help them. He steals a chaos emerald and runs off to Eggman in order to get them home, because it will make them happy! Nevermind if it doesn’t make Chris happy. He’s never worried about that anyway.

Of course this backfires and Eggman kidnaps him, and then Chris has to go through the serious trauma of. Well. Being strapped to a wall, forced to watch helplessly as Sonic fucking dies.

And he’s blaming himself for it too.

MAJOR shoutout to Kobayashi’s acting in this scene, holy crap. But he just screams, and then... BREAKS THROUGH METAL?? And GRABS the Chaos Emeralds despite them ELECTRIC SHOCKING HIM???

And then of course we get this incredibly subtle dialogue.

"I will not let you have it. I will not let anyone have it. They’re only mine. Only me. Sonic... Sonic, you’re staying with me forever.”

Immediately after this, Chris almost fucking dies, and is only saved by Super Sonic. When he sees Super Sonic, he reacts by... begging. He drops down, clinging to Sonic and screaming and crying that he is nothing without Sonic.

Chris literally yells that he can’t do anything without Sonic, because that’s how he felt before Sonic. He could not do anything to get anyone to care about him, it only happened when Sonic arrived. So that’s how he sees himself: useless, worthless.

Sonic of course stays, but then dips for six months. When he gets back, a fucking god attacks Chris’s neighborhood, destroying his city. He gets sent away for a month, but that’s interrupted by Sonic being declared a fugitive from the government. Then Chris ends up with Shadow. He gets kidnapped by the goth clone of his emotional support hedgehog. He bonds with the goth clone. He gets the shit beaten out of him begging the goth clone to help save the world. It works, and Shadow runs off to save the planet. And then DIES.

You can tell how traumatized Chris is by this in the next episode. He’s disassociating again, staring at nothing, and eventually asks his uncle if he thinks they can actually live in the same world.

Which is followed by...

Part VIII: The Season Two Finale

We get the rather worrying scene of Chris having to write an essay for his school about his ideal future. Literally all he can think of is that he wants to stay with Sonic forever. He has no other ideals for the future. Just being attached to Sonic.

Only to go downstairs and find out that Sonic HAS to leave. They ALL have to leave. Their dimensions are caving in on themselves and they need to separate.

So he enters the Denial stage of grief.

He seems... dazed. Like he’s in a trance, as he argues that Sonic can’t leave, that all he wants to do is be with Sonic, that he can’t be apart from Sonic because he’s only been able to do things since Sonic got here. This was the first time he’s had agency in his life and he places it all on Sonic.

He decides that it must be Eggman’s fault and literally tracks him down. When he finds out that it’s not Eggman’s fault, he is distraught, and what’s interesting to me is that Eggman seems to get it. He just tells his robots to let him go. Let him be alone. Let him accept it.

Chris then falls back into the depression/disassociation during the entire farewell. He doesn’t emote, he just stares ahead. Something they cut in the English version is that while Chris is politely saying goodbye, throughout the whole scene you can hear his inner monologue screaming. Crying not to let them leave.

So he doesn’t.

The penultimate episode of Season Two is the culmination of Chris’s arc and they do it so beautifully.

Sonic knows Chris is going through a breakdown, and he lets him figure it out for himself. He lets him run off with him, he lets him make the decisions about where they go. Chris starts to realize this but says nothing. They see his tearful parents on TV begging him to come home and he... groans and leaves.

The episode also subtley shows Chris doing things himself. Climbing up the mountain, picking their roads. Sonic is slowly trying to let Chris know he has his own agency. That he is his own person.

They get to the campsite that meant a lot to Chris in his childhood, one of the only times that his parents hung out with him, and he breaks. Asks Sonic why he doesn’t hate him. Why he hangs out with him. If he only hangs out with him out of obligation.

And he comes to the conclusion himself that no, he can’t keep Sonic here. He can’t keep Sonic away from his world just because he has attachment issues. It was what he knew was right in Season One but couldn’t get himself to understand no matter how hard he tried. But now he gets it. And now he can let Sonic go.

The episode is soooo good, sooo fucking good. And then in the season finale, when we see the aftermath of that, when Sonic takes him on one last run and... he sees Sonic crying? Realizes that Sonic does love him and still lets him go? It’s impactful. It’s emotional.

Then when his parents come get him and he just smiles? Because he realizes they did come for him? That if Sonic can love him without obligation, maybe other people do too?

Chris’s severe attachment issues and trauma from being neglected culminated in this episode, and he made a bad choice. And then he made the right one. And that’s so good.

Part IX: Some Season Three Notes

Chris’s inclusion in the third season was... weird. It felt like they didn’t want to animate his adult model so they shoved him into a child body and made an excuse for it. But honestly, after traveling there, you can kinda... tell how much Chris has grown.

He was trying to get back to Sonic, but not because he needed him, but because they were friends. He and his friends wanted to see their friends again. He only went alone because he had a sense Sonic was in danger. And even in the twelve-year-old body, he’s an adult now and he acts like it. His only real emotional issue is that he is upset he can’t fight as well in his kid body, but then he figures out he can be useful with his inventions and finds a place with Tails. He’s basically parenting the rest of them for the rest of the season, telling Cosmo that her impulsiveness reminds him of his younger self. He offers to give up a way to return home because he knows the Metarex problem is bigger than himself.

At the end, when Eggman offers him a way home, you can tell they expected him to freak out about it. They’re shocked when he just says thank you, cries, and leaves immediately. They clearly not only will miss him, but they expected him to freak out like he did at the age of twelve. But he’s not twelve anymore. He’s spent the last six years surrounded by people who love him, healing from his trauma, and becoming his own person. So now he isn’t unhealthily attached to Sonic, and he can say goodbye if he has to. That growth, so subtly in the background of the season, really impressed me.

Part X: Fandom Reaction

On June 24 2022, I posted this meme to both twitter and tumblr.

On tumblr I got no pushback and a few agreements. On twitter I got a tidal wave of discourse, which tells you a lot about the two sites but regardless, this is the first time I get to ratio my commenters cause as of today, it has 23.4k likes and only 161 replies and 156 quote tweets. So that’s barely over 300 people (TOPS, considering several replies were positive) arguing against 23,400. So I may not be the only one thinking this!

But even still, with this being my most viral post atm, I got so many people bitching about Chris still. Even after all these years, he’s despised for being so annoying. And what is it? Is it really the fact that he got main charactered over Sonic? Really, I thought that was a plus of the show, that Sonic was a static figure that influenced what was around him. It doesn’t work for every Sonic property, but it did for this one. Was it just a hatred for humans in the franchise? Probably not, everyone loved Helen and the recent movies.

I really do think a vast majority of it is his realistic reaction to the trauma of neglect. “Ugly” trauma symptoms, like attachment issues, impulsive destructive behavior, aggressiveness, and selfishness, they are not looked upon kindly. Just look at how TikTok picks and chooses cute parts of mental illnesses and calls the rest “toxic.” And yes, sometimes mental illness can cause you to be toxic! And sometimes you’re just mentally ill! Sometimes you just have bad days and bad decisions and horrible mental states, and sometimes, life gets better. Sometimes life gets better and you begin to heal, and that’s what Chris’s arc was about, about him slowly gaining his own agency and starting to heal from his abandonment trauma. And he does this through the help of others. But with him having several moments where he reverts, several moments where his healing is non-linear, viewers see it as an annoying personality trait, not a trauma symptom he is trying to overcome. And one that he does. I cannot emphasize enough that he does overcome this and that the narrative specifically focuses on it. I’ve seen so many people say it was a writing flaw, that they never criticized Chris for his attachment to Sonic... it’s the focus of two season finales, what are you talking about? I think at that point, it’s just you.

Just think about why you find him annoying. You do not have to like Chris as a character but please recognize that his arc is a realistic portrayal of a neglected child and that’s why he is the way he is.

Part XI: Conclusion

I was gonna write a full-ass conclusion here but tumblr’s already trying to kill me over wordcount so uh. tl;dr Chris isn’t annoying he’s a traumatized child and this is something the narrative notices, examines, and resolves. What this means is that it’s not a writing problem, it’s a character flaw brought on by trauma that his character arc makes him heal from.

Leave him alone.

#chris thorndyke #sonic x #sonic meta #chris thorndyke meta #sth #mine #connie writes #connie goes ape

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iamthat-iam · 3 months

Text

Outer Space (another ND Story) 🌌🌠💫

Since Taylor was a child, she always wanted to go to outer space. Every time she played, she would always imagine that she was an astronaut who would fly her spaceship into the cosmos and visit other planets.

She always had an inkling that there was life outside of Earth. She used to make all kinds of alien friends, and she made sure to tell her parents about them all.

As she grew up, unfortunately she lost the spark she once had as a child. Life seemed to put her in bad situation after bad situation, and all she wanted was an escape. Her family had a history of addiction, so Taylor tried to find every resource possible so she wouldn't end up down that route.

She was introduced to a "guru," whom she went to for guidance and advice. She told him her entire life story, including the portion of her childhood where she was fascinated with outer space.

"Honestly, going to space would make me happier than anything," she admits. "It used to make me so happy as a child. Now I'm depressed because life is constantly beating me up. I just want to escape."

"Escape from what? What is here now that you need to escape from?" The guru inquired.

"My problems, my depression, just about everything.." Taylor sighed.

"Where do your problems go when you are not thinking about them? Who is depressed?" The guru questioned further.

These two questions perplexed Taylor a bit. Is there a secret answer?

"Umm.. I'm not sure how to answer the first question. The second question is obviously me... Who else would i be referring to?"

"I'll give you a hint," the guru smiled. "When I asked you 'what is here now that you need to escape from', I was pointing to this present, unfolding moment. Right now, in this room we are sitting in, your problems don't exist. Same thing with your depression. You are aware of feelings that you've labeled 'depression', but are YOU actually depressed?"

This actually made Taylor think. He does have a point. When Taylor is focused on other things throughout the day, and not her problems, they don't seem to exist in that moment. Something clicked about her depression as well. This whole time she was assigning a negative meaning to feelings that actually have no meaning at all?

"So what you're saying is, I've just accepted a narrative about myself that's not really true outside of me accepting it as true?" Taylor asked.

The guru clapped and gave Taylor a wide grin. "You are absolutely correct! Now let's go deeper. You said you always dreamed of going to outer space as a child. When you described this experience, you spoke as if it didn't really happen, or it was fictional. Tell me what is more 'realistic' about our conversation versus the 'daydreams' you had as a child."

Another mind-boggling question from this guru. Taylor hesitated a moment before she gave her answer. "Well I'm experiencing this conversation with the 5 senses, doesn't that make it more real?"

The guru shook his head. "Have you ever noticed during your dreams at night, the 5 senses work the exact same way as when you're awake? The 5 senses can't possibly be the culprit that makes one experience "more real" than another. Have you noticed that there is a common denominator between all experiences, whether it's the waking state, sleep, daydreaming, or visualizing? What is always present during all of this?"

This gave Taylor an a-ha moment. "I'm always present during all of these experiences! So does that mean one experience is not more real than the other, because I'm always aware during it all?"

"Absolutely," the guru stated matter-of-factly. "This means that your experiences in outer space where you made alien friends are just as 'real' as this conversation we're having now."

This was enough to bring Taylor to tears. She couldn't believe she created a barrier between herself and her "desires" as if she was seperate from them. The friends she made and all the wonderous experiences in outer space were real events that actually happened. But she took her suffering to be real, and has been torturing herself for years for no reason!

"I... Don't know what to say except thank you.." Taylor uttered through tears. "You've given me life-changing advice today. How can I repay you?"

The guru gently held Taylor's hands. "You don't owe me a thing. I am just you pointing you back to yourself. Now enjoy your dream. I'm sure your alien friends miss you."

And so Taylor visited her alien friends once more, making up for lost time. She is finally enjoying the freedom she longed for her whole life.

#this is really long but I hope y'all got the message lol #non dualism #nondualism #consciousness #awareness #self realization #self #advaita vendata

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7-wonders · 11 months

Text

The Nightmare

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x reader

Summary: Your daughter has a nightmare, and Morpheus is the one to soothe her.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Just a short little something to get back into writing after my unexpected break. This is in the same universe as "Fatherhood," where you're a single parent with a daughter named Caroline. I just love unexpected parental relationships, okay? (no this certainly doesn't say anything about me and any childhood trauma I have)

It’s been a long day by the time you’ve finally gotten Caroline to go to sleep, and you fall back onto your couch with a heavy sigh. You love your daughter, truly–she’s the light of your life. But good god, why do children not have an off switch? Why do they have to be “go-go-go” from the moment they wake up until they literally pass out from exhaustion?

“Long day?” Morpheus asks, having appeared from thin air.

It’s so familiar now that you don’t even flinch when he occupies space that, moments ago, was empty. You can hear the teasing in his voice, but you barely even have the energy to open your eyes and look at him.

“You have no idea.”

Morpheus joins you on the couch, and you lean your head against him with a sigh. He smiles down at you softly, brushing a couple of stray locks of hair behind your ear. “Might I help you relax after your long day, then?”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” you say with a smile.

Instead of actually doing any sort of relaxing, you somehow end up making out with your primordial, all-powerful boyfriend on the couch like you’re a couple of teenagers. Par for the course, you have to admit; though Morpheus may not seem it, he’s extremely affectionate, and you’re more than willing to accommodate him.

When crying starts up in earnest from Caroline’s room, you frown against Morpheus’s lips. She’s historically been a good sleeper, sleeping through the night since she was a baby. To hear her crying concerns you, though most things regarding your child concern you. It just comes with the territory of being a parent. Still, you try to ignore it and continue kissing, hoping that she’s just restless in her sleep.

You’re already up and heading to her bedroom by the time she calls out for you, Morpheus completely forgotten.

The light from the hallway illuminates her tear-streaked, flushed face when you open up her bedroom door. She has the blankets pulled up all the way around her, with only her face peeking out of the opening.

“Baby,” you coo, sitting down on the bed and letting her crawl into your lap and bury her face in your neck. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare,” she whimpers.

“Oh, that must have been so scary,” you commiserate, feeling her nod against you.

“I looked and I looked and I looked, but I couldn’t find you!” she cries out, devolving into sobs that shake her entire body. You hush her and rock her, reassuring her that you’re right here and that you aren’t going anywhere.

“It’s okay though, you know that nightmares aren’t–”

You stop yourself before you say what you’ve always said to comfort her, which is that nightmares aren’t real. If there’s one thing you’ve learned since you began to see Morpheus romantically, it’s that dreams and nightmares are very much real. How are you supposed to help your daughter now when your normal placation is a lie?

You panic, your eyes searching the air as you try to think of something to say. They land on Morpheus, who stands silhouetted in the doorframe. He enters the bedroom, which you hadn’t expected. Even more unexpected, he kneels down next to you and places a hand on Caroline’s back.

“Dweam,” Caroline says when she realizes he’s here, in the little kid way that always makes your heart ache.

