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flutterylust · 3 months ago

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Y'ALL. THE ANGST HIT A LIL TOO CLOSE TO HOME BUT YK WHAT... I FW IT

║ᴋᴇɪ ᴛꜱᴜᴋɪꜱʜɪᴍᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ║

↳「ʙᴀʙʏ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ」║ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ➠ 18+ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ɴᴀᴍᴇ║Kei Tsukishima

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ/ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ║Haikyuu

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ║11,893

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

What kind of man would steal your heart?

Would he be a charmer? A man who knew just what to say? A flatterer that would make sure you felt like the most gorgeous person in the world?

Or maybe he'd be a little shy, a sweet man who'd blush at accidentally holding hands. Would he get flustered when you stared at him a little too long? Perhaps he'd even feel like he were on cloud nine if you graced him with a kiss.

He should be sweet and savory, a fine dining meal that you could just eat up.

It was fun to imagine and entertaining to dream of it. You couldn't help it that you were a hopeless romantic, in love with the idea of love, consumed by the thought of being with your other half.

What would it feel like to find the one that makes the whole world revolve around them? You've thought about it many times, wouldn't it be wonderful? Wouldn't it be the most earth-shattering moment that made your entire world start to revolve around them?

How nice, how fun it was to think that.

All of that imagining and fantasizing turned out to be a crude joke when you've come to the realization that the man who doesn't want you is, in fact, the one you can't let go.

The man stuck in your thoughts, unable to just go away...is the same man who barely even holds a conversation with you when the sun is up.

It feels sickening, nearly rancid on your tongue, like he's a dirty secret when he only comes over in the dark. Filthy, you feel filthy when you let go of all your dignity and give in to him without any hesitation.

Letting go of your pride and disregarding your dignity, you take the scraps he gives you with love-struck appreciation.

You take it so willingly, accepting the bare minimum because you're just so grateful for what little he throws your way.

This isn't it; this isn't what you spent all that time envisioning what your dream man would be like. He'd love you! He'd sacrifice everything for you! He'd show you off because he's just so proud that you're his.

Yet you're played with by falling in love with a man who is entirely opposite to what you've dreamed.

And he just has to be the father of your baby.

Unable to hold up your weight, you collapsed to your knees in the bathroom. It's so hot; you're sweating, and your skin is so sizzling, that you feel like tearing it off and emerging as just bones.

Oh, god(s)! This is a cruel joke! This is some f*cking divine intervention for playing with fire. They just had to throw something at you as punishment for playing with a man who didn't want you.

"(Y/n)! You've been in there since, like, forever!" Ceinwen, one of your roommates, bellows from outside as she pounds on the bathroom door. "The Delta sorority is having a party, and it's open to everyone on campus! I can't miss this!"

Oh yeah, what simple things to be worried about. It would be nice to stress about what pink bra to wear and not how you're going to provide for a whole nother human being.

"Give me..." You're struck with a wave of nausea, feeling your entire stomach stir and your esophagus tense. Hunching over the toilet, you audible breathe in and out as saliva pools in your mouth. "...Give me a second."

Another bang that spurs your head to throb physically. "Eww! You better not be sick! That's so gross." Meara, another roommate, bellows, and you can practically see her scrunched face in disgust.

Ugh, they can be so irritating sometimes! Somehow, you were able to force yourself to your feet and yank the door open. The woman dressed as how happy little sl*t's should be during their college days, stares back at you curiously. "Unless you two get pregnant, you can't get this sickness!"

They gasp audibly, their entire bodies leaning back from the shock as they stare wide-eyed. "Oh, my god." Ceinwen, the short brunette, muttered under her breath. "That's a real bummer, but we need the bathroom."

You almost laugh, almost, yet the situation is already starting to weigh heavy on you. "Knock yourselves out." Replying, you step back to grab your phone and the pregnancy tests before brushing past them to the stairs.

The two girls' bedrooms were on the second floor, and yours was on the third. You had that all to yourself, which was nice, but now you don't know if you'll be able to stay here much longer.

You just can't. This place isn't somewhere to raise a kid; parties are just downstairs every other day. You have roommates who bring home strangers nearly every night.

Filling your mouth with air and blowing it out with a sigh, you try to collect your thoughts. Oh god(s), this is really happening. You took several tests from different brands, and all stare you right back in the face with a bright 'positive!'.

But why do you have to suffer!? Why is it your fault that you have horrible reactions to birth control and have to stay reliant either on condoms or Plan B!?

Another sigh.

You thought you were so careful. Weren't you so adamant about him wrapping it up?

When was it?

Why are you even trying to figure it out? What's done is done; your body is no longer just yours anymore; you house a growing fetus.

And it's his baby of all people, Kei Tsukishima's.

Falling back on your bed, you hold closed fist against your eyes as you feel them swell with tears. You hate yourself for being scared to tell him if that means he's going to disappear from your life. That shouldn't be your fear; you have to care for his baby, and you have to put them above a man.

But you cannot help but mourn the delusions of finding the love of your life. The responsibility of caring for another will be the dominant obligation. Your own dreams and goals will have to be put on the back burner just so you can care and provide a healthy childhood for your child.

Pregnancy is such a tremendous responsibility, a burden even. And although you've taken the possibility of pregnancy seriously, you've still skirted on that fine line. You f*cked around and are now finding out.

With another sigh and a sniffle, you manage to sit up again and grab your phone to see your notifications. A few emails from your classes, some IG messages from your friends, and a single text from the man himself.

◤ Bane of My Existence I'm gonna come over after drinks with the team. ◢

"Oh, yeah?" You whisper to yourself with a sneer. Every time he comes over after drinking with the team, he's not pissed drunk, but he is tipsy, which meant he was more adamant about sleeping together.

Why was it that whenever he came to you inebriated by alcohol, did you see the glimmer of he could be? It's like his defensive walls were down, and he allowed himself to be slightly vulnerable.

You hated it just as much as you loved it.

For that night, you could experience what it would feel like to be something other than a warm body. His touches were tender, his kisses so intimate. He said that made your face burn and made you feel like the only woman in the world.

And then, after everything was said and done, he'd clean you all up and lay right back by your side. Sometimes, he was silent, just listening to you. Others, he would talk to you about literally anything.

Maybe he'd talk about his day, ranting about his courses or the astronomical amount of assignments he had. He might speak about his team or volleyball, recanting his days when he brought his high school team to nationals.

Sometimes, he'd play a song and ask your opinion on it. Those were the moments where you made notes, sneaking reminders to check up on that artist just to have something to talk about with him.

When he had his way with you, it's like the two of you were more than...whatever the two of you were. I mean, it had to mean more when he'd lay there, a hand on your hip as he held your gaze until you fell asleep.

You loved it, you loved feeling...loved. But that's why you hated it just as much: because the man he is during the night is not the same as the man you meet when the sun is up.

That man is callous, snarky, even dry in his responses. He finds no importance in talking to you; he replies barely, probably just enough to keep you on the line. Communicating with that man feels as if you're grasping at strings, attempting everything and anything just to get him to look your way.

Yet your relationship with each other is weird because not every time he comes over at night does he want to have s*x. Sometimes, he just sits at your desk and works on his classwork. He doesn't even talk to you, keeping his SOMY headphones on as he focuses on his laptop.

He could do that anywhere, yet he invades your space while not even paying attention to you. And every time he does that, you just let him be and refrain from bothering him because you don't want him to feel disturbed.

It's pathetic and embarrassing, and you know it, yet you still can't let him go. You're putting in all the work, taking the time to learn about his interests, and trying to make some form of relationship happen.

And that gets tiring...and that gets draining...yet you can't let this man go. How can you love him so much? How can you put up with all this stress when the easiest solution would be to move on? How are you tolerating this fwb relationship when you want a boyfriend, a lover, something serious... official.

Guess your title has changed from 'the person I occasionally sleep with' now to just 'baby Mama.' It feels...derogatory. You mean more than that; you're worth more than that. Being pregnant wasn't something you planned at all until the future when you'd already be married to the love of your life.

You'd already be living with the man you'd spend the rest of your life with when you've attained your degrees and have a steady career. Everything's a f*cking mess, and nothing is like you've dreamed of.

Nothing you can do will change the fact you're pregnant, and the father isn't even someone that you think you can depend on. Well...maybe you're thinking too low of him. After everything he's done to you, the way he's treated you, the way he never wanted to go past the sleeping together, it was evident that you just weren't the one.

Yet he feels just right to you.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

You spent the next few hours cleaning before showering and changing into a fresh set of loungewear. Because you were still nauseous and felt sickly, a trash bin was kept by your bed, just in case.

During the rest of your free time, you tried to edit your schedule and figure out everything you would have to do to care for this child. You'd need to work more and save up for the money pit children tend to be. Emailing the museum where you worked, you explained the situation and how you needed more hours.

There might not be much that they could do, so you'll probably have to get a second job, too. The courses you took in person will have to change to online, making the whole point of physically attending college useless.

It could either be a fricken nightmare or tolerable considering it was your last year before graduating, and that all just depends on if you can handle...everything that's changing.

Your phone lit up, the screen presenting your notification and Tsukishima's message.

◤ Bane of My Existence Are ur roommates here? ◢

Is being seen with you really that bad?

◤ 75 XXX XXXX No, they went out to party. Bane of My Existence K I'm outside the building. I'll just walk in when I get up. ◢

What would it feel like to proudly welcome home your partner? Would it be comforting? Gratifying? Soothing? You wonder what it would feel like not to be just some dirty little secret.

You can hear the front door squeak open before it's slammed shut. Your heart skips a beat, your fingers twitch, and you find it difficult to sit comfortably in your own bed.

His steps approach up the stairs, slow and languid, with no urgency at all. He has no idea about the bomb that's about to be dropped on him.

The handle jiggles to your bedroom door as it's opened, and the man himself steps through. His golden brown eyes find yours almost immediately, and the amount of dread that fills your stomach is enough to drown you right there.

"It's hot in here." He murmurs in an almost monotonous tone as he pulls the black sweater off his torso to leave him in a large white shirt and thrust it on your desk chair.

"It's actually rather cold." You mumble, leaning back against your headrest while crossing your arms underneath your chest.

Tsukishima blows air out of his nose like some condescending laugh as if he thought a joke to himself that he didn't want to share. "I can already sense your attitude." His words have a slight mocking tone as he tilts his head away.

Oh, he has no idea what's coming his way.

Emptying his things on your desk, he unbuckled his belt to step out of his pants and thrust it haphazardly on your chair. "What a long f*cking day." He groans as he strides closer to collapse on your bed.

With his abnormally long limbs, he looks almost comically on your bed. His head is by your hip, his arms splayed out, and his legs hanging loosely off the ends. Now, with him being much closer, you can smell the bitter alcohol wafting off his breath and cigarette smoke, too.

"How much did you drink?" You question while fiddling with your fingers in your lap atop the comforter.

"Enough." He mutters and holds down a burp as he reaches up to remove his glasses and rub at his eyes. "It's too bright in here."

It seems that tonight, he had drank just a little more than usual. What a coincidence. Leaning over, you shut off the lamp on the nightstand, which yielded a light sigh from the blond. For a moment, you think to yourself that maybe right now isn't the best time.

But you know he needs to know because tonight, a decision must be made about what the two of you will do.

Tsukishima rolls over onto his stomach as he rests one arm on your lap, his head facing away from you. "Dumb*ss can't even hit the ball." His utterance is slightly mumbled, and you know he was complaining about someone from his volleyball team.

You're trying to work up the nerve with your throat dry and tight. The words are right there on your tongue, yet you feel as if they're stuck to your teeth with glue.

The news you need to tell him will change everything.

"You're quiet," Tsukishima mumbled as the hand on your lap moved to poke at your hip. "What I do now?"

That almost brings out a laugh as you raise your knees to your chest and rub a hand over your temples. Now that you are aware of your pregnancy, your belly is a little bigger and plumper, which takes up more space.

It really isn't something that you can just forget for a little bit and worry about later.

"I...I need to talk to you about something." You don't even know how you managed to get the words out, but there really is no turning back.

The blond sighs with an aggravated respire of breath. "Is it serious?" He grumbled, and you can see the vexation lacing his tone. He probably thinks you're going to ask that silly question of 'What are we?' or 'Can we be official.'

He always avoids it, skirting around the topic or finding some way to distract you.

"Yes."

He shifts his head to face your direction and sighs once again. "What is it now?" His angled eyes gleam from his lens, and his sweet lips are pursed together.

"I'm-" You feel nauseous, nearly about the retch, though you manage to swallow it down with a shaky breath. "Oh f*ck. I'm pregnant...I'm pregnant, Kei."

His expression remains impassive, not a note or tick or any micro-expressions. However, you feel that he has stopped breathing from how the bed is no longer heaving with his breaths. Blood is rushing in your ears from how quiet your bedroom has become.

The abrupt movement of him sitting up had you jump in your spot and squeeze your hands on your biceps.

"Are you f*cking with me? This isn't some joke-"

You interject his words by kicking your feet under your blanket. "You think I would joke about this!? This is gonna change my life forever!" It wasn't your intention to yell; you're just so overwhelmed by this whole ordeal.

Reaching over to your nightstand, you remove the multiple pregnancy tests and thrust them on your bed. His eyes are staring at them as if dazed, with his pupils dilating.

Suddenly, Tsukishima twists his body so he holds up his weight with his elbows on his knees and stares at the ground. One of his hands obscures his mouth, and no sound comes from him.

Is your heart even beating? You're scared, you're terrified, you're dreading what he's going to do. And what does it say about you when there is a small part of you hoping that he wants to try and be something more?

You'll be connected to each other forever in a way that you can't just leave.

"Is it mine?" He finally speaks after what felt like hours of silence.

What a dumb question; you have to scoff audibly at it. "Of course. You're the only man." Your head turned with your lips puckering. "You won't be with me, but you throw a whole fit if another man shows me interest." Now wasn't the time to be bitter or petty, yet you couldn't help but mumble those words.

His response isn't immediate; he is just sitting there, solid like a statue. What is he thinking? What's going on in his mind?

You would give anything to know.

"Please talk to me. I can't figure you out." Your voice fails you; it's jittery and slightly squeaky at the end, and you feel a sob rising in your throat.

Tsukishima swears under his breath before standing up and stalking towards your chair. His hands are shaky but swift as he grabs his pants and rushes to put them back on.

It felt like your world had come crashing down. All the hope you had, the possibility that it might go the other way, was quite literally hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"W-wait, where are you going!?" Your own voice sounds like a shrill cry in your head.

He's shoving his wallet and keys back in his pockets as he responds. "I need, f*ck. I need time to think."

"You can't-" All air is robbed from your lungs. "It's not fair that you can just leave! What about me!? My entire life is going to change, and I can't just walk away from this-"

"What do you want from me, then?" His shouting voice shocked both of you, and your bodies recoiled backward. His golden brown eyes widened. The man's head dipped down, and he chewed on his bottom lip, his right hand still shaking by his side.

"Just..." You slowly get up from your sitting position and make your way over wearily. "Just talk to me. Just tell me how you're feeling. Is there anything? Are you scared? Are you worried? Do you hate me? I need to know."

Shaking his head, he turns away from you to grab his sweater and throw it over his shirt. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done already." Those words were just enough to crack open your heart.

It feels torn, and you feel dejected. "Why am I not worth enough for you to just talk to me?" Your vision wavers, and tears well up in your eyes, muting your sight.

His head whips your way with his lips parted. Whatever it is he wanted to say is silence as he meets your gaze. Can't he see how much he affects you? Can't he see how important he is to you? Don't you make it obvious? Don't you tell him enough?

"...That's not what you should be worried about right now."

So that's it.

Your wishful thinking made you look like a complete fool. What did you expect from a man who couldn't say what he wanted clearly?

This must be what it means to be in despair.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"(L/n)-san?"

You jump in your seat, startled by her voice when you are lost in your thoughts. A short-haired blonde woman steps in, grinning softly. "My name is Dr. Shiori, and I'll be the OB-GYN doctor who will attend to you."

"Yes, thank you." You're being nice, but you're unsure of what to say when you are so uncomfortable.

Shiori sits down in her chair and boots up her computer. Her room is cutely decorated with stickers and posters on the walls. It's also bright, with light streaming in through the blinds and a blaring one atop the ceiling.

"The nurse already took your vitals, including height and weight, so now we can check in on the fetus." The woman stands up to wash her hands before drying them and putting on gloves. "It's customary that on the first check-up, we inspect the position and heartbeat. Are you ready?"

No, no, you're not. "Of course."

The doctor turns on the ultrasound machine on a trolley by the examination table and informs you that she's going to lift your shirt. Your belly is displayed out, slightly rounded, and pooching differently than it did when you weren't pregnant.

"This is going to be a little cold." She squirts coupling gel on your tummy and swirls it around the skin with the transducer.

Vibrations rattle from the machine on your left, and the soundwaves of your internal organs are picked up. The screen is just a mesh of black-and-white lines as she rolls the wand over your stomach.

You have to turn your head away and manually control your breathing as you find yourself suddenly struck with nerves. Your skin is prickly hot, and a tightness returns to your throat.

Maybe it's all a joke?

Maybe you got it wrong?

Maybe you hear a heartbeat, a soft, rhythmic heartbeat, bellowing from the machine. Thump, thump, thump—it's a little fast but consistent and doesn't stop.

You can't help but turn your head to look. And there they are on screen. So small, curled with a round little belly and tiny hands.

"You should be around fifteen weeks. They're about the size of a plum or apple." Shiori informs as she watches the screen alongside you. "Aren't they amazing?"

"Yeah." It's breathed out while a sob holds strong in your throat. This is real; it's so real that nothing can even deny it anymore. That's your baby right there; that's your child breathing, sleeping, and relying on you to take care of them.

You've put your heart first, your feelings and love for Kei before your own pride. And now, this little thing comes before the love you hold for that man. If he doesn't want to be here for them, then it's his loss.

"Heartbeat is steady. The position looks acceptable. Everything is all good. Would you like a printed image of the fetus?" You nod quickly while wiping your eyes to free them of tears.

With that check-up completed, she cleaned you up, and the two of you sat at her desk to review prenatal educational materials and remedies for any unpleasant pregnancy symptoms. Your doctor is thorough and brings up topics that you hadn't even thought about to ask her.

But then she asks one question that squeezes your heart. "How are you with support? Is your family there for you or the baby's father?"

It feels embarrassing to have to say no; you have nobody. Several weeks have passed since you told Kei about your pregnancy, and he's gone radio silent. No text, not a single phone call; you don't even catch a glimpse of him on campus.

He said he needed time to think, and enough time had passed to come to terms with it. You're under the assumption that he wants nothing to do with you anymore.

"No." You try to smile up at her, but it feels strained. "It's just me."

Shiori's bottom lip quivers before she breathes out audibly and rummages through her desk to grab something. "Well, everyone has their circumstances." She places down a few cards and pamphlets. "These are some resources you can use. This is a group for expectant mothers to gather and support each other. And these are government websites that you can visit to apply for aid."

It's nice to have something that can help ease the financial and emotional burden of doing this alone.

"I suggest you also check this website out as well to schedule childbirth classes. They can be more educational than you might think, and there are knowledgeable women who can answer any questions you have and reassure you about any fears."

You stare at the aids and think to yourself, 'Maybe I can do this without anyone else.'

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

When you arrive back at your dorm after your appointment, it came as a surprise to see the bane of your existence leaning against the wall at your front door. With his headphones on, his attention focuses on his phone so leisurely it almost pisses you off.

You don't say anything as you approach and don't even look his way as you search through your purse for your keys. "Who are you here to see?" It's petty, and you know it, yet you can't help wanting to release some of your bitterness at him.

"Ceinwen."

Your fingers halt any movement as your head whips up at him, only to see his usual condescending smirk on his lips. The red hot coil in your stomach eases as you realize her weren't serious. You're still not...you still haven't worked through your own feelings.

Still, your heart yearns for him, and your chest aches at the idea of him being with someone else. "Real funny joke. I almost laughed."

"Then don't ask stupid questions," he responds as you unlock the door and step in. He follows right behind, shutting and locking the door while removing his shoes.

You're already making your way to the kitchen before placing down your prescriptions and groceries on the counter. The other girls are out of their classes, so you don't have to deal with their curiosity.

"Where did you go?" Tsukishima questioned as he approached the island and took a seat at the counter.

Oh yeah, he's just so comfortable acting like he hadn't been a ghost this entire time. "What have you been doing this whole time?" You retort while beginning to put away your things.

The blond groaned and leaned his arms on the island. "Can you not do this right now?"

Your eyes flicker to his face, seeing your reflection in his glasses before turning back towards the fridge. "Can you not waste my time right now?"

"(Y/n), can you be mature for just five minutes?"

Milk almost falls from your hands as the anger builds up in your body. "It's not fun, is it? Trying to get a response and get only questions back. Get's on your nerves, doesn't it?"

He doesn't reply, and you don't push for more as you finish putting everything away. It was not until you had to turn around to open your prescriptions that you got a look at his face.

His head is down, his vision on his hands as he breathes deeply. You'd like to think he was feeling remorseful, but that might just be wishful thinking. You never really know what's on his mind; you can't figure him out.

"You know..." The words are slightly strained as they leave your mouth. "I really don't have time to deal with you right now. I have to begin packing."

Immediately, his head whipped up, and his arms raised to place clasped hands against his lips. "Where are you going?" He asked softly.

"Nowhere right now." You inform while undoing a bottle of prenatal medicine. "I'm still looking for an apartment on the market. Can't raise a baby in a frat house." It really sucks, though, considering boarding was already paid for by tuition, and you had decent roommates.

Tsukishima held your gaze for a moment before bringing out his phone and scrolling on it. "I'll send my teammate's brother's number. He owns a couple of properties, and I know he'd be willing to help you out. They owe me favors after all."

How much work did you have to do to accept that you were going to do this all on your own? And after all that time staying silent, now he wants to help somewhat?

"Why are you doing this?" He peers up at you through his glasses. "Why try to help after like seven weeks of silence? I don't want anything from you if you're just going to be half in. Either you take full responsibility as this baby's father or take none at all. You're the only one that gets to walk away."

