#if anyone has read it PLEASE message me i need to talk to someone about it i may just go insane

[bamboozled-distress]

finished reading over 200 issues of invincible in the span of six days now what the fuck am i supposed to do with my life

[luveline]

𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

when an unknown intruder breaks into your apartment, you call hotch. he races to make it to you in time. requested here. fem!reader, 3.7k

cw home invasion, assault, attempted sexual assault, reader is badly hurt/held at gunpoint, please read with care for the content warnings above

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Hotch?" you whisper into the phone, your voice barely audible. 

"Who is this?" 

Hotch doesn't always look at who's calling at night, he just answers. Bad habit. You curl in on yourself where you're on your knees in the closet, trying not to wheeze breathlessly down the receiver. "Hotch, it's me. I need you to come and help me." 

"What's wrong?" He doesn't ask why you're whispering. "Are you at home?" 

"There's someone in my apartment." 

"You're sure?" 

You shift backwards into the embrace of your hanging coats and dresses. It feels as though tens of hands are petting your shoulders, a shiver racing along your spine as a floorboard creaks somewhere in your kitchen. 

"I heard them open my door. I don't have my taser, I…" You stop talking when you hear more movement, terrified you'll be discovered. Regret clings to you. How many times has Morgan offered to teach you self defence personally? "I don't know how they got inside."

It doesn't take more than that for Hotch to click into work mode. "Stay on the phone with me. Don't talk. I'm going to put you on hold to call Morgan. I will be ten seconds at most. Don't panic. Don't hang up. If you think you can leave without being seen or heard, leave, but if you can't, don't show him where you are." 

The invader's footsteps track to the bedroom. You know at once that your tired mind isn't hallucinating a bad scenario to keep you up —this is real. 

You had the hindsight to close your laptop and push it under the bed along with your go-bag, a rucksack full of clothes that you take on cases in different states as part of the BAU. You'd made a quick assessment —your job more than prepared you for this— based on the little information you had. Either the invader knows nothing about you and has assumed you'd be home, or they watch you enough to think you'd be elsewhere. If they think you're here, you're in danger of being assaulted, kidnapped, or murdered. If they think you're away, you're in danger of being robbed. One scenario is a thousand times more preferable than the other. 

You can't help but think of the horrible things you've seen. You know intimately what kind of damage one person can do to someone at their mercy. 

The hold sound is a quiet droning that freaks you out. If you can hear it, the intruder might be able to, too. Like the low hum of the fridge at night or the bumping of the dyer. 

You hang up the phone. 

"I know you're here." 

Your pulse flies through the roof. It pounds so hard you can feel it everywhere, the tip of your nose, your eyelashes. You look through the dark of your closet and panic in the fullest definition of the word. Your heart can't sustain this for long. 

You failed to think of a third possibility. The intruder watches you enough to know you're home. The BAU has a lot of enemies. Anyone could be waiting for you on the other side of the door.

"Come out and I'll be kind," the intruder sing-songs.

You type out a text with shaking hands, your message nearly illegible. 

They knowa 8m hjome. Cant talkk dontcall me

Thirty seconds elapse. A reply comes through. You smother the chirp with your chest. It sounds loud as a shot in the relative quiet. 

Police dispatch 5mins. I'm 10mins. Morgan 12. I will be there as soon as I can. Protect yourself 

That's easy for him to say. You drop your phone in defeat but scramble to pick it up again when you realise it's your best weapon. Or… You crawl to the opposite end of the closet to your shoe rack and slide the shoes apart with honey slow movements, your breath coming in quick, too-loud pants. You never expected to feel this way, you thought you'd know exactly what to do, how to react, but this feels outside of reality. 

You brace the long heel of a shoe between your fingers. Your hand is a vice. 

In your bedroom, the intruder goads you. "I know you're home, Y/N. There's only so many places for me to look, you know? But if you make me check each one, I'll be unhappy when I find you." 

What the fuck? you think. Breaking apart the fear like a knife is anger, a new shot of adrenaline. Who is this guy? You want to spring from the closet and show him how unhappy you are, but your chances of survival improve the longer you can hide. If he has a gun, that's it. You could be dead in the next two minutes. No amount of anger would save you. 