“I heard that you had a nightmare,” Morpheus says in lieu of a greeting.

“A scary one,” she insists, not that either of you needed any convincing.

“Sometimes they are, yes. Though, a very reliable source has informed me that they are far more scared of you than you are of them.”

Caroline looks up at Morpheus with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Oh yes. Especially when you growl at them.”

Caroline giggles against him, and you stifle your own laugh in your hand. “You’re silly.”

“It is true. Show me your best growl?”

She scrunches up her face, bears her teeth, and roars like a little bear. Morpheus nods seriously, while you hide your face in his shoulder so that you can laugh in peace.

“Very frightening.”

One of the many things that you love about Morpheus is that he doesn’t treat your daughter like a child. No, she’s a person, only small, with thoughts and emotions that deserve to be taken seriously.

“Would you like to hear a story?” Morpheus asks when it’s apparent that any sign of tears is long gone.

Caroline perks up and nods. She loves Morpheus’s stories; he’s not called the Prince of Stories for no reason. If you’re being honest, you love his stories too.

Only at her say so does Morpheus maneuver his long legs to fit onto Caroline’s toddler bed, with you shifting effortlessly to the floor to allow the two their space. Caroline snuggles into Morpheus’s embrace, and her thumb goes to her mouth as she looks up at him. After he thinks for a moment, likely flipping through his mental arsenal, he decides on a tale of a little nightmare that didn’t know what her purpose was.

By the time he reaches the climax–the little nightmare was actually a little dream, whose purpose was to comfort children having nightmares–Caroline is snoring softly against him, and she has been for a few minutes. You’re a little in awe of just how easily Morpheus got her calmed down and back asleep, with no magic other than his voice. You wish you had your phone with you, so you could capture this memory forever.

He disentangles himself from Caroline, taking extra care not to jostle her any more than absolutely necessary. You pull the covers back up over her, kissing her little forehead as you do so. Morpheus smoothes a gentle hand through her tangled curls—you pretend not to notice, instead waiting for him at the bedroom door.

When you’ve successfully shut the door without waking her up, you look up at Morpheus. “Thank you.”

His strong brow furrows in confusion. “For what?”

“Getting Caroline back to sleep. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense. She was disturbed by one of my own creations; it was the least I could do.”

You almost laugh at just how much of a non-issue this was for him. In his mind, it makes perfect sense that he would obviously comfort his lover’s daughter. For you, though, it means the world, and you tell him as much.

He shifts uncomfortably under your praise, and you’re practically waiting to see him blush. Alas, not this time. “She is your daughter,” is all that he says in response.

When he tries to kiss you again, you yawn. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I actually am tired.”

“Shall I see you off to my realm as well?” Morpheus asks smoothly, kissing at your jaw instead.

“Hmm, as long as I’ll see you there?”

“That can certainly be arranged.”

You know how much Morpheus’s realm means to him; it quite literally is him. It’s not lost on you, what it means for him to so easily shift things around just so that he can spend as much time with you as possible.

You’ll never take for granted just how much he loves you and, much to your surprise and delight, your daughter.

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus #the sandman imagine #the sandman

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cherr-22 · 6 months

Text

TNGDH 33

Knock knock.

Kyle didn’t respond to the short, clear knock.

After counting to three inwardly, I entered the study. He was still sitting on the sofa as if he were ruminating on something for a long time.

The silence that engulfed the room seemed to represent his loneliness. I walked beside him and parted my lips.

“What are you thinking about?”

“……I said I would kill him.”

“Kill who.”

“My brother.”

Brother.

I felt bitter.

Kyle, Belial, and Lorenz spent their childhood at the palace together.

To say that their relationship back then was harmonious would be a stretch, but they didn’t really resent each other. It was only because of the problems between the adults. They must’ve spent their time together practicing their swordsmanship and blessing each other’s birthday.

But to say he’d kill him.

When did he say those words? And how did young Kyle feel as he said those words?

I didn’t know the story behind them, but perhaps that was why Kyle was chased to the North. Kyle, who was the child of a concubine named Jane, must have been a thorn in the eyes of the people in the palace.

I sat next to Kyle and watched him quietly. His expression was a mixture of regret and remorse.

“At first, I wanted to survive to show them. Show them that the world won’t always go the way they want it to. And I wanted to protest. Just because they want to get rid of something doesn’t mean it would be gotten rid of so easily. That was why I survived and survived and survived no matter what…….”

To him, there were no words more tiresome to hear than to survive. After all, human beings don’t survive just by breathing.

Eventually, we would have to eat, and when the sun falls down, we would go to sleep. When the temperature drops, we wear more clothes, and to be able to do anything, we need money.

That’s right.

This was why I liked Kyle in <Winter’s Heart>. His life after being driven out to the North resembled my own.

“…….”

I couldn’t say anything back to him. I felt that no words could measure the depth of sadness contained in his voice.

However, I knew that he had been lonely during all those times. It had been a loneliness colder and harsher than the North itself.

“……But I realized revenge isn’t everything. I realized this after a long time. Just because I have my revenge doesn’t mean I would become happy. I won’t be able to forgive the people of Duke Klein until the day I die, but I have no intention of devoting my life to revenge.”

Kyle looked straight into my eyes. His unwavering red eyes were more deeply embedded into my mind than ever before.

“……Why did you start to think that way?”

I barely managed to squeeze out my words.

I had to hear his thoughts.

The system clearly told me Kyle’s purpose was revenge. If he lived only for revenge, he would live a life where no one could ever point their fingers at him.

“I found something I love. Something I want to protect.”

His voice sounded sweet as he said that. His eyes were on me, as if he were saying it to me.

I felt myself getting hot and rubbed the back of my neck while leaning against the armrest of the sofa.

“Still, I sometimes think that if I stop seeking revenge because of that, my mother’s death would become sad and unfair.”

The voice sounded sadder. I abruptly raised my head and reflexively opened my mouth.

“No! She would say you have done a good…….”

I couldn’t finish my sentence. Before I knew it, Kyle leaned towards me and wrapped one arm around my waist to pull me towards him.

My lips quivered as I continued.

“What do you think a parent would want for their child? It would obviously be for their happiness. They would say thank you for being born and for surviving………….”

I narrowed my eyes and closed my mouth. That was because the blurry image of the faces of my parents whom I can barely remember appeared in my mind.

What did their eyes and nose looked like, what kind of expression they made when they laughed, what their tone of voice was as they called my name. I couldn’t remember anything anymore, but I knew at least one thing.

I knew that they wished for my happiness. Rather than living in my uncle’s house and being exploited, and rather than accepting death so vainly, they would have hoped for me to lived in a more kind and gentle world.

A world where a person like Kyle would be in.

I stretched out my arms and hugged him. Then he hugged me back tightly by my waist.

“They would tell you that you did well. That you made the right choice to give up your revenge. That they hope you smile more tomorrow than you did today.”

“Strangely enough, when you put it that way it feels like what you said is true.”

I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere, but I somehow felt comforted myself by his words.

I let out a laugh and patted him a few times before trying to pull myself out from his embrace. I’ve been out of breath since earlier. Just how strong is he?

“……Umm.”

However, my waist was held tightly in his arms.

He seemed to have had no thoughts about letting me go, so I sighed and let him do as he wanted. Anyways, there was still some time left in ‘Summon’.

“If you don’t want to let go, please answer my questions. Was your revenge something like a rebellion?”

“That’s right. My mother was someone who was supposed to become Serena. However, she was falsely accused by Duke Klein and was forced to raise me on her own in the cold alleyways until her deathbed. I entered the imperial palace after her death.”

“……And you had no thoughts of taking the throne?”

“I’d be lying if I said I had no thoughts about it at all. But right now, I don’t. I’d rather have them take care of things like the throne themselves.”

Kyle spoke aggressively before toning down.

“This is my hometown.”

I understood what he was saying even without him explaining. How much he cared about this place and the people here. It was obvious even to me, an outsider.

It was the same in <Winter’s Heart>. Even though the land had nothing but steep cliffs and never-ending snow, the people were happier than those at the imperial palace.

‘……Then why.’

Why did it turn to treason in the original story? If what Kyle said was true, he would have given up on rebellion and lived with the people of this territory peacefully.

Was it also a trap made by Belial or Lorenz? Just thinking about one person was a headache, but with two, I don’t know what to do. Well, things will reveal itself over time. And besides, we won’t run into each other for a while.

After organizing my thoughts, I looked up at Kyle. I placed my hand on his shoulder and patted him.

“Then, let’s try to make your hometown grow a little more. Right now, the Blake estate is relying too much on Your Majesty.”

“……I can’t deny that.”

“There are a lack of trades and supplies are always tight. I honestly wonder how you grew it this much on your own.”

“……Hmm.”

“Anyways, even as a barren land where it is difficult to make a living, it is very isolated. If Your Highness is away for a long period of time, the people will be in danger.”

“You’re right.”

Kyle listened to my words seriously. Before I knew it, I was rambling in his arms.

“Let’s take it slow. First of all, it would be good for us to not be politically and economically isolated.”

For that, we need allies.

Kyle was capable but had a strong, single-minded personality. Of course, he had the bonds and strength of the people of the North, but it was only limited to the North.

‘I never saw him get along with the nobles outside the territory.’

So it would be easy to get cornered.

Thankfully, Kyle nodded his head. He listened to me carefully as if he agreed with me.

“It’s also important to figure out who was behind the attack on Belial. It should certainly not be one of your allies. We need to be careful in picking our allies, otherwise we might get betrayed and stabbed in the back.”

“Don’t they say the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“Is there anything you might know about?”

“……I’m not sure. It’s a secret.”

I was finally released from his embrace. Kyle stared at me suspiciously, but I ignored it.

“You are talking strangely.”

“I thought you’d pass it off.”

The system window displayed the 5 minute warning and I slowly prepared to return back to my room. I glanced at Kyle once and then at the hamster house once.

Then, I added one more word of advice.

“You must find out.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Then, I will get going…….”

“Where are you always disappearing off to? I never see you in the castle.”

“Don’t try to find out. You’ll only get hurt.”

I blurted out whatever response I could think of.

At this point, I was surprised at Kyle. Why was he keeping me close to him when my identity was unclear and when I never told him anything about myself?

Is it the trust in his people?

Or, is it because he truly cares about me…….

“……What nonsense am I thinking.”

I shook my head and headed for my room.

All the running on the hamster wheel finally showed its results. At the very least, I could run faster than during my previous life.

--------------------------------------------------------

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#tngdh

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lovingperfectionsblog · 2 years

Text

Flinch

Max Verstappen x Reader

Requested: Yes

Heyyyyyyy, loved the new max fic! I was hoping you could do a max X (famous) Reader where the reader went through physical and verbal abuse from her parents as a child. Now they've been dating for a while and Max knows she isn't super close to her parents but doesn't know why. And like something max says/does in an argument just triggers her accidentally and she just huffs out of the apartment (not a breakup, just a let's do this later) and max is super pissed cause he doesn't know what he did. Then reader comes back very late at night and Max is sleeping in their room but wakes up when he hears the door open and he goes to check on her and she's just sitting on the floor with her head between her knees and her back to the couch and her shoulders are shaking so max thinks she's crying but she isn't making a sound, and this is where he feels like something is truly wrong (cause he's never seen the reader cry before). Then he walks towards her, and even though he's super silent, she hears his footsteps and she just immediately stops crying and puts on a tough face which makes max suspect her childhood was worse then he thought. He goes and sits and asks her what's wrong and she finally tells him the truth and he comforts her and tells her that he'd never do anything to hurt her.

Summary: Max discovers the abuse his girlfriend had been subjected to as a child after he messes up.

Warnings: Abuse, talking about historic abuse, language.

Word Count: 2448

Authors Note: So this request has been sitting in my inbox for far too long now and honestly I really did want to write this one but truthfully this was a difficult one to write, albeit cathartic because a lot of this is based on my own experiences and the realization of that flinch when you experience when you are in an environment that you are actually safe in is a gut wrenching feeling. So if you like this I am glad, if you don’t, that’s okay, it was helpful to me. If you ever face any abuse or you aren’t even sure you are facing abuse, please reach out. You are not alone (as cliché that may seem), but you are not alone and there are ways to get help and there are ways to make sure you are safe, both mentally and physically, and speaking from experience, all it takes sometimes is doing the thing that everyone tells you is wrong but truly is the best thing for you. Please please be safe and always speak out against abuse and always make sure you are safe, physically, emotionally and mentally. You are loved and cherished and most importantly you are seen.

Also to note, I based a lot of this on the guilt and fear around what you experience and the tactics learnt to survive environments. I hope it is okay and I hope everyone likes it and has a wonderful, safe day <3

_____

“Max, I said I am done talking about this” your voice was low and cold, no longer willing to entertain the argument that Max had started through one of his bad moods.

“And I am not” Truthfully neither of you even knew what this argument was even about at this point, but it was in full swing with Max only gearing up.

Max wishes he could stop, Lord knows he wishes he could stop but once he was in one of these moods it was like his entire brain shut down and all he felt was anger, not thought it, felt it.

He hated that this was your first fight, over something that he couldn’t even remember but the first fight had to happen didn’t it and Max was not about to lose it.

“Max, either you talk calmly so we can discuss the actual issue, or we drop this until you have calmed down” you weren’t willing to just encourage a screaming match because at this point it seemed like you were going around in circles and Max was too angry to listen to any reason.

“The fucking issue is you never fucking support me, or is that something you’re incapable of doing, just tagging a long with the little rich boy for the ride of it all?” the words felt like dirt in his mouth. He knew that realistically you were in the only person in this god forsaken world of his that actually truly did give a shit about him truly, that you actually really did love him, but he was angry, and he wanted to hurt someone, he wanted to hurt you.

“Max, I’m sorry baby, I’ll try harder next time, I didn’t mean to not support you, I’ll do better from now on” you knew you weren’t wrong, but this was the next best option and the sudden fear from Max’s continuous screeching was overwhelming you and backing you into a corner. You were now doing what you had to in order to survive. What they had taught you to survive.

Placate. Agree. Retreat.

Just say okay, just say sorry, hide.

“NO! NO! NO FUCKING SORRY’S NOW Y/N!” Max threw his hands up in the air in frustration, hitting the wall next to him.

And you flinched.

Silence filled the entire room. The entire argument completely over in a second from Max’s actions.

You flinched.

Retreat.

“I have to go” the room suddenly suffocating you.

Max suddenly terrifying you. Too man memories resurfacing from your childhood and if you didn’t get out of there now then Max would find out about it all and that was a conversation you weren’t entire ready to open up about.

Truthfully, if you never had to open up about it then you never would. People don’t exactly understand the type of childhood you had and eventually you get tired of explaining it for them to just turn around and still question why you refuse to let your parents into your life.

And no one had ever seen you flinch.

No one had made you feel vulnerable enough to flinch and you were angry that he had. You were angry that he had made you feel safe and broken down those walls only to do this to you.