The blond slinked back in his seat as he crossed his arm over his broad chest. "What is with you and labels? I'm trying to help, and you're trying to start sh*t right now."

Blame it on the hormones, but your anger was simply unmanageable. It spurs tears to well up and cascade down your face in thick streams. His lips pursed tightly, and his entire spine had straightened up entirely at your visceral reaction.

"Don't you get it?! I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you so far long, even though you've treated me like sh*t and just some b*tch that you f*ck; I've been putting in all this effort for you to see that I am worth more than that."

You can't hold it down anymore; you can't act like you can just get over it. "I'm the one that knows what classes you have, when, and even what your grades are. I know what profession you want to go into. I know all about your volleyball history and how you got that scar in high school. I even go to every single one of your games, yet I bet you don't know that I'm even there."

It's like a damn was burst open, its walls destroyed as you cannot stop the torrent of water escaping through. "I know every song in your stupid f*cking playlist. I cancel any plans just in case you text and want to come over. I put in all this effort; I put you above everything else. I barely even asked for anything from you, and you barely even gave me the bare minimum."

With hands scrunched into fists, you step toward the island, your face just a few inches from each other. "...I didn't even ask you to take responsibility for this baby. All I wanted was for you just to tell me what you were feeling, what you were thinking."

How cathartic it feels to get that weight off your shoulders. You held that in, held everything in, because you needed to be careful with your wording. Now, it feels like you can breathe just a little easier.

Tsukishima swallowed strenuously as his head turned away, his gaze lingering on anything but you. "If I treat you so horribly, then why don't you just tell me off? Why do you keep torturing yourself?"

"Come on!" You grab the sides of his hair and force him to look at you. He doesn't even fight you while he frowns thickly. "I said it already. I'm in love with you. All I wanted was just to be yours officially."

Slowly, his hands reach up to grab your wrist and pull them away from his face. His skin is hot, his palms are clammy, and he's looking at you in a way that he never has before.

However, it seems that you got your hopes up as he stands back to his feet and turns away without another word. All you can do is watch him leave, hearing him unlock the front door and shut it behind him.

You thought that you were getting somewhere; you thought that, finally, you made it through the thick walls he'd put up. But once again, you're made to look like the fool.

Ring!

Your skeleton nearly jumped through your skin at the jolting call of your phone. Snatching it, you answer it without even looking at the screen as your hands aggressively wipe the tears off your face. "Hello?"

"I can't do it." Tsukishima's voice reverberates in your head.

"W-what...?"

He takes a deep breath on the other line. "I can't look you in the face and tell you that I'm in love with you too when I'm scared that doing so would make it real." Another breath, one shaky and uneven. "It being real means that it can all go to sh*t and destroy me. Not having you would destroy me, (Y/n)."

You're not even breathing, standing there staring at nothing with bated breath.

"Just...Just give me some time. I want to try for you but I'm not good at this. Every time I look you in the eyes, I can't get a single word out. You're too good for me, and I'm scared for when you realize that, too."

All the strength in your knees has dispersed as you slowly keel over, on your hands and knees, with your forehead pressing on the lacquered wooden floor.

Such simple words, a few sentences, yet it's all you've ever wanted to hear. You would have understood him if you knew how he felt.

"...Can you wait for me...?"

You shouldn't even entertain him. You shouldn't even give him any leeway to think that he can f*ck with your emotions anymore. Why are you the one that has to wait for him? He's already had three years to be able to get the words out.

But you're weak, in love, and pregnant. You just want him by your side for a bit of support. You want to believe that if you did, you're finally going to get the man you've always wanted.

"How long?" It feels like a gush of air from your lungs.

"I don't know." He answers after a moment of silence. "I know I have no right to ask anything else from you, but I want to be there for...for you and this baby. It took two to make that child, and I want to do my part."

You shouldn't say yes. You can do it on your own. You can do it by yourself.

But he has your heart in the palm of his hands.

"Okay."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Only briefly did you communicate with him the following four weeks. Just a few times, he texted to check in and make sure you were doing okay. He seemed busy, his responses short, but you already decided he had another chance.

But soon, you're going to confront him; how much longer are you supposed to wait?

Other than that, you've been doing everything you could to prepare for this baby. You're working more, saving up for future expenses. Right now, all your grades are passing, better than before, as you've dedicated yourself to fully graduating with excellent remarks.

You were going to need all the credibility you could gather when people would judge you right off the bat for having a baby so young. The childbirth classes you were taking were going well, and the support group of other expecting mothers helped you make good friends with other people who could actually relate to your situation.

It did feel like you were alone in this pregnancy when you were the only one experiencing the joys of expecting. There was your baby's first kick, the first movement when recognizing your voice; it was a shame your baby's father wasn't there to experience it.

However, he did something most shocking, which was the turning point in your relationship.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

It's early morning; fog is still rolled out across the city, and dew drops still water the grass. The sun is so far off in the distance that its warmth doesn't reach you, leading to a scarf wrapped tightly around your neck and lower face.

You are dressed in a thick coat and several undertops, with your belly just growing big enough to press against the structure of your jacket. It's not huge yet, but by now, your baby should already be the size of a mango in your womb.

Quietly, you walked down the street from the bus stop until you arrived at a residential section with the address on your phone. The building was at least three stories, but it looked new and modern, with strong gates around the perimeter and a gate call box.

You pressed the button and informed the property owner at his office that you were here for your walk-in. The gate had opened, and he called to let you know to meet him downstairs at the specific number.

When you knocked and were let in, you most definitely did not expect the blond man himself to be sitting down on a sofa chair. He raised his head and met your gaze, a sly grin on his lips as he leaned his head against his fist. "Nice of you to join us." He muses at your flabbergasted expression.

Noriaki, the property owner, had only grinned with a closed-eyed smile. "Well, now that everyone is here, let's go look at the available room."

You couldn't say anymore, quite literally dumbfounded at that moment. Silently, you followed behind and entered one of the three apartments on the second floor. Immediately, you smell the scent of lime and are engulfed in light from the glass sliding door in the living room by the balcony.

"I had different counters put in and a new oven. The fridge isn't the latest model, but it's the most reliable one from the company." The brunet speaks as he leads you two around.

Tsukishima is silent, simply observing everything and checking the small details of certain appliances. The place was exquisite, with two rooms and a surprisingly large bathroom. Even the water pressure was intense and gushed forcefully from the showerhead.

It had everything you wanted, including a storage room just down the hall at the end that could be converted into a small room if needed.

You wanted this place badly, and even with the deal Noriaki made just for you, the final price still exceeded the budget you could afford to pay alone.

"So what do you think?" The owner asked once everything was explored and looked about.

"It's gorgeous." You state while a hand moves to press against the small of your back. "It's still just too much for me to pay by myself."

"Who said you're paying by yourself?" Tsukishima asked while flicking your forehead. "Why else do you think I'm here?"

Your head twists to the side with a brow raised almost dramatically. "I-you-" He pinches your cheek but grins a guileless smile that doesn't feel so mean.

"You're not the only one who was preparing. After all, we have a baby to take care of together." His words came out so smoothly that you struggled to comprehend them.

You're the one standing there gaping at him dumbfoundedly. You knew he needed time, but you hadn't expected to be ready for...well, this.

"Shall we go and sign the lease?" Noriaki asked lightly, hands clasped behind his back.

The blond was the one who answered you. "Yeah, let's go." And he was even the one to grab your hand and drag you to the elevator when you stood nearly shortcircuiting.

It feels surreal to get this from him when you have tried so hard before. Are things really changing for the better?

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

You had thought things were changing, yet when you asked him to go with you two for your twenty-week check-up, he said that he was busy. It was a little bit of wishful thinking to believe that he'd be there for everything.

Tsukishima was still the same person he was before, but only now has he stepped up to take care of his responsibility.

Really, you should have lowered your expectations to minimize your disappointment. But you put that aside for now as you arrive for your appointment. You were there for a check-up and to finally find out the gender of your little fetus.

"We're going to try something different," Dr. Shiroi communicated as she rolled into a different machine. It looked like a larger ultrasound machine with a bigger body and a more extended trolley. "This is a GE Voluson Ultrasound Machine. It's used to see a 3D/4D real-time visualization of your baby."

You've heard about this being used to render a physical mold of a blind woman's baby's face so she could feel what they looked like.

You cried when you saw your first ultrasound; you think you might bawl if you were to see something so visually accurate before birth.

The OB-GYN did the same thing she did last time, raising your shirt to smear the cool coupling jelly on your bare skin. As the transducer is being rolled around on your belly, you hear the sound waves of your body's natural functions while you lay eager to see the 4D rendering.

An abrupt knock echoes from your door as a nurse peeks in to look your way. "Sorry to interrupt, but there is a man here who goes by Tsukishima Kei. He says that he is here to see the mother of his child," she says quietly.

You're so startled by her words that you don't realize you were just lying there silently until Shiori spoke. "Well, should we let him in?"

Already on the verge of crying from your hormones, you could not trust your voice, so you nodded. The door shut slightly before it was opened again, and Tsukishima walked in while twisting his head away from the bright light in the room.

"Work was being a b*tch, and I couldn't get off-" His words come to a complete halt as a heartbeat fills the room—thump, thump, thump, a little slower, still as rhythmic and soothing as before.

He whipped his head your way, his golden brown eyes consumed by the sight on the screen. His shoulders had slumped, the straps of his bag falling as it hit the ground with a loud thud. You could hear him suck in a gasp with his mouth remaining agape.

"That's..." He didn't need to finish his sentence as you nodded and turned to look at it, too.

The screen has a black background, with the colored model of your fetus a medallion yellow hue. You can see the shape of their face, the roundness in their cheeks, and the imprint of their lips. They have all five fingers, with their right hand pressed against their face and the left circled against their chest. The little legs of the fetus are curled up to their chest, a secure position as they sleep so blissfully unaware of the world outside your belly.

"It's our baby, Kei."

He broke down. You can hear his body collapse in a waiting chair against the wall as he chokes on his breath. "My god."

Shiori hums as she moves the transducer slightly. "It looks like...a healthy baby girl. Congratulations."

You're doing it again; the tears are falling without an order. "Oh, a daughter." You croak with a hand reaching up to touch the screen. "We're having a daughter, Kei."

Gradually, your head turns back to face the blond, yet you couldn't imagine you'd ever see this sight. With his face hidden in the palms of his hand, you can see the slight droplets of tears peaking through between his fingers. His sagging shoulders are jittering while he clenched his jaw, holding in a sob.

You have become aware of many things during this pregnancy. You know you have faults, you know you're not perfect, and you know you've been thinking of Kei as cruel. There were many things you just assumed and took the initiative of believing and granted; it was because he never talked to you about what he truly felt, but still. There is still so much to learn about him.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The ride home in Tsukishima's car was silent; there was no talking, and not even the radio was playing. It was hard to have anything to say after such a touching familial moment at the doctors.

You wonder how he feels right now. Did it become so surreal when he finally heard his daughter's heartbeat, when he finally saw her little face staring right back at him? It was a distinct moment to which very few things could compare.

He pulled into the underground parking spot and turned the car on to park. Although it was shut off, the blond didn't move as he stared ahead through the glass. His hands are frozen on his lap while his expression remains impassive, unreadable.

"What's wrong?" It was a simple question, yet one he seemed to avoid as he usually kept his feelings all bottled up.

Yet you were pleasantly surprised when the young man had blown air out of his mouth and turned to face you. "This is real?" He asked softly.

"Yeah." You reply with a light chuckle. "It's all real, Kei. We're having a little girl, and she'll be here soon."

Tsukishima leaned back in his seat as his adam bobbed from a strenuous swallow. "Hate how thankful I am that you didn't move on from me."

You almost make fun of him, nearly; it was so hard to bite those words down. But you manage only to nod your head and place a hand on his. "Come on, let's go upstairs."

He didn't need to be told twice as he heaved his body out and wrapped his arms around the other side of the car to open the passenger side. "What a gentleman! " you jeered, yet he said nothing slyly back.

When you both had ridden the elevator to your floor and entered your apartment, the sun was just about setting. Its warm rays stream in through the glass sliding door, and you take a moment just to stand there and bask in it.

"Kei?"

He hums as you hear him kick over a box that still needs to be unpacked.

Turning to face him, he stares at you curiously. "We need to have better communication." He rolls his eyes dramatically, but you only laugh. "I'm serious. You don't even know how upset I was when I thought you didn't want to come to my appointment. If you had just told me that you were working and might not be able to get off, I would have been fine with that. You know what I would have told you?"

"Hmm?" He hums while shifting his gaze away and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

"That it was okay, that I understood. If you had just told me that you wanted to be there, but something important like work was not letting you off, the heartache I felt, and the questioning of if you really cared about me would have never happened. It would have been that easy."

"I know that-"

You interject his words with a shake of your head as you step towards him. "Don't lie to me. What are you so scared of that makes it hard to communicate with me or just to tell me about your feelings?"

He sighs exasperatedly while cocking his head in a different direction. "I don't know, (Y/n)." His answering would have enraged you if it were the you before your pregnancy. But you've been through so much, had many realizations and conclusions, and are more open with your thoughts.

Lightly, you grab his hands and hold them firmly. His skin is warm, and his fingers and palms have rough callouses from his hard work playing volleyball. "Then we're just going to have to figure it together. Because there is no way you're getting rid of me. I love you, Kei. Where am I going to go when we're starting our future together right here?"

He breathes deeply, chest expanding before you hear the exhale. His golden brown eyes behind his dark frames finally look down at you with the corner of his lip quirking upwards. "I don't remember you being so sappy. It's gross."

"Ah!" You release his hands to poke him harshly at the waist. "Don't even lie. You know you like it. Someone at least has to be open with their feelings."

Tsukishima clicked his tongue while swatting your hand away. His towering body turned at an angle to walk down the hallway, though he had halted at first before turning back to face you. "You get on my nerves sometimes."

"Oh, I could say the same thing about you." You stress back to him playfully. "Now, instead of being a meaniehead, let's figure out what to do for dinner. I'm starving."

The blonde laughed to himself as he began walking in the direction of the kitchen, but not before flicking your forehead lightly. "Fat a**."

"And you like this fat a**. That's why I'm pregnant." You drawl while twirling a piece of your hair, and you get the exact response you wanted. He knocked over the napkin dispenser on the island counter from your remark and flung back to glare at you 'harshly.'

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

When a man finally steps up, you notice the effort he has put in that you should have deserved long ago. Finally, receiving the same amount you have put in feels rewarding in a way nothing else has.

Although his change seems drastic, perhaps he had always been like that. His insecurities and fear kept him from being the man he could be. You notice it almost immediately; the small things he's been doing have been adding up.

The foods you've been craving or briefly mentioned are in the cupboards the next day. You complained once that the towel you were using was becoming too small to wrap around yourself, and then suddenly, the next time you showered, two new towels were waiting for you on the counter.

When you've struggled to get up late at night to wash yourself, he throws your things down by your side of the bed and dramatically sits next to you. His rough hands would then surprisingly clean it for you tenderly, softly, but then once he was done, he'd complain about needing to baby you.

Yet even when he complains or mutters how annoying something is, he does it again and again. You've dreamed about who would be your one, and although he's a bit different than your imagination, he's exactly what you want.

Even with his silly little quirks.

"This is literally all common sense," Tsukishima complains while pointing down at your lesson binder. "What kind of dumb** doesn't know how to hold a baby."

You can only roll your eyes at his usual complaints. "You whine every time, yet you still come."

Tsukishima has been coming with you to your childbirth classes, to every single one, even though he complains every time. Nevertheless, each time you say you're going to go alone, he's prying you away from the bus stop and grabbing your hand to drag you to his car.

Maybe he should just say he wants to be around you instead of acting all snobby hehe.

"Somebody has to make sure you're not doing something stupid." He muttered, leaning back in his seat while crossing his arms over his chest.

Playfully gasping, you poke him at the waste. "Aw, you actually care about me?" The expression he had on his face when he whipped down to look at you was hilarious. It was as if he was saying, are you seriously serious right now?

A lady from behind your table laughs to herself as her husband snickers softly. "It's nice to see your caring boyfriend here as usual." Sachiko jest while resting her hands on her pregnant belly.

"He's not my boyfriend." Were your immediate words, you're just the mother of his child.

"Princess." Tsukishima suddenly lamented in a whiney voice while he wrapped a long arm over your back to hug your shoulders. "I wish you would stop telling people that when you are upset with me."

You nearly choke on your saliva as the others around you laugh lightly at the scene. "Young love." Someone sighs under their breath almost dreamily.

Most of his jokes either go over your head, or you let it slide, but this one was sticking to you. Although things have been changing, most definitely for the better, the topic of your relationship with each other wasn't brought up.

He's taking responsibility and fully investing in it, but you want him to be more. Maybe that was your issue: always wanting more.

For the rest of the class, you were silent, listening to the lady up front but not joking around with the blond by your side. He noticed it, you could tell, but he refrained from bringing it up in front of the others. It wasn't until the two of you were in the car, driving back to your apartment, that he spoke.

At thirty weeks pregnant, you really cannot help if your emotions control you so strongly.

"Alright, what's bothering you now?" He asked while leaning an elbow on his door side.

"Nothing." Came your mumbled reply as you rested your head on the window, staring out at the darkness of the late night.

Tsukishima sighed exhaustedly before flicking on his turn signal and shifting. "I'm only going to ask you what's wrong once. After that, you can act like a kicked puppy all you want."

You sneered at him while turning your head in his direction. "You're just going to make fun of me."

"Even if you are going to say something stupid, I'm still gonna answer."

Your eyes stare at his side profile for a moment as you debate whether or not to tell. But you give him soon after as you couldn't go any longer feeling wretched. "I'm sad that we're not dating. I know that I'm the mother of your baby, but I also want to be your girlfriend, maybe wife one day."

The car came to an abrupt halt that had you jerk in your seat. The blond turned to face you with his eyes squinted and lips stretched into a frown. "What the hell are you on about? Of course, we're together." He states as if it were so apparent.

Now it was your turn to have a bewildered expression while you held your hands out, pointing at yourself. "Um, how am I supposed to know that? We never officially stated what we were, and you never asked me. What am I supposed to think?"

"God, why are you like this?" He complains as he starts driving again. "I thought it was obvious. You're the mother to my child. We're living together. I took responsibility, and that means being there for not only the baby but you as well."

You hated that he was right, somewhat. Slouching in your seat and pouting, you shifted your gaze back to the window. "I just wanted some clarification. Would have been nice if you asked me." Your mumbling words immediately result in a sigh from the man.

He pulled into the underground parking lot and parked before turning to face you. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Slowly, you turned your head to meet his gaze. "No."

"(Y/n)." He groaned while yanking his keys out of the ignition. "Stop playing around. I'm being serious."

"So am I. Either put in the effort actually to ask me to be yours or don't ask me at all. I deserve to be treated just a little bit more importantly."

He was silent the rest of the night, and you hadn't brought it up again. You were tired of the bare minimum, and even though he has been proving more and being there, you wanted him just to try a little bit harder.

And it seemed that your words had gotten to him. The following day, you woke up to his side of the bed already done and remade. He probably had classes that early morning, so you weren't in a rush to get ready for your day.

Lazying about for a little longer, you decided to get up after a while once your stomach cried for some food. Yet you quite nearly sh*t yourself at the sound of something moving in your kitchen. Peeking over as carefully as you could with a pregnant belly, you had not expected to see Tsukishima cooking in the kitchen.

He wore your frilly pink apron over his work clothes as he made all your favorite things. You stepped closer, astonished and astounded by things you didn't expect, like the candies and cute little teddy bears on the counter. Or vases of your favorite flowers with cards leaned against them.

Tsukishima heard the pitter-patter of your footsteps and spoke without turning around to face you. "I realized I've never given you flowers."

You're nearly in tears from your hormones. "How did you know those were my favorite flowers?" You asked with a slight squeak to your voice.

The blonde circled around to place another plate down in the middle of the items he bought. "I know a lot about you too, (Y/n). Now eat; I have to be back at work in an hour."

Respring a heavy breath, you held back your tears and took a seat on the island. You couldn't wait to dig in, and dig in, did you? The man himself had stayed in the kitchen, washing the dishes before leaning against the counter and just watching you eat.

By the time you were done, everything was eaten up, and you slouched in your seat, patting your bulging belly over your sleepwear. "That hit the spot."

Tsukishima hummed while stepping forward to lean his elbows on the surface by your plate. "Now that you've eaten my food, you have no right to refuse me asking you to be my girlfriend." You peered at him with squinted eyes while attempting to hold down a smile. "So, will you finally be my girlfriend?"

Yeah, that made you feel good. "I suppose." You sing it impishly." "Yes, I will be your girlfriend."

"Good." After all that, he walked over to your side to kiss your temple before going to the front door to put on his coat and leave for work.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Throughout your pregnancy, Tsukishima has surprised you, and he continued to surprise you constantly. It feels like all that sadness and despair that happened before was decades ago. It feels so silly to think about the issues you had and how all of it could have been avoided if you both just communicated better.

And although he still struggles with expressing himself clearly and not just holding a mask over his true feelings, he's putting in the effort that you've always wanted.

However, he still continues to surprise you when one day, at thirty-six weeks pregnant, he tells you to get dressed because you are going to meet his family.

You were in a daze while preparing to go, and on the long car ride there, you couldn't help but get more anxious. Meeting his family was such a huge step. It felt like it made your relationship even more real. He's not someone who would bring around just anyone, and yes, although you are pregnant with his baby, he didn't have to introduce you at all.

When finally arrived at his home, you felt like you were going to throw up. You're breathing had increased in speed as you gasped for air.

"(Y/n), breathe," Tsukishima murmured and grasped at your clenched hands. Your eyes fling his way only for him to have leaned forward and kissed your lips softly. Oh, how you melted in his embrace. "There is nothing to be nervous about. They love you already."

You stared at him with your lips slightly agape. "You talk about me to them?"

"Of course." He states while raising a hand to pinch your cheek lightly. "I've talked about you long before you were even pregnant."

It was too much for your little 'ol heart; you couldn't stop the tears that prompted the blond to swipe them away quickly. "Stop crying. You're going to make it seem like I abuse you."

"Abuse me with love." You joke with a quivering voice.