You could be dead in the next two minutes. 

thank you dpr everything, for being my friend aaron, you text. You know how embarrassing it will be to have said goodbye if nothing bad happens to you, but you also know how haunted Hotch will be if he can't get to you in time. You aren't foolish enough to unravel your feelings for him over text, but you're sentimental enough to think they'd matter to him. He'd want to know. 

If things go bad please knoeew that I loved my life and my work and you and the tram more than anything

After a moment, you add, If things don't go bad please nevrr mentiom this 

Footsteps at the closet door. A pause that feels gargantuan, the silence so heavy it threatens to snap the floorboards beneath your knees. 

"Found you." 

You leap up and throw yourself at the closet door as hard as you can, gasping when it swings on the hinges and clips your opposition in the leg. You don't think, you don't look at his face, you simply drive the point of your shoe into his collar. 

He gasps. Something hard and rigid whips upward, your neck snapping to one side as the skin of your cheek splits, gunmetal glancing off of bone. You drop down onto your ass, half out of necessity and half to get away from the pain. You can't outrun it, nor can you escape the forthcoming assault, grunting in shock as the bottom of the gun comes down atop your head. It was likely meant to incapacitate you, but all it does is hurt. 

You flip onto your front, stagger onto your hands and knees, and launch yourself up through the bedroom doorway. You only have to get away. 

He sweeps your legs from under you barely ten feet down the hall. 

You fall. Your knees hit the hallway slats and your face follows, the nerve endings in your teeth ringing one by one and your eyes tearing up as your nose makes a huge thwacking sound. Gasping, you rush to cover your face though the damage is done. Your gasp turns to a sob, hands quickly wetted by blood. 

"Stupid bitch," he hisses. 

You crawl into the kitchen. He steps on the back of your thigh. 

"I have a G43 pointed straight at the back of your fucking head."

"Good for you?" you say, eyes squeezed closed. 

You whimper as he grinds his foot into your leg. 

"Don't think I won't use it when I'm done with you." 

You shake your head from side to side. That can't be what he's here for.

You should ask him what he wants, or threaten him with the approaching police sirens. You should've tried to climb out of your fire escape. You should've set the door alarm as soon as you came home, but you're just so fucking tired lately you must've forgot. Everything feels like a chore. Right now, you're exhausted. 

"What are you going to do?" he asks you. 

You won't negotiate. You don't answer.

Forceful, no time to protect yourself, he kicks you in the side of the face. It hurts worse than the fall, that shattering pain like a firework under your skin. You struggle to keep your mouth shut, hoping that your whining cry is less audible to him than it is to you, scrambling backward toward the cabinets. You're defeated. Maybe you deserve it, for it to happen so easily. Three minutes and you're down. 

"I asked you what are you going to do, Agent?" 

"What am I supposed to say?" you ask. Even to your own ears, you sound pathetic. 

"Whatever I want you to. Now get up, honey." You cringe. "Unless you want to stay on the floor like a dog?" 

"Don't call me that," you say, wincing at the grinding sensation of your jaw. 

"What, a dog? Or… honey?" His tone is smug. "I thought you'd like that. It's what your boss calls you, isn't it? Late at night when he drops you off. Not strictly professional." 

You groan and turn onto your side. The police sirens are getting close. You live in a busy place near a main road, the sirens could be for anybody, but you need them to be for you.

"Get up, honey. You can pretend I'm him, if you like. I'll make it easy on you. I can be nice." 

You deliberate. Do as he says, or risk further agitation. Do what he says. Live to see the end of the night. 

Or drag it out. Give Hotch enough time to get here. 

"You'll pretend to be him?" you ask, sniffing. You can't tell if you're crying or there's blood on your face. 

"Aw. To begin with, sure." 

You sit up. For the first time, you look your attacker in the face. It's difficult to tear your eyes from the barrel, but you do. He has a cruel face, as tall and formidable as Hotch is but with none of his lightness. You put on your softest expression, gazing at him through tears. When you speak, the fear is real, even if you're attempting a facade. "You'll be gentle?" 

"No. You think he'd be gentle? Agent Hotchner?" His lip curls in disgust.