In his defence, he didn’t know, and he didn’t need to.

Just. Get. Out.

Max could do nothing other than watch you leave. He didn’t try stop you. He didn’t try and make you stay. He just watched. Entire body frozen, hand still supporting him against the wall.

Every ounce of anger in his body was suddenly replaced with a mixture of shame and confusion.

Did he just make the woman he loves flinch in an argument?

The guilt suddenly consuming him entirely. He had hit the wall and made the woman he planned on one day marrying fucking flinch.

He needed to change. He was never going to do this again. This anger he was done with. This uncontrollable rage needed to go. He needed to do whatever he could to make sure you felt safe. He was never willing to see that fear in your eyes again. A fear he fucking caused.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Maybe he was the monster people thought he was.

Maybe he was his dad after all.

No. No. He was never going to be his father. Never. He was going to be better, and Max did not care what parts of himself he needed to kill off in order to make sure you felt safe around him. To make sure you never had to worry again in his presence. Even if he had to kill off any of the anger that spurred on his driving, it would be worth it.

He was not his father and he needed to be better for you.

Once Max had recovered from the shock of what he had done he was pulling out his phone and making arrangements. First, therapy for his anger issues and realistically, all the childhood ones he faced. Secondly couples’ therapy. When he said he was willing to do anything, he meant absolutely everything. Lastly, he was booking a week away for the both of you. Anything to try and get you to forgive him. Anything to make up for what he had done to you.

_____

Max felt sick as he lay in bed waiting for you to come home, if you were even going to come home.

If you were ever going to come home.

He had been unable to sleep at all and had done nothing but lay in bed checking the time for what felt like hours. In truth it was hours. You had been gone for hours and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where you were. He didn’t know if you were safe. You hadn’t taken your phone, just your wallet and house keys. Just those two. Maybe he should get up and check again if you’d taken anything else. Any indication of where you were or might have gone or when you’re coming back and yes, he should probably go and check again.

What was the time? 1:23am.

He needed to know where you had gone. You were smart. You wouldn’t put yourself in danger, would you? You looked so fucking scared of him. Max couldn’t dwell on the look in your eyes for too long or he was sure he was going to get sick, but he couldn’t stop his brain replaying the flinch. Again and again and again and again and noise and flinch and noise and flinch and noise and flinch and now you were gone, and he had no idea where you were and this was all his fault.

He distracted himself by reciting his apology over and over again. In his head and then our loud. Practicing his movements as he lay there, making sure to never raise his hands to high or too quickly. Admonishing himself when he by mistake did.

God, what was the argument even about. He’d lose every single argument from this moment onwards if it meant you never looked at him with fear again and –

That was the front door. Fuck, that was the front door. Relief mixed with shame was an emotion Max had yet to ever experience but my god he was glad he was experiencing the relief part of it right now.

Max was up instantly, making his way towards the lounge where he assumed you were, seeing as he had yet to hear you move any deeper into the house towards him. He got to the door of your bedroom and paused, simultaneously terrified of scaring you further and terrified of what he might find.

Eventually he made he was through the dark house, slowly as to not frighten you, expecting to find you getting ready to make your way to bed but instead he found you, small and enclosed on yourself on the floor in the dark living room.

You sat with your back leaning against the couch, head against your knees as you hugged your legs closer to you, shoulders shuddering every few seconds and Max was confused, but the longer he stood there watching, the more it dawned on him, you were crying.

The sight was so odd to him because as Max wracked his brain for what was happening in front of him, he realised that this was the first time he had ever witnessed you cry and in that moment his heart shattered.

Max took a step closer, hesitant but protective nevertheless, intent on only comforting you now. He must have stepped to hard because in an instant you had shot your head up and were wiping away the tears before turning to look at him. In the moonlight Max could already see a small smile plastered to your face.

“I’m sorry for waking you baby, go back to bed, I promise I’ll be there soon” you immediately began remedying the situation, nervous that any hint at emotion would make him angry.

‘Remember, remove any emotion, then he won’t punish you’ A trick they had taught you to survive.

“You were crying” it’s all Max could say. God was he that socially inept that he couldn’t think of more to say when he just witnessed his girlfriend crying for the first time, ever.

Like, this was weird right? He wasn’t being absurd, how had he never seen you cry before?

“No, no, baby, I’m fine, I promise” you tried your best to reassure him, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself than you already had.

“I’ve never seen you cry before” why had he never seen you cry before?

“I don’t cry my love” your voice was sickly sweet. You wanted this conversation to be over with. You wanted him to go back to bed.

“That’s not- that’s not healthy” Max made his way over to you, sitting in front of you, placing his hands on your knees, realizing how puffy your eyes, how long, how deeply you had been crying. This wasn’t some fight, this was more, “why?”

“Why what?” there was trepidation in your voice.

“Why don’t you cry?” Max had never tried to be so gentle before in his entire life, but he wanted you to know this was safe, he was safe, you were safe.

You were at a loss for words. Why don’t you cry? You couldn’t exactly tell Max the real reason, but how he sat there, looking at you, begging you to be honest, maybe for the first time ever about this all, maybe you could tell him.

“My dad” you opted to tell the truth, no matter how painful this may be, but if anyone understood, it might be Max, or it might not be and he could leave, but it doesn’t matter anymore, you already started.

“Your dad?” you’d literally avoided any and all conversation about your dad since Max had known you.

“I didn’t exactly have the greatest childhood” you let out a dry chuckled and it made Max’s throat grow dry, he opted to not interrupt, hoping that if he didn’t you’d continue talking, carry on opening up to him about parts of you he had never knew even existed up until now, gently rubbing your knee, letting you know he was here, but you had space.

“I just, he was so” fuck, were you really about to do this. You could already feel your throat closing up, why did you have to be a throat crier?

“God, he was so abusive and I just, I couldn’t do it anymore and as soon as I could I just got them out my life. He always just, I was never good enough, I was always the problem, he just and then he would shout, and I was always so scared. Every time he got home I’d run upstairs to just stay out of his way, everything was always my fault. He was always shouting, and I was just always scared, and my mom always taught me, ‘don’t you dare show emotion, just say you’re right and I’m sorry, and then stay out of his way, it will only make him more mad if you don’t’ and then one day he just, it hurt so much and I just, and then you shouted and raised your hand and hit the wall, and it was just like” a sobbed wracked through your body and suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Gasping through the sobs, tears streaming down your face.

Next minute you felt Max grabbing you and pulling you close to him, instinctively wrapping your arms around him as you buried your face into his neck, sobbing all the while, gripping onto him for dear life and he didn’t reject you, he didn’t scold you, he didn’t blame you, instead he cradled you, held you close, kept you safe and he told you how much he cared, how he was there, how much he loved you.

And most importantly he told how sorry he was. For everything. For your childhood. How he wasn’t able to protect you from your dad then and how he had made you think he would ever do anything remotely similar to the abuse you had experienced before. Especially for how he had made you think that.

After what felt like hours just sitting there and crying and talking and crying some more and him telling you how sorry he is, how he is going to change for you, how safe you were now and about every single therapy session he was going to and you two were going to go to in order to fix this, Max eventually picked you up and carried you to bed.

After getting you changed and tucking you into bed, pulling you close to him and letting you drift off to sleep, he suddenly couldn’t.

His mind was a mixture of relief that you had finally opened up to him and trusted him enough, relief that you felt safe enough to finally cry and anger at what you had experienced, at the abuse you had suffered and most importantly what he had done to you. How he had never seen it, how he had just subjected you to it all over again.

Even as you slept he kept whispering to you, how sorry he was, for everything and how much he loved you and God he promised he was going to change if it was the last thing he did.

Because at the end of it all, he still made you flinch.

#max verstappen #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #monaco #f1 x reader #Max Verstappen x Reader #Max Verstappen x you #max verstappen x you #f1 blurb #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 x you

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eliteseven · 29 days

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Absolutely love how you portray Tav and Shadowheart. Would you mind sharing some more domesticity HCs please?? They deserve that peaceful, full of love life so much 😭

🥹💕 thank you so much!!!! Sure, I would love to share a few nuggets of domesticity!

ShadowTav Cottage Domesticity HC’s (pt.2)

-Neither Tav nor Shadowheart have a “green thumb”. I think they’re both better at killing things, given how they’ve both spent the last decade 😅 but I feel like Arnell and Emmeline are just pure magic in the garden. They teach Shadowheart and Tav how to plant, water, compost, prune, and just generally care for the plants and trees. It’s like Emmeline’s little lessons in the kitchen. It’s a sweet way for them all to spend time with each other. Plus, every time Shadowheart’s parents remark that she’s doing something in just the same way she would have as a child, she lights up! 🥰

-Shadowheart and Tav starting a book collection 🥹 Shadowheart’s favorite smutty novels, a collection of Emmeline’s recipes, Tav’s favorite childhood books, writings that they came across in their adventures, books they pick up for each other on trips to Baldur’s Gate. They read together nearly every day. Sometimes, Tav reads while Shadowheart naps in her lap out in fields, under the sun. Sometimes Shadowheart gets a laugh out of her and reads her smutty excerpts while she makes supper in the kitchen.

-I’ve said this before but: Shadowheart particularly takes so much joy in decorating their cottage. Tav had her own quarters in her estate through childhood- but Shadowheart never really remembers a room being hers, let alone a cottage. She wants paintings! Color! Flowers, both alive, and of the dried and pressed variety! Little signs of their shared life together still make her eyes sting with emotion. Her clothes mixed in with Tav’s in the wardrobe (I HC they share everything🥰). Her equipment (sword, armor, etc) hanging beside Tav’s in their display. She never feels alone again. She has a home. She belongs somewhere, to someone, just at they belong to her.

-Shadowheart and Tav doing each other’s hair before bed. Or, perhaps, undoing is the proper term here- but I genuinely think this is a romantic, soft, domestic, meaningful ritual for them both. In days where Shadowheart wears her hair up; Tav lovingly undoes Shadowheart’s hair, part by part, runs her fingers through every silken strand. She rubs at Shadowheart’s scalp, gets her to unwind like a kitten, curling into her touch like she’s the warm afternoon sun. Shadowheart returns the favor- she loves Tav with her hair down. She brushes Tav’s hair and watches the stress of the day melt away from her shoulders. It’s something simple, really, but an act of sheer adoration for them both.

-Cottage maintenance, baby! A particularly bad storm has Tav (who…probably still isn’t the best at tinkering or fixing things bc…why would she be?) sitting on the roof, soaked to the bone, trying to patch a part of the roof that’s given out. Sure, they could put a pail under it and call it a day, but Tav is…Tav. It’s over Arnell and Emmeline’s little guest cottage, and she will be damned if she lets her in-laws sleep in the rain. She…can’t fix it. Not till morning, and not without assistance. But she and Shadowheart offer their room to her parents. Shadowheart comes and finds her in the rain, and I like to think…they just embrace it. Rain and all. It’s freeing. Probably stay out there till who knows when, just taking in the rain, embracing each other. Poetic cinema

-Tav comes a long way with the animals. She’s always liked animals, but I don’t think her past afforded her any chance to really have any pets other than her mount in the military (assuming she had one). It warms Shadowheart’s soul to wake up to Tav quietly whispering to Buttons about how busy their day is going to be, or racing Scratch and the Owlbear to the barn, or singing sweetly to Daphne while she brushes her. But seeing Tav holding the little ones: the kittens, the baby chicks, Buttons when he’s a pup…baby fever!!!!! Has Shadowheart down atrociously 😍

-not exactly a domesticity HC but needs to be said: they still train together. Tav will be damned if she lets her skill with a blade get rusty- especially now that she has a family to protect. Shadowheart, too- wits and blades always sharp, just for a different, kinder goddess now. Now, if they’re both sweaty and worked up and happen to simply jump each other’s bones afterwards, every time…. 😏 I digress

-bittersweet last one here: Tav is a human. Shadowheart will outlive her. She’s well-aware of this fact, and though she is living her best life, she worries for Shadowheart in the future. I’ve been playing with the idea that, every day, when Shadowheart is otherwise occupied, Tav slips away to write her a little note. Like a diary entry, almost- but for Shadowheart. Sometimes they’re brief thoughts, sometimes it’s as simple as telling Shadowheart how ethereal she looked that day, and how much Tav loves her. Tav saves these notes over the years as she compiles them. Hiding them from Shadowheart is one of the hardest things she ever has to do. But…one day, when Shadowheart is aching from the loss and misses her…well, she can open up this journal, or collection of notes, and fall in love with Tav all over again 🥹💕 Tav documents all these sweet little moments of domesticity, and they gain eternal life on that parchment. Shadowheart is free to relive their love and life together as often as she wants. I think she will always be Shadowheart’s home.

#nls series #shadowheart x tav #oc: serena tavyndír #ask #anonymous #bg3 #my hcs

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topguncortez · 1 year

Text

Father's Day | Dragon & Rooster

Dragon & Rooster masterlist | Opposites Attract Masterlist

synopsis: Dragon made a vow to make Father's Day a special day for Bradley

word count: 750

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, parent death, bleeding, mentions of child death

Father’s day had always been a tough day for Bradley. When he was younger, he would be the only child sitting and watching as other children made cards and gifts for their dads. He was thankful that his childhood friend, Ben Stone, always invited him to sit at the same table as him and his dad. And it even got worse when his mother started dating. Bradley could remember a time, when he was about 15, that his mother suggested getting a father’s day card for her then long-time boyfriend, Paul. Bradley had gone ballistic, and to this day, the words that were shared between him and Carole, haunted him.

Even as Bradley got older, and got married to the love of his life, Father’s Day had been a tough day. It was Father’s Day three years ago, that Dragon had woken up in immense pain, blood coating her thighs. Bradley sat by her side through it all, holding her hand, whispering sweet nothings to her. He even sat in the bathroom with her for hours as she withered in pain and waited for the miscarriage to be over. Dragon had promised him that day, while he was brushing her hair ever so gently, that he would get a good father’s day. That he would have a day to be celebrated, and be cherished with his children right there next to him.

And true to her word, she kept up on her promise.

Dragon moved around as quietly as she could, hoping to not disturb her sleeping husband. She smiled as she took in the soft features of his face. His soft pink lips were slightly parted as soft snores left his mouth. His cheeks, which now supported a light stubble from having a few weeks off, were pink from the warm morning sun. Bradley was never a heavy sleeper, and since having a baby, he had become such a light sleeper that even the slightest move had him waking up. So waking up before him was no small task, and Dragon cheered quietly as she walked down the hallway towards the nursery.

“Good morning, baby,” Dragon cooed softly, noticing the very alert and awake three-month old, looking up at the mobile that hung above their crib. The mobile once belonged to Bradley when he was an infant, and Maverick had it restored and gifted to them. Dragon gently reached in and pulled her child from the crib, kissing their temple, “You didn’t even cry to someone’s attention, my independent duplin’. Let’s go get daddy up.”