Kissing your lips once more, he pats your face dry while avoiding your gaze. "You can be so annoying sometimes."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The birth came unexpectantly, just cramps and leg pain that you thought was normal as you had them before when you brought your thirty weeks.

Yet when a particular piercing cramp in your lower belly woke you from your slumber and a wetness spread between your thighs, you knew what was happening.

You awoke your partner with a startled cry and told him what had happened. He was up to his feet in an instant. Throwing on his clothes, he helped you clean up first, then put on your clothes and threw the to-go bag in the car.

The blond does not show his emotions easily, yet you can tell he is nervous from his thumping leg and jittery fingers. As he made his way to the hospital, he kept looking at you, checking on your condition.

Arriving, the nurses were quick to take you away to get checked and placed in a birthing room. You had to deal with the contractions that came in rolling waves of pain and tight uncomfortableness.

Laying on the hospital bed with the time ticking and your contractions beginning to arrive quicker than before, something hot started to creep up your spine.

Nerves and anxiety spiked, overwhelming you as they gripped your mind tightly. Tsukishima noticed the slight change in your demeanor quickly, rolling his chair closer to your side.

"What's wrong?" He asked genuinely.

You can only look up at him with tears in your eyes. "I'm scared, Kei. What if something goes wrong? What if-" He silences you efficiently with one of his hands moving to hold the side of your face.

"It's okay to be scared," he murmured, looking at you with tender eyes. "I'm scared, too. I'm afraid to finally hold our daughter in my arms and realize that our entire world will revolve around that little thing." His thumb caressed your cheek, the calloused texture scratchy yet comforting against your skin. "We're going to be okay. Our daughter is going to be okay. God, I can't even wait to hear her annoying little baby cries."

You cannot help but laugh and reach to hold tightly onto his other hand. "That's going to get old real fast."

"It will," he replied, smiling genuinely. "But we'll experience it all together."

For the rest of the night, he was by your side, holding your hand and distracting you from the contractions. When Shiori came and said you were dilated enough, the birthing began.

It's happening—it was finally happening! After months of preparation, after months of talking to her through your skin, she'll be out here, able to be held in your arms.

The childbirth classes you took prepared you for this, and they told you about the pain, but the process of pushing her out through your pelvis was a pain you were absolutely unprepared for. You had screamed and grunted, choking on your own breath as you pushed.

Period cramps had nothing on this; you couldn't even fathom it. Tsukishima was actually useful, letting you squeeze his hand until it almost broke and talking you through it. His voice was so soothing as he attempted to keep his pitch calm.

With him by your side as a support pillar, you felt safe and secure. And to think you were going to do it alone before. How strong all those single mothers must be to be able to lay here in this bed and experience this pain by themselves.

And finally, after several hours of pushing and screaming and crying, the shrill cry of a newborn filled the delivery room. Oh, her little cry, it blared over the sounds of the machine and nurses talking.

"You did it." Tsukishima congratulated you with a kiss on your sweaty temple. "So proud of you, Princess."

Smiling weakly, the two of you watched as a midwife took your daughter to a sink and cleaned her carefully before weighing her. Your hand that was gripping him from the pain was now merely holding him tightly to ground yourself back to reality.

She's so tiny, yet she already has a head of thick hair. The midwife wrapped your baby carefully in a pink blanket and small little pink beanie before placing her on your chest.

You and your partner just stare at her in awe, overwhelmed by her ugly cuteness. Her crying had ceased, and finally, her eyes had opened to stare back at you two with her father's golden brown eyes. It's so warm; her gaze is so warm and innocent.

These little sounds vibrate on your skin. It's like her little humming and gurgling are helping your heartbeat. This is your baby, the daughter of you, and the love of your life.

"There's no one I'd rather have been the mother to my child," Tsukishima muttered while raising a finger to rub against her cheek. "Only you could give me such a beautifully ugly thing."

A laugh reverberates against your chest, and your daughter curls her head against your skin as if she recognizes who you are. "Do you think she will be tall?"

"Interesting thing to ask right after birth." The blond replied, looking at you sideways before knocking your head lightly with his. "Whether she'll be tall or not, we'll find out together. But I know she'll be as pretty as her mother."

You grin, overwhelmed by the pure happiness you are feeling at this moment. "I love you." Your first words were directed at your daughter before you looked up to meet your boyfriend's gaze. "And I love you too."

His lips pursed, tight and firm, before he closed his eyes and rested his head atop yours. "I love you too."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Requested by detredoomy on Wattpad.

She wanted some drama and toxicity, so I gave it to her.

This is actually the first character x reader story I've written in two years. Everything has been about my monster OCs, lmao. It felt nice to go back to my roots as an anime oneshot writer and pull the moves out.

Please show some support by liking/commenting so I know if you're enjoying it.

If you'd like to make a request, please do so on the first page under the request arrow so I don't lose your request in the comments.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳If you'd like to support me or read 5+ drafts of BD, or my other stories, please consider buying me Kofi. Thank you :)

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚 signing out

See ya later, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐬!

202 notes · View notes

flutterylust · 5 months ago

Text

Need Leon to breathe tbhhh

ugly little secret(s)

✎ Your cheeks are burning with rose-rotted chagrin. February 2nd, 1998. Leon. 21. Multiply, add, divide, and subtract. Do all the math. The upshot is all the same. Your boyfriend’s terrifying older brother is a fucking porn star. Or... was a porn star. God, does that even matter?

cw: fem!reader and has she/her pronouns, boyfriend’s brother ouchchch, shameless smut, drinking, cheating, humiliation, he rlly is an asshole therefore a tad ooc, semi-public sex, hair pulling, fingering, biting, ex-porn star (actually camboy but nevermind) leon omg, biting, degradation and praising, facials, oral (male receives) world count: 8k (uhm) tiny note: the second request during perilous ovulation week, and im quite excited/scared with this one, i did imagine og re4 leon but with remake’s face when writing this cuz og leon’s eyes r scary + i despise making banners and suck big time euugh

Wielding the spare key in your hand, you click a few times on the door, and it slithers automatically open. You make barely a sound since the minute hand and the hour hand have long crossed the midnight horizon. Dragging your bulging overnight bag inside, you step through the door of your boyfriend’s apartment building. A gloomy curtain of secrecy reigns inside. But what’s this? Your boyfriend knew you were on your way. What’s with sending his girlfriend to Coventry now?

Pity, looks like your dreams of getting those welcome hugs and kisses are dashed. Alas, you can’t stop the clock. Unpack your clothes, and you can always give him a call later, let him know you’re home.

To get things rolling, you hang the key on the coat rack in the foyer and mosey onto the kitchen for a glass of water. When you pull the handle of the fridge open, an abstruse smell filters into your nostrils. It’s not your fragrance and certainly not that of your boyfriend. A shade of a strange skin and other colors ride on the current.

Oh, he better not be cheating on you.

Out of dark, dark blues, the lightest nudge on your shoulder from the hands that have been sneaking up on you from behind spooks you. The hairs on your arms stand on end, and thorns effloresce on your skin—the kind of thorns that would cut open your flesh should you skim your fingers over them.

Your instinct, the one that will perchance drive you to your death, blindly dashes the glass of water in your hand in the face of the man behind you.

You get an offended and curt grunt of a veto.

That face bathed in water is actually quite recognizable, albeit a face you don’t see around you very often. The furrow of his brow is sunken, absolutely splotched with indignation—quite irascible.

Oh?

Oh.

Leon.

Your boyfriend’s big brother.

What a lovely first impression you made on him. Unfuckingbelievable.

You think he wouldn’t mind (he would, and he does). Credit where it’s due, the guy is barely in the menage picture; you do see him for a heck of a long time. He’s always off somewhere on a “job,” but you can’t get a sliver of a clue what the hell he’s pulling off as a “job.”. The gist of it is that Leon Kennedy leads a life that would surely inspire a private sleuth—and Leon never holds anyone personally accountable for it.

Rarely do you catch him cracking a mordant smile, which adds mingy zeros to the myriad percentages of his almost impossible odds. You have to cut him some slack, though, ‘cause he did help you once when you couldn’t get the lid off the pasta sauce.

“Fuck! Leon, I’m sorry. You’re—I mean—holy shit! You’re so stealthy, I thought you were a burglar.” You excuse yourself with a nebulous mewl.

A softer flicker of sympathy flits across his face, just duskily.

“’s fine.”

You know it’s not fine. You know it perfectly well.

His words may assure you that it’s okay, but his eyes are definitely looking at you like, “Were you really planning to confront a would-be thief by splashing water in his face?”

You can’t help but descry how Leon harnesses the same blue as his brother in the circles of his irises—a tint of sapphire that bucks the blues of the rivulets. They are dark too. No adequate translation of this chromatic parallelism.

For no discernible rhyme or reason, you look around wary to atone for your self-pity, and your eyes wander to the roll of tissue folded atop the kitchen table.

With a tear of a leaf, you pat the toweling paper into the droplets that trickle down his chin, a bead, or even two.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Leon inveighs.

He’s the kind of person capable of morphing into a scary person when he wants to. Makes you so wired, but he does it so well.

“What are you, my mother?”

The damp and tattered lump of paper in your hand falls to the floor, and you raise your hands in midair as if in groveling surrender. No need for much falsification.

“Of course not!”

The last time you felt this dejected in your life was in elementary school when your teacher dragged you out to recite a sonnet from fucking Marlow. And you fucked up so bad. Surely now, these nanoseconds are going straight into the collection of your second most cringe-worthy memoirs.

“So, what’re you doing here?” You clear your throat.

“Just visiting. Temporarily. Got a flight by tomorrow.”

There’s your answer.

But you want to know more. You always do.

“Uhm. Where’s your brother again?”

“I dunno. Said he had to deal with some stuff in the office before he left.” Leon brushes at the wetness on the collar of his t-shirt with a napkin petal he rips off afresh.

“Oh, that makes total sense. He didn’t say anything to me before I got here, y’know. So I thought the house would be empty since I didn’t see him—but you came out of nowhere, and I got all antsy!” You run off at the mouth, rocking on the balls of your feet awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Leon hacks your words to pieces all over with a shiv. A tasteless night for you and your speech clumps in your throat, burning your airway so bitterly.

“Whatever. I’m going out. Gotta change first, all thanks to “someone” pouring water over my fucking head.”

Allusions and epithets shape his voice into thumbnail knives, and they stab steadily and directly at you. You bleed trickles of mortification.

He won’t even spare a backward glance at your face.

He wanders out of the kitchen, and you just sulk after him.

Eighteen messages you send to your boyfriend, and every time you dial his number, the line rings dead air. Sprawled out on his bed, you try to decompress, but it’s all for naught. Time is repentant to elapse while you’re all alone. Can’t sleep either since you didn’t shy away from drinking a whole cup of coffee. All that has happened to you now is indeed no one else’s but your own fault.

It’s your feet that carry you out of the room again. Inside, it’s colder—there’s one less person and one less blood circulation. Leon must have left, and it’s fairly late.

What a laugh; it boggles your mind as to why this man is like this and why he would go out at this hour, but perhaps your theorem of him being a crook holds some meed of credence.

Who cares? To hell with all the Kennedys.

They’re all rude and... handsome and pretty. Candies for the eyes, so to speak.

On the TV unit, a picture framed with teak wood catches your eyes. A mother, a father, and their two sons. Leon looks younger here. He looks more... puerile and similar to his mommy. Ah, there’s your boyfriend. As for him, he’s a minor character—non sequitur—even through your eyes.

Just blame it on human nature to curry favor for the better and more pleasant ones. It’s simpler that way.

Quite on the fly, the Kennedy brothers’ cat skitters towards you, a gust of wind coming from your left, from your boyfriend’s bedroom.

“Oh, gosh! What the hell?”

Surviving an attack by a cat without a single scratch wasn’t an entry in your mental dossier for this particular evening. What a creepy cat. He reminds you of Leon, to be honest: a grumpy, feral, black cat and quite conniving. A cunt, literally.

You’re fixing your hair properly, but things turn up a notch when you notice that your earring is missing—the one that usually grazes your hair when you push a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyebrows spontaneously knit into a rictus frown.

“Stupid kitty.” You mutter to yourself, and your eyes sweep over the surroundings, looking for anything and everything. And voila! You hit the jackpot. A pair of hoop earrings glint in the corner of the bookcase. You waddle on your knees and reach for your precious bijou. Eyes on the floor, your head tilts a fraction from your preoccupation with the insertion of the clamp into the tiny hole in your earlobe. Then you see a small box. It’s one thing for it to be hidden out of sight, quite another for it to be so incredibly grotesque. A jejune beige-colored corrugated box tucked under the bookcase. On it is a stamped label that reads “1998.” That’s like 6 years ago.

Curiosity claws at your guts, and the incisal edges of your teeth zing your bottom lip.

But you’ve already opened the grimy, dust- and paper-covered lid of that box.

A box full of some movie cassettes. About ten, possibly more. What the deuce is this?

It’s hard to pick one out, but somehow you pluck the one that has fallen to the very bottom of the line.

You insert the deck into the tape recorder’s lizard-like tongue.

The television comes to fruition with horizontal and vertical lines that weave in and out of the harmony of blues and greens. Butterflies of distress swirl inside you—something is about to rock the boat. You clutch the remote control tightly to your heart.

February 2, 1998.

A LITTLE PRE-LAUNCH AND WARM-UP.

The screen confronts you with a dark display that momentarily startles you with the reflection of your own agitated features. Whoever this director is, he should never direct a battle in the middle of darkness and winter for the next years!

The screen jerks and shakes some more, lumberingly, and you can see the... thighs of a figure, a man (?).

Fuck. This is the shot.

This is the fucking Leon, his face chubbier on the tape; tender, and with the baby fat now minus his chiseled, washed-out cheeks.

Leon, that very adorable Leon, as in the family portrait, is now sitting there with his considerably big dick in the palm of his hand... pumping the hell out of himself. His hair is darker, brown maybe. And there’s a woman you’ve never seen before, on all fours, sucking on testicles that were probably heavy enough to make mincemeat of the camera if they were to hit against the screen.

“So—suck—big. Gosh, I love them so much, naughty boy. Just like how I love my men younger but with huge cocks. You gonna fuck me after I suck this pretty dick, pretty boy?”

She’s talking dirty and smearing Leon’s balls with bright red rouge, sucking and guzzling on his sacks like there’s no tomorrow. God, how’s this even possible? Can she even breathe?

“Y-yes, ma’am. I’ll give you anything you want,” Leon, in return, stammers amateurishly.

Everything and everyone is looking at you, with all their obscenity and prurience. Everything on the screen. And you’re staring back at them.

“Fuck this!”

A crude tap on the red button of the remote and the screen is the dimness of the night welkin again.

Your cheeks are burning with rose-rotted chagrin.

February 2nd, 1998.

Leon. 21.

Multiply, add, divide, and subtract. Do all the math.

The upshot is all the same.

Your boyfriend’s terrifying older brother is a fucking porn star. Or... was a porn star. God, does that even matter?

You’re giving yourself a wake-up pinch on the arm. You need to know if this is a dream or if your mind is playing some sick trick on you.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Your eyes HAVE witnessed everything. What else can you do but believe them?

Leon was there; he was in that bed, and between his knees was a woman giving him the head of his dreams. That Leon, proud and awed, whimpering in his gruff voice.

What the fuck?

It all makes so much sense if you give yourself a chance to ponder it. It’s psychedelic. So, Leon is obviously someone living his own life on his own, but everything he’s done in the past is just a sliver of time littered with wrongdoings.

Either that or it isn’t. It may or may not be a flaw to be a porn star. Correction: an ex-porn star. You really don’t know. You’re all over the place, but there’s a voice inside you questioning why this should even concern you in the first place.

Really? What do you care? How is that any of your business?

Leon’s nothing to you, and you’re nothing to him. He sure as hell despises you, and after your gaffe tonight, it’s a very real likelihood that you’re one of the top three names he’s written in his personal journal of people he holds in contempt.

Your gaze falls on the cat, licking his paws. He stares blankly at you, and you at him. Subsequently, the rattle of keys and the sound of the front door unlocking—you know perfectly well what kind of timbre it grates—jar you out of your haze of apathy. Immediately, you stash the remote in your hand under the cushion on the couch. You never know.

You sink into the armchair, push the ‘Pandora’s’ box (it sure had some scandalous stuff in it, alright) under the bookcase, and snatch the first book that randomly comes to your hand from the bureau.

The patter of footsteps coming in matches Leon’s boots. You watch him walk in like a soldier on standby, but sitting down. You are, indeed, the greatest example of how this can even physicalize.

“You haven’t gone to bed yet?”

You shake your head no. Won’t breathe a word after everything has happened. He’s very much on the same page.

The suspense between you is so thick you could hear a pin drop.

“Felt like reading a book at this hour?” Leon sounds painfully austere. As usual and as he should be.

“Yeah.” You wave the book in your hand at him. It spells “Twilight.” A pop-culture pulp book that cryptically no one can keep out of their hands, in a macabre sort of way.

“You’re reading a vampire romance for teenagers? At 4:00 a.m.?”

“Yes...”

You keep repeating the same words like a double robot or like a refrain of a nursery rhyme.

Leon pitches in by keeping schtum. Inwardly, he feels sick ‘cause he has frightened you more or less. He isn’t a complete asshat, sure, but he certainly hasn’t had a very good sense of how he would behave with people he isn’t exactly in rapport with. Until then, and even now, he feels up in the air, especially next to you.

“Well... I’ll just watch some TV.”

Oh.

Oh, hell fuck.

He said “television,” and you heard it very lucidly.

The television still tuned to the tape recorder, and the very television still screening the tape in its monochrome black frame.

“Ah! No, Leon. I think it’s totally overkill. It’s so late, right?”

Here come your eccentricities.

“Nah, you’re the overkill. I’m bored. I’ll just channel surf and go to bed anyway.”

“I think you should just go straight to bed, Leon. Look under your eyes. I don’t think purple eye circles flatter you.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that the pills ain’t helping.” His razor-sharp eyes are roving to pinpoint the remote. “The pharmacist said Zolpidem does wonders; he raved and gushed about it. Fuck that guy and the other guys beside him.”

“You do take pills to fall asleep?”

“I do.”

“Haven’t you tried taking some... melatonin gummies?”

Anything to keep the conversation away from the hidden remote.

To your surprise, Leon vacillates in the span of a heartbeat’s whisper. Melatonin hadn’t even dawned on him then, but instead of letting you find out, he’d rather jump off the veranda, thank you very much.

He prods you a little and digs out the remote control that you placed under the cushion, as if he himself had planted it there.

Oh, boy.

You really need to stop what’s happening and what’s most likely to happen. One way or another, you have to do it, or you’ll be the guilty one here and —

The damned TV switches on as soon as Leon hits that second button.

— and you’re the voyeur watching your boyfriend’s brother’s porn videos. It’s now official.

That’s what you are. Officially, a pervert.

A blanket of quiescence suffuses the room unless you count the gagging and Leon’s tinny whimpers filtering through the telly.

Oh, how you need a new epithet right now, one to define infamy and beyond.

You can’t see what kind of spectrum is delineated on his face. How dare you look at him anyway? How dare he look at your cherry-cheeked face when a twenty-one-year-old Leon’s fucking a milf’s mouth on the display?

The karmic equation of the situation is so complex that his eyes finally apprehend yours. You can tell how far-fetched it all is without even meeting his perusal.

“I didn’t mean to! I swear I found them under the bookcase.”

You meander, glaring at the vinyl flooring, a handful of stray words only barely pinging out of your mouth.

“I mean... it’s your fault. Who leaves personal belongings out in the open?” You try again.

Leon is nowhere with you.

In the room, in all, everything is dead silent. The porn video has fallen dead silent too; there is no other noise punctuating the room than the sound of a clock’s rivets pursuing each other. This must be what dying feels like. Cold, pitch-black darkness and nary a sound. Like a mausoleum, but a mausoleum at 4 o’clock or so.

“And yet you had to butt in.”

Looks like he’s about to rip you a new one right here and there. Hard not to be flummoxed; all glassy-eyed and mouth agape. Even his glare is chopping the remaining of your exiguous logic.

“That’s not what it looks like!”

“Oh, is that so?”

Written on his face is the projectile vomit of aversion to you. It’s the kind of vitriol that will drive you fifty feet under the ground, and the blues of his eyes aren’t malleable—no azure pinpricks. Asperity in the green, bloodshot eyes.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t paw at everything you happen to see, huh?”

It would be really nice. If you had the decency to recognize your boundaries, this would never have had to happen. You’d have remained two virtual strangers, and perhaps you could have dimmed the tingles between your legs for him. That much exposure to porn makes anyone wet; fair play to you. The problem is that you’re soaking wet for your boyfriend’s blood and kin.

That’s what makes you a wench: your anatomical reaction—if you want to gloss over the obvious.

What the hell is wrong with you?

“The fuck are you still doing here? You deaf or something?”

His question—equivalent to him banishing you from this place—rocks your whole world to the ground. You may agree with Leon, but you still can’t come up with the flimsiest excuse to stop yourself from hating him. How he refuses to believe you precisely because it’s cheap to write you off as the wanton one.

You need to do something about it.

Guts suddenly coursing through your body, you retort, “It’s not like I’m looking forward to being here anyway. What a fucking weird family you have. Christ! Your moron brother cheats on me; I try to ignore it, and when I try to do something to clear my head, I see a porn video of the man who will be my brother-in-law.”

Oh. Ouch. Now you have done it.

That felt so good. The ultimate and only panacea: spewing out the poison that had clogged inside you.

So much so that even Leon finds himself reeling. The feeling of being enough to sway him— however, fleetingly—gives you a strange sense of vindication.

“You give him the ring. I’m done with any of this.”

You fling the ring aside and it thuds down on the floor.

Indubitably, you slam the door stormily before you leave. Just like a movie scene. It’s overly melodramatic, but it must be executed. (Note: you’ll probably throw up in the toilet when you remember the antics you’ve just carried out).

After that night of odium; you now avoid any place in your daily life where you ever read the acronym “Kennedy.” Conversely, you cast withering glares at people’s mouths before the birth of anything that begins with the L-word. The stakes are alpine.