"I don't know," you mumble, looking down at the floor. "You said you'd be nice." 

"We both know you don't like nice." 

"I do," you say, finding your footing in the charade, the sorry victim, whatever he needs you to be for now. You hate giving him anything, but you know in the moment that you'll do what you need to do to save yourself from injury. "I haven't… I haven't done stuff in a long time, I can't just rush into things." 

The gun makes a quiet clicking sound as he points it with more fervour. "Like I believe that. You're probably fucking Hotchner on the side." 

There, that jealousy. He's been watching you, he knows where you live, what you want, and he's still convinced that you're fucking Hotch. It's not logical.

You cling to the threads, trying to pull apart his composure. You'd assumed him an anger-excitation rapist, unafraid to hurt you as he already has, but now you're thinking something else. 

"You think I'm sleeping with my boss? Why?" 

"Besides your constant need to be touching him? It's disgusting, you throw yourself at someone who doesn't want you. You're pathetic. I can make you better." 

You see movement in the corner of your vision. Dark hair, a stony expression. Hotch stands at the precipice of the kitchen in a bulletproof vest, a finger to his lips. Sh. 

Your relief knocks a breath out of you. The invader takes it for pain at being read. 

"Look," he says, softer. Not genuine softness, but practised. As soon as you give in, he'll drop it. You're both acting for one another, but only one of you is a profiler. "You'll forget all about Agent Hotchner once we're done. So just get up." 

You hold out your hand. His eyes light up with malice as he leans down to take it, his gun finally aimed away from your face. 

Hotch moves in. 

"Drop the weapon." 

Your attacker whirls. Hotch doesn't hesitate. Front sight, controlled trigger press, follow through. A bang like a clap of thunder fills the room. 

You flinch down into yourself. Everything goes a little white for a while, people running into the room, a gun skittling across your kitchen tile. Your ears ring from the bang of two bullets and you're sure you've been hit, you're hurting so much, but hands squeeze under your arms to tell you otherwise. 

"You're okay," Hotch says, knee against your thigh, face ducked down to meet your eyes. "Hey, can you hear me?" 

You shake your head. You can hear him, but you're far from okay. Hotch bites commands over his shoulder, holding your waist in his hands like he's worried you'll slip out of them. Tight. Too tight. You suck in as big a breath as you can manage and choke on it, coughing, the wild sting of your wounds a ringer. 

"You did so well," he says as he catalogues your injuries, his frown deepening. He tilts your head up to the light. 

"I knew you were on your way," you deflect.

"You were talking him down." 

"No, I was surrendering." 

"You didn't give in until you saw me. You weren't surrendering." 

"But I would have," you whisper, closing your eyes.

"Doing what you need to to survive isn't easy. But you do it." 

You hang your head. 

— 

Hotch winces at the sound of your skin being sewn closed. Morgan sits beside you in the back of the ambulance holding your hand, your fingers twitching between his with every tug. They dosed you and applied a general anaesthesia, but the pain is pervasive. His eyes keep moving back to your hand in Morgan's. He isn't jealous —he's annoyed with himself. Hotch should be the one holding your hand.

He should've hugged you. The absence of it feels awkward between you, though he's positive that that's the last thing you're thinking of right now.

"Will you have to set her nose?" Morgan asks. 

The paramedic shakes his head. "Not broken. Just very badly bruised. Even the bone." 

"That doesn't need a cast?" 

Hotch should hold your hand, should hug you, should be organising the scene. Should, should, should. The only thing he's managed to do since he incapacitated your stranger is watch you for signs of life. 

You're despondent. In shock, no doubt. You let your friends pass you from place to place with little more than pained sighs for input.

JJ does an excellent job of surveying the goings on, while Rossi and Reid take care of some of the bigger questions: who is this guy, what did he want, and how did it come to happen? 

What did he want? Hotch can guess. Rage collects like the heart of a furnace, a molten cup of steel in his throat as what he heard you say plays over and over in his head. 

You'll be gentle? 

No. You think he'd be gentle? Agent Hotchner?

He'll never forget the way you sounded asking that question. Terrified, begging for a scrap of mercy. 