Dragon changed and dressed the baby, singing softly to them. She kissed the baby’s temple as she picked them back up in her arms, rubbing their back soothingly as they walked down the hallway. Dragon shook her head, seeing as Bradley was still fast asleep, now laying on his back, sprawled out in the middle of the bed.

“That dad of yours… he’s something else,” Dragon whispered, “Here, tell Daddy to wake up.”

Dragon gently kneeled on the bed, just enough to reach the center of Bradley’s bare chest, and gently placed the baby down. Bradley didn’t even wake up, putting his hand instinctively to his child’s back, holding him to his chest. Dragon chuckled and Bradley stirred, slowly waking up and blinking, looking around the room. His brown eyes opened and looked down at his chest, seeing very identical brown eyes looking back up at him.

“Hey buddy, how did you get here?” Bradley said, his voice groggy.

“Someone wanted to come to say ‘Happy Father’s Day’,” Dragon said, coming to sit by Bradley. Bradley smiled and looked up at her, tilting his head up. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “Happy Father’s Day.”

“Thank you, love,” Bradley said.

“You know Ida wishes you a Happy Father’s Day too.”

Bradley sighed and nodded, running his hand over his child’s brown hair, “I know she does. I wish she was here too. She’d be two now.”

“Yeah…” Dragon swallowed, taking a deep breath, “Two years old and full of attitude, I just know it,” She chuckled, “But she would be the best big sister to you, sunshine.”

“One hundred percent,” Bradley smiled and lifted his child up in the air. The baby smiled widely and Bradley brought them back down, placing kisses all over their face, before lifting them back up, “My smiling baby! You’re always just so happy, my happy baby. My rainbow baby.”

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after-witch · 11 months

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My Heart Was Not So Heavy Then [Yandere Spring Spirit x Reader]

Title: My Heart Was Not So Heavy Then [Yandere Spring Spirit x Reader]

Synopsis: You've always known you were going to die in the spring.

Word Count: 8600ish

Notes: yandere, reader is a married woman, misogyny, mentions of expected pregnancies and childbirth, reader becomes pregnant, physical abuse (slapping); some animal birthing descriptions

You have always known that you were going to die in the spring. It was not a fact that you shared with others--you learned very early that such talk was not acceptable. It earned you stares and whispered words and on one occasion, sore knuckles from your mother rapping them with a stick, sternly telling you to stop talking like that.

So you did.

You pretended not to know that one spring, when the flowers were in bloom, you would die and cease to be. You kept this knowledge with you, a secret in your pocket, but you no longer let it slip from your lips. You kept your thoughts to yourself between the snow melting and the heat of summer rising, wondering, always wondering: is this the spring?

And if you grew up with death woven into your thoughts, stitched like embroidery into your heart, was that so bad? You still grew up. You had friends and played. You learned to read enough to get by and you loved to paint, when your parents could afford the materials, and life was sweet and bitter in all the right turns.

And now you were old enough to marry, though the prospect of it all--marriage, birth, death--seemed almost fruitless sometimes. What was the point? How long would it last?

You were going to die in the spring. And your husband didn’t even know.

You had a beautiful dream that morning. A lovely thing. Hazy--perfect for spring. Something that would no doubt be half-remembered by the early afternoon, only recalled in desperate snatches that you could not possibly hold onto for very long. Not when there were chores to be done and your husband’s younger sisters and brother to mind and neighbors to visit and your mother-in-law to appease.

Such beautiful dreams were lost in the tumult of life. It was to be expected that you’d never fully retain them past childhood, and certainly not now, married and expected to carry your load in your husband’s household while you waited to start your own.

When you were a child, the thought of your impending death was almost like an adventure. But now, you’ve found, it makes your heart feel sick with worry. Would it be worse to die before or after you had a child? Should you even have children? Was it wrong not to tell your husband what you knew?

But you remembered your sore knuckles and the way people stared when you told them, voice high and babbling, that you were going to die in the spring. So you said nothing. You woke up and you ate and you worked and you slept and you dreamed.

Even snatches of beautiful dreams, fleeting and whispered, were better than nothing.

Your mother-in-law--and you all live under the same room, mother-in-law, husband, wife, and his younger siblings--doesn’t care much for dreams. She told you so, the first time she caught you smiling at the breakfast table, still lost in the dizziness of a lovely dream.

Dreams are for children, not for married women, she had said. Someone about to have children of their own, running around your feet. Someone who is expected to be a proper spouse, a proper mother, a proper everything.

Best forget about your dreams, is what she told you. And you knew she meant it in every way possible.

Your husband, Thomas, doesn’t seem to mind your dreams. Figurative and otherwise. When he has a few extra coins in his pocket, he sometimes buys you paints, a little easel. The paints are cheap and the easels need to be carefully prepared before they will accept paint, but you don’t mind the effort. When you’re ready, he always ushers his mother into the house and lets you sit outside and work.

Your paintings will outlive you, and maybe that’s why you like it so much.

Not that your mother-in-law sees the benefit in any of it. Though you’re glad, at least, that she prefers to send you outside the home to work. Go to town, collect herbs, collect wood to be chopped by your husband or his brother that is old enough to wield an ax.

You don’t mind that she puts you to work outside the home so much. There will be plenty to do inside once you’re married, she tells you now and then, and even more once there’s a baby in your belly.

The thought makes you feel already heavy, leaden, like there’s a chain wrapped around your stomach keeping you to the floor… but you don’t tell her that.

Instead, you briskly step through the threshold as soon as you can, sometimes pulling off your husband’s younger sister who loves you (and you do love her, despite her clinginess, despite the knowledge that you won’t be here forever) and wishes you would stay home with her instead.

But you like the woods. You’re always alone in the woods. There’s nobody here to judge you. For your secrets or your paintings or anything else.

The woods are quiet and not-quiet, all the same. Buzzing insects and the trill of birds and the snap of branches from foxes and deer and perhaps, on occasion, a bear.

But there are no squealing children, shouting neighbors, or nagging mothers-in-law here. No children dragging against your skirts, no mother-in-law staring at your belly, tsking, wondering no doubt: when will you be ripe?

Ripe. What a thought. Your hand goes to your belly. You and Thomas had already started… becoming one, as they say, before you were married. You’re not meant to do so, until you’re married. But you were betrothed and Thomas said no one would mind very much, if your belly was a little round at the wedding that winter. But you weren’t pregnant at your wedding. And not now, either.

You wish you could avoid town for a little longer. And, more wistfully, you wish you could remember your dream from this morning. It was something beautiful and fresh. It made you feel renewed that morning, gave you a spring in your step. But what was it?

You sigh, ready to turn at the fork and head into town--when you hear it.

A horrible bleat.

You know that sound, and what it means.

Your legs carry you quick as anything towards the wild, primal noise, and sure enough, there--on the other side of a fence is a sheep, keeled over on her side, bleating awfully with one fresh lamb sitting at her head. She licks it in between her awful screams and you know that there must be another one still beside her. But it won’t come out.

You hop over the fence and her bleats intensify at the sight of you, despite the soft hushings you give her. Your hands reach towards her exposed underside and you see the edge of a leg, tiny and jerking. But no matter how much she bleats, it does not progress.

It’s stuck.

You tug your sleeves up to your elbow--they’ll probably get bloody anyway, but best to spare them as much as you can--and stick your arms inside, feeling the wet, squirming gore covering the lamb that refuses to be born.

“Do you need help?”

Your mind jerks but you force your body to stay still, lest you injure the lamb. You glance up and there is a young man standing in front of you, behind the fence. A stranger. He has chestnut hair that glints a little golder in the spackle of the spring light.

“I--”

The lamb tries to push again, which only seems to make the little thing underneath your hands tremble. But it moves no further.

“It’s stuck,” you say, tongue almost sticking to your mouth. There is no time for introductions or questions when there is a bleeding sheep and a stuck lamb before you. That can come later, as it always does, in times like these. “I need someone to push on her while I move it.” You pause, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Or I need four hands.”

The man laughs and leaps easily over the fence, landing right next to you. When he crouches, the smell of forest flowers spreads, though there is no breeze to bring them. He wastes no time in assisting you, and he must be the son of a farmer, you think, the way his hands deftly manipulate the lamb through the sheep’s thick wool and skin.

As he does so, your hands slip further inside, gripping the slick bloody wool and turning, turning--until there is a little rush of thickened blood and the lamb slides out. There is a moment of silence in which you think, poor lamb, poor thing.

But it bleats. It lives. And the mother jerks her body up, terrified bleats turning to ones of relief, and soon the stubborn second lamb is joining the first in getting its first mother’s bath.

“Bluebells,” you say. And then your mouth goes to your lips.

The man looks at you, and quirks his head to the side. “Hm?”

“Bluebells,” you say again. Then you smile and look down at your hands, covered in wetness and blood and birthing gore. “I… dreamt about them last night. I’ve been trying to remember my dream all morning, and it came to me just then as the lamb came out. How funny.”

He stares at you. You think back to your mother, your neighbor, your friends--the look they gave you when you told them about your spring-induced death. But you just told him about a dream. Why should he look at you so intensely?

But the look is gone before you know it, and instead he smiles. It’s a toothy smile. He stands, and then extends his hand to you. You glance down at your bloody hands and help yourself up, and he merely shrugs, and lets out a little laugh.

He insists on following you to the farmer’s door, so that you can let him know about the lambs. He tells you that his name is Robert, but everyone calls him Robin, and you can call him that, if you don’t mind.

You don’t mind, so you do.

“Did you make a wish?” He asks suddenly, as the two of you make your way up the winding, cleared path between the neighbor’s fences.

You’re busy wiping your hands on your apron--oh, how Thomas’ mother will seethe at the sight of it. “A wish?”

The man does a little spin as he walks--a spin!--and you can’t help but smile at him. He looks to be about your age, but he seems more carefree than the other men in town. Certainly more carefree than Thomas, who as of late has begun to calculate how much he will need to work, to make, to save, in order to expand his family’s home for your own children. You try not to think about that.

“A wish,” he repeats. “during your dream. On the first bluebell of spring.”

You laugh, and a cow somewhere on the other side of the fence moos in response. Silly thing. You’re not sure whether you’re referring to the cow or yourself.

“I’m afraid not,” you say, shaking your head. “I didn’t know.”

The man pauses his steps and hums. His fingers go to his lips, as if this is a serious conundrum, indeed. You remember, then, that you never asked his name. He hops back over the fence and you’re about to call out when he lets out a noise of success, and saunters back with a sprig of bluebells in his hand.

You didn’t see them there before. But you were paying more attention to your hands than the flowers.

He holds them out to you, and raises his eyebrows. “They aren’t the first bluebells this year, but I don’t think it will matter much.”

Making a wish on bluebells. How silly. But it’s just the sort of thing you used to do, when you let yourself indulge more in your secrets.

You reach out and brush the petals with your fingertips, letting the soft petals and stems tickle your skin. Then you close your eyes and make a wish.

You keep that wish in your pocket with your other secrets.

---

That night, Thomas holds you too roughly in bed and pushes too roughly inside you and you close your eyes and think, suddenly, of the bluebells. And the lamb. And the blood. And Robin.

When he pulls out, the stickiness of it all makes you wince. You don’t tell him that you pretended at your own release, and he doesn’t notice the lie.

“That should take,” he says, voice breathy. He rests his head back against his pillow and glances at you. Is it wariness in his eyes, or weariness? Sometimes you wonder if he regrets the marriage. Most of your friends, married off earlier than you, were already with child. Or had one weaning from a wet nurse already.

You wonder if any of them missed their dreams and took them out of drawers and gazed at them, the way you like to do. Any notions you had of leaving town and being a painter died long ago. When your parents died, maybe--but perhaps earlier. When your parents tutted at the idea of paying for painting lessons or when they pulled you out of schooling because you didn’t need much, they said, to run a household. Or when you had that first realization that you were going to die someday, in the spring, when the flowers bloomed, and was there any point to pursuing a life when it was all going to end, anyway?

Thomas says your name and you’re pulled out of your reverie. He leans forward and kisses your cheek, and you lean against him. He’s not a bad man, really. He buys you paints. He peels his mother-in-law from your presence when she’s overbearing.

But sometimes you catch him staring at your empty belly with a frustrated sadness that makes your fingers curl.

Beside you, on the bedside table, is a sketch of bluebells you made when you came home. You didn’t bother using your paints on it--you don’t have the right blues to capture them just right.

The next day, you dutifully visit the farmer to ask about the lamb. You tell your mother-in-law this, and she smiles, grateful that you’re enduring yourself to their neighbors. It is essential, she has told you before, that you maintain a good standing in the community.

And you aren’t exactly uninterested in the lamb or the farmer. But you’re mostly hoping to run into Robin on your way there, if only to ask him to help you find more bluebells like the ones he gave you yesterday. You want to dry them out and save them, and perhaps the next time Thomas’ purse is heavy (though when that will be, considering all the things he is planning, you don’t know) he might be able to find a suitable paint.

But when you ask the farmer if he’s seen the man who helped you yesterday, he gives you a look. A look that reminds you of rapped knuckles and whispers.

“I don’t recall anyone with you yesterday,” he says, glancing behind you before giving you a look that was perhaps skin to pity. Maybe he remembers the dusty rumors from your childhood. Or maybe the sun is in his eyes.

“Well…” you start, and it’s best to shrug it all off, isn’t it? “I’m sorry to have bothered. I’m glad to hear that the lambs are doing well.”

It’s funny how easy it is to wash away strange looks with complacent, neighborly smiles. Funny and a little sad. The farmer waves you off and gives you a basket of fresh bread his wife baked and vegetables his son harvested and a tin of jam his daughter made. You imagine baking bread to give to neighbors and something inside you shudders.

So the farmer didn’t remember seeing Robin. Perhaps Robin was standing behind you. Perhaps the farmer had gotten into the drink a little early.

Perhaps Robin wasn’t real and you were losing your mind and dying from some unknown illness that was finally, finally going to kill you and--

But when you reach the fork in the road that leads in and out of town, there is Robin, leaning up against a tree, a thistle of something dancing in his teeth. He’s wearing a loose white top with frills, almost akin to an undershirt than anything else, and plain black trousers. When he catches your eye, it drops from his mouth as he practically runs toward you.

You think to ask him about the farmer, but he’s talking--there is a bit of green stem in his teeth--before you can speak.

“Did you dream of bluebells again?”

You smile, a forced politeness, and shake your head. You didn’t dream of bluebells, and it was a shame. Instead you dreamt of your belly growing big and there was an awful pain and grayness, and you were dead before your child could even walk, and your husband didn’t care--all he did was pick up the beautifully squirming baby and go on his merry way.

“I dreamt about…” But you can’t tell him about that. You wouldn’t tell your husband about this dream, much less a stranger wearing

Robin’s grin broadens. “What? You can tell me. I like hearing about these first dreams in spring, you know.”