Over and over, your now ex-boyfriend texted and paged you, and you didn’t return a single one of them. As if you didn’t walk in on him with the girl in the office—time and again—on the desk, his ugly hand and zaftig fingers under the girl’s pencil skirt. You weren’t born yesterday, and while your ex was snoring his ass off to sleep, you were engrossed in reading his texts to other blonde girls with small tits and waists.

All those nights when you went into the living room and read Fur Coat Madonna under the dim lamp as if nothing had actually changed.

You had only one simple answer for why you put up with it: sublimity. You lusted after money; you had a yen for power and glory.

A grounded family—the Kennedys were what you were looking for. Young and adolescent girls, young Americans, loved the handsome, blond men and their pretty eyes. To be one of their girlfriends—they’d murder someone or start a cult even, really.

Luckily, your father’s pedigree and the blood that runs through your veins qualified you as a golden plum. Although you’ve always gotten your eye on Leon, unfortunately, the better Kennedy wasn’t up for grabs.

Not only is (or was) he a porn star, but the fact that no one has ever heard of him only serves to raise huge fishy questions about what kind of a cover story is playing out behind the screen.

Whatever.

You’re off to Italy and ready to drink the stress away. Drama-free and only the blue sea of the alluring Mediterranean.

Who doesn’t like a warm Sicilian starry night?

After a lap in the pool, you climb up the pool ladder and dry the excess water from the tufts of your hair with a towel while unintentionally eavesdropping on the chatter of the two girls working at the minibar. They’re right behind you.

Excitement and bustle are at their peak; one of them is showing the other something on her phone. Slowly, you make your way towards them.

“Girl, it looks sooo fine—he’s, like, sooo fine.”

The staff speak Italian amongst themselves, and you struggle to translate their words by hearsay against your moribund Italian language background.

“Are you kidding? You can’t even sit on it. It’s so big.”

“I’d happily sit on it,” the other girl says (presumably). “Look at the tip... just tie a ribbon on it. Awwh.”

This is so... hocus-pocus. They say, “Nastro something something something.”

Doesn’t that equate to a ribbon?

It’ll set your head on fire if you mull it over any longer. You could do well with a cold drink and mayhaps find a hot Italian tutor.

The girls won’t even hear you approaching. What’s the deal with all this? Because this is getting overly gelastic.

“Ahem.” You bitch up. You’re good at that.

One of your girls nearly drops her phone, and the other one smiles sweetly at you as an amends for her friend’s indignities.

“Signora! Good evening to you. The usual again?” Her Italian accent makes it even funnier.

“Yep. Gimlet, please.”

“Coming right up!”

Strapping the thin sarong around your hips, you settle on the stool and wait for your order.

“White Russian,” a voice next to you pipes up. You know that voice all too well. Oh, and the puff of his whispery perfume—something sandalwood or cedar.

“Buona notte, sweetheart.”

That autocratic sass and gruff. Your stomach lurches.

Fuckfuckfuck.

“What the hell are you doing here, Leon?”

“Surprise, surprise.”

Sarcasticity and irreverence read like the trappings of the only emotion in his bones, and that makes you feel ill at ease. The degree of clownishness of the look you get when you glance over your shoulder at him is simply gobsmacking.

“What are those glasses?”

In the darkness at the ninth of the night, his Wayfarer sunglasses portray a very unhinged vignette.

“My new style. Y’like it?”

“No.” You huff out, “your head looks bigger, and your forehead is awfully wide with them.”

That’s beyond cruel, but you do what you do; you tell him the truth. Leon, in regards, opens his mouth to make you eat the humble pie, but the bartender chimes in and plops your freshly poured cocktails in front of the two of you. No sooner is she out of the way than Leon skulks over, and his whisper, drifting closer to your ear, forebodes fiasco.

“I know what you’re doing. Don’t you dare divert the subject.”

Now what the fuck is this? Why is he rambling on like a riddle and serving no purpose other than to vex you?

In one swift guzzle, Leon swallows all the velvety liquid in the old-fashioned glass, the movement of his Adam’s apple a downward slide as the liquor coils up his parched throat; it all goes down smooth and fulminates his insides.

Show off.

You’re not into that.

“Look. I told you I’m done with you and your stupid sibling after that night,” you clarify in a more affable tone, but Leon shows no interest in humoring you.

“Believe me, I thought so too.”

“So then why are you here?”

Leon first downplays his eyes at this question, and then you can trace an aweless grin on his face again—ablaze with the glow of the clinquant candles stacked on the counter.

“This is my hometown, y’know.”

A strange turmoil to explore, to espy how much his facial expressions play for the first time since you’ve come to know him. Turns out he can be pretty silly when he wants to be an Italian.

But maybe you’ve pissed him off too much, so he grabs you by the arm uncouthly and steers you nearer to a not-so-appropriate vantage point. Nose to nose and lips to lips.

Up close, he’s much comelier, indescribably so. Freckles dotting along the bridge of his nose and his kissable, aflush lips. He looks like a breeze in the summer, and you adore the aestival fire flowers.

Be sure to ask him about his skincare routine after this carousel still.

“You uploaded my videos on this fucking website, didn’t you, you little backstabbing bitch?”

Stop, stop, stop, stop. Stop the tape, the recording, and everything.

What.was.that?

Your face is veiled in an acidic visage. Now the cat’s out of the bag, and it’s clear why he’s walking around like a super spy with these goofy shades on.

“I didn’t release your videos or shit. You see, I’m in my own business, and having the best vacay in the world,” you pull your arm free, and his hand falls idle, “only for you to come and fuck it all up. So, congratulations, you’ve ruined my whole vacation.”

“Do you take me for an oaf?”

Actually, yes. In your judgment, he’s the flesh-and-blood manifestation of the idiocy.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Do not say it aloud.

“Think this is a wiiild coincidence how my fucking clips have been all over the internet since that night?” Leon demands again. He wants some answers.

“I told you I didn’t do it.”

Leon certainly isn’t taking your word for it. He scoffs and pilfers your margarita glass. Fucker is drinking your cocktail while he’s looking you in the eyes. This only drives you to a point of an afflictive angst, and you once again seek to justify the circumstances. Just one last time.

“I mean it!”

That’s a very... plausible interpretation.

The abyss of blue in his eyes behind his sunglasses knocks you sideways. You can’t do anything about it.

“Remind me again why I should believe you?”

Finally, he says something, and something cold, something roseate, drizzles into your heart.

“Uhh,” you falter and make a pseudo moue, “listen to your gut and your heart. I think... yes. Trust me when I’m telling the truth, my good friend. All hail to the power of friendship!”

For every second you waste sitting with Leon, you unconsciously lose your conversational and persuasive faculties. Not a good rapport; you feel like a psychopath with a double personality and so forth.

What you look like to Leon is a guileful suck-up at best.

He pities you, but perhaps his heart melts too. You leave a strangeness on Leon’s tongue like the mysteries and absurdities of the Bermuda Triangle when you two come together. Funny how he knows what you taste like without tasting you.

Does that make sense?

Cute, he thinks; you don’t even attempt to slut-shame him for his past. He wants to believe you’re in the clear, but he can’t resist giving you a little piece of his mind. For now. At least until Hunnigan figures out whose name put that spectacular viral video of Leon’s dick on the Internet.

“So? Are we still friends?” You rhetorically ask, just to be sure for once.

“No,” he says tersely, forthrightly even. Shithead. “Just gotta make sure you really didn’t do it.”

Call it a hunch or the sixth sense, Leon knows you didn’t upload that one particular video. Hunnigan was quick to take care of the matter to expunge the videotape from the entire history of the internet. A few people may have seen what they could see, but America has more substantive matters to settle. All Leon needs here is a little dalliance with you.

In antagonism to his ambitions, you barely have time for an inauguration, much less a speck of free time for him.

Hence you stand up, all the more assertively. Not that he hates it; he likes the little attitude and mannerisms you’re giving.

“Sounds like it’s your problem.”

You want to show off, but your aptitude in this field does not know the right vernacular. You suck at flirting, and you really want to leave.

“I’m still mad at you. You need to make it up for me,” he echoes your words without spoiling his deportment.

“Like I said, your problem,” you give him a goodbye wave, “Good night and have sweet dreams.”

You part ways if only for a season. As far as Leon is concerned, you’re still on the list of suspects, and it’s something that he definitely needs to tackle, but for the time being, he has to recede from the spotlight for his very reputation.

Let the sting of that scandalous video subside so that people can find something else to talk about and forget it for the next episode of something more debauched.

Not always do people associate a former porn star with a government agent. It’s a very tongue-in-cheek deal, but Leon never knew how to stay on the good side with his father, and he grew up as an incorrigible kid, so his father cut him off from his money.

Since his college tuition wouldn’t pay for itself unless someone like the fairy who helped Cinderella came alive, Leon ended up working for a crummy company as a last-ditch effort. He hit his twenty-one, and he found himself sucking a pussy in front of the cameras like his life depended on it.

A five-month-long process and a timetable that would greatly tarnish his morality. That stuff was too damn much for his little heart. Better to do it as a “camboy” for the sake of monetization later on—the die was cast.

Then Raccoon City kicked in, and things spiraled out of control for him. For a while, Leon went into a period of estrangement from everything he’d ever known.

Until then, you showed up—out of the blue—and gave him another flashback of his odious past on that stupid TV screen.

Doesn’t that give him the right to blame you? It’s more than enough.

Keeping a “close” eye on you is just another one of his foibles. Not something he had planned, and it’s certainly not healthy. On Leon’s behalf, touching base with Hunnigan and asking about your whereabouts doesn’t sit well with him. Something inside him kept reheating and reheating like a leftover meal from last night that what he was doing felt wrong but also that it was necessary.

He scarcely had a week off work, but to spend it with following you around gives him a perverse pleasure.

Now, he’s simply addicted to his own suffering.

In such wise, he follows you, deep sea and cross-ocean, dark doom and curious. Italy to America, America to Canada, and America again.

The crossing of your paths is just as “serendipitous”.

One night, as you are about to ask the bartender to do a refill on your hideously strong scotch, you coincidentally make eye contact with the guy sitting one seat away from you.

The classic sets of blue eyes. He’s in the distance and observes you from afar—it’s like a summons to his company. Can’t really blame his eyes—they’re the only interesting thing to look at around.

It’s Leon.

You’d say a “hi” or “hey”. It’s no big deal, and you like your friends.

Only you’re chickening out, and he’s not your friend; besides, peeping at your boyfriend’s brother (well, ex-boyfriend) and letting him do the same to you might not be your proudest moment.

Since you’re absolutely determined not to join him, Leon himself stands up and puts his glass on the bar. He slides onto the stool next to you—under his breath that smells of minty chewing gum—and gives what appears to be a frazzled sigh.

“Does it ever grace you, ignoring me like that?” He tuts you.

“Maybe I just wanted to be alone.” You smile back, biting back the acute inclination to roll your eyes, feeling the liquor sizzle in your throat as you take a big throatful.

“Hm. Copy that.” Leon leans back a little, studying—no—appraising you. Hard not to flounder under the rapt fixation of his glance, as it lingers on your eyes for half a second too long, and it’s almost as if you’re the only thing he pays any mind to in the room.

Shit. Is it working?

It’s working.

For every second that washes away between you, he looks even better in your eyes. You could swear there’s a spell cast on his eyes, inveigling you in. It’s abysmal; he’s abysmal.

“I don’t believe you.”

“When the hell have you ever believed me anyway?” You tip back the rest of your pint.

Oh, he hears you loud and clear. Leon knows more or less what it is that you’re being so uptight about. In the back of his mind, he recognizes how bitter he’s been with you and that you do deserve a quick mea culpa.

“I’ve always been a supporter of you. You just got me mixed up, beautiful.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Your own choice of wording doesn’t even speak for itself. It’s equally fatuous to expect that you did manage to convince him.

“Wrong again. You didn’t get up and walk away. You would have gladly done it if you wanted to. Hell, you’d be bitching about me sitting next to you in the first place.”

In spite of your inner voice begging you to abscond and save yourself, your body is pertinaciously attached to that stool, and you loathe to tell him he’s absolutely justified. This is why you fall quiet, and Leon loves it, not in secret but overtly and nakedly.

“I’m going back to the States tomorrow.” You launch your escape plan. He was interested in you before, but seeing how well you adhere to the dignity you are trying to manifest, he itches to get close to you, to touch you, and feel you. To take away that “good girl” pretense. Stripping you naked like rose petals is just a prelude to the ritual.

“Can’t you stay with me a little longer?”

“You don’t understand, Leon. The flight’s so early. I need some sleep.”

Excuses, excuses.

“Aww, shame,” he wittingly leaves a white and an electrically charged void between his question and his amative suggestion, “I can think of a few more things I’d like to do with you, you see.”

“Oh, can you?”

Pretend you’re not impressed, cold, cold, rude.

“Yeah,” he sings, smiling affably down at you, “all I’m asking if you wanna fuck. With me.”

“With... you?

Something about this guy makes you almost feel like a chaste virgin. Almost. Certainly, he would coax you and actually say that, judging from the type of background material (his... given career) you’ve amassed, he doesn’t exactly give you the overall illusion that he’s the type to play on the matters. That’s the picture you’re reading. Must be an old habit of his: talking dirty and saying what he wants so bluntly without a backward second thought. Even so, you gape at him—allegorically and disconcertingly attuned to the proximity between your very bodies.

He idly swishes the dregs of the liquor and ice cubes left in his glass. Under the bar, you two are perilously close, his knee cradling your thigh, drawing a mucronate intake of gasp from you.

“With me.”

Leon dips his head, drinking in the authentic scent of the perfume you’ve painstakingly sprung on the right side of your neck. Against him, you recline slightly, your head inclining upwards to make space for his teeth to bruise your neck. Leon, against your better judgment, recoils to the side. You let out a soft oh? under your breath. Motherfucker. It’s a suit of an absolute assholery not to deliver what you want the most when you need it the most—the very thing Leon would do.

“I’m still waiting for an answer here. Say the word and I’m all yours.”

He’s already dead set on you, all along, from the moment he had you in his sights, but what he really wants to see on your pretty face is the certain voracity that he’s felt for you. For Leon, it’s the most sublime mirage he’ll ever have, to see his girl like that and in that shape.

“Do I want to... what?”

“Me. Do you want me?” Leon elaborates on your words for you. He can be generous like that.

Just as generous when he kisses you in the bathroom of a dive bar. Kisses you filthy, tongue-fucking your mouth in perfect rhythm with the pumping of his two fingers inside your weeping pussy. You bleed on his fingers, and Leon scissors them inside you while he mouths indecorous things in your mouth and grinds the heel of his palm against your little clit.

Shame he doesn’t take the time to pledge to make you cum on his digits, plus there’s no subtlety in his gesture as he pushes you against the cold, cold tiles. Not that you’d expect this kind of affection from him. By now you’ve undoubtedly deciphered the sort of man he is, but the way he shows off as he licks your arousal, glistening on his fingertips, is just as inexplicable. It’s the thing you can’t figure out, and it has the effect of numbing you with a groan through gritted teeth.

Tugging at your skirt and ruching it up until it’s a waistband—and that’s the crudest of the crudities. Leaves you homesick for his caresses and kisses.

“Look at you.”

Out of the question, just like how your panties are out of the picture now. You can’t think respectively and look at yourself at the same time.

Ass out, pussy bare, you let his finger paw at the nylon fabric of your tights, leaving a gaping hole. In other words, he’s ruining you, and you’re acting like you need it. You need him, indeed.

Leon shudders in the pent-up tightness of the pucker that squeezes around his cock as he slides inside you, shaping your insides along the way as he does so. A string of self-conscious words, of dirty promises praising you, trammel at the base of his sore throat.

He lurches clumsily to your ass with a hand and leans a little lower to your ear as he takes a lump of puffy flesh, eliciting another fluctuant whimper from your lips, “Arch back for me, beautiful. Jus’ a little so I can fill you all up.”

Oh, God. You want that. You want it so badly, so you arch back so beautifully. The sugariness of your exhale and his sigh mingle as he slowly melts into you, disappearing inch by inch. Your thighs tremble when you close in at your limits, and you hear him rasping, “That’s it. You’re doing amazing, pretty.”

Right then and there, you might crash, but the hand ghosting around your waist from behind intones that all is well. Your whimpers and clenching of your pussy, every ounce of praise that ricochets in your ears; he can feel you scorching inside. First and one-night stands are hardly ever this romantic, especially for Leon, for whom this is very much a debut. Despite the arrogance of his conduct as a rule, Leon doesn’t hold any disrespect for the women he fucks, and he doesn’t abate his ministrations to you while you’re so nicely grasping him inside you. He hits slower when he catches you slamming your fist into the ceramic wall with a thump, and he pounds harder when your lovely hands reach for him again; he relishes in how you push your hips into him and drill him raw, trying to fuck yourself on him. Sequentially, he fucks the fleeting kisses on your cervix, lingering and volatile, fingers curled tightly in yours; you’re both tense but reckless.

“Fuck,” is the foul-mouthed note under his breath, and you eagerly savor every second of him filling you until your sublimate wails ring out and bounce off the walls of the private restroom. How embarrassing it is to be so out of it in a lavatory, and how utterly crushing it is that the person fucking you from behind is none other than your ex-boyfriend’s brother. The memories are gnawing at you, but Leon fucks you just well enough to kill the charade once and for all.

“P—ah—please!” You cry out depravedly.

It’s just as vertiginous to see those pearly crooked teeth so close, and the bruise biting into your neck is just as narcotizing. A competition, too, and the more moans he pulls out of you, the closer he is to laurels.

Repel the drive to cram your legs together a little while he grasps your thigh with one hand, holding it up and apart enough to malleate in all the way. His thumb promptly abrades your clit, and with measured rolls of his hips, the tip of his cock tickles lightly over that spongy spot inside you.

“Leon, m—more. Please.” Your plea transpires in an aquaking objection. You can’t even breathe; it all feels like you’re trapped in a nightmare, and your voice is never enough for crying help. The difference is this is very much of the real life, and he hears you faultlessly. Leon knows what you need from him.

Moments before you can find yourself coming, as that all-consuming, sweltering heat envelops your body, Leon retracts the hand he has been playing with your greedy clit.

“Leon, f—fuck you!” Diluting and blinking open your closed eyes, you’re cussing out, and there he is with his hand on your neck, his thumb threading your vein, which is pulsing in a hot red from his previous bite. Soothing? You really don’t think so. He just likes to feel you up.

“See what a fucking sight you have become,” he coos, bent on shaming you into decorum. Angling your head with a thumb under your chin, he entombs you below his jaw, his bicep enfolding your face securely. In the mirror, it’s you and Leon—winded, debauched. Curse yourself a thousand times inside for not wiping your lipstick. You look like a shitty cosplayer of the Joker; mascara flakes off your eyelashes, and your clothes are beyond reproach. Beside Leon, you look like a girl he fucked in one of those cheesy old porn videos you’ve been snooping around with, and next to you he looks perfectly fine. You, indeed, recreate the ones titled “college slut bends over her classmate and her grades skyrocket, blah blah.” Very aroused and thoroughly fucked.

“You won’t take any cock that doesn’t carry the Kennedy label, huh, baby?”

“Leon, God, I need—” You bleat, maybe a notch squeakier, and he automatically tugs you by the back of your neck, braiding your hair in his fingers. You hate it when your eyes mist up, but it’s not hard enough to make you break down in tears, yet it’s hard enough to sever strands of your hair. Ruleful he is, panting puffs of revilement.

“Hush now,” his voice drifts into your ear with a dash of amusement in it, “You want them to come and find us, pretty? Hmm, that what you want?”

“Sorry, but please?” You, too, whisper back, and your teeth clatter, blood thin on your tongue.

“There you go.” Only then does he give you what you want. He reaches out and finds the delicate spot between your thighs, thumbing the pearl of your clit much vigorously.

A heartfelt pledge of alms from him grants you the right to rest on his shoulder. You cling to his every thrust, and he circles your frayed nerve bundles. How everything can be too much and yet so damned meager is beyond your fathomable comprehension. Your eyes almost roll back to your skull, and Leon is bucking from the sheer pleasure of the bliss of the heat covering his cock, your pussy gushing around him. Blankets him just flawlessly.

There is no stopping; he pushes you against the wall for another round before you can even get your head in a regular whirl. Who could leave a beautiful girl who takes him so nicely? He certainly won’t let you go, least not until he gets what he wants.

“On your knees, now.” His teeth bite into his lower lip.

You can’t make sense of his blunt demands and the words that tumble out of his mouth before you come to your senses.

“Huh? Now?” You hiss out the melting brain molecules from your brain as you speak.

“If you want a facial, then turn around and kneel down. Will you?” He asks once more, demanding, choking on his air.

Hard to believe how you get down on your feeble, wobbly knees, but you come to terms with the fact that you can do anything when you want to. Leon tap-taps the head of his cock against your cheek despite his terrible pull-out klutziness. Glissades in nicely against the pucker of your lips, blurring the color of your flesh into hot whites. Can you imagine how appealing it looks, mouth open and letting him pleasure himself over your knees on the filthy mosaic floor? The dignity you’ve been trying to maintain since you met him is in shambles, making your knees bleed as if they were splintered from a cracked mirror. It should be fine as long as he doesn’t make hash of your hair.

You do the rest, your hands on your knees, and swipe the tip of your tongue over the flushing head of his half-erect dick. Not too deep since your poor throat is all patchy from moaning like a pornstar, and definitely not too sluggish. Just enough to taste and spruce up the situation.

“That’s it, good girl, swallow it.”

Even his minutest words enhearten you more than you already are.

In the next split second, you pop his cock out of your mouth in the worst kind of graphic sound, and Leon groans only unhesitatingly. He mumbles out something rather nebulous. His moony gaze lands on your moue, and he swears his heart makes a leap in his chest.

Bloodless blues imbed on your irises, but it’s not for persistent minutes—only for a spell.

The magic eventually gives up the ghost.

He simply flicks a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping the salad of chaos off your face. Warmth drips from the corner of your mouth, and Leon dabs it away with his own finger, your fingertips tingling and glued to the corner of the sink so you don’t fall down. Still busy rebounding yourself together, Leon refastens his belt and zips up his fly. He throws the discarded handkerchief in the trash, reaches for your hands, and hoists you to your feet as if you were made of feathers.