Emily approaches from behind. "We have a name." Hotch tips his head to show he's listening. "Paulo Danvers. He was part of a crew that installed her security parameters a few months ago. He was vetted. This shouldn't have happened." 

"No, it shouldn't have." Hotch lowers his tone, "She said she wasn't sure she set the lock." 

"It wouldn't have mattered. He disengaged it from the outside." Emily takes a few steps closer to the ambulance. "Hey. Morgan taking care of you?" 

"Don't I always?" Morgan asks, clapping your arm gently. 

You don't answer. 

"What, you're not talking to me?" Emily asks. She's not mad, the opposite. Concern lines her eyes, thin brows pinching together at the starts, though she does her best to smile through it. 

"I don't feel well," you say quietly. 

"Yeah? You're not squeamish, are you?" 

"Don't think so." 

"It's shock," says the paramedic. 

"What's your pain like?" Hotch asks. He's the only person you'll give a straight answer to. "Bad?" 

"Yeah." Your hand is lax in Morgan's. 

"I can give you slow release tramadol to last the night or codeine pretty much immediately. It's up to you. And I'm really not comfortable with releasing you without next of kin. Do you have family in the area?" 

You shake your head. "It's just Hotch. Agent Hotchner," you correct yourself, nodding at him.

"You're her partner?" the paramedic asks. He can sense the disapproval. 

"Her boss." 

"Not her partner?" 

"He's my closest friend," you say. 

He's never heard you say that before, but it's true. 

"I wish you were my boss," the paramedic jokes, turning back to her supplies as she peels off her gloves. "Maybe I'd get better sick pay." 

You're given slow release tramadol and officially pronounced to be on the mend. If he didn't have an FBI badge, you'd be spending the night on a ward. He'd prefer if you did, but you clearly don't want to be somewhere alone right now, and he just wants to give you what you want after having your choices held over your head.  

He's not offended when Emily asks if you'd prefer to stay with her. It's harrowing what might have happened to you had you not heard the initial break in, and the perpetrator would've been a man like Hotch. Tall, white, dark-haired. He wouldn't blame you for needing space from him to feel safe tonight, but he's relieved when you turn her down. 

"You don't have to act like something happened to me," you say.

Hotch clicks down the locks of his car and turns on the overhead light. You squirm in the passenger seat, looking wrecked. Your chin is split, your nose a dark purple mess cut by white splint. You have a cut on your cheek and another just above your eye. 

"You don't think something happened?" he asks, hands on his legs. He can tell you wish he would start the car and take you home without pressing. 

"No, I know, I look awful, but he didn't do anything to me." Why is it so hard to say what it could have been? "You don't have to act like I'm gonna wig if you touch me." 

"You won't mind if I hug you?" he asks. 

"No. No, I want you to." 

It's thankfully a short gap to cover as Hotch leans over the console. He's careful of your face and still you mumble a tired, "Ouch," in his ear.

He rubs your back, slow and soft. "You okay?" he asks. 

You don't answer for a while. It doesn't matter, Hotch'll sit here in his parked car for hours if you want him to, hands on your hunched back. Your face hides away. He can feel and hear your distress building, and he wants you to cry if you need to, but it'll hurt.

"Sh," he hushes you gently, "it's okay." 

"I'm fine." You sound welled up. 

"Someone broke into your home and held you at gunpoint. You don't have to be fine." 

"Yeah, I do. It's my job." 

"No, that's not your job," he says, closing his eyes. "This has nothing to do with your job. This is about something bad happening to you. Don't put walls up now. It won't work, it never does." 

He tries to back away in case you're overwhelmed.

"Wait," you say, your panic like a cough. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he says. 

You sniffle, nodding into his chest. Hotch has comforted a hundred victims of violent assault. He's held the faces of women he didn't know hoping to give them something solid to lean on. But it's different with you, because you and Hotch aren't simply friends. There's a deeper vein of affection, and tonight's event is a jagged slash against it, bringing every unbidden feeling he has for you to the surface. He can't get how scared you sounded out of his head. He knows that feeling is still there. 

"How did you get here so fast?" you asked. 

"I took the side road. And went unavoidably fast." 