You’ve known this man for less than two hours, yesterday’s lamb birth and walk to the farmhouse considered, but you find him refreshingly strange.

But you shake your head. You shake your head. You wouldn't burden a stranger with the troubles of your life that spill into dreams. What would this young man care about the woes of your life, anyway? Your fears about death and life and marriage. Though perhaps he had a wife. Perhaps she was at home, toiling over the hearth, while he sprawled about the woods and talked gaily with others and grinned at them and gave them flowers.

You force down the bitter kernel of resentment. It wasn't fair to him, you suppose, to spin such an assumption out of nothing. He looked young enough to remain untethered, and men often went longer without marrying, anyway. He was a helpful--albeit unusual--young man who helped you pull a lamb out of a stuck sheep and escorted you to-and-fro afterwards. That was all.

“You think too much,” he says, and the shock of it pulls you out of your thoughts and brings a bit of heat to your cheeks. You do think a lot. It’s a bad habit, started from childhood, when thinking about things (you’re going to die in the spring) was revealed as preferable to saying them out loud.

“You’ll get wrinkles,” he points out, voice sing-song, and gestures a finger towards your lips, which are set in a somewhat serious frown.

He grins.

“It doesn’t matter. Look--” He sweeps his hand down towards the ground, and you instinctively step back as you notice for the first time that there is a carpet of bluebells underneath your feet. They weren’t there before… or were they? You were so often lost in thought in the spring that you perhaps paid more attention to the limited nature of your future than you did the world around you.

And aren’t these just the most vibrant bluebells you’ve ever seen? Their color reminds you of

“Witches' thimbles,” you blurt out. He quirks his head again, like you’re a fascinating specimen at a museum. Not that you’ve ever been to one, or will likely ever go. “That’s… another name for them, isn’t it?”

Heat blossoms across your cheeks. You feel stupid. Silly. Who cares about another name for bluebells? It’s exactly the sort of thing that made people give you strange looks when you were younger--blurting out facts that no one cared to hear. Whether it was the fact of your impending demise or a stream of names for spring flowers.

But he doesn’t look at you like you’re strange. Instead, he busts out laughing.

“Yes!” Like an extremely enthusiastic tutor, thrilled that his pupil has finally gotten an answer correct. “Or wood hyacinth, lady’s nightcap…”

He crouches down and brushes his hands over the blossoms, drooping blue-purple bells that sway just enough in the breeze.

You crouch down--oh, it’s so untoward--and take a sniff. Bluebells don’t have a very strange fragrance, and you only get a bit of bright greenness. And then another name comes to you, and you can’t help the carefree grin that spreads across your face before you spit it out.

“Crow’s toes!”

He stares at you, and there’s a split second where you think ah, that was too much and now I’ve ruined everything, before he bursts into laughter.

“Cuckoo’s boots!” He counters, voice choking with mirth.

It takes you only a moment before you’re the one bursting with laughter, and your crouch turns into a full blown sit right on the ground. Your skirt will be dirty and if someone comes across the pair of you, the local gossip will never end, but you don’t seem to care in the presence of the laughing, strange young man in front of you.

When the laughter fades and you’re left inexplicably sitting on the ground in a pile of bluebells, you finally think to ask something of him. Something you really ought to have asked before, but you were distracted. By lambs and bluebells and the season itself.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before, Robert?”

“Robin,” he says, light and easy. He shrugs just as easily. “I’m only around sometimes. I like to travel.”

His eyes are a brilliant shade of blue. Not quite deep enough to mimic a bluebell, but there’s a dancing light in them. The thought is too much, and you clear your throat and help yourself to your feet.

There is a difference, you think, between being yourself (when is the laugh time you laughed giddily? The last time you made a joke? Your husband could be kind, but he was not silly or carefree or funny…) and being improper.

“Well,” and your voice is back to sounding almost prim, an echo of your mother-in-law. You are a married woman, after all. “I’m glad I’ve caught you when you’re visiting, then. Thank you--” He looks up at you, and there’s confusion in his eyes. Maybe a little hurt, too. “For your help with the lamb,” you finish.

He doesn’t stand up, which is odd enough. Instead he pulls his knees up to his chest and stares up at you. “I didn’t do much.” He sighs, a soft, long sound that makes you want to contradict him. “You could have done it even without four hands, I bet!”

The compliment makes you want to stay. It also makes you want to leave.

“It’s nothing.” You glance down at your hands. They aren’t a painter’s hands, though you often wished they were. They were a farmer’s hands. “My parents were farmers and I grew up here. It’s not the first lamb I’ve helped birth… or cow… or goat.” A low sound from your throat, a mirthless chuckle. “Or a person.”

He blinks up at you.

“Do you have children?”

Your hand goes to your stomach.

“No.”

Your lips get tight and thin and yes, perhaps it is time you left.

He groans, suddenly, and flops back on the grass. One hand splays over his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding annoyed and sorrowful and pouting all in one breath. “Ugh!” He opens his eyes and stares up at the sky. “Sore subjects, there’s always sore subjects…”

You almost feel a little sorry for him. He reminds you of… yourself. Somewhere, deep down, buried under layers of corrections that began with rapped knuckles.

“It’s all right,” you tell him, voice soft. “You didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a common enough question, I suppose.”

“Please don’t go,” he asks, and you want to smile a little at the wheedling tone in his voice. “You’re fun. I like it.”

You shake your head and lift up your skirts. It’s too much, isn’t it? Someone might see. And even if they don’t, there’s that pit growing in your stomach, a pit all women must cultivate for situations like these.

He continues to lay in the grass for a few moments, before he hoists himself up and jumps back into a standing position. He’s back to smiling, as if nothing had ever been said between you.

“If you stay…” His voice is teasing you, drawing you in, pulled candy held on a stick. “I’ll let you use these.”

And you take a step back now, when he crouches and reaches for a bag left loitering on the ground. You don’t remember seeing that bag. Maybe you are too overworked lately. Your brain must be frazzled and fried like eggs in a hot pan.

But instead of pulling out a weapon or something else that has your lips ready to shout for help, he pulls out… paints.

A set of paints. And a traveling easel, with a sheet of cloth ready to be bolted over it.

You stare at the paints. Then at the bluebells. And then at him.

“I… could stay for a little while.”

That evening, blue paint stains your fingertips while you finish your sewing for the evening. Your husband’s shirts, first; then your mother-in-law’s; then the children’s; and then your own.

There is a robin perched in the window and you laugh. A bright, beautiful sound in a room that has seen little giddiness since you and your husband have made it your home. Your husband, busy with his own work, looks up at you with a peculiar expression.

But he says nothing.

He said nothing about your fingertips, either. Although he clearly saw them when you came home. Instead of asking--and you would have told him, surely?--he pursed his lips and gave your arm an affectionate squeeze and told you that he’d bartered for some fresh cheese from the neighbor.

You like cheese, so you’d thanked him, and went about your day.

And now it was evening, bordering nightfall, and the time for chores has ended as a new nightly task was set before you. The task that had you unfastening the laces of your dress, and then your stays, and climbing into bed in your night chemise to wait for your husband.

The window behind you was open, letting in the cool spring air. Singing crickets were as good as music and darkened pinks and purples filtered through the window, the last bits of dappled colors before night would come.

The robin is still there when you tilt your head up and look out the window to catch the fleeting sunlight.

And you swear the bird quirks its head as your husband unfastens his trousers and climbs into bed.

It’s not right to do this. You know it’s not. But you meet Robin again, and again, and again. The spring seems longer than ever and for once you are not fretting about childhood prophecies, you are not foregoing thoughts of happiness and friendships because you’re worried about the fact that you won’t live to cherish them forever.

Instead, you’re meeting with Robin at the same spot, the far far end of the neighbor’s fence where only the lambs like to go. Where the stubborn lamb was born and comes, sometimes, sneaking underneath the fence and sitting between the two of you.

Together, you paint. After a while, Robin brought a proper easel with him, along with a canvas worth more than ten of the canvases your husband could ever afford to buy you. And the paints, oh the paints! Such rich shades that perfectly mimic the natural colors of the world around you. For once, you are making progress on bluebells that aren’t hampered by a limitation in color or quantity.

But you don’t just paint. You talk. About your dreams and the future and everything but your secret. Because for once, you’re not thinking about it.

Because Robin makes you laugh.

Because he makes you feel like yourself, or someone you used to be. Like you can peel off layers of smoke and grease and find yourself again, fresh and new.

Because he makes you feel unmarried.

And if you come home later than usual, if you sing more than you ever had before, if your smiles and laughs fill the house with a lightness it has been sorely missing… is that such a bad thing? Your paintings of bluebells are hung up in your bedroom, and your husband hums at them and says they look pretty. And it’s not exactly like being a real painter but it’s nice enough for the life that you have--and that’s all we can ever hope for, isn’t it?

Robin’s kisses are tinged with the flowers he likes to nibble on now and then. Spicy and sweet.

Today his kiss tastes of honey and you draw back and press disbelieving fingers to your lips. When he grins, as he always does, his mouth is sticky with thick, orange honey.

“Wh--where did you get--” You sputter, licking the taste in your mouth. A delicious floral honey, earthy and sweet.

“Honeycomb.” He gestures behind him, somewhere in that wild, beautiful forest that surrounds the carefully plotted paths the townspeople made so long ago. Then he pulls out a chewed piece of raw honeycomb, jagged and broken. It’s a wonder he didn’t get stung.

You laugh--oh Robin, silly Robin--and say nothing more, but lean forward and begin to lick the rest of it from his lips.

Before the afternoon is out, the two of you make love for the first time. Beneath the tree, above the bluebells, yards away from the stubborn lamb who fell asleep by the fencepost hours before.

“You wicked slut!”

There is a flesh-colored blur and then a sting across your face. Not painful but humiliating and surprising and oh God, you think, at least it wasn’t my knuckles.

She knew. They knew. Your mother-in-law and your husband and probably half the town, if not the whole of it. Someone saw you two (the farmer? You hope not, thinking of his basket and his smile, but thinking of his strange look at you, too) and your mother-in-law has put two and two together to make four.

Four being that you and this young man are clearly engaged in something other than paintings and picnics. You could tell her that you’ve only kissed, nothing more. But it would be worse to admit to anything right now, when gossip has inflamed her imagination.

Do you dare look at your husband? No. Not for more than a second. He stands, firm, his mouth pressed into a frown. But he says nothing as his mother screams at you and slaps you once, and then twice.

“Have you been together?” She practically shrieks the words out, and spittle flies towards your tingling cheek.

“I--” You don’t answer, but your stuttering is enough. Your face is enough. The way your body seems to shrink inward is enough.

Your mother-in-law’s voice turns into a ragged gasp, and she huffs until she sits herself down in a chair pulled from the kitchen. She’s done, burnt out, probably thinking of ways to turn you out of the house.

You don’t know what else to do, so you turn towards Thomas and look at him as fully as you can despite the pain in your cheek and the guilt rolling about your chest.

He stares at you for a moment. And then he raises a hand to slap you, the way his mother had slapped you, the way that his mother has slapped the children and no doubt, the way she slapped him, when he was a child.

But he doesn’t touch you. His hand lowers, slow, and you catch a hint of tears in his voice as he tells you to go to the bedroom and stay there.

Guilt, regret and rebellion, turn over in equal measure in your stomach.

You’re not allowed to walk beyond the plot of the garden fence surrounding your home. Your mother-in-law forbids it, and your husband does not contradict her.

He does tell her that you are never to be slapped again, and that is at least something.

But what relief comes from that is overshadowed when he throws away your paints and your papers, your sketch pad and your pencils.

“No more,” he says, voice low. “No more.”

“Why?” You ask, and you see yourself in his eyes. A wife who sneaks out of the home to dally with young men in the forest, a wife who comes home with paint on her fingers, who stains his mended shirts with the color of bluebells.

He says nothing. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and asks you to mind the cooking supper while his mother goes into town.

You begin to throw up in the mornings.

You begin to have strange dreams, feverish ones, of bluebells and births and sticky dark lamb’s blood.

It’s not until your mother-in-law treats you more tenderly that you realize what it all means. The sickness and dreams and odd feeling in yourself.

You haven’t bled since the end of winter.

You are with child.

The news lightens the household. At least, it lightens Thomas and his mother, who is beside herself with preparations for you. She spends the evenings working on a pile of baby clothes and often comes home from the market with fruits said to ease your stomach, poultices she swears will be ideal when you begin to have swollen feet.

You don’t want to have swollen feet. You don’t want to think about how Thomas must now build the addition to the home sooner than anticipated, and how you’ll have to learn how to feed your child and raise your child, and how there will always be a tether between the two of you that could be snipped at any moment.

Your husband brings you things that are pretty and sweet. But never paints. You don’t think you’ll ever see him walk through the threshold with those again.

But you can’t complain about how he treats you. He insists on buying cushions for the chairs, so you don’t have to sit down as far. He minds what you eat. He holds you in the night, and no longer insists on entering you--a respite in several ways.

He says nothing when you look pensive in the evenings, hands itching for your pencils, your paints.

He never asks whether or not the child might be his, which is just as well--because you have no idea.

The robin comes back only once, which dispels your fantastical notions that perhaps it’s been Robin in disguise all along. That would be ridiculous, of course. Just as ridiculous as the notion that you were some carefree unmarried thing, free to dance about with a stranger in the woods. Just as ridiculous as the notion that you’re going to die in the spring.

“Please?”

Thomas frowns. You haven’t been allowed past the garden in several weeks. It was now nearing the end of spring, your dreaded season, and something deep inside you was going mad with the need to see something past the confines of your marital home.

“Just to the end of the path and back.” You sigh and stretch your legs, lifting up your skirts to show him your swollen ankles. “It will be good for my legs. And fresh air is good for the baby, or so your mother says.”

Thomas can be stern. He has a right to be, you assure yourself, all things considered. But he is not terribly cruel. And so he sighs and tells you yes, but only to the end of the path, and don’t stop for strangers, and come right home.

And you intend to obey him like a dutiful spouse. You really do.

It’s just… when you get to the end of the path, near the fork in the road…

There is the bleating of the lamb.

The smell of bluebells, richer than before.

The twitch of your hand, aching for a brush and paints.

And Robin, leaning up against a tree, a flower rolling in between his teeth like a wayward goat.

He catches your eye, and pushes himself off the tree. His grin is as easy as it was the day you met him and the many days in between.

What do you say in situations like these? Your heart thuds, but offers no answer. Your stomach twists, but says nothing at all.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, head downcast. “I haven’t been able to come.”

“Hm?” You glance up, and he quirks his head. Like a bird. “It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s been weeks, and there’s a stinging in your chest. You’re one of many, most certainly. Or he does have a wife at home and he’s been busy with her and you’re a silly, stupid fling that he’s forgotten about. Heat rushes to your cheek faster than it should--damned pregnancy.

“Sorry,” he says, his eyes wide and his smile chipper. “I said something stupid, didn’t I? I don’t have a head for time.” He sighs, and the soft, languid sound of it goes a long way towards soothing your hurt.