“You okay?” He gives you his casual, day-to-day inquiry, as if what happened seconds ago was nothing extraordinary.

“Yeah,” you auto-answer, reeling in a groggy daze. Meditatively, you are still recovering. You feel so full that semen is leaking out of your nostril, but it’s only a psychological manifesto, and you look still lovely in this mess written by him.

“Good.” Leon stows a lock of hair that has fallen in front of your eyes behind your ear. Such a random ploy; hell, even he wasn’t expecting it. No traces of rapt Leon in the flicker of those awkward seconds that pass between you.

On the contrary, he’s almost unbelievably sweet, kind, and thoughtful.

Although you went your separate ways after that night, your text messaging phrase (bottom note: sexting) didn’t terminate. He makes you feel like a doltish teenager in high school, and you have to be quite honest: you like it.

So does he.

Only time will tell—and surprises often have a way of tugging at the heartstrings. You don’t have any idyllic dreams of having a boyfriend, but perhaps you want to shoot new videos with him—the hottest ones—to be his partner in that aspect of the relationship.

The first thing, and the rule of thumb, is you have to secure his assent. Hopefully, he’ll give you that “yes,” and you’ll be the next rising star because he always says you fuck so prettily.

298 notes · View notes

flutterylust · 9 months ago

Text

Had to repost this gem my friend wrote... THATS MY FRIEND Y'ALL

║My Ex, The Oni║║━ Pt. 1 ━║

ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ║21,113

The Devil May Lick Me Masterlist ━━━➤ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞

↳.·:*¨༺𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧༻¨*:·.

Photo Reference Cred ━━━➤ 82PIGEON on X (Twitter) Do not steal, copy, or repost anywhere. My work is currently on both CREAMPIE_CAPITAL on wattpad and Imtropicalbaby on Quotev. If posted on another account or website, please report and notify me immediately. Now onto the story :)

Steam wafts off your skin, a transparent whisp that floats from the intense heat emanating from your body. Soaked hair sticks to your limbs before you lean forward and wrap a towel around them to flip over.

The ringing continues from your bedroom, blaring like scratches on the walls that spur you quickly exit from the bathroom. 'Don Juan,' his nickname since forever, flickers on the screen with the image of his stupid face.

Fixing your robe, you answer and place it on the speaker. "Hello!!! I've been callin' for the past ten minutes." Rafe drags his voice out, stretching his vowels in the way he loves to when he's irritated.

"I was in the shower, babe. You already know eight o'clock is shower time." You jeer and respond in the same manner.

"Right, right." His response is calmer now as he releases a deep sigh. "Sorry, It's just busy at work, but I needed to know if you were busy tomorrow. My parents are visiting, and they want to see you. I know last time they were kind of rude, but that is just how they play around. My entire family is blunt like that, so I guess it's just in blood, haha."

In an instant, you're biting your lip while your dominant hand curls into a fist. That a**hole, how many times do you have to tell him that you're not going to meet them again after last time? They blatantly insulted you and passed it off as jokes and gags in front of your face and his presence.

You were surprised you were able to grin and bear it, taking their backhanded compliments and disrespect with awkward laughs and bows of your head. Not again; you're not going to take it again with Rafe sitting right by your side with silence on his tongue.

"Rafe, come on. I've already told you I'm not going to see them again unless I get a genuine apology."

"How can they give you a genuine apology if you won't see them again."

He silences you in that moment as you stop mid-movement from grabbing your panties. "Touché, Don Juan." Rafe had a point. However, your body is engraved with pettiness. The hurt and humiliation they gave you had riddled your very bones with hatred.

Forgiving them feels like losing the battle and accepting their disrespect. It's been one of your negatives since a young age, bearing rage and grudges even if they affected your closest relationships. Even your therapist struggles to help you settle those internal grievances.

"I've talked with them, you know. It's hard for them to understand that their bluntness is not something everyone appreciates." You're both silent after his words; the only noise coming from the club is the muted music from the club he bartends at.

Standing in the middle of your room, with only your panties and damp robe on, you find yourself fighting your resolve as water dries off your skin from the a/c. Now that the heat cools into a mellowness, even your anger somewhat subsides.

Rafe then cuts the silence as he speaks. "It's only for coffee at Selena's. With the holiday coming up, they wanted to see you and me before they leave. And that means a lot, you know, the fact that they want to see you again."

Ugh, you're starting to feel bad for constantly rejecting their invites. Only slightly bad, however, because you cannot forget those snide remarks that yeiled your blood to boil. Though...maybe they weren't that bad, but you took them the wrong way because as soon as someone offends you, you close off and refuse to listen anymore.

However, that doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid.

"Fine. I'll come but only for an hour. But if they act the same way they did last time, then I'm out. I'm not just going to sit there and take everything while you act like a coward. Got it?"

"Got it." He murmurs while you hear the sound of his clothes shifting. "And again, I'm sorry about how I acted last time. It was cowardly, and I didn't consider your feelings."

With a nod of your head, you part your lips to respond; however, a ring from the foyer of your apartment solidifies you in your spot. Immediately, you're on the defense, body tense and eyes narrowed.

"Hold up, someone's at my door." You whisper before grabbing your phone, muting it, and stalking close to your door. The emergency services are already dialed, only awaiting the call button in case something goes wrong.

Pressing a button on your apartment intercom, the blank screen flashes to show the video imaging outside your door, and you cannot believe who stands in front of your entrance with a smug a** grin.

"Oh, my f*cking god." You seethe with the blood inside of your heating up before unmuting your call. "It's nobody important. I call you back; love you, babe."

"'kay. Be safe, and I love you too. I finish at two, so if you're still up, I call you later."

Ending the call, you undo the towel in your hair to throw it aside and unlock your door. With a harsh tug, you open it with a deep glare. "What the hell are you doing here, and how the hell do you know where I live?"

Kohaku stands there with that stupid a** grin and glint in his heterochromia eyes. "Come on, can't a guy just say hi?"

He looks the same as he did in high school, only more muscular as his clothes stretched across his limbs. His hair is still that ink-black slop with the strip of white strands, only longer and slightly styled.

The little horns on his forehead remain as cute as ever, as much as you hate to admit it. Piercings riddle his pointed ears, and you wonder how he got them done when he's always been a little b*tch about the sensitivity of his earlobe.

"Not even on my grave would I let you even say hi. What the f*ck do want?" You sneer, though it does nothing to wipe off his grin.

With a snap of his fingers, he points them at you like finger guns. "First off, you look cute in that robe, but it's a little too short. Not that I mind~." Your face heats up with the boiling of your blood. "Second of all," He suddenly twists around and picks up a...a little girl!? "-I need you to watch this sprat for a couple of months."

He hands her to you, holding her up from under her armpits like he's attempting to hand over a stray pet. The kid doesn't even seem phased, staring with a bored(?) expression as though nothing is going on in her head.

She's small, maybe five or six, wearing an oversized pink sweater and knee-high black socks with beat-up sneakers. Her eyes, her eyes hold two different colors, one icy blue and the other lime green. She had her own pair of horns that matched her tan skin with the tips slightly peachy red. Even her hair was the same ink black with the one area in the front white from his genetic disorder. It was long, down to her ankles, and unruly. Tangles are everywhere, and the frizz overtakes her head like lions made.

"Excuse me...? Ex-f*cking-scuse me!?" The roar of your voice was louder than you meant, and you knew in an instant that your neighbors were going to complain. "F*ck, f*ck." You whisper to yourself while opening the door wider and pointing inside. "Get in, quick."

That grin grew as he waltzed in and immediately began inspecting your place.

Shutting the door and locking it, you turn back with your arms crossed and a wicked glare. "You got some explaining to do because what in your right mind thinks you can just waltz up in here after everything you did and think I would do you favor? Much less-" You point to the kid he's still carrying. "The favor being taking care of a brat from when you cheated on me?"

Finally, Kohaku's smile drops as he frowns awkwardly. "Well...when you put it like that, it makes me look like a really bad guy."

"You are the bad guy." It seems your words nicked a nerve as his blue and green eyes flickered to your face, and his frown withered.

The Oni set the girl down on your laminated wooden floors before swiping a hand across his mouth and looking away. "It wasn't like that. You know I would never cheat on you. I just-"

You cannot even handle hearing anymore. The sound of his voice that you used to love trying to justify the way he broke your heart is something you can't bear. "You just what? You got some f*cken freedom in college and went off to do your own thing? Got to finally get away from my 'overbearingness' and 'clinginess' so you could f*ck around with, how did you put it, 'woman that wasn't like me'?"

Kohaku inhaled a deep breath and finally met your gaze as he placed an open hand on his broad chest. "I was childish and selfish. People were treating me like someone important, and I let it go to my head. I said things I didn't mean-"

Tears are burning in your eyes, burning like poison, as you step forward to grab the front of his shirt and tug. "You called me in the middle of the night while you were at a party just to tell me things were over! You had been neglecting me for weeks, and when you finally called, when I could finally hear your voice again, it was just to break up so you could f*ck some skank without a guilty conscious!"

He suddenly grips your wrist, the heat of his touch almost shocking you like electricity as he tears off your hold. "The way I broke up with you was f*cked up, I admit it. I apologize for that. But at least I had the f*cken decently to break up instead of cheating on you, instead of hiding it behind your back. I loved you enough to not do that sh*t to you."

"...What!?" You laugh in disbelief while yanking your arm out of his grasp. "Loved me enough!? If you had even loved me, you wouldn't have been ignoring me when you entered college! You wouldn't have stopped answering my calls! For f*cks sake, if you had really loved me, you wouldn't have broken up with me for some one-night stand when I was your girlfriend you promised to marry!"

Banging erupts from your living room wall, most likely from your neighbor to tell you to shut the f*ck up. It was already late, people were trying to sleep, and you were having a breakdown. Now that you could hear the silence of the apartment and feel the blood pumping in your veins, you then also realized tears were snaking down your cheeks.

"Damn." You whisper and turn your head away to march towards the kitchen. "I can't deal with you sober." It didn't take long for you to pour yourself a shot and downing it before grabbing a beer can and gulping half so the effects could hit you sooner.

From the entranceway, Kohaku says something to the girl before making his way over. You don't even look at him, leaning against the counter as the can hangs loosely between your fingers. So many years have passed since then, yet the wound of it all remains unhealed. He was your first love, someone you gave yourself to wholeheartedly.

You loved him with everything you had and believed that you both would go to the same college together, then marry later on, have a family, and grow old together. Truthfully, you should have known better; you romanticized that relationship. You both were just kids from a small town, not realizing how big the world was.

Well, you didn't. Because he was a grade above you, he went off to university first, and that's when he got a taste of what the real world was like. That's when he experienced so many things that a small town just can't provide.

He had his eyes opened while you remained blissfully ignorant.

Now that time has passed, you have experienced those feelings firsthand. The world was so different; there was so much going on that you would have never encountered if you stayed in that town. You get it; you get that you were just holding him back.

But that doesn't stop the hurt from becoming any less painful. It's been how many years, yet the feeling of betrayal still feels so fresh it's almost pathetic.

Were you the one who was more in love than he was? Is that why you're still hurt after all these years, even though you've already moved on?

"I'm sorry."

His voice right now is no longer pissing you off; it's just making you feel even more pathetic. You don't know if you ever quell the hatred from how he broke up with you, and that's sad. He did the adult thing and ended it instead of just lying behind your back.

How he went about it was wrong, but he did the right thing and left the relationship. You should be over it by now, but with his reappearance, those feelings have returned.

"...Don't... You're not sorry. You're just tryna make me feel better, and it's only make me feel worse." You murmur while covering your mouth and burping slightly from the carbonation. "So... who is the kid? Gotta be your daughter 'cause she's got that same stupid a** white streak."

Kohaku laughs in his throat before leaning against the wall on his side and crossing his arms over his broad chest. "You used to love it." He teases, and you can tell he really is trying to lighten the mood, but you don't want any of that. "Well, today is actually the first time I've met her."

"Oh." You release like a breath of air before turning your head to face him. "Do tell."

He rubs the back of his neck with the leather of his jacket, squeaking from his movements. "That girl from college, we actually started dating after we...you know."

Something stings in your heart, but it drifts away in slow rolls as you breathe it out. "Wow. I guess it wasn't just some one-night stand, then. Don't know if it makes me feel better or worse, though."

He clicks his tongue while shaking his head. "Well, a couple of years later, she cheated on me, so we broke up. After that, I transferred to a different university and never saw her again or remained in contact with her. That was until this morning, she just showed up with the girl and some papers and declared I had full custody. She told me that the girl would be my full responsibility and I could do whatever I wanted without getting my ex involved. Then she just left."

You laugh under your breath. "Drops the responsibility on to you, huh, and now you're doing the same to me. And that girl isn't even mine." Whether you meant to or not, the last part poured from your lips with petty abhorrence.

It was your dream to have a child, to share a child with him that was from the both of you. Someone else got to have that dream, yet they threw it away so carelessly.

Kohaku stands to his full stature and steps forward. His height grows, and you remember the enormous height difference that you used to love. Somehow, he feels even taller than you remember.

"I'm sorry." He exclaims and places an open hand on your back. Was his hands always this big? It feels like he could cover so much space. "I'm really sorry for doing that. I'm not in the position to take care of her, nor is it safe for a kid to be around me. There's no one else I could think of but you to ask for this favor."

You lick your lips and stare into those multi-colored eyes. "Safe? And you couldn't ask anyone else's in your life? No other friends or girlfriends? Not even your dad?"

He removes his hand to place it against his chest as though he were wounded. "First of all, aren't you honored that you're the only one I can think of after all these years?"

You give him a deadpan expression while pointing a finger at him. "No."

"You're literally no fun." He whines. "And for your information, Dad would make things more complicated than they would need to be. I don't need that right now when I've got to figure things out."

A laugh ripples from your mouth and echoes out. "Ahh, your dad would grab you by the horn and go and on about family values 'till your ear would fall off. Then he'd put that girl to work on the farms. That old fart wouldn't miss any opportunity for free labor."

Even speaking of it brings forth memories of helping around the farm because you were too nice to say no. He always managed to keep you around for hours until your mother would come to get you. You'd be all dirty, sweaty, and (tanned/burned) from being under the sun for so long.

You hated those times, but they are memories you will never forget. They were part of your childhood and adolescence, and they did give you some muscle that helped you do well in sports.

Sighing, you lean forward to rest your arms on the counter and your cheek on your wrist as the dizziness comes forth. "How is your old man?"

"Same old, same old." He responds and maneuvers so he's resting his behind against the counter and elbows on it to hold up his weight. "He'll honestly outlive us from his sheer stubbornness."

That statement couldn't be any more true. If you were the queen of pettiness, then his father was the king of stubbornness. Whatever his dad decided on, he would stick with it to the end, even if he were in the complete wrong.

As much as you love the big world and the big city, there is that nostalgic feeling of sitting on his father's porch in that big squeaky rocking chair and drinking a fresh glass of lemonade. It would be nice to do that again and stare out onto the massive field of his farmland, feeling the cool breeze on your skin.

The same four country songs always seemed to play from his beat-up radio, yet he refused to let anyone change the station. You used to hate that and dread even the sound of a guitar. Now, you find yourself missing it.

"I miss your batty old dad." You state, mumbling under your breath and blinking heavily.

Kohaku laughs and nods his head with a slight grin. "As much as that old man gets on my nerves, I miss him too."

Nothing more is stated; instead, sharing a deep silence that would have been awkward to others but was comforting to both of you.

Surprisingly, you were looking at the past and yearning for the simpler times. Doing so usually would just leave you aggravated, but tonight, it was pacifying. Life is always so busy, and you like that it never leaves you a moment to dwell on the past and what could have been.

Maybe you just needed to get those feelings off your chest. After the breakup, you were never in contact with him again. The anger from the heartbreak had you crumble up all those feelings and throw them down in a void.

They were a weakness, something you refused to give in to. But the anger remained, and questions you always wanted to ask were stuck in the back of your head. They didn't push forward, they didn't take precedent, they were just there, waiting.

Sniffling, you stand up and step over to the sink to dump the rest of your beer. "What is her name?"

"Simat? If I could name her, it would have been something cooler."

You angle your head back to sneer at him. "Don't kid yourself. You would have named her something ridiculous like your Gamertag. I don't even want to hear it." If there is one thing he should never get his hands on, it's naming.

Abpruplty, your phone rings, and you see Rafe on the screen. You didn't realize how close it was to one o'clock.

"Ouu, your boyfriend." Kohaku teases as he snatches your phone to look at the picture. "Hmm, he's decent looking and has good nose genetics. However, you could do better. And what's with that name? Don Juan is so ridiculous. And you're the one saying I suck at coming up with names." He utters with a finger on his chin as though he were profoundly contemplating.

"A**hole." You exclaim and snatch back your cellular device, only for the call to end. "It's a joke nickname from our friend group. And as an ex-boyfriend, you have no right to judge my boyfriend."

The Oni falls back comically while holding a hand against his chest, tugging at it as though he were having a heart attack. "You wound me, (Y/n). As an ex-boyfriend, I have every right. I have to make sure the men you get with aren't better looking than me!"

His response yields another deep sigh, and you shift your weight onto one leg and cross your arms beneath your bust. "Get the f*ck out of my apartment."

"What about-"

"I will do you this favor one time, but after, don't ever come back asking for anything. Don't ever come back, period. You're from my past; you don't belong in my future." With that said, you stride past the muscular man and back to the living room, where the little girl sits playing with a big Orc doll.

Kohaku follows you around your couch and kneels in front of the girl. He places his big hands on her knees and gains her attention. "I have to go now. I'm sorry for leaving your side, but it's not safe at my place. I'll be coming around every few days to see you, okay?"

Simat doesn't speak, but she nods her head before resuming her attention on her big green doll. The older Oni appears to be observing her appearance for a few seconds before standing up and placing a hand on her head to ruffle her already disorderly hair.

With one last look, he begins making his way to your front door, with you following behind. "Should I give you my email so you can notify me when you're coming to see her or-"

"No, I've already got your number," Kohaku states before winking and exiting the front door. "By the way, you need a new robe. I can see your a**cheeks, not that I mind~!"

"Kohaku, you pervert! Wait, how!? I changed my number after high school!" You question in the hallway, but he refrains from responding, only waving his hand until he disappears around the corner.

With a defeated sigh, you close the door and lock it. Now, it's just the two of you alone in your apartment. It's awkward, and you cannot help the painful feelings. Resentment fills your veins, a nasty bitterness that corrodes your insides.

You have to remind yourself that this child is an innocent bystander, someone who had no say in what had transpired. It was not her fault she was born, much less from your ex-boyfriend. It's just the way things were.

Finally, you were able to shake yourself up enough to go to your room, grab some undersized clothes that she could fit into, and return.

"Simat?" She slowly looks up from her doll and stares with her heterochromia eyes. From the moment you met her, that dead expression has remained, not once going away. She's not crying for Mommy or Daddy; she's not afraid of some stranger standing in front of her.

It's eerie, almost scary, and it slowly eats away the corroding of resentment. "Do you want to shower or sleep?" You ask her softly, yet she only stares at you with those lifeless eyes. If it were not for the slight movement of her chest from breathing, you would have thought she was some broken, dirty doll thrown out.

"Okay, umm. Take these clothes and change in the bathroom. I'll make the bed for you." Without wasting time, she stands up to take the clothes and make her way down the hall to the bathroom. You didn't tell her where it was, but she must have been looking around while you and Kohaku were talking.

She looks pitiful; you cannot help but feel bad for her.

With her changing, you push forward the coffee table to pull out the bed. It was an expensive couch you bought a while ago for when your girlfriends were too drunk to go home. With their picky choices, you were able to find this one that they actually liked, so it should be good enough for the girl.

It already has clean sheets, so you go to the closet to grab the piles of pillows and blankets you have before making the bed. Simat returns soon after in your PJs before placing her sweater, socks, and shoes in her little pink bag.

"Do you want to watch something or..." Simat only stares at you as she stands in her spot. With a slight narrowing of your eyes, you point your hand that had the remote at the bed. "Go lay down." Instantly, the girl listens, grasping the blanket to help haul herself on top. "Simat, get off for a second." Without a complaint, she does so, sliding off and standing right next to it with no change in her expression.

The pity you felt had intensified, and you suddenly regretted the way you had spoken to her earlier. She seems very closed off for a young girl when she should be expressing herself at this age. Even more, she's incredibly obedient, following orders without a word or complaint.

"Come sit here for a second. I want to talk to you." The girl listens, climbing back up before crossing her legs and holding the doll against her chest.

Slowly, you sit on the edge and lick your lips while trying to figure out the right words to say. "I'm sorry for all the yelling you heard earlier. I was just really upset, but that is no excuse. My name is (Y/n). I was your daddy's friend from a long time ago." No words, just a blank stare. "Uh, you'll be staying with me for a while, but your father will be here every few days. I don't have a daughter, so I'm not sure how to take care of you, but if there are things that you don't like, then don't be afraid to tell me. I don't know how things were at your mom's, but here you have every option you want, whether it's if you want to watch TV or not. Okay?"

No response; her nose barely even flares as she breathes. "To make things easier, nod your head for okay or yes. Shake for no. Okay?" For a second, she seems to hesitate before finally she moves her head up and down a little.

It feels like a small victory, and you cannot help but smile. "I'm not good at this stuff, but let's learn together, okay?" Again, it takes her a few seconds as though she is thinking about it, but she nods. "Alright. I'm going to put a kid's movie on, but if you don't like it, then here is the remote. You can stay up however long you want for now. In the morning, we'll have breakfast, and then we'll go from there."

Slowly, she nods her head, which spurs you to softly pat her head before standing up and pulling the covers over her lap. "Goodnight, Simat. I'll see you in the morning." The girl doesn't say anything, only sinking into the pillows and staring at the large TV screen.

Without making much noise, you go to your own bed only to pass out once your head hits the pillow. You hadn't even changed out of your robe, and you're too tired from the emotional rollercoaster no one but your ex can make you ride.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

In the morning, you are woken up by the ringing of your phone. Your eyes are still closed, and your mind is half awake as you answer. "Hmm."