You make a small, small sound. He's known you for long enough to understand what it demarcates, unsurprised when the trembling of your shoulders turns to pained shaking. Hotch holds you delicately. He's done so much in his life, made a thousand and one mistakes, used a heavy hand when he could've been sweeter. He's determined to get this part right. 

"I'm with you now," he says. "I'm sorry I couldn't–" This is harder than he imagined. He presses on. "Couldn't protect you from the start." 

"You know why I called you?" you ask, your tone similarly soft. 

Hotch doesn't bother answering. The answer is unsaid, loudly heard. 

"I knew you'd come," you finish.

He puts a hand on your neck to encourage you into place, kissing the side of your head. Hotch will always come when you call. 

That night, you ask to sleep in his room. I'll sleep on the floor, just don't want to be alone. You're in ragtag clothes he'd scraped together for you, and after helping you wash the blood from your hair and face, you're even more impossible to say no to than usual, looking small in a way you haven't before. Hotch sets you up in bed next to him and wonders if he'll ever sleep next to someone he hasn't let down. 

You put that notion straight in your sleep. Hotch lays awake sick with the idea that he's failed you, and you, frowning, snoring, covered in cuts, curl into his side. You cling to his arm so hard he's certain you're awake at first, a bouquet of bruises painted across your cheek. 

Hotch pulls the blanket up over your shoulder, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

He whispers your name, not sure what he'd say if you answered. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed♡ I haven't written long form (ish) for Hotch in a while so I'm nervous but I hope it's good!! let me know also if you'd like a second part cos usually I don't feel like there's much left to tell but for this one the could actually confess :o

[ashherahh]

a love letter from your future spouse

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

pile 1

I wish I could comfort you. I hate seeing you this way, like the light has been snuffed out of you. I want to make it all up to you. Lay your head on my lap and let me comfort you.

I can be the shoulder you cry on. I can be with you through the storm.

Everything you are working so hard to achieve will all work out. I know you feel like it won't happen but I will be there, cheering you on. I know you can do anything you set your mind to.

This will pass. No matter what happens we will get through it together.

Things may seem as though they are falling apart, but we will rebuild together. We'll fix anything that needs fixing. You can be vulnerable with me, you don't have to do it alone.

At times, I wish you would trust me with everything but I'm reminded by how you never let anyone else see you this way. Uneasy and unsure of things. Being vulnerable is difficult for you, I know. You've always had to be independent and you couldn't rely on others, but you can rely on me.

Tell me what you need and I will give you all I can.

Additional messages: Summer, Autumn. The number 5. Computer screens, messy hair. Fatigue. Coffee. Red, blue, green. Checkered floors.

About your spouse: They're someone very in tune with you. A very, very intuitive individual. It really affects them whenever you go through something. Despite being so in tune with you, they're solid like a rock. They can be quite paternal.

Song: Don't Cry - Guns & Roses

pile 2

You are the most badass person I know.

You've come a long way and I am so proud of you. Every day I'm with you, I'm in awe of your strength. I know you've pulled yourself out of dark places and you've always done it alone but not anymore and never again.

I love your smile. Your smile makes me smile. You make me laugh. Despite everything you've been through you're one of the most optimistic people I know, if not the most optimistic.

I love you so much. More than I can put into words. Sometimes I do struggle with my words, I know but I want you to know that I mean what I say. When I told you I love you, I meant it and I always will.

We will build our home and it will be our place of solace. We'll eat cake whenever we want and we'll go exploring together. You've turned my life into an adventure.

I love listening to you talk. I can listen to you all day long. Everything in my life feels so vibrant because of you. Thank you, my love. I am so greatful I met you.

Additional messages: Gorillaz. Band t-shirts. Eyes. Hands. The numbers 1 and 8. Baking. Black and brown. Glasses. December.

About your spouse: Their inner world is very expressive. They're shy, but on the inside there's a lot happening. They like to look at you, probably with hearts in their eyes all the time. They might even make music.

Song: Things That Scare Me - Neko Case

pile 3

I will never rush you. You are not a burden to love and you are not a burden to understand either.