Then he finally looks down at the swell of your stomach and his eyes get wide, the crisp blue of them seeming to glitter as he

“I see…”

He walks a few paces back to the tree and plops down, his back against the bark. You hesitate. You should go home. Someone will see you. More than that, you said you’d go back. You can’t even keep your word, how are you ever going to raise a child?

But you take one step and then another, and Robin reaches out and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

The silence between you feels uncomfortable. But apparently Robin feels nothing of the sort, because all he does is stretch out his legs and pull out his bag (and God, you swear, where did it come from today?) to retrieve paints and easels and your fingers practically shake as he hands them to you.

You talk while you paint, but there is nothing light about your conversation this afternoon. Just as there is nothing light about your painting. It is bluebells, yes. But not a pretty field of them buzzing with bees and floating dandelion seeds and spring sun. Instead it is dark and overcast, the soggy aftermath of a storm.

“I want it on my terms,” you say, and your frown is so set that your teeth begin to ache. Robin hums, and your brush drags down over the canvas, agitated. He doesn’t understand. He can’t. He’s…

Robin watches you paint, and then pulls up a long blade of grass and begins to chew on it.

“Tell me, then.” As if it’s the easiest thing in the world to say to anyone. Much less him, in your current state.

“Thomas told me this morning,” you begin, laying it out with a simmering anger. “That perhaps I can paint again when we’re done having children. When they’re grown. When it will be… appropriate.” The word drips from your mouth like poison.

How often have you heard that damned word in this world? It’s not appropriate to tell people that you see green people in the woods. It’s not appropriate to tell your mother that you met a fairy and she was very nice, and gave you a flower to put under your bed when you slept. It’s not appropriate to mention at breakfast that the flower was magic and it told you your future, that you were going to die in the spring and that was that.

You don’t notice that you’ve stopped painting until Robin’s hand is on yours. When you glance at him, he looks a little serious, and it’s so unlike him that the brush slides from your fingers so that they can intertwine with his own.

“Tell me,” he says. “About the secret in your pocket.”

Your throat constricts. “I don’t have a secret… in my pocket or otherwise.” You feel heavy, suddenly. Because of your skirts and your child and your life.

“I was your secret for a while, wasn’t I?” He taps your nose, a gesture that might have made you giggle a few weeks ago, but now only makes you frustrated. He’s never serious enough, when you need him to be. “You can tell me.” He quirks his head--the bird--and adds, lightly. “I already know, but I’d rather you tell me.”

And… you do.

You tell him about the woods and things you weren’t supposed to see, and your dream about your death that has followed you ever since. You tell him about the way people looked at you until you stopped talking about it at all. You tell him about Thomas’ mother slapping you and the baby growing inside you and the fear that you will die before it is born or die before it is old or die before you’re ever, ever allowed to paint again.

When you’re done, he laughs. He throws back his head and laughs, and it hurts and confuses and tears are blinked away as you try to muster up what to say to him.

The blade of grass gets curled up in his mouth, and he blows on it--a whistle.

“It’s easy. Just don’t get any older.”

It was your turn to laugh. A short, bitter thing.

“Everyone grows old.”

They do, don’t they? Growing old has been a part of you since childhood. Eggs to chicks to hens to table. Watching your grandfather go from lifting you up high to sitting in a chair to lying on a table, his body looking waxy and stiff as everyone wept around you and the room smelled funny.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. As if the very idea was ridiculous.

“You don’t have to do what they want. Grow old--or don’t. Be a painter--or don’t.”

Your fingers brush over the unfinished canvas in front of you.

“Even if I could stay young forever--and I can’t. I… I can’t be a painter when my husband won’t buy me paints.” You frown, which only deepens as you speak. “Or when I’m about to have a child, who will need me to nurse it and care for it, who will pull on my skirts when it learns to walk, who will need to be wiped and washed and taught. And soon enough I’ll be just like Thomas’ mother, and I’ll nag my own daughter-in-law and maybe I’ll slap her when she displeases me. And then my children will be grown but I’ll be old and I won’t be able to hold a brush even if I wanted to.” You take a breath. “And that’s assuming I don’t die well before then, in a spring just like this, and everyone else moves on after me because that’s just what you do when people die.”

He shakes off your words like morning dew. Unimportant, silly things.

“You made a wish.” He picks a bluebell and twirls the stem in his fingers. “You dreamt of bluebells and you got the first wish of spring, and it will come true.”

There’s a pang of stinging irritation in your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed. It feels like no time at all has passed between you and all the time in the world at the same time.

“Robin.” There’s patience in your voice, and something sterner that reminds you of Thomas’ mother. “Wishes aren’t real. Not like that.” You can’t just wish yourself to never grow old or be a painter or do whatever it is you want in this practical, limited place called life.

His smile softens, sweetly. You’re reminded of the kiss with honey between his teeth.

“You had a dream that you would die in spring, and that is real. But you don’t trust in wishes?”

His fingers tighten over yours. Just enough for you to notice. And then they loosen and he’s splaying his hand out, palm up. “Come with me, then. I’ll make your wish come true.”

And he doesn't say it soft and honeyed and low, a temptation. He says it with sureness--with a grin on his face, with the gold in his hair shimmering in the afternoon light, with the blueness of flowers in his eyes.

“It could always be like this,” he says, looking out towards the fence across the way. “If you come with me.” The stubborn little lamb toddles after its mother and there are bluebells surrounding you and Robin at your side.

And a baby in your belly.

“What about my baby?” You blurt out the words, a hand resting on your stomach.

He shrugs, and far away, the lamb bleats. You realize that he never asked if it was his child. Like Thomas, he says nothing of it. It's a baby in your belly and that is that, or so it seems.

“Keep it if you want to. Or we can give it away, if you feel bad.”

You don’t ask to whom you’ll be giving it away, but the way he says it unnerves you, untethers you just a little.

You don’t think he’s talking about leaving the child with an orphanage or on the doorstep of a kindly neighbor. Beads of sweat stick to your back and you think of the stones you used to see in the woods as a child. Large, smooth paved stones. Someone (your grandmother? A neighbor? A whispering thing that dripped words in your ear while you slept?) told you that women left babies there to be taken by fairies and spirits and anything else that would have them.

Green men didn’t always look green, and just where did Robin get his bag and his paints and his bluebells?

You don’t bother asking him what he meant. You’re not sure, really, that he’d tell you.

The thought of not keeping your child never actually registered before today. But then, running away with Robin never registered until this moment either.

What do you want? You stare at Robin’s outstretched palm and look at your own naked one. The memory of the stinking rich lifeblood on it comes to mind, as does the sight of your friend’s round bellies, the screams and sweat of the birthing rooms you attended with your mother.

Is that what you want? A child? That life? The uncertainty of wondering when when when will I die?

There’s a lurch in your chest and you want to leave before it becomes too much. You stand, wobbling, refusing Robin’s hand and starting down the path without another word.

He yells after you, jovial, unconcerned.

“Tomorrow! It has to be tomorrow!”

On the way home, your hand plucks the last of the blooming spring flowers so that you can explain your long absence in front of what you’re sure will be frowning, tutting faces.

But when you stride frantically in, skin flushed and hand clutching a bouquet, everyone stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. You were gone less than a half hour--the time it normally takes to walk up the path and back.

That night, your bed feels rock hard. Or maybe it’s just your nerves that keep you afloat, refusing to let you sink into the mattress as you’d like to do.

Your hand rests on your stomach and Thomas isn’t in bed yet, late nights doing work to make more money to build you an attachment so that you aren’t sharing the same space as his mother forever, and you both love and hate that he’s not here.

If he was here, you might not have the luxury of thinking about anything at all.

But you do, and the thoughts race inside your head, bouncing to and fro like frantic children.

Do you go with Robin? Is Robin a human? Do you keep the baby? Can you leave Thomas? Is it better to live here and die here or go somewhere else and perhaps, be there forever?

There is no bird in your window that night, but you swear you smell the delicate scent of bluebells. Fresh and green and bitter, right under your nose.

Thomas lets you walk to the end of the path again, because you complain about your swelling legs and he thinks getting out of the house is better for your increasingly isolated mind.

And so, here you stand at the fork in the road.

You could turn around and walk home. Back to your husband and his mother and the new life that awaits there. You would let your mother-in-law tut over you and tell you the best way to nurse and feed and how long to wait after birth to conceive another. You would let Thomas guide you and hold you and look at you with stern pity when you wanted nothing more than to paint. You would live there and die there, and who knows when that would be? Could you stand the agony of each spring, every shifting season, promising life for others and death for you? Could you stand never picking up your paints again?

You could walk towards the farm. To the lamb and to Robin, to a beginning that might not have an end at all. You could see if Robin’s skin would peel back green or if he knew where to leave your child so that it could have a good life (but would it?) and ask him if he meant it, when he said you never grow old.

What life do you choose? Which one could be called a life at all? Both? Neither?

Take a step back. Take a step forward.

Stop keeping secrets in your pocket and splay them out on the table and make a choice.

Make a damned choice.

But you don’t get to make one, after all.

Instead, a familiar hand grabs your wrist and tugs you forward, and you stumble over bluebells that don’t crumple down even when you trample on them.

“Robin--”

He’s there, smiling and holding onto you, and behind him is a wild field of bluebells that are so thick and fragrant it’s as if you walked into a maze of them. You spin around, his wrist still holding your own, but the path is gone. That world is gone, lost and brushed over with this hazy spring afternoon.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your nose. He smells like flowers and honey and something bitter underneath that has perhaps always been there, covered with the scent of paints and lamb's blood and your own uncertainty.

“Well?” His grin is as vivacious as ever, and his chestnut hair seems to shine more deeply here, glimmering with golden hues that beg to be run through with your fingers.

In his eyes is the lamb, the roundness of your belly, the deep hue of the bluebells in your dream and the paint that stained your fingers. Were his eyes always so rich? Or did you fill them with your conversations and your laughter, your kisses and your touches? Just as he filled you with dreams and smiles and an airiness you'd long since plastered over.

“Come on!”

He pulls you along, laughing and you don’t know where you’re going. Whether you will live forever or ever paint again or what it will be like. You only know the three of you will start there together, whether you wanted it or not.

You were always, in the end, going to die in the spring.

#yandere #yandere oc #seasonal spirit #afterwitch writes #my bb!!!#wahh I can't believe he's done and the series is rounded out #how funny that one person being like hey you should do other seasons #led me to do this ;asdfsd #seasonal spirits #folklore writing #original stuffs

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minichrismd · 1 year

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Childhood Friends - Ominis Gaunt (Part 2)

Requested! - My requests are still open!

Word Count - 1317

Themes - Fluff & Angst

The next morning, you’d purposely left your curtains open so you’d wake early to the sun shining through your window. You laid still for a minute, listening for any movement in the house, but everything was still. Your parents must still be in bed.

You slipped out of bed silently, changed into your outdoor clothing and silently left your room, creeping down the stairs to the front door, glancing at the clock which stood on the floor, it was 6:30 in the morning. You made quick work of unlocking the door, closing it behind you slowly as to not make a sound.

You took off running as you had done the previous day, heading towards the oak tree. The town was silent at this time of the morning aside from your footsteps echoing as you ran. Eventually, you made it back to the oak tree, climbing quickly to your spot from the previous day.

After what felt like hours you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching, quietly peeking from your spot in the tree, you spotted Ominis. He’d come to meet you even after the events of the night before. You jumped down from the tree, landing a few feet away from him.

“Ominis?” You spoke softly. He motioned for you to come and sit at the base of the tree with him. He tried to smile but it couldn’t hide the sadness that was clear on his face.

You sat there in silence for a while before either one of you spoke.

“I’ve never really had any friends, no one wants to be seen with me because of my family name.” He whispered, so quietly that you almost missed what he said. A small tear slid down his cheek as he spoke.

“I’m your friend though, I don’t care about your name.” You replied, resting your small hand on his shoulder. You didn’t understand why everyone was so cruel to him, why would nobody want to be his friend? He leant into the hand you placed on his shoulder.

“I feel safe with you. I don’t feel safe anywhere else.” He said solemnly. You felt a wave of sadness rush over you, not knowing what to do. After a while Ominis got up from beneath the tree, pulling you to your feet also.

“Can we play a game or something? I just want to be a child again.” He asked quietly, you smiled sadly, agreeing with him that a game was needed now. Ominis suggested hide and seek, to which you agreed, it was one of your favourite games. You hid first, believing that you had the best hiding spot in the area, but Ominis still found you, whether that was down to skill or using his wand to cheat you were unsure. The two of you took it in turns hiding and seeking for hours, the game eventually evolved into hide, seek and chase meaning that you were running away from each other as fast and as erratically as possible.

Laughter rang out across the grassy fields for hours, and you both truly felt safe and free. By the time the evening came, neither of you wanted to leave each other, genuinely saddened by the thought of leaving.

“We’ll meet again tomorrow?” You asked, Ominis looked thoughtful for a moment until his expression fell.

“I’m going to be away for a week, but we could meet again here on Saturday?” He countered. You couldn’t help but feel saddened by this, but agreed regardless looking forward to Saturday, even though it was a week away.

You both said your goodbyes and parted ways for the evening, as you walked away you couldn’t help but look back. You were worried for your new friend, and you wanted him to be happy. Walking home, you were trapped in your own thoughts, you’d never had a friend like Ominis before. Not one that you had immediately felt a connection with, you found that often it would take a long time for you to build friendships to the point of being comfortable around the person but with Ominis it was different.

Walking into your home, your parents were waiting for you sat around the kitchen table. You could tell that they were worried when you saw their expressions as you walked through the door.

“Little one, where have you been?” Your father asked, worry lacing his voice. You walked over and hugged him tightly, doing the same to your mother after.

“I’m sorry, I met up with Daisy this morning and we were laying out in the grass fields. I forgot what the time was.” You answered, it was only a small lie. Your father smiled and stroked your hair.

“As long as you’re being safe, that’s all that matters. Now, dinner is ready, go and wash up.” He spoke softly, much calmer now.

The next few months passed in a blur; you’d meet Ominis at the oak tree as often as you could. You’d spend all day together, playing games and telling stories, talking about your lives. Ominis had opened up to you about what had happened the day that you’d met him. His father had tried to make him cast the cruciatus curse on a muggle and he’d refused. Because of his refusal, his father had made his older siblings cast the curse on him which was why he ran and found you. He told you about how when he returned home that night he relented to his fathers wishes and cast the curse and about how awful it made him feel after. He hated his family and the dark magic that they used.

“Are you going to Hogwarts in the autumn?” You asked hopefully, it was the school that your parents had decided to send you to so you hoped that your friend would join you. Ominis nodded, he was excited to be able to go to school with the person he now considered to be his best friend.