"'Morning, babe. I'm almost done getting ready. Then I'm going to come get you to go to Selena's." Rafe's voice comes out from the device, and you hum in response.

However, after a few seconds, your head shoots up as your eyes widen. Sh*t, how are you going to explain to him that you're babysitting your ex-boyfriend's kid after no contact for like six years? Rafe is already super jealous and not trusting of any males in your life. His parents would be even worse if you showed up out of the blue with some kid who wasn't their son's offspring.

Dammit

"Sh*t babe, I forgot I've already made plans with my sister." You lie straight through your teeth as you sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your sister isn't even in the same country, busy on her own holiday voyage that he hopefully doesn't know about.

"What?" Rafe questions and scoffs. "Come on, can't you just take a raincheck? You keep skipping out every time they want to see you, and I already told them you were coming last night. You know how it's going to look when you cancel again."

It does look bad that you are ignoring them, but so what? They were so incredibly rude last time, and seeing them would ruin your day, even if they want to apologize. "It's not my fault they found it so funny to call me slurs and laugh about it in front of my face. I can take a slur as a joke, but they weren't joking. I'll see them when I want to see them. I'm getting ready; I'll call you later." Rafe begins saying something, but you do not even let him get his words out, quickly hanging up and collapsing onto your back.

Staring up at your ceiling, you take deep breaths to calm your vexation before slowly sitting up. Your back and neck hurt from falling asleep in that awkward position without moving. You must have been exhausted to sleep like the dead.

After taking a moment to center yourself entirely, you get up and open the door to step down the hallway and into the living room quietly. The TV is still on, playing the Lorax halfway through as you peek over the couch.

Simat was awake, hugging her Orc doll while watching the movie. "Good morning, Simat. Did you sleep?" She looks over before slowly nodding her head. "Are you hungry?" Another nod. "Okay, come. Go sit at the counter over there and wait while I make something."

She does need to be told twice, obediently following orders as she crawls out of bed and shuffles to the bar stools. You had to hold back your laughter as you watched her struggle to get up, climbing like a little monkey.

"Alright, let's see..." you murmur while opening the fridge. You look through its contents before removing some strawberries, butter, and milk and setting them on the counter. "I'm going to make pancakes. Are you okay with that?" Another nod.

Silently, you begin pulling out all the other ingredients you need before setting up the skillet. Simats eyes are watching you the whole time, and you wonder if she's just curious or if she watches your every move out of fear to watch for danger.

Her silence and obedience already strike you as odd, but it might not be far from a stretch to assume she was abused or, more so, neglected. There is not much you can do as an outsider; she's not even your daughter. But for now, you can just try to give her options and help her understand that it's safe in this place even though you are a stranger.

"When I was a kid, my mom used to make pancakes that looked just like characters from my favorite anime. Have you heard of Sailor Moon?" When you turn, you see that she shakes her head no. "Really? We should watch it some time then. It's an older series, so the graphics are not that great, but I prefer it still over the remake. Just something about the new one; I just don't like it."

With the batter mixed, you begin pouring small pools onto a hot skillet. "You know, when I don't like things, I won't do them. If I don't like it, if it hurts me or would make me unhappy, I don't do it." Flipping a pancake, you reach up in the cupboard to grab a plate. "I want you to understand that you are safe here to express yourself. You won't get hurt or yelled at if you say no. I will respect you enough to listen to your feelings, but I need you to respect me enough to listen too, okay?"

You don't turn your head to look at her, but you can feel her nod. You're unsure if she is truly listening to you or taking your words seriously. Hopefully, she'll keep your words in mind while she stays here.

After the food was done, you cut up some strawberries and lathered the pancakes in butter before presenting them to the girl and giving her two different bottles of syrup, one with a rich taste and another with a more robust flavor.

She didn't eat or even lift her fork, only continuing to watch you as you made your way around the bar and took a seat next to her. Her eyes observed as you grabbed the first bottle, poured it over your food, and began cutting it up. Once you had put the bottle down, she grabbed the one you had and poured it over her plate almost the same way you did (dousing it/light covering it).

Only when you started eating did she tear off a small piece and eat. It was both cute, as though she were mimicking you, but sad as you wondered if she wanted to make sure it was safe to eat or if she even had the right to eat.

Silently, you both ate together until you finished and stood up to begin washing the dishes. Simat was still eating, but when you turned to check up on her, you noticed she was eating slowly and took smaller bites than before.

"If you're full, do not force yourself to eat more than what you can handle. I won't yell or hurt you if you are done. And you're not wasting food; you just can't eat anymore." It seemed your words were exactly what she needed to hear as she dropped her fork and leaned back, seeming to pat her belly softly.

It was too cute, like an arrow to the heart. "Good girl," you told her, then took her plate, emptied the rest away, and finished the clean-up.

After a few minutes of cleaning, you heard the chair scrape, and Simat came over to the kitchen. She stood right by your side, with her eyes never straying from your figure. Is food the way into this little girl's heart?

"Woo, I hate washing dishes." You joke with a little laugh before turning to the kid. That unruly hair needs to be taken care of, and she's even got some syrup on her chin that's shining in the light. "Alright, let's bathe you. Come follow me."

Obediently, she follows you down the hall to the bathroom, where you turn the shower handle, and water bursts into the clean, porcelain basin. "Do you want hot water and bubbles?" she nods. "Good; I love bubbles, too."

As the tub fills with an obscene amount of bubbles, you begin to help her undress. Other than her matching markings beneath the eyes she obtained from her father, there don't appear to be any scars or markings.

It was a sigh of relief; you don't think you could hold in your anger if there were physical signs of abuse. She's not you're kid, she's not your daughter, but hurting any child in a manner was unacceptable. A slap here and there if a kid really needs discipline, but anything more would earn your fist in the parent's face. Every kid deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a kid.

When Simat enters the tub, her attention is immediately stolen by the piles of bubbles, and she begins to play with them. She places them on her chin and cheeks, almost mimicking a beard that brings forth a laugh.

For a second, she glances at you before returning it to the tub and adding more to her fake beard, the shape taking the form of a long wizard beard. "You make a good wizard. Should I buy you a cape and a wand?" Your joke, which you said more to yourself, had earned the child's gaze. Finally, those dead eyes hold a twinkle, a soft sparkle deep inside her colored irises.

In an instant, you make a mental note to buy a wand and a cape immediately after this.

While she continued to play, you washed her lengthy hair, which was way thicker than you expected. You thought you used a lot of conditioner, but this girl gave you a run for your money. You're going to have to buy more while she stays here, in fact, you need to buy lots of things.

Not that you mind, shopping is fun, and even more fun when you have that Christmas bonus your boss gave everyone for the holidays.

Once the water begins to turn lukewarm and the bubbles cease, you help her out and give her one of your robes. It was too oversized for her, but she looked cute in it. The two of you enter your bedroom, where you lift and sit her at the edge of your bed while you go scouring through your clothes for something around her size.

There isn't any underwear that would fit, so you put down a pair of black biker shorts that shrunk in the wash. Even most of your shirts, other than your office clothes, are inappropriate for her age, so for now, you give her one of your crop top sweaters that is just long enough to reach her hips.

"Alright, you can change into these and then meet me in the bathroom so we can take care of your hair." She nods and reaches for the clothes while you exit and shut the door for privacy. While she does that, you'll brush your teeth and do your own hair since it dried awkwardly last night.

It's still unbelievable what is happening. After six years, your first love shows up on your doorstep to drop off a daughter he didn't even know he had; what a joke. It feels like a joke, a cruel joke being played.

When you were just a teen, you used to dream about your future and imagine all these different scenarios of what your life would be like together. You'd probably have a couple of kids, all taking after their father, considering that Oni's blood was seriously dominant.

Simat really does look like her father other than her tan skin, which made her eyes really pop. There's a knock at the door, and you tell her to come in just as you finish (throwing your hair up/pinning it back).

She looks charming in your clothes, almost looking like you, frankly. Waving her over, she takes a step in front of you by the sink as you reach for a brush. "It doesn't seem like anyone took care of your beautiful hair, so I'm going to brush it and then cut a little. Is that okay?" Another nod so you diligently get to work.

Her tangles had mostly calmed down after you soaked it in detangler, so you didn't have to struggle much. However, the ends were really poor, with a considerable amount of split ends, so you had to cut off quite a few inches. Those precious locks that reached her ankles were now just a little past her bum, but now that you see curls coming in, you realize she had curly hair.

No one seemed to take care of it, so there's no way those curls would have flourished. Luckily, you had some curl cream that would do wonders for the shape.

"I'm going to use the blow dryer, so be prepared for the loud noise, okay?" Simat nodded as she raised her hands to cover her face, which was too cute. For now, you put it on medium and scrunched her hair while drying it from below.

"When I was younger, I wanted to be a hairstylist so bad. I thought I was so skilled when I gave all my dolls haircuts. Looking back at it now, I was actually pretty terrible, but my dad told me I was good enough to be a professional." You look at Simat in the mirror and see her daddy in every aspect. "Dads love their little girls very much. Sometimes, they're a little too overbearing, dictating everything we can and cannot do. I used to hate my dad, who always embarrassed me in front of my friends and never let me stay out late. But I look back on it and think how grateful I am that my father took my hate silently so that I could be protected."

You don't know what Kohaku has been doing these past years or what he's up to, but the one thing you know is that he would be a good father. After all, he brought Simat here to put her safety above all else, even if it made it look like he was abandoning her.

"Alright, you're all done! Look at these curls! You don't even know how much money girls spend just to get something similar." Simat lowers her hands to look in the mirror, and it is another arrow to the heart as she curiously raises her hair to play with the bounce. "Okay, go to the living room and finish your movie while I change."

You didn't even ask her a question, but she nodded her head and went down the hall. Slowly, she seems to be opening up, and hopefully, you can get her to be as comfortable as possible.

After cleaning up and putting everything away, you change into jeans and a turtleneck before grabbing a jacket and making your way over to the kitchen, where you left your phone. There are a couple of missed calls from Rafe and a few missed texts from his parents, but you don't even want to see them, so you just swipe them away.

To your surprise, there was a text from an unknown number.

◤

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

Arise sunshine, I hope u got ur beauty sleep in. I'll be busy today and tomorrow, so I won't be able to talk much throughout the day, but before she goes to bed, try to give me a call. I'd like to speak to her.

Also, thanks again for taking care of her during my absence. I know it took u a lot to put aside everything and accept it, and I really appreciate that. No one is as reliable as u r. 💖 😘

◢

What a kissa**, trying to butter you to lessen your anger. Unfortunately, It's working. With a sigh, you lean against the wall and respond.

◤

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

Yeah, yeah.

So far, Simat's doing really well. She's still pretty nonverbal, but I have her nodding yes and shaking her head for no. It seems like your ex really neglected her, but I'm trying to get her to open up at her own pace.

I'm going to take her shopping. I need to get her clothes that fit and some other necessities that the kid needs.

◢

To your surprise, right when you are about to put your cellular device away, it vibrates to show a reply from your ex.

◤

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

Ur so responsible I'm envious😙😙

If there is one thing I miss, it's being coddled by u. It was nice to lay in bed and have u bring evryt to me.😪😵‍💫

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

Why do you still text like a teenage girl?

The amount of emojis you use makes me sick. Please get them off my screen before I block you and take your kid away.

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

There is nothing against a grown man using abbreviations.

Stop being prejudiced (Y/n)😠🥶. U really need to fix that stereotyping.

+get Simat wtv she needs and get urself a little smth on the side.

Ps. If u still like cherry panties and end up buying sum, pls send pics.

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

First of all, I'm an independent woman, and I make good money, so I can buy whatever Simat and I want.

SECOND OF ALL YOU LITTLE PERVERT

I'M IN A RELATIONSHIP!

DO NOT ASK FOR PANTY SHOTS UNLESS YOU'D LIKE MY BOYFRIEND TO HEAR ABOUT IT.

+XXX - XXX - YYYY

I can fight.

◢

He is literally so damn obnoxious you cannot stand him. You're just going to leave him on read, but you will take your money, not because you need it. Who would give up free money?

Shutting off your phone, you place it in your back pocket, grab your purse and keys from the nightstand, and then call out to the girl. "Come, Simat. We're going to go to the store and get you the things that you need."

The kid turned to face you before glancing down at her doll and then back at you. "Yes, you can bring your doll. Just don't drop it, okay." she nods quickly before hopping off the bed and running up to you.

With everything ready, you exit your front door and lock it with your keypad and fingerprint. Once that's done, the two of you make your way to the elevator, which requires a key card to operate, and begin your descent to the parking lot.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Simat didn't mind your music while on the ride; she seemed infatuated with the city, watching everything that could be seen. As she sits in the back seat, you give yourself a mental note to buy a booster seat as well.

Due to the morning traffic, it took a little while to get to the mall, but you both made it safely and parked close to the entrance. With there being many people on a Saturday morning, you crouch down and meet the girl's gaze.

"Do you want to hold my hand so you don't get lost in the crowd?" It didn't take much convincing for her to nod her head and stick out her left hand. With a smile, you grabbed it gently but held it firmly as the two of you entered.

With the holiday coming up, it was a bit hectic with all the people there, though the discounts and sales were a nice bonus. First, you wanted to get everything Simat needed before you even looked at your favorite stores.

Once you enter the mall and start looking at the things you like, you lose all sense of time and are there for hours.

The little Oni held your hand in her own as she obediently followed you and stayed by your side. While you shopped and picked up clothes that looked in her size, she surveyed everything she could. She watched people like they were in a movie, almost like something she didn't see very often.

After filling up your basket, it came to your favorite part: the try-on! Of course, you don't mean to take advantage of how obedient she is, but it is crucial that her clothes fit and look good.

Sitting by the bench by the mirrors and dressing rooms, you giddily awaited every outfit. And you were not disappointed! Every fit looked perfect with her adorable face, cute baby horns, and gorgeous curly hair. Honestly, if you hadn't gotten the job you did, you could have pursued fashion.

She looked good in everything, and you had to make sure to get a few onesies and animal sweatshirts. There was a hoodie with cat ears that she particularly liked looking at—geez, it was just absolutely adorable.

Even though Kohaku pissed you off, you still sent him a few pictures of his daughter that you were sure he'd appreciate.

With the clothes bought and paid for, you went to a store and let Simat look around. She seemed to like playdough and legos. Then, when coming across the stuffies, her eyes sparked on the dragon and wolf. Of course, they were a must, so you bought three each.

The Oni refused to let them pack it up, so she carried her Orc doll, one dragon, and one wolf stuffed toy. It was both adorable and funny how she carried around these massive toys with a blank look on her face.

Another snap of a picture, saved and sent.

Now that her part of the shopping was done, you decided to skip a few unimportant stores since you've already been shopping for so long. It helped that you rented out one of the children's push carts that have a fake car attached to the front so Simat could sit down when she got tired.

Surprisingly, it was nice shopping with Simat, although her obedience and non-verbal speech made it easy. You wonder what it would be like having your own child by your side to shop with. They'd probably be rowdy, complaining about being bored and exhausted from being on their feet.

And now that you're thinking about it, you don't even see having kids in the future, at least with Rafe. He's a good man; he makes you happy, and your relationship is decent and healthy. But right now, you can't see that far in the future with Rafe. You wonder if it's because your ex-boyfriend suddenly showed up again after six years to stir up your old feelings. It's hard to forget your first love when that was the person you believed wholeheartedly was yours forever.

But just like before, you'll have to let him go as he is only in your life again for a short while.

When the music quieted down, you were surprised to hear Simat's stomach growl. She even looked down, embarrassed. You told her that you were going to buy whatever was in your hand, and then you'd both get something to eat.

It was bustling in the food court with so many people talking and so much general noise. Holiday music was blaring through the speakers while the rings and dings that food was ready echoed out.

There's just something you love about places that are filled with vigor. Thankfully, Simat didn't seem to mind either as she rode in her little fake car. You got her some chicken tenders and fries and something simple for yourself since you wanted room for dinner, considering you both were eating a little later. For a dessert, though, you did decide to buy some cinnamon pretzels.

They've been your favorite snack since forever, something you always get whenever you're shopping at the mall.

Just like this morning, she seemed to wait until you started eating before digging it, but when she started eating, she didn't stop until it was empty. Again, she was even patting her full belly like earlier; geez, it was so cute!

Arrow to the heart!

A couple of times, Rafe tried to call, but you texted him that you were busy, and eventually, you just shut your phone to have some space from him. As much as you love him, you don't want to see him questioning if you're hanging out with other men while you're trying to enjoy the outing with Simat.

Once you both were done, you looked around a little more until an hour or two passed by, and then you decided it was time to move. You drove to the general store and bought the actual necessities Simat would need while also getting groceries and more toys. She got a few bubble blowers and bath playthings before you called it quits.

If you'd let her, she'd probably grab the entire bubble toy section.

Now that everything was purchased, you began the drive home with her new booster seat. Only a few minutes into the drive, she had fallen asleep against the door. You had to wait until a stop to take a picture of her mouth open and arms draped by the side.

You wonder if she felt safe enough to fall asleep in your presence. Most neglected children would probably stay awake for survival, so seeing her ease up like this was a blessing,

For the rest of the drive, you took your time with the music calm and on low. Oddly enough, this has probably been one of the most gratifying off days you've had. It was peaceful and fun...something you've been missing from life for a while now.

Pulling into the underground parking lot, you came to a stop and softly called out to the girl. She jolted awake quickly, blue and green eyes wide open as she assessed her surroundings before rapidly calming down and her expression resuming the usual blankness.

"Hey, girl. Did you have a good nap?" She slowly nodded her head while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "We are back now, but if you are still sleepy, you can finish your nap when we get upstairs." With another nod, you both exited the vehicle, grabbed all the bags, and made your way to the elevator.

With everything you got, it was actually cumbersome, but Mama ain't raise no b*tch, and you're going to take everything in one trip. "Press the button with the number 5." She studied the buttons for a second before clicking the right one and glancing up at you as though she were waiting for something. "Good job!" She nodded seriously.

On your floor, you took a deep breath before picking everything up again, speed-walked down the hall, and took the corner before reaching your place at the end. You entered the security lock and your thumbprint and pushed it wide open to carry everything in.

Quickly, you dropped everything down in the foyer and stood back to full height while shaking your arms. "Phew, my wrist." You complained softly before turning your attention to Simat, who stood silently by your side. "Alright, you can go watch TV while I put everything away. I'll start dinner after, and we'll eat together, okay?"

With one of her nods, she takes her three giant dolls and walks over to the living room before doing a little hop to get on the bed.

Now that you were preoccupied, you took your time putting away the groceries and necessities. With her clothes, you pulled out a couple of your collapsable bins and folded her clothes inside. It'll be in your room for now against the wall, so when she needs to change, everything will be right here.

For dinner, you made loco moco, which should be easily digestible. And who doesn't like hamburgers, rice, a sunny-side-up egg, and brown gravy? Like before, she waited until you took your seat and took a bite first before eating.

After this big plate, you honestly could go to sleep right then and there, but it was too early, and you didn't want to leave Simat alone. Her toys are all in the ottoman in the living room, so after washing dishes, you let her pull out the things she wanted and played along. Her obsession right now seemed to be the bubbles, so you stood around blowing them as she jumped around, trying to catch them.

You even sent a video to Kohaku, who still had yet to see the images from earlier. He must be pretty preoccupied if he couldn't look at them yet. Hopefully, he answers when you put her to bed; it would be good if he showed consistency.

"Alright, Simat. It's bath time. Put your toys away, okay?" She nods, following your orders until the living room is clean again, and shuffles towards the bathroom, where you have already filled the tub with warm water and more soapy bubbles.

Simat's hair texture and scalp didn't seem to need to be washed every day, though you'll scrub it again just for tonight, but this time with products that align with her hair type. All clean, you took her out and gave her a robe her size before traveling to the bedroom, where you pulled out a matching set of kitty pajamas.

She changed while you cleaned up the bathroom and wiped water that fell out of the bath. When you checked the time, it had just hit eight p.m. At her age, she shouldn't go to sleep any later than nine, so you ushered her to her bed in the living room.

It now looked more like it belonged to a child with her seven stuffed animals and pink fluffy blanket. "Simat, it's bedtime. Come lay down, and I'll try to call your father." You tell her, and she comes over to hop on the mattress and snuggle beneath the covers.

Taking a deep breath, you called and hoped he answered for the sake of his daughter. However, it seems your prayers fell on deaf ears as it continued to ring and ring before ending when the call dropped. You tried again, and still, you received no response; it was just the automatic voicemail coming up.

Now, you have to be the bearer of bad news. "I'm sorry, Simat-" Kohaku's number pops up on the screen, and you breathe a sigh of relief. "About time you answer!"

He laughs on the line as you hear the sound of cracking and buzzing fading off in the distance. "Sorry, sorry, please don't rip my head off! I said I would try to answer, but I get even busier at night."

"Doing what?" You challenge only to receive an awkward chuckle in response. Sighing, you lean back against the bed and speak. "Whatever, I don't wanna know. I'm going to hand over the phone to Simat." Without waiting for an answer, you give your phone to the girl, who holds it close with both hands.

Geez, it looks so cute, arrow to the heart!

While the two 'talked, ' you got up and went to your room to grab a change of clothes and hair products for afterward. He seemed to be talking a lot, so you took a seat in your office and checked over your work emails.

It appears everything has been running smoothly while you've been off. This is not a surprise, considering most get their act together for a holiday bonus at the office during the holidays. Less work meant less stress and less stress meant happier days and more off time.

There's a soft knock on your door frame, and you look up to see Simat in the doorway with your phone in her hand. "Oh, are you done speaking with Daddy?" She nods and comes closer to hand over your phone. "Okay, go lay down, and I'll be there to tuck you in."

You wait for her to be out of sight before raising your phone and asking, "Hello?"

"Hey, it seems like you two had a good day."

"Yeah, did you get a chance to look at the pictures and stuff I sent?" You ask and lean back in your swivel chair.

"I did!" He responds with a slight laugh. There's a flicking sound, something you recognized as the flicking open of a zippo lighter. "I saw you cut and did her hair; it looks really good. Also, she looked so cute in the Christmas dress. Try to have her wear that during the holiday."

A smile plays on your lips while you shake your head. "She looked so cute in everything else, too. It seemed like she really liked clothes with cat or dog ears that she could play with. For Christmas, you should get her some Legos, probably a medieval castle with a dragon. She seems fascinated with dragons and wolves."

"I love that. She's creative!"

You hate the way you can practically hear and see his smile from his voice. It brings about that nostalgia and deep yearning you've been pushing down. "Do you want to hear about our day?"

"Of course, I'm surprised you even asked."

B*stard, you wish he was just an asshole so you didn't feel this way. But right now, all you can do is keep it in the back of your head, as this is not permanent. In a few months, both of them will gone, and you'll never see them again.

So, you told him everything about the day, starting with breakfast and the little things you noticed all the way down to her snuggling up in bed and eagerly awaiting to hear from her father. You wanted him to know everything that you've observed so it would be easier for him to understand and take care of her.

Switching dominant guardians would probably be stressful, but hopefully, it'll be easy for her to assimilate to the change.

"And that's everything. I'm off tomorrow and the next day, so if you're going to come over, give me a heads-up so I can make food or something." You murmur while playing with the ends of your hair.

"I got sh*t to do tomorrow, but the next day, I'll definitely come by. It will probably be later in the afternoon, so have some mochi crunch ready for me to pound."

"For real?" You question while rising from your seat. "You're going to bloat up eating all that soy. Do you really want to scare your daughter by turning into a mush monster?"

He gasps on the line and murmurs something in Japanese that you cannot hear. "First of all, you need not to be so judgmental, you judgmental b*tch. People get canceled over things like that. Second of all, I ain't hearing sh*t from you, who eats like two bags of hot Cheetos a week."

After all these years, he can still joke like it were just the two of you again, sitting at the small theater and making a fool himself. It makes sense; everyone always wanted to be his friend with his high charisma and colorful humor.

It makes sense why he couldn't be yours forever. A man like that belongs to others, not to a small-town girl like you. "Whatever. I need to take a shower, so I'm hanging up now. Just be aware I'll be calling you every night at eight because I don't want her going to bed too late."

"Got it—good night (Y/n). And thanks again for taking care of her. You've always been good at taking care of other people. I just know you're going to fill her with every bit of love and joy you bring. People have always liked coming to you to feel better."

There's that warmth again in your belly, that little sting that both hurts and feels good. You both want him to get out of your life and stay.

"Goodnight." Is all you could muster before ending the call and exhaling a deep breath. For now, you don't want to think about him anymore. "Did I take too long?" You ask the little Oni as you come over to the couch.

She shook her head sluggishly, proving her point wrong as she struggled to stay awake. With a small smile, you tuck her in and lay her stuffies by her side as she snuggles the Orc one. "Goodnight, Simat. Sweet dreams. I'll come wake you in the morning, and we'll have some bacon and eggs, okay?"

Simat doesn't nod this time; however, you do see the faintest smile on her lips when the TV screen flashes brightly.

Arrow to the heart!

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The following day, you two stayed in your robes and ate breakfast together before lying in her bed together. With the rain wreaking havoc on the outside, you both decided to stay in and pass the day on.

She seemed to want to watch the Dragon Ball movies, so you had a marathon all day with candies and fruits in the living room. Of course, you made sure to fill her in on the lore since there was so much that happened throughout the series that she was not aware of.

When there are things that catch her interest, she becomes consumed by them, having to indulge in all forms of content before letting it go. It kind of reminds you of yourself and your unhealthy obsession with certain books when you were younger—some of the worst and best times of your life.

For lunch, you had hot dogs and chips before watching some more, and for dinner, it consisted of smoked pork and green beans. The cycle repeated as you played a little bit longer before she showered and lay down to talk to her father.

This time, he thankfully answered on the first ring, and two could talk. When they were done, she handed the phone right back to you, only for Kohaku to ask how your day was again. You both spoke for a little bit before you ended the call and tucked Simat in.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

It was the day when your ex-boyfriend would be coming over, and you couldn't stop the anxiety you were feeling...nor the excitement of seeing him. So wrong; it was wrong for you to feel like for another man while you were in a relationship.

But it's fleeting, it should be.

Today, you both ate some cereal and changed into different clothes. It was not raining, but heavy gloomy clouds remained, so you decided to take Simat out to an arcade. Her blue and green eyes had sparked in the flashing lights of the game room, and you could for once see her excitement.

Whatever she wanted to play, she got it, and when you played air hockey with her, she just kept beating you. It made no sense; you used to be the undefeated champion?! Even Kohaku fell to your power; it was absolutely unbelievable.

She ate your a** up in almost every other competitive game; at some point, you just had to let her go off and play the games herself. Eventually, it was a little past one, and you wanted to be back before her father arrived, so you brought her to the reward section and let her get whatever she wanted.

An arrow stuck you in the heart when she bought matching mood rings and gave you one.

The drive back was peaceful, and when you arrived at your apartment, you were surprised to see Kohaku leaning against your door as he scrolled on his phone.

"Hey, you pig." You call out and start approaching him. "I thought I said to give me a heads-up. It's gonna make me look suspicious if some emo creep hangs around my front door."

Kokahu fakes an injury as he holds a hand to his heart and swings a plastic bag by his side. "I'm hurt. How can you get even prettier but meaner as the time goes by." He whines. "I even brought you your favorite dessert from the bakery back home, and this is how you treat me?"

Damn, now you feel like sh*t and bashful from his compliment. His stupid a** continues to be such a smooth talker, and he doesn't even realize the effects they are having on you.

"Whatever." You mumble and enter your password, making sure to cover it from prying eyes before opening the door and letting everyone in.

Simat heads in first and goes straight to her bed, where she tries to grab all her stuffies and brings them over to her dad to see. "Wow, what is all this?" He exclaims and kneels, only for her to shove them into his arms.

"I told you, she has an obsession with dragons and wolves." You respond while placing her arcade bag down on the coffee table.

"Did they not have any Oni stuffies?" he asks, coming closer so he can collapse on the couch bed.

You turned to him with an expression as though you couldn't believe the dense sh*t that came out of his mouth. "Are you dumb? Have you seen the Oni stuffies they sell? It'll give her nightmares!"

Kohaku only mocks you, clicking his tongue and smacking his lips as he looks away.

"Simat, why don't you take out your bubbles, and your daddy can set up the automatic one?" She nodded enthusiastically before removing the ottoman's top and all her bubble toys and devices.

With those two busy, you get out the snacks and make them a tray, placing them down on the nightstand before returning to the kitchen to start dinner.

The two seemed to get along; it was easy for Kohaku to get along with anyone. He was also the one the kids always liked, no matter their sass or attitude.

Simat is in good hands; she probably won the game by getting him as her father. He'd honestly spoil her so rotten that you're going to have to instill gratefulness into her so she doesn't get a nasty attitude later on.

For today's menu, there were buttered noodles and shrimp with a side of fresh Cezar salad. Wait...you don't know if Simat likes seafood or is allergic to it. "Hey, Kohaku."

The man hums before you hear him shift and make his way over. "What is it?" When you look up, you have to stop yourself from audibly gasping. He took off his leather jacket and shirt, leaving him in a black tank top and jeans.

His arms have grown to a much larger and sculpted shape, not to mention the wiggly veins that protrude against his pale skin. He's always been fit and attractive, but he seemed to have gone through a second growth spurt, and he exerts masculinity right in front of you.

"Uh. What was I saying..." You state out loud before shaking your head and returning your gaze to the pot. "Oh, right. Did her mom say anything about allergies, like seafood? I'm making butter noodles with shrimp, but I don't know if she's allergic."

He shakes his head while stepping forward and leaning over the pot. "No, not from what I'm aware. And I've got to say, I really missed your cooking. My dad still nags me about getting some beef stew that he had last time all those years ago."

Your heart skips a beat, and blood rushes to your face as you focus on cleaning the shrimp. "Well, nothing beats a home-cooked meal, and your dad could never cook for sh*t." A laugh rings out from your lips from just the memory.

Staying over at his dad's place on the farm always resulted in you and Kohaku secretly feeding the dogs whatever his father made. It was nearly unedible that only an animal could genuinely eat. Because of that, you'd go up to his room later and snack on all the treats you hid in the mini-fridge.

The thoughts bring about nostalgia, but you quickly push it away when you feel that bubbling pressure in your chest.

What the hell? Why do you want to cry? Why do you still care? Why doesn't he care like you do?

"Anyway, uh, that's all I had to ask. You can go back to playing with her." You mumbled and waved one of your dirty hands at the exit of the kitchen.

"You sure?" Kohaku inquires while taking a step forward. "I can help, you know."

Why does he have to be so nice!? No one told him he had to be so considerate; no one told him he had to make up for obliterating your heart. "No, Kohaku. I already said you can go back. You didn't come here to hang out with me, so don't waste your time." You didn't mean for attitude to spill from your lips, yet the building anger at yourself was unleashed on him.

He doesn't say anything, but you can feel his gaze following your movement as you take the tray of shrimp to the sink to clean. No way could you face him at this moment; the embarrassment mortified you, and it would literally kill you to see him giving you a pitiful expression.

How pathetic it must be when he can see that you still care so much about him.

"Just give me a holler if you need anything." He responds after a moment of silence, and you only hum back.

His footsteps fade, and only once you hear his voice faintly from the living room do you allow yourself to turn and face the spot he was standing in.

Dammit, he fell out of love while you never left.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Alright, everyone, wash your hands and come to the dinner table!" You inform them while plating their dishes in your fancy bowls.

Kohaku says something before you hear little fit pitter-patter against the wooden floors as though she were running. He's quick to follow behind, laughing slightly until you hear him praise her as they reach the bathroom.

Carrying their food, you place them down on the table and return to pour them glasses of water. This feeling of domestication riddles through your brain, igniting flares of satisfaction from within. You've always been a giver and a provider, and doing exactly so scratches a burning itch.

"Look at this!" Kohaku exclaims while entering the dining room, carrying Simat on his hip. "No one cooks as good as (Y/n). I swear, you are so lucky you get to her food every day." While he speaks, he reaches over to pinch her little chubby cheeks.

"You're a grown man. You can make your own food." You murmur as you leave to place the pitcher of water back in the fridge.

"What a killjoy!" He shouts before saying something inaudible to his daughter.

Now that everything is ready, you grab your own bowls of food and return to eat with them. As you approach, you hear his usual 'itadakimasu' and almost trip over your own feet. In that moment, you could practically be transferred right back into the past.

This is eating you up alive... You're not going to be able to last before you die again of a broken heart.

It took you a moment and a few deep breaths until you could return and settle down. By then, he was already halfway through his food, chowing down like a pig, with his heterochromatic eyes twinkling in enjoyment.

He suddenly burps loudly and apologizes before turning to face his daughter and pointing his chopsticks at her. "Why aren't you eating? Do you not like it?"

"She does this often," you say, your attention on your bowl as you prepare your own pair and start collecting the noodles. "She only starts eating after I take the first bite."

Kohaku's gaze settles on your body, but you don't say anything anymore before taking a bite and chewing. Now, Simat follows and splits her chopsticks before eating, too.

"You're cute, Simat." The older Oni states as he reaches over to swipe a small piece of garlic from her face.

The girl blinks, almost looking stunned, even if her expression remains neutral, and it breaks a smile on your face. "She is, very much so."

Nothing more is said as everyone continues to eat. Kohaku went back for seconds and made an even bigger bowl than what you made initially, but you're not going to complain. It's better he eats it all than letting it rot in the fridge before you throw it out.

A sudden ringing from your room grabs your attention, and you realize you are getting a phone call. "Oh, I'll be right back," you murmur and shift to get up and make your way down the hall.

However, your eyes nearly widen when you realize it is Rafe calling. "Shit." You had been so preoccupied with Simat that you hadn't been in contact with him at all this whole time.

"Hello?" You answered and quietly shut your door for privacy.

"Hello? Hello!? Babe, how can you not talk to me for two days straight? Not even just a quick text goodnight or good morning!?"

He had every right to be mad because it took minimal effort to stay in contact and let him know you were still alive. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I've just been so busy, you know-"

"With what!?" He snaps, and you nearly recoil from his blaring tone. "You don't work Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, so what the hell have you been doing?

There's a lump in your throat that nearly chokes you dead. "First of all, watch your tone when you talk to me. I already apologized for not staying in contact. Second of all, if I'm busy, then I'm busy. It's the holiday, I still haven't bought any presents, and I still need to help management prepare for the office party. Just because it was my off days doesn't mean I hadn't work to do." Straight lying through your teeth, you swear you could have been struck down for such a vice.

Though you weren't wrong, there were still things you needed to do...you just haven't gotten to them yet.

"And that warranted not even a text? You know what, I'm coming over. We need to talk face to face." Your breath hitches, and alarmed 'no!' comes from your lips without your will.

"I-I'm not going to see you when you're pissed off. You know you say things you don't mean when you're angry, and I'm going to take that right now. I'm really sorry for not keeping in contact, and I'll do better. I'm in the middle of eating, so don't talk to me until you've calmed down and thought thoroughly about what you want to say."

You don't wait for him to respond and hang up. A sigh expells deep from within your lungs as you collapse on your bed and stare up at the ceiling. Rafe was not entirely in the wrong; you could have done better. It does make you feel awful keeping this from him; you've never been one to carry such big secrets.

If he were just more understanding, you could let him in, and he could even help if he really wanted. But if you think about it, if one of his ex-girlfriends dropped off their kid, who wasn't even related to Rafe, and told him to care for them, you don't know how you'd feel.

"Ugh!" You're an awful person; everything you've been doing is just reinforcing that. You're in a relationship, yet you're letting these past feelings for an ex affect you! It's not right; it was never right.

You should have slammed that door in his face the minute you saw him. You should have left him alone to deal with his own responsibility. You should have gotten rid of these feelings a long time ago before moving on and getting with a different person.

But you thought you had. You spent years working on yourself and your career, getting to the point where you didn't need a man in your life to be there for you. In the time being, you went on a few dates here and there, but when you really felt ready, you settled down with Rafe.

No more, you don't even want to think of this anymore. For now, you just need to handle this. It's only a month or two more, and then they're both gone.

At this point, your stomach is queasy from the mess inside your head, and you're no longer hungry. You return only to grab your bowls and dump the remaining food. Simat was still finishing what little remained, so you began washing the dishes and attempting to busy yourself.

Work starts tomorrow, and you have to go in early. Once you finish this, you'll have to call the nursery school or a pre-k so they can watch Simat while you are at work. You'll have to explain some circumstances, but overall, most daycare workers are understanding and accommodating, so you shouldn't have much to worry about.

Hopefully, Simat will be okay. It's probably too early for her to make friends when she's still opening up to you and her father. However, the environment would most likely do her some good, and she can see how children her age act with one another.

"Thank you for the meal!" Kohaku beams as he steps into the kitchen to hand you their empty dishes.

You only hum in response and continue what you are doing. The Oni sighs, and in your peripheral, you see him lean against the counter. "Is everything okay? You've been kind off since-"

"Since what?" You interject and finally turn your head to meet his beautiful gaze. "I'm busy taking care of your responsibility and trying to make sure your daughter gets everything she needs while you're off doing god(s) knows what." He didn't deserve your anger; all that is happening is your own Karma. Nevertheless, you just need him to stop this good guy act at this point. Receiving his kindness just makes it harder to move on.

A pathetic laugh makes its way from your lips as you shake your head. "Honestly, you show up at my door in the middle of the night after no contact for six years just to drop off a kid from the relationship you left me for. How ironic is that?" Another laugh echoes out from the sheer audacity. "It's so ludicrous that I can't even believe I let you just walk all over me like that. Am I just a joke to you?"

"What!?" He exclaims and shakes his head while standing straight up. "Of course not. I-"

"Not a joke, yet you treated our relationship the way you did once you went to college?" Your interjection silences whatever words are on his lips as he looks away to bite his lips.

Shutting off the water, you begin drying your hands on a dish towel and keeping your gaze away. "It's whatever. You fell out of love, right? I wasn't what you wanted, and that's just the way life is. But I will never forget the feeling of not being enough. And you're only making it worse by pitying me and trying to make up for how you did me so dirty."

Finally, you turn and face him, standing right in front of him and craning your neck to stare into his beautiful eyes. "I'm your ex. You're my ex. You're not obligated to do anything for me."

"I just... can't." He murmurs with a frown. "Before we were even in a relationship, we were best friends."

With a scornful laugh, you find yourself at your limit. Shaking your head, you step past him, only stop midway and turn back. "We're not friends now and will never be again. Get that through your head."

You don't let him say anymore, leaving him in his spot as you make your way to your office and shut the door.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

You stayed in your office working on backed-up drafts and clearing fallen deals for the rest of the night. The two continued to play for a while until you got up, only to open the door and yell down the hall that he needed to bathe her.

He's a grown man; he should know how to bathe his own daughter so you can just leave them be. While you worked, they seemed to spend a long time in there before you heard their feet padding across the floor back towards the living room.

You're not sure how much time had passed before there was a knock at the door that spurred you to jump in surprise. Sighing, you mumbled a 'come in' or something along those lines as you resumed reading the documents on your screen.

The door parts slowly, and from your peripheral, you see Kohaku sticking his head in as he takes in the appearance of that room. "I just put Simat to bed, so I'm gonna get going."

"Okay. You can show yourself." You reply without giving him your full attention.

He remains still as though there is still something left on his tongue. And you were right as you heard him take a deep breath and open his mouth. "I'm sorry-"

"F*ckin A." You sneer and snap your head to face him. "Is that all you know what to say? Your head f*ckin broken? Can't come up with anything other than useless, thoughtless apologies? Just shut up and leave."

Those words hit the nail on the head as he suddenly nods his head and runs a hand through his black and white hair. "...You're right." That is all he says as he turns and begins walking away.

You sit stagnant, listening to his fading footsteps before the front door opens and shuts quickly with a faint click.

Alone, you finally break down, and a sob stuck in your throat finally pours out in strained waves.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The following day, you got ready for work and made breakfast for the both of you. While dressing her up for the day and packing her bag with snacks and her toys, you explained what was going on. She seemed to understand, but you made sure to tell her everything about how the day was going to go.

With a nice drive, you took her to the daycare and talked with the lady there a little bit to remind them of Simat's unique qualities. She seemed genuine, so you gave the little Oni a big hug and told her to be a good girl before leaving for work.

Everything was normal; it went by with the usual minor annoyances here and picking up the slack of your department. Half of them usually get so lazy during the holidays, and the other half works their finger to the bone to get that second Christmas bonus.

As you busied yourself, you couldn't help the little anxiety in your heart. You worried about Simat and hoped she was doing well. If anything happened to her, you would go off; it doesn't matter if they're just kids. There is this intense desire to protect her even though she is not yours. It's surprising how easily you grew attached to her, but then again, she is just a little girl.

Honestly, you couldn't wait to pick her up, but of course, someone messed up an insurance deal, and you had to stay behind to fix it. You're the unit supervisor; this should be designated to someone else, but they're all incompetent.

Once you finished it, you were out the door. People were trying to talk to you, yet you ignored them as you rushed to your car and sped towards the nursery. You were at least an hour later than what you promised, and I hope she was not resentful.

When you arrived, you threw the car in park at the front and rushed to get inside. Glancing around, you tried to find Simat, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Ms. (L/n)?"

Your head whipped around to see the worker from earlier. "Hello! I'm sorry I'm late. I was pushed into overtime." Words spill out of your mouth as you attempt to calm yourself.

The young lady only nods in an understanding manner. "It's no worries; most parents usually end up working later than expected. Follow me. Simat's been waiting eagerly for you." She expresses and waves an arm in an indication to follow her.

Leading over to another space, you see it's a small room with desk put together where some kids are coloring. In the corner, Simat sat by herself with her head down as she played with her Orc doll. Even though her face always remained in the usual neutral expression, her sagging shoulders and low gaze felt close to melancholy.

Quietly, with soft steps, you strode up to her from behind before kneeling carefully in your work skirt. "What are you playing?" As soon as she hears your voice, her entire body perks up. Her head snaps in your direction with a slight glimmer of tears glossing over in her colorful iris'.

Unexpectedly, her little hands drop her favorite doll to reach forward and grasp the front of your button-up and conceal her face in your chest. You hadn't expected such a reaction, nor did you think she'd display an expressive depiction of emotion. "Simmy, did you think I abandoned you?" She nods after a moment of hesitation, which strikes you right in the heart.

Softly grasping her shoulders, you pull her back so you can look into those icy blue and line green eyes. Tears are staining her tan cheeks, which you wipe away softly. "I would never. I have you, and you have me. I'm not going anywhere. Now, let's go home and make something to eat, okay?"

Rubbing her tiny fist against her eyes, she takes a deep breath, nods, and turns back to grab her pink bag and doll before returning to you. She even holds your hand without you asking, squeezing tightly as though she were afraid you'd slip away.

How are you going to be able to let her go when the time comes?

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Through a consistent cycle, you continue to care for Simat, with her father calling every night before she goes to bed. Every two days, he shows up to see her while you maintain your distance. Sometimes, he takes her out to the arcade or ice skating, which you know does wonders for her development.

You can see the evolution of her opening up and expressing herself without constraint. She conveys her dislikes more without fear and actively does her own thing without having to be told to. You didn't think you could be so proud of a child that was not yours, but here you are.

Still, she has yet to speak, which had you severely worried, but the daycare tried to explain some situations to you. From Sim's early childhood, she went through a lot of neglect and stress, which probably formed a health condition called SM, Selective Mutism. It's an anxiety disorder that were affecting her verbal ability to communicate in regular or social situations.

There were many paths you could take to help her: mental health therapy, speech therapy, or even medication if it comes down to it. At her age, you'd really like to stay away from medicating her, so it will only be acknowledged in a desperate need.

For now, you and Kohaku agreed to continue what you have been doing and assimilate her into a healthy dynamic. After a few months, she'll go back with him, and then he'll take his daughter to get her recommendations for mental health and speech therapy. As much as you'd like to give her the proper treatment now, it would be best for her to participate in it when she can be in a more permanent environment.