“I’m looking forward to it, it will be nice to have a friend to go with.” He motioned to you; you laughed thinking about all of the adventures that you’d be able to have while you were there. You rested your head on his shoulder as you sat up against the oak tree, listening to the sound of the grass rustling and the birds chirping.

“What if we aren’t in the same house?” You asked quietly. Ominis laughed at that, causing you to frown.

“You don’t exactly seem like a Slytherin to me (Y/N). You’re too kind.” He chirped, it made you laugh slightly but a worry settled in your stomach. You wouldn’t be able to see him as much.

“We’ll still see each other though, right?” You asked with a hint of sadness. Ominis wrapped his arm around your shoulder and hugged you tightly.

“Of course we will, I’m never going to leave my best friend behind. Do you remember what I told you the day we met back at the tree? You make me feel safe. I’m never going to abandon you.” You felt a tear slide down your cheek at his words. Ominis had honestly become your best friend and you cared deeply for him.

The sound of apparition broke you out of your thoughts. You looked up at the figure in front of you and Ominis to see your father.

“(Y/N) stand up.” Your father demanded. Ominis quickly removed his arm from your shoulder and you pushed yourself onto your feet, panic setting in. “I told you months ago to stay away from him, how could you disobey me?” Your father asked, sounding hurt. Tears began to flow down your cheeks rapidly. Your father walked up to you and took your arm, quickly apparating you away. The last thing you saw was the sadness on Ominis’ face as your father grabbed your arm.

Link to Part 3

#ominis gaunt #ominis Gaunt oneshot #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis Gaunt X you

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moiravim · 1 year

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Are you gonna make a part 2 for Moon Dad meets y/n? I would like to see Marc's first meet up.

Moon dad's part 2.

Summary: what it's like living with Steven and Marc as your father figure<3

It has been a month since you moved in with Steven. By now you had been introduced to Marc and had gotten an explanation on who Khonshu is. Marc had immediately grown a soft spot for you.

It was nice being around someone who accepted you and could relate to you.

They had treated you like you were their own child and you were forever thankful. Even Khonshu had a soft spot towards you. Although he often gave you bad and dangerous advice so Marc told you to ignore him.

They knew he wouldn't let anything happen to you, so they didn't mind if you spent time with Khonshu as long as you weren't doing anything dangerous.

You finish the chapter of the book Steven had given you before placing in the bookmark and standing up.

You walked into the kitchen where Steven was preparing breakfast and asked; "do you need any help?". He smiled at you before shaking his head no and responding; "I'm almost done, love. How about you go sit at the table?"

You nod and he smiles lovingly at you. You go to the table and sit down in your favorite spot. It was facing the window so you could look out as you eat.

Khonshu appears and you casually look up at him. The first few times it was scary, but by now you enjoyed his presence.

"What are you doing?" He questions you as you stare out the window. You roll your eyes at his nosiness and respond; "I'm just watching people. Dad's almost done making breakfast..."

"Dad?" He asks. You cringe at the realization and try to play it off. "Dad? I said Steven..." Khonshu lets out a sound that almost sounds like a laugh before disappearing again.

Steven walks up with a plate of breakfast prepared for you. You smile as you grab your fork and taste the food.

He laughs as he looks at your exited face. You loved when Steven and Marc spent time with you and it made them feel bad for you.

It broke Marc's heart to see how happy little things meant to you. It made him overthink a lot about your childhood and made him hate your parents even more.

Steven sat in the seat across from you and started eating his own food. When you finished eating Steven said you could go to your room or watch TV but you responded that you'd rather stay there.

When he finished eating he told you that; "I have something planned. I was hoping that the we could go to the book store today. I just finished my book and it looks like your almost done with yours".

Your face becomes happier and you nod. He leaves the table to go get everything he needs and then goes to put his shoes on.

You quickly tie your shoes before standing up and walking to the door. "Hurry up!" You complain as Steven lets out a small laugh. He finishes putting on his shoes and opens the front door.

He holds your hand as the two of you walk around the large town. When you arrive at the library, Steven lets you look around while he picks out a book for himself.

By the end of the day you and Steven are both satisfied and spend the afternoon reading together. Marc fronts and the two of you lay down on the couch and watch television together until you fell asleep.

Marc carries you back to your bed and tucks you in before leaving a kiss on your forehead. He grabs your favorite stuffed animal which had fallen onto the floor and lays it down next to you.

He leaves the room and quietly closes the door before going to help Khonshu as moon knight.

A/N: should I do a part 3 where YN meets Jake? And maybe YN gets adopted? If you all have any other ideas, lmk 🥰🥰🫶

#marvel x reader #marvel #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #moon knight daughter #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x teen!reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #marvel x gender neutral reader #marvel x yn #marvel x platonic reader #marvel x teen!reader

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moowrites · 11 months

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Summary:

Being the daughter of a cartel leader in hell has never been easy. It has it's perks like infinite money. But that same money just can't buy genuine love.

Warnings: Angsty, a shitty job at writing, cartel and mafia talk, Chaz 💀, reader is a succubus, but only small descriptions of her. Oh and reader uses she/ her 🫶, oh slight Crimson x reader?? Idk take it as you will.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She felt out of place and certainly disrespected.

Her father had instructed her to look her best without question. A maid had come into her room to dress her and prepare her for a meeting she had no information about. She had gone through hours of trying to look good, clinging onto her own bed frame for dear help as the maid kept tightening a corset around her body.

It was overwhelming to say the least.

Her father had knocked on the door, a signal to come out of her room at once. She had fixed the lipgloss on her lips before coming out. Her father was in his suit, checking the time on the watch around his wrist. She eyes the rolex around his wrist, trying to check the time as well. What for? She hadn’t known.

Now, as she sat on the dinner table next to her father, she felt extremely anxious. Crimson had come to visit. Her father was sitting on one end of the rectangular table and Crimson was across. Her little brother sat across from you, to the left side of your father. He was struggling to cut the steak that had been prepared for this special occasion. She takes his plate and cuts it for him before giving it back. Her family hears a small chuckle and all three turn to face Crimson.

“That reminded me of Mox when he was little. He was so useless, his mother had to cut his steak for him.” “Children tend to be weaker, my dear friend.” Her father replies, protective of his child. Crimson didn’t like that. Didn't like the way he talked back. Didn't like the way he said dear friend. Crimson didn't like him. There was a bigger tension now because of this, making her sweat drop as she takes a piece of steak in her mouth. Her face however, was kept emotionless. Her entire face was relaxed, her chin slightly up and back straight as she ate. Her father was the exact opposite, laid back and completely relaxed. The younger sibling ate happily without a worry.

There were more cartel men pointing their guns at Crimson than mafia men pointing their own guns at the (Last Name) family.

After dinner, the dinner table was cleared by staff. Finally, she was going to find out what all this was about. Her father hadn’t told her anything. She was itching to find out why Crimson was here. Crimson had been a close friend of her father’s back when she was a baby. When she was 17 however, her father and Crimson had fought about something and never spoke about it. She had been Crimson’s Son’s friend since childhood. She was two years older than the boy, but best friends regardless. His name is Moxxie. They had broken contact when their parents had their argument and not a single word or letter was ever exchanged between the two. This was the reason the lady was nervous. She was nervous about their parents causing a war between their groups if anything was to happen.

“I’m surprised you remember my policy of talking business after dinner.” Crimson spoke, lighting a cigar and inhaling from it before puffing the smoke out. The little brother coughs, waving a hand in front of his face to get rid of the stench that went his way. “Speak now, old friend.” Her father straightened his back, sighing afterwards as a sign that he no longer wanted small talk. “Our argument shouldn’t have affected Moxxie and (Name).” She perks up at this, looking at Crimson and meeting his eyes. “Matter of fact, she would have been a great..influence on Moxxie.” “So what? Now I just get to talk to him?” She growls, her heel tapping against the floor. Her father squinted his eyes at her attitude and snaps his fingers. “I apologize father.” She clears her throat and Crimson goes on. “No, I would like for you to consider the possibility of marriage.” Her eyes widen and her slit-pupils become enlarged at the idea of marrying Moxxie. She had always had a bit of a thing for him, but never made a move because of their differences. Or different groups that they belonged to. The man of the house shakes his head. “I give Moxxie my daughter’s hand, what do I get in exchange?” Her head turns towards her father, he couldn't have been serious! He was always protective, how come he’s considering it? “Shared turfs. I share my turfs and men. Our groups would..combine if you will. This would mean bigger audience, more money, and more power over this entire city of Greed.”

The girl’s little brother; Junior’s eyes grew wide. “My sister would marry and their wealth would become hers!” She was growing more impatient and anxious by the second. “We have more than enough wealth!” She yells, to which her father snaps his fingers twice. “Second warning, one more and you’re out.” She gulps and stops speaking. He was referring to the many credit cards she owned thanks to her father. Being cut off from her father's wealth was not an option for her. “Crimson..if this marriage was to happen..” Her father begins getting up from the seat which makes Crimson’s bodyguards become stiff and alert. Crimson waves a hand in dismissal. “Moxxie and (Name) would become incredibly wealthy and powerful. But they wouldn’t necessarily be..the ones behind this. That would be me and you, dear friend. We would combine our forces and become invisinsible, I’m sure.” He grins. And just like that, her fate was sealed with Moxxie’s.

“One thing though. Moxxie… he apparently has a wife."

When everything was planned, Crimson had borrowed (Name) for the day when the plan was set. He had called in Moxxie’s work and ensured that Moxxie would come in. Even if that meant the rest of his co-workers would as well. Crimson sat in front of the fireplace that was eliciting green flames. The girl’s pointed tail swished in anxiety as he spoke to the phone. She only paid attention to half of what he said before getting up from the chair next to him and heading to the restroom. What Crimson hadn’t explained to her or her father was that Chaz had been put in the plan as well. Something about Moxxie not being able to choose, as he explained it to her when he had told her last minute. A bi-phobic remark on his part, she guessed. Chaz was an insufferable shark. Moxxie's ex, but the one time he had tried with her, she had shoved a gun between his sharp teeth and explained very calmly that she wasn’t nor would she be interested anytime soon.

She pulls out her phone and texts her father about the last-minute notice. She was told not to worry; he would make sure Crimson knew his baby girl shouldn’t be treated with such disregard. One of her many bodyguards knocked on the door, making her flinch slightly as she was pulled to reality once again. “Ma’am, is everything alright?” She grits her teeth, her eyes slitting once again in distaste before taking a deep breath and her eyes returning to normal. “Yes, do give me a minute to fix up.” “Yes ma’am.” After a while, she came out of the bathroom and headed down to where Crimson was once again. “It seems that our guests have arrived. Stay at the dinner table, will you?"

The girl rolls her eyes, "I believe you do not have authority over me. Mind I remind you..how my family is more powerful than your puny little mafia." Crimson growled at this, baring his sharp teeth at her. She took notice of his gold tooth, her eyes shining as she liked signs of wealth. "I suppose I'll wait. Do not take long." She was escorted to the dining table, being given sliced fruits as a snack as she waited for Crimson's return.

After what seemed like an eternity of her picking on the fruit slices and scrolling through social media, Crimson walked in.

This time with guests.

Moxxie's eyes meet hers in an instant, her eyes shining brightly when he does so. Then her world comes crumbling down when she sees the smaller IMP walking next to him. She stands up, the bodyguards on each of her sides waiting stiffening as she does so. They both recognize her body language; the embodiment of Greed.

She was greedy. Greedy for Moxxie's attention.

"Mox-Mox?" The little nickname came off as a bit cringey. It was the nickname she had given him back when they were learning how to speak as babies. "(Name)?" Moxxie replied, his face showing confusion. "Mox-Mox!" She sped walked to him before being stopped by the woman next to him. She looked as if she was already in a sour mood. "And who are you?" The taller female looked at the smaller one up and down, the imp wasn't..much compared to (Name). But it was personality that mattered anyways. "I'm (Full Name). Moxxie's childhood friend. Who may you be?"

"Millie. His wife." Millie's frown was still present. "Oh, may I hug your husband? I haven't seen him in a long time. Years, actually." Millie stepped aside and the girl bent down to hug Moxxie tightly to which he hugged back. When they pulled away, another imp walked to her. "Hi, my name's Blitz. The O is silent!" She shook his hand, tilting her head in confusion at the introduction. But still greeting him nonetheless. "Why are you here?" Moxxie wonders, wishing to know what was the reason behind this scenario.

"I-"

Crimson interrupted her, "Moxxie. Do I need to remind you that dinner comes before business?" "No sir." He immediately replied, his hands shaking in fear as to what may be brought up.

"Hey! What about me? Where's my hug?" As soon as Chaz approached (Name), her bodyguards were already pointing their guns at him. "I do not believe you have the right to hug me." She flipped her hair and went to sit down on the right side of Crimson while Chaz slumped on the left of his. Moxxie sat across Crimson, Millie on his left and Blitz on his right.

While eating, Blitz broke the silence. "So, this is aggressively uncomfortable." Crimson stopped cutting his steak, raising an eyebrow at his audacity. "I..suppose you want to know why you're here." He went back to cutting his steak without much of a care. "Yeah, so what gives?" Blitz spoke again, (Name) chewing on the steak before swallowing it down with some red wine.

"You know we kill people on Earth, right? We don't normally do contracts for locals, so if you want to do business with us, you got to-"

"I don't want to do business with IMP." With each letter, Crimson pointed at Blitz with his fork. "I want to do business with Moxxie." Moxxie looked up from his plate, bewildered at the information. "Me?" "Yeah kid, I summoned IMP-" Again, he rolled his eyes at the mention of the mediocre company. "-To be sure you'd show." He pointed at Moxxie with his knife, an indication that he did not want to fuck around. He places the knife on the table and takes a hold of his wine cup. "Well, we're bringing Chaz or (Name) in the family."

"What? Since when can just anyone- no offense-"

"None taken." Chaz spoke to which the succubus lady interrupted. "He means me, dickhead." She takes a sip of her wine, letting Moxxie continue.

"Join the family?" Moxxie continued, his father parting the cup from his lips to speak once again. "C'mon Mox, you had responsibilities here that I had to pick up." Crimson pointed at himself this time. The lady on his right side noticed that he liked to talk with his hands, something she tends to do as well from time to time. "Now Chaz is going to lighten the load." The lady glares at the older man speaking, "and?" "The and comes afterwards little lady."

"Wait, I thought you always hated his guts! And (Name) is from a completely different and rival group!"

"Thanks for the discrimination Mox Mox." She chuckles, Moxxie's cheeks tinting a pink color at her teasing. Millie took notice of this, but rolls her eyes. She bites down her tongue, not wanting to comment about "family" matters.

"Well, I don't know if I exactly hated either of them."

"You called him a friendless horse fucker and said he lived a 'sissy' lifestyle. You also said (Name) was bound to live a whore life filled with c-" Moxxie was interrupted once again.

"Yeah well I was wrong. You've been gone a long time, Mox. A man can change. And so has Chaz!"