This is only temporary, but the effects you have on her, as well as the effects she has on you, will become permanent.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

November passed, and most of December did before it finally became Christmas Eve. You had your work party, and luckily, it was on the day Kohaku came over. And because it was the holiday, he agreed to sleep over for Christmas.

Currently, the two were outside playing in the snow. You can see them from your window as you peek to check up on them.

Three snowmen are built: a little one, another slightly bigger, and a humongous one. The small one has the oversized pink sweater she wore when she first showed up. The middle one has a giant smile and a huge heart drawn over the middle. The biggest one was wearing Kohaku's leather jacket, which slightly sagged on its stick arms.

Snow continued to fall and build up in the yard; you could practically hear the crunch of it beneath their feet. Simat suddenly fell back, staring up at the clouded grey sky that began to grow dark with the passing of the afternoon. You can see her breath in the air, the cold whisp drifting as she breathed out.

Kohaku smiled as he came over to pat her face and collapse next to her lightly. He said something you couldn't hear before moving his arms and legs, which his daughter mimicked. They both stood up together and took a step back to look over the snow angels they made.

Someday, you'd like to be down there and play along as the cold numbs the tips of your fingers and burns the surface of your face. But your place isn't by their side, and very slowly, you are coming around to accept.

You're almost done getting ready for the party, finished with your hair and makeup, and are now just waiting for Rafe to come pick you up, as he is your plus one. Leaving your spot from the window, you make your way to the kitchen, where you fill a kettle with water and place it on the burner.

Checking the oven, dinner is almost done; it should be ready a little after you depart. You're not worried about leaving the two alone while you're out; they'll be fine. After all, you're not part of their family.

The front door clicks and unlocks as you hear the sound of Kohaku's voice. Then the kettle started screaming, steam spewing out of the spout in rapid waves. Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, you shake the hot chocolate packets first before pouring a little milk and then the boiling water.

A cacophony of sounds blares from the TV, as it sounds like they resumed their Christmas movie from earlier. Your phone from the bathroom starts to ring, so you quickly place spoons in the mugs and bring them over to the two. "Here," you mumble, placing them down on the coffee table before wiping your hands on the sides of your pants and vacating down the hall.

Answering the phone with a hello, you hear Rafe's voice on the other line. "Hey, I'm about five minutes away. Should I park downstairs or in the front?"

"In the front. I just have to put on my dress." You respond while entering your bedroom. "Love you, be safe."

"Of course, love you too."

The dress for the occasion was a red satin dress, strapless, with a tight-fitting corset that snatched in your waist. You wore a pair of mesh sleeves that reached your upper bicep with white fluff around the band. With a slit on the right side, it was slightly provocative but appealing to show the shape of your leg. Because of its wide flair and slightly long train, you needed to wear a pair of high heels.

To be honest, you felt overdressed, but there are not many events that you go to where you can really dress up and make yourself feel like a pretty princess. Dress on, makeup set, and hair done; the only thing that is left is to grab your matching clutch purse and your keys.

"Alright, I'm going. Try not to stay up too late or burn my place down." At the sound of your approaching voice, Kohaku and Simat turned their heads from the movie to face you. Simmy's eyes twinkled, gleaming in the light as she sat up straighter.

"Wow, gorgeous as ever." The older Oni praised and rested his head against his fist with a smile that showed off his fangs. "Is this prom? Do I need to walk you out to your date and make sure he brings you home at an appropriate time?

Your jaw clenches, and it takes everything in you to eat the words that nearly spewed from your lips unapologetically. It's so funny how he mentions prom when he gave you that promise ring and made a vow to marry you when things settled.

How naive you were to believe it all.

Instead of replying, you step forward to kiss Simmy's forehead and tell her goodbye before leaving and locking the door with the passcode and fingerprint.

You take your time going to the elevator and traveling down, and right as you arrive at the lobby, you see Rafe's vehicle pull up.

When you got in, Rafe did a double take. He smiled and leaned back in his seat. "Who are you dressing to impress?"

"Can't I just dress up for myself?" You inquire with a teasing smile. "I practically planned the entire party myself; I deserve to enjoy it. '

With a nod of his head, your boyfriend placed a hand on your thigh and began to drive towards the office.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

At a party, regardless of whether it's work-related or not, there's obviously going to be alcohol. You tried to stay away, but it teased you with its fuzzy taste and mind-numbing burn. A lot is going on in your life, including a lot of pain and inner turmoil that you have no outlet for.

The source of it dwindles in your home, marking everything with their presence. The bed smells of her, and the air reeks of his cologne. Her hair products lay about in the bathroom; his clothes hide in the closet, obscured but there.

Their shoes sit right there by the door; muddy snow melted on wooden floors. When they leave, getting rid of everything that belonged to them doesn't remove the memories engraved in that place.

Really, what did you do to deserve this pain? Hadn't you suffered enough?

Your head is dizzy; your coordination is off, as though you were out at sea. Everyone at the party was enjoying themselves, with faces red and flushed or lighter and hot. Rafe is somewhere, off in some corner, gambling while playing pool.

Everything tastes the same: the champagne you downed and the water you sipped—it all tastes like bitter resentment.

"Shouldn't the supervisor who planned the party be enjoying it?" You're barely able to turn your head to see one of your co-workers and fellow supervisor approaching.

He was at least a decade older than you, with age lines slightly forming around his slim nose. His hair was dark and slicked back, a single stray over his forehead that contrasted against the bright lights of his blue eyes. While others wore ugly Christmas sweaters, Reno refused to wear anything other than his tailored black suit and red satin tie.

"I'm enjoying it." You hold in a burp and swallow it down. "Don't you see all my drinks?" With gestures at the table, the focus is on the multiple cocktail glasses and stacked shot glasses.

Reno pushed his thin glasses higher up his nose while stepping on the footrest and lifting himself to sit in the high bar chair. "That many drinks are a prescription for a broken heart, supervisor."

You scowl, twisting your face into a scornful expression. "What you know about a broken heart? You married your high school sweetheart." The words burn worse than whiskey down the throat. "Both of you went to prep school in this big a** city but still married each other." Your pettiness comes forward in full sight as your grip grows tighter on your half-drunken glass. "I hate you and your happy little relationship. Get out of my face."

Unit one's supervisor laughs in the throat, his gaze shifting to the window. Even this late at night, the city doesn't sleep. Lights blare and flash, horns blare and whine, and people still walk out, even with the snow amassing on the sidewalk. "Everyone is lucky you're a professional, and do not let your emotions affect your work performance." His response sounded so bureaucratic that it only worsened your mood.

"You are literally the worst person to talk about relationship problems with. I need someone from the streets." Your drunken blunder earns a faint chuckle as the older man reaches for a drink.

He swirled the burgundy liquid around in the Pinot Noir-shaped glass before shifting to face you. "Whether it is someone with expressive slang or not, we'd presumably provide the same advice." With a reserved sip, he drank from his wine with poise. "Whatever troubles you, the most responsible thing is to confront it head-on. Do not dwell in it, do not prolong it, do not tell yourself that if you just wait it out, things will get better."

Vibrations from the holiday music rumble beneath your chair, tingling your toes alongside the alcohol buzzing in your veins. How comical it was when he knew nothing of what you were experiencing but nearly hit the mark.

His simple words somewhat calmed your mind, even managing to get you to sit up and release the glass you had been nursing. "Was Cora your first love?"

Reno licked his lip slightly before setting down his drink. "Actually, no. I had only engaged with my wife a few years after my first love and I became estranged."

That surprised you as everyone always thought Cora was his first love, considering their dedication to each other. "Do you still think of your first love?"

"Ah, I see where this is going." The supervisor declared with a knowing grin. "I will recount my feelings; however, there is a likelihood that you will hear remarks that do more harm than good." You just wave off his concerns and usher him to continue. With a sigh, he glanced down at his left hand and twiddled with the wedding ring.

"Experiencing your first love is something that no one prepares you for. They do not tell you about the overwhelming emotions or passionate romanticization of every little thing. There is no time to ready your hearts that become utterly consumed by one another. I experienced that firsthand with a young woman at prep named Wilhelmina. A lovely girl connected with a duke in Europe, but even without the knowledge of knowing she harbored royal blood, it would not be far-fetched to think she was a princess. Everything about her was dignified, married with elegance and grace. Many men competed for her hand, and of course, I was one among them."

You laugh and drunkenly shake your head. "Why am I not surprised that you had relationships with an actual princess? You truly are a man from a different social class than me."

"Yet we both partake in the same profession," He praises with a raise of his wine glass. "As I was saying, I was attracted to her physical appearance, yes. She was a gorgeous woman; even to this day, many could not even compare. Regardless, her brilliance and compassion outshined all. She was a woman who was all-consuming, and I mean that in the best possible way. Mina treasured knowledge and fell into deep fixation when researching or reading. I was particularly fond of her many tirades when she denounced any bias encountered in educational texts. Very passionate, I must add."

You narrow your eyes and pucker your lips. "This is all sounding too rich for me. Get to the part where she broke your heart."

Reno scrunched his nose. "I suppose you only have forbearance during work hours."

"I'm drunk and suffering. What do you expect from me?" You remark, which yields a hum from the older man.

"Touché, demoiselle. Alright, to the crucial details. Together, our relationship was fiery and passionate. And when I look back at it, I realize it was significantly unhealthy. We became each other's will to live. Life devolved into a diminutive, secluded bubble that others could not penetrate. Every waking moment, we were together, sharing and experiencing the first of certain situations with the other. Many nights, we spoke of what our future would be like, and at the time, neither one of us could fathom a separation. We planned to marry after graduation and move to the Netherlands, where we would live a simple life with a child or two and grow old together. It was idealistic and hopelessly romantic, but to this day, I will never be able to forget that devotion. Nothing I have experienced at this age has even compared. However, it was that strong passion that ended our relationship."

"What...?" You expel with a harsh gasp. "You broke up for what!?"

Reno smiled like a parent with a secret they won't tell you. "The connections we shared were strong, overpowering, but unforgettable. I loved her with everything I had to offer, and she reciprocated that fact, if not pouring even more than I did into our relationship. Perhaps that was when the fire of our devotion fizzled out for me while hers burned even brighter, hotter. Mentally, I struggled to maintain a rhythm at her pace and found myself overwhelmed by the fissures forming. No matter how fast I ran or how long I jogged, I couldn't arrive at the same destinations alongside her anymore. Things changed, feelings changed, and I knew that the responsible thing was to confront her and end the relationship."

Your mouth is dry as the tips of your fingers tingle. "F*ckin A, that's now what I expected. Hey!" You waved over attendance and snatched a shot from her tray before quickly downing it like water. "I wanted your heart shattered! I wanted your heart stepped on and kicked over and utterly obliterated. I hate you men who just fall out of love like it's nothing!" You attempt to grab another shot, but Reno grasps your wrist to stop any movement.

"Go on ahead." He informs the attendant, who quickly departed from your area. Alone, he lowers your wrist to the table and inhales a deep breath like he couldn't catch a break. "I never fell out of love with Wilhelmina. I still loved her, but what we had could not be maintained. I still love her passion; I still treasure her smile, and I still adore her covetousness for knowledge. I still love that woman, but not in the same manner as before. I was too immature to understand when and where to implement boundaries. I was too young to comprehend that a relationship should not be so obsessive. Wilhelmina and I had loved to live when we should have lived to love. It was not until I spent the years working on myself and maturing that I realized the validity of that statement. Engaging with Cora was not out of necessity or compulsion. I did not need to be with her always or see her constantly. I invited her out for excursions when I wanted to, when I was free. I did not need to ignore my duties and cast aside all responsibilities just because I could not handle being away from her for one second. We took things slow and at our own pace that people often thought we were not together. But it was good for us; we both gave fifty, fifty. Now we've been wedded for nearly fifteen years with not a single lingering issue."

You've never thought of it at that angle, only burning with wrath from your own overbearing emotions. Wilhelmina sounds just like you; you're relating on a personal level without ever meeting her. The fire of your devotion to Kohaku was so bright that it must have been blinding. It must have been all-consuming, burning away everything that made him who he was.

Now you understand. You were a flame, small at first, but with all that Kohaku poured into the relationship, into you, you grew into a blaze. You took his kindling without even knowing, consuming his fuel until he could no longer manage his own fire. While your flare evolved into an intense and raging inferno, Kohaku's had extinguished, smothered, with nothing but ashes remaining.

He did everything and gave you everything to such an extent that the inferno inside of you still burns to this day.

"I still think of her every once in a while." Reno's voice cuts through your thoughts as your eyes rise from the table. His head faced the window, staring back out at the snowy night sky. "We have remained in contact after all these years, providing updates here and there when we can. Of course, I do lament the way I shattered her heart at the time, but we both agreed that it was the best decision I could have made. Where we are in life currently is everything we could have wanted. It's a shame that such intense flames have become extinguished, but what we love now is a part of our lives, not our entire lives."

You can only stare at him, tears glossing over and a sting forming in the corner of your eyes. Perhaps this is precisely what you've needed to hear. After the breakup, you cried only once, letting everything out, then buried deep down in a cavern where everything was cold and frozen. You did not heal or express your pain to anyone. So, it formulated into resentment as the years went by, and you could no longer see it rationally, only emotionally.

For once, you see things clearly and understand what you must do.

"I guess I didn't need the streets to learn this lesson." You joke softly, attempting to lighten the mood so you do not wail audibly in front of your co-workers and bosses.

Reno reaches forward, his warm hands settling over your hands to stop tremors you didn't even know that you were experiencing. "You are a good woman, (Y/n). Whatever had transpired in the past is not anyone's fault. Things just worked out the way they did, and you should not blame yourself or your past partner. There doesn't need to be any more blame, just healing." His grip tightened the slightest when you breathed out a trembling exhale. "That man, Rafe(?) I can tell that you hold back with him. Do not try to pacify your flames, (Y/n). Either you share the burdens together or end it responsibly, but it is only advice. Do whatever you need to do."

Sharing a moment of silence, you both sat there while staring out the wall of windows. The flurries continued to collect on the ground, though it had yet to stop the traffic. Life went on, and life progressed.

"Now!" Reno had patted your hands before reaching over to his pants and removing his car keys. "Are you in need of a ride, or will you leave along with your date?"

You didn't answer at first, letting your gaze fall into the distance in the room where Rafe was located. He was enjoying himself, laughing and drinking. He was letting loose, finally releasing all the built-up stress you were causing to accumulate with your lies and hidden secrets.

"Could I trouble you, good sir, for a ride?" You tease with the first smile you've had all night.

Reno shared that grin and stood off his seat to offer his elbow while gesturing towards it. "No trouble at all, demoiselle." He remarks in the same joking manner.

Drunkenly, you wrap your arm around his elbow and allow him to guide you toward the elevator that leads down to the parking lot. Surprisingly, you were aware enough to text Rafe that you were leaving because you didn't feel good. He'd probably not take that too well and be angry with you in the morning, but it's better than nothing.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Your heels hang from your fingers as you shuffle down the hall. Your skin is hot, still burning from the alcohol, so the cool tiled floor alleviates some of that heat. Finally, you reach your door and have to rest your forehead against the wooden partition to steady your coordination.

When you input your code and fingerprint, the door buzzes slightly, and you attempt to enter as quietly as possible.

The TV is playing, but the volume is low. Not a single light is on but the nightlights and the illumination from Kohaku's phone screen.

At the sound of the door, he sat up from his position on the living room couch bed, and you could hear the sound of his footsteps against the laminated floor.

"You were out late." He teases. "Thought I was going to have to track you down and give your date a stern talking to."

You're still facing the door, you're still holding your shoes, you're still drunker than you've ever been. But it was enough for you to turn around to face him after gathering what little bearings you could muster.

He stands only a few feet away, shirtless, only in a pair of low-hanging Christmas pants that leave practically nothing to the imagination. The shape of his body was so manly, close to inhuman, with his muscles so profoundly shaped.

You are starting to understand what Reno meant by boundaries.

"I'm still in love with you."

Kohaku's heterochromia eyes widen, the whites largely visible as he stands stagnant in his spot. His expression from earlier had fallen, leaving his lips pursed tightly. Even his built chest and broad pectorals hadn't moved, as though you gripped his lungs and tore them out.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You slur with a heavy tongue and a slight tilt of your head. "I thought it was obvious."

He doesn't respond at first, either trying to collect his bearings or figure out the right words to say. "I-, you must have really drank a lot. You always said such nonsense when you had too much to drink." The Oni attempts to jest and laugh, but you do not share that giggle.

"There you go again, taking me for a joke again." Your murmur at that point was more to yourself as you dropped your shoes and stumbled your way to your bedroom.

Kohaku followed after a moment of hesitation, lingering in the doorway while you heaved yourself on your bed at the edge. No one says anything, just listening to the faint rumble of the TV.

"Tonight, I spoke to my co-worker..." You begin faintly. "He married his high school sweetheart, but not his first love." Your attention lingers on the window at the side of your room, staring out at the snowy weather. "I did not tell him what I was going through, but he offered advice that was exactly what I needed to hear. Before...I saw what happened to us as you just abandoning me, completely ditching me because you didn't love me anymore. It was more complex than that, wasn't it?"

Tears gloss over once again, but this time, you let them fall and smudge whatever makeup remained. "You still loved me; it just became too much. It must have been so exhausting to give your all every waking moment." Everything tastes bitter on your tongue. "I don't fully understand because I still have so much to give...I still had so much to offer. But you...I must have taken everything and still begged for more. I should have understood, but I was young, and immature, and passionately in love with the idea of love."

The guilt is so evident on his face it's sickening. If this were you just a few hours earlier, you'd probably snap and insult him, unable to bear with his pity.

"Why are you feeling bad? You made your decision, and you did what you did. It was for the best because if you stayed, we both would have gone up in flames."

Kohaku inhaled deeply while reaching a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I just..." His gaze was anywhere else but your face. "I still loved you. I still couldn't forget you. You were...you were everything. What we had was unforgettable; most things can't even reciprocate the feelings I had with you." Everything mirrored Wilhelmina and Reno so closely that the irony spurred you to laugh.

Kohaku falls silent as you hold your belly with your arms crossed, hunching over and laughing with your eyes shut. It wasn't funny in a humorous way anymore. It wasn't even funny in a pathetic way, either.

Loving to live, obsessing over the idea of devotion, you were addicted to the unhealthy toxicity of it.

Finally, after a moment, you calmed down, only for your face to be soaked in tears and smudged across your skin. "I wish you had told me everything you felt instead of leaving me to my own thoughts and suspicions. My heart was bleeding and it never stopped."

"I'm...I'm sorry. I know you don't want-"

"It's fine." You interject and clear your throat. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to dump all this on you and make you feel bad. It wasn't to make you try and fix things by being with me out of pity. I've realized that I was stuck in our history, in love with the you from the past. The man you are today isn't the same person... I don't even know who you are anymore."

The Oni in front of you had parted his lips, but the words wouldn't leave his tongue. Fangs poked out, glinting in the moonlight before he finally closed his mouth and swallowed strenuously.

Gingerly, he stepped forward and stopped right in front of your body. His large hands reached down, taking your gloved ones in his and squeezing. For a second, you let yourself immerse in the warmth of his inhumanity before pulling away and pushing his arms back towards himself.

"I had told you to maintain your distance because I could not handle being around you. Now I realize what we need to have: boundaries." Softly patting his hands, you urge him to let them drop by his side. "You cannot treat me like the (Y/n) from before. You cannot compliment me or praise me, or suck up to get what you want. You can't just walk around my place half-naked. In fact, you can't be here anymore while I work on myself. We are not friends; we can't be friends, at least right now... Can you do that?"

With a solemn nod, the Oni stepped back and shifted to leave the room, yet stopped midway through. His shoulders turned as he looked back to face you and spoke in a hushed voice that you almost missed.

"Will you at least let me do one more thing?"

You didn't expect him to ask such a question, so you sat silenced and stunned, your drunk brain buzzing with the remnants of a hangover peeking through. "S-Sure."

With your approval, Kohaku steps back to stand in front. He's in your bubble, invading it as his hands rise and softly hold the sides of your head. Then he dips down, letting his lips press against your forehead with a fleeting kiss that still lingered when he pulled away.

"Being with you was an unimaginable experience that I could never forget. You are amazing, just an incredible person. There is no one like you in this world, small town or big city." His voice is soft, precious as he speaks by your ear. "Take all the time you need, (Y/n). I can wait for the day until we can be friends again. Even if I have to wait a hundred years."

You cannot stop the burning hot tears from expelling past your lids and trading down your neck. The insides of your chest aches; it stings and tightens in your heart as though Kohaku reached forward and tore his way through.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

And I, oop, I wrote this in three days. It took longer than I expected because I didn't know where I was going with the idea. This also turned out longer and broken into 2 chapters bc as you know, I love writing realism. I want to showcase real emotions and it just wouldn't make sense for Kohaku to get with the reader at the end of this chapter when the whole time he didn't even share those feelings.

Of course, my heart is hurting bc DAYYUMM, I could never. Reader is better than me. I'd really be way too petty and once I feel wronged, you'll never be in my good gracious ever again.

Anyway, I wanted to try something new and write a love interest that isn't hopeless in love with the reader (*cough* Zagan *cough*). It just hurts so good, the angst rn. The next part is supposed to have a lot of character development and growth + as you know me, we get a little more gang affiliation bc I love bad boys.

Also Simat is a W and she will go off in the next chapter bc whoever hurts 'mommy' reader will get their throat torn out.

Might kill the reader, idk yet, still jotting it down.

Ps.

I just want to apologize also for being gone for so long without a single chapter update in like 6 months. I had completely lost all motivation after my wattpad, which I spent NINE years curating, was deleted in one night over nothing. It literally felt like all my hard work and recognition was just stolen and left me with nothing.

Of course, I have my quotev and Tumblr, which I am thankful for. Wattpad just had the most engagement and following, and it was easier to communicate with me. I just want so many people to read what I can do and enjoy the creativity of my storytelling.

↳If you'd like to support me or read 30+ drafts of TDMLM or my other stories, please consider buying me Kofi. You can find the link on my profile or here! Thank you :)

ᴍᴀᴍᴀ ꜱɪɢɴɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ

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