The forgotten succubus bites down the inside of her cheek, feeling disrespected by..an IMP. As Chaz goes on about how he has changed, she taps her finger nail against the table. She was thinking of just calling her father to come pick her up from this hell hole and take her shopping. All this was so unnecessary and stupid.

"So the horseless friend fucker-"

The succubus decides to correct Blitz "I believe it was friendless horsefucker Mr. Blitz."

"I know what I said. So the horseless friend fucker gets a little mulah and suddenly it's worth wasting our time over?"

"Well, I'm the whole package. If you know what I mean."

The trio of Imps stare at the shark, not exactly caring nor wanting to know. But he goes on anyway.

"I got a big dick."

Millie finally speaks up, making the succubus sigh in relief. "What does any of this have to do with Moxxie?"

Crimson places his fork on the empty plate and wipes his lips with a napkin. "There's going to be a ceremony tomorrow." (Name) does the same, except she takes a long gulp of the wine. "Moxxie here is going to officially release his holdings in the organization." A maid pours more wine on his cup to which Crimson picks up. "Then you can go back to ignoring your family to your heart's content."

Moxxie sulks in his seat, becoming smaller at his father's glare and cruel words. Millie stands up from her seat, slamming her gloved hands against the table. "Maybe he wouldn't have to ignore his family if they didn't force him to rub elbows with these people."

"Watch your tongue before you lose it." (Name) placed her wine glass on the diner table, wiping her lips and fixing her lipgloss. "Speak ill all you may like of Chaz. But you do not know me, pretty lady. So I suggest you zip it." Perhaps her cruel words were fueled with jealousy of wanting to take Millie's spot as Moxxie's bride. Perhaps she was showing off her power, either way it got Millie mad. "Try me." Millie leaped across the table in a second, her blood stained dagger at the succubus' throat. But the succubus had the upper hand as her bodyguards not only pointed their guns at Millie, but at Blitz as well.

The succubus lady?

Her handgun was pressed against Millie's chin, pointed upwards and finger against the trigger.

"Everyone relax. I know tensions have been high tonight. Say, why don't you stay here and get some rest? We'll have the ceremony tomorrow. Then tomorrow, everyone is free to leave. I have your rooms all prepared." Millie was the first one to remove her weapon, so naturally (name) followed suit. She snapped her fingers, the bodyguards lowering their weapons. "Go to bed." Crimson ordered.

"Yes sir." Moxxie replied within an instant, "Mox?" Millie asks in disbelief. Everyone got up from their seats and headed to the door. Everyone but Crimson and (Name). "A moment, Moxxie."

"Just give me a minute, Millie. I'll be there." Chaz tried to "comfort" Millie to which she barked at him.

(Name)'s bodyguards leave the room as well. Leaving Crimson, Moxxie, and herself alone in the room. "So, you think you too good for this family?"

"Huh?" Moxxie shrugs his shoulders in surprise.

"C'mere." He uses his finger to motion Moxxie to get closer. (Name) sighs, "Crimson-" "Shut up." She growls, her hair standing up in pure anger at being told what to do. She does as told, knowing Moxxie would be punished for her wrong-doings. Moxxie walks over to his father, stuttering as he came about with words. Crimson got up from his chair abruptly and smacked Moxxie across the face. She winces at the loud sound that came about from the sound of the impact. "You think you just get to walk away from this family and never come back? You're dead wrong, Mox!"

He walks closer to Moxxie whom was laying on the ground helplessly from the impact, "matter of fact." He picks him up from his shirt. "You only think you're right about is that obnoxious piss-stain can't get in! Not unless he marries in." "B-But who would-"

"Who do you think?" She stands up from her seat at the table and walks over to Crimson, standing next to him. "This shit family..needs our money. Whether it be mine or that fucker's." She takes out a handkerchief and uses it to press a bit against Moxxie's cheeks. Hoping it was cold enough to help. "It's about time your pathetic ass is useful for something!" Crimson shouts and sits back down and Moxxie ignores her attempts to soothe him, going over to his father.

"Sir, I'm already married. I-I can't-"

"You think I give a shit about that stupid thing? C'mon Mox, I even went through the trouble of making the house more to..your kind's liking." He pressed a button hidden on the table and quite a few..arrangements were made. Quite a few..no scratch that. Multiple adult toys were displayed out of the walls and bouncing..God.

She blushes in embarrassment and looks away from the scene. Being a succubus did not mean being shameless.

"Wait- Wha- What do you think I'm into?!"

"What? This the kind of shit guys like, right?"

"Okay, first off Dad, I'm bisexual."

"Yeah, gay."

"No, Crimson. He likes both women and men." She continues to hide her face in her hands, her words coming out Muffled.

"Oh, for fucks sake. Secondly," A toy taps against Moxxie's shoulders, as if to urge him to..use it. He pushes it away, "I don't know a single person of any sexuality who'd enjoy this."

As if on cue, Blitz laughs at the moment. "Ha!! There's dicks in the walls! Oh that's fucking hilarious."

After another moment of Crimson threatening Moxxie, Crimson demands him to choose between Chaz or his friend's daughter by tomorrow morning. "Her dad accepted the offer of you taking her as your bride. Do not disappoint me again, Mox. We need her daddy's money. When he dies, she will completely inherit his money and we will be able to expand the empire." Crimson explains to Moxxie, lighting a cigar as the dicks bounced in the room. "Don't you mean if?" "Do not question my abilities. When he dies, that money will be yours as equally as it is hers." Moxxie walks out of the dining room after some hesitation. The succubus lady finally uncovers her face to speak.

"Crimson..put the dicks away."

That night, as Blitz and Chaz did their..thing, her bodyguards knocked on Moxxie's room and instructed him to go to their lady's room. He had knocked at first, wondering what she could possibly want. Perhaps she would be just as weird as Chaz. When she opened the door, he was greeted with the pleasant smell of vanilla and the perfect view to a tall Succubus whom had just taken a shower. She was in her robe. She steps aside and let's Moxxie in. "You can go ahead and take a seat, you know?" She chuckles and he sits down at the edge of her bed. She lays down on the giant bed, sighing.

"I'm sorry about all this. My dad was going to cut off my credit cards if I didn't go through with this."

"I..I shouldn't be here." Moxxie starts, staring down at his lap.

"Mox-Mox..I..I just want to talk to you. I do not want you here with other intentions." She sits up and looks down at him. "I apologize for this. After such a long time..you're being forced to choose. Your wife seems incredible and I deeply apologize for dinner, I'll apologize to Millie tomorrow as well. You don't have to go through with this. Escape! Tell Millie, Blitz, anyone."

"I can't do that, he would find me again." Moxxie was at the verge of tears. She places her hand on top of his that rested on his lap. "You've always been such a crybaby." She chuckles and he leans his head against her chest, sobbing. She hugs him and rests her chin on top of his head. "I..I shouldn't be comforted by another woman. My wife, Milie, she.." "She's very jealous, I know. But you love her and the fact that you feel guilty even hugging another woman is incredible. The love you feel for her..That's incredible."

She giggles, "Mox-Mox, you're incredible. Don't forget that." "Are..you okay with all this? I mean, killing your father? How are you going to do that? Your cartel is much more powerful than this mafia, but..still." Moxxie wraps his arms around her body. He did it quite tightly, making her cheeks warm up. "It'll be okay. I'll inherit his money and my little brother won't be given any excessive punishments. He'll be safe with me. And the cartel would much rather be under my control than my father's. They're playing favorites I suppose."

Moxxie sighs, "I..I don't want this." "Me neither Mox-Mox." Her heart breaks at his words. He didn't want this.

He didn't want her.

The following morning, the two Imps and succubus headed downstairs to the dining room once again. This time, the taller female was dressed in an elegant red dress rather than the black she usually always wore. Moxxie had gone back to his room last night after telling her about what Chaz had attempted to pull.

"Hey hey, the man of the hour!" Crimson claps his hands in "glee". "You ready to get started?" Millie took notice of Blitz's lack of presence and commented on it. "I think I saw him head outside, he said something about needing some fresh air or something." Chaz chuckles to which (Name) rolls her eyes, sitting on the chair on the right side of Crimson. Chaz had attempted to sit there only for Crimson to glare at him and motion for him to sit somewhere else. "Why don't you grab him so we can get moving?" Crimson asks millie, to which she kisses Moxxie's cheeks and leaves to fetch Blitz.

Moxxie sits to his father's left side and Chaz sits next to the female in the room. "Why you look so blue, moxxie? It's your wedding day. Best day of your life. So? Have you decided? Chaz or (Name)?" Chaz grins at Moxxie and Moxxie looks at his childhood best friend whom smiles at him softly. He then looks down and sighs. Crimson sips on his coffee as Moxxie says the following, " I'm not doing it."

"What was that?" Crimson asks Moxxie to repeat himself, almost as if he heard him wrong. He was simply giving his son a chance to correct his mistake of disobeying his father.

"I couldn't make out what you said over the sound of you being a whiny bitch."

Moxxie slams his hands on the table which startles both Chaz and Crimson. She looks proud of Moxxie, hoping that his confidence of standing up to his father came from the talk they had at night. "I said I'm not doing it. I've spent my whole life being afraid of you, but I' not giving up the only good thing I've ever had just so you can keep your fragile little sad control over everything. Millie is a good woman, a better woman that I deserve. And there's nothing that scares me more than hurting her-"

Crimson looks at his guard and does the slightest nod at him. "-not even you. I'm leaving, Dad. And if you or herpes the clown over here try to stop me, you'll learn firsthand just how good I've gotten at my job." Whilst speaking, Moxxie had gotten so close to his father's face that he had forgotten to not let his guard down. He was grabbed by Crimson's man and tazed heavily on his neck. He hit the table when he fell unconscious.

Moxxie's childhood friend stood up with an urgency to help him, pointing her gun directly at Crimson. "Why did you have to do that? Let him go!" Crimson shook his head. "He disobeyed. It's his punishment. And you do not want to get punished either, do you? Once Moxxie says yes at the altar, your father will be murdered by his own men. Or well, your men. And his wealth will be yours. Then it will be shared with Moxxie..and he will give that to me. Then, you may divorce him if you'd like. Kill him for all I care, but this family needs money."

She starts to laugh, "but I don't need you, Crimson! I get nothing out of this!!" "You get Moxxie. The love of your live."

Chaz gasps at the revelation that was oh so clear, but he couldn't grasp. "What? Wait- where do I come in this picture?!" "If lady (name) refuses, you get to marry Moxxie instead. Now, little lady.. you will get Moxxie out of this. You will finally be happy. You will steal him just as he was stolen from your grasp. Money can't buy love, but fear sure fucking can."

She lowers her gun and her bodyguards follow suit. "I..I don't want it this way. I want him to genuinely..like me." She shakes her head, refusing to show weakness at such a moment. But the way Crimson looks up at her from his seat made her shiver. "Your cartel may be more powerful. But you sure aren't as tough as your daddy. Women sure are emotional." He chuckles and gets up from his seat. "Go put your wedding dress on. We're having a fucking wedding."

A while later, your father had arrived. The entirety of both sides of the family had been invited. The entire patio was filled and it made (Name) all the more anxious. She bit the tip of her thumb as she thought about this once. Twice. Thrice. It just wasn't a good idea. Her father pushes her down the altar a bit before making her hook his arm around hers. The music played as she was walked down the aisle, her veil covering her face that was becoming more and more sweaty as she got to the altar. The white train of the dress following her as she had been put in a ball gown that had the longest train to make the wedding look all the more real.

If it wasn't for Moxxie tied down and Crimson holding him, her brain would have registered it as genuine.

A genuine fucking wedding.

The priest was told to hurry up with the process which he did. Her father stood behind her, a way to pressure her into the wedding. "Do you, (Full Name) take Moxxie Noname to be your husband, to love and cherish him until death do you part?" Moxxie stares into her eyes, his own tearing up as a silent plea. "Can..can you ask him first?" The priest sighs and does it again. "Moxie Noname, do you take (Full name) to love and cherish her until death do you part?" Crimson grabs his hair and forces his head to move as a nod. "Look at him, he looks so fucking happy to be here!"

"Now, Do you (Full name) take Moxxie Noname to be your husband, to love and cherish him until death do you part?"

She starts to tear up underneath the veil, not knowing what to do as this may jeopardize her friendship with Moxxie or her life.

"I..do not." Gasps fill the air from the crowd and she takes off her veil, surprising most people in the altar as she wasn't very emotional. However, the stained cheeks and ruined mascara said otherwise. Her lip trembled as she spoke. "Moxxie..I love you. But I don't want this. You clearly don't love me." Moxxie's eyes widened, looking at her eyes but she was looking away. Suddenly, a black car crashed into the wedding and out came Blitz and Millie.

"You want my husband? You're gonna have to fucking kill me."

Crimson rolls his eyes and ordered to kill Millie. However, Millie was much quicker and skilled. She was able to kill or at least permanently damage anyone that came in her way. (Name) uses her veil to wipe away her tears, not wanting to be seen as ruined. Most wedding guest members ran away as they saw how much chaos one woman could cause. Her father and cartel stood by, not knowing which side to choose. So they chose the successor's side; (Name).

Once Millie's murder spree was done, she had taken her husband from Crimson. Moxxie struggled against her grip and Millie took that as a sign to let her husband down. She unties him and takes off the tape that kept him shut.

"Was that true? When was this?" Moxxie grabbed her hands, "I did. When we were younger. But you never made a move." She whispered, not wanting to enrage his wife. "When we were just stupid teens robbing gas stations." She giggles and holds his hands. "Please take care of Millie, she's such a lovely wife. And a strong one at that. Your love for her is genuine and I've never seen that in hell. It's one of a kind, cherish it. I just wish we could have caught up or been in different instances."

Blitz steps forward, making the both separate. Blitz gives her a card that was for their business; IMP. "We don't charge much for our services. When you want somebody gone and you don't want to wait too long, call IMP. Moxxie's there most of the time. And call me." He almost purrs, making her giggle. She accepts the card and nods. "Thanks Blitz." She squishes his cheek. With that, Millie picks up both men and nods at her. She nods back as a way to say goodbye and Millie leaves. While she jumps away, Blitz yells that Chaz was a fraud all along. Hearing this, Crimson slowly turns to look at Chaz who was still in the audience.

The plan had been successful. Her father was out of the picture and his horns were now in a frame hanging from Crimson's wall next to Chaz's shark teeth. (Name) was sitting down on the sofa.

"Ever witnessed a shittier wedding?" She jokes, her cheeks red as the wine she kept consuming was taking over her mind and body. Her hair was a mess and the dress was long disregarded. She was now wearing a much more comfortable pajama set as it was night time.

"My wedding." He grumbles, throwing a knife at the family photo that was on the wall. It landed on Moxxie's forehead. "Hmm.." She spins the cup a bit, watching the wine move.

"What do you think of younger women?"

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #moxxie #moxxie x reader #angst #helluva boss moxxie #blitz #millie #crimson #crimson x reader

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