I will give you the patience no one else wanted to. I will hold your hand through the dark days. For better or worse. In sickness and health. Sometimes I feel like I made those vows in my heart the first time I spoke to you.

Everything sung in me that you will be the one I wake up to in the morning. When I rest my head at night, I thank everything good that I have you in my life. What is trouble against a lifetime with the one you love?

In a way, you saved me. I think of the day I met you all the time, how suddenly everything changed. I feel it when I hold your hand, when we embrace, when I kiss you and you kiss me. Softly, I am reminded of how safe I felt as a child and how peaceful everything was. You brought that peace back to me.

Over the years anxiety began to build in me, I can't say I know when it began but it ended with you. The kindness, gentlessness, and understanding you've shown me has completely transformed me. I don't think you know you did that. That's just how you are. I love you for who you are.

You might believe that you will never find me but you will. I will find you. We will walk into each others lives and we won't remember a day when things were not as they are right now.

Additional messages: Painting. Driving. Number 11. Writing. March and August. Piercings and tattoos.

About your spouse: They're very logical in all situations but when it comes to you they kind of calm down. They might be in a field where they talk a lot. They're aloof.

Song: Sure Thing - Miguel

[hederasgarden]

On the Horizon (2/?)

Summary: You've been pining over your coworker for a while now. He might not have realized but someone has.  Pairing:Tyler Owens x F!Reader (with minor Scott x F!Reader) Word Count: 4.3K  Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Angst and asshole!Scott who brings a side of gaslighting. Future chapters will be smutty. Not all themes are tagged.   A/N: Thanks to @writercole for the summary and @ryebecca @mermaidxatxheart @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for their beta help.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my www inbox. That always makes my day.

Part 1 ♡ Masterlist

The sound of the rickety old air conditioning unit sputtering to life jolts you awake. You roll over with a groan, throwing an arm over your face to shield yourself from the sunlight trickling in through a gap in the curtains. It takes you a long moment to realize the other side of the bed is empty and cold. When you do, the remnants of sleep scatter, a wave of awareness washing over you.

You tuck your chin against your chest and pull the scratchy sheets closer to your naked body. The old clock on the bedside table stares back at you as you struggle to ignore the hollow ache in your stomach. You didn’t expect Scott to stay the night. Both of you knew it wouldn’t be smart, though it still stings, just like it did the first time. But that was Scott, you remind yourself, always thinking two steps ahead, anticipating and reacting. Whatever you two had needed to remain a secret. As he reminded you last night, when it came to sleeping with a coworker, people were always harsher on the woman. It was better this way. Wasn’t it?

You close your eyes and draw in a pained breath, catching the faint, musky scent of Scott’s cologne that still lingers in the sheets. The smell brings a rush of memories from the night before, vivid and overwhelming, like a sense memory that refuses to fade. The way his long, thick fingers curled inside you. The sound of his shuddering breath when he came. 

Your phone buzzes, and you jerk upright, expecting or perhaps hoping to see Scott’s name. Instead, it's Andy letting you know he’s grabbing coffee for everyone. You thank him and, without giving yourself a chance to second-guess yourself, shoot off a message to Scott. You watch as the status changes from “Delivered,” to “Read at 7:22 AM.” You wait for a reply but minutes tick by without an answer.

Eventually, you force yourself out of bed and prepare for the day, but as you move through your routine, your mind keeps drifting back to the unanswered message. It’s after 8 a.m. by the time you leave the hotel room with your duffle bag in hand. Outside, the parking lot is full of other storm chasers who mill around quietly, their mood more subdued than last night.

You find Scott with a clipboard in hand, talking with Javi. He spares you a glance but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge you. It’s not personal, you remind yourself, feeling better when you remember you're both assigned to Scarecrow. You’ll have a chance to talk with him then without having to worry about anyone overhearing you. 

On the way to the car, you catch up with Andy, looking dubiously at the greyish cup of gas station coffee he hands you. It's been weeks since you had a decent cup. You're half-busy lamenting the absence of Starbucks when a sharp whistle catches your attention. It's Tyler, and he’s giving you a curious look, raising his chin in Scott's direction. 

You know what he's asking. You should give him a thumbs-up so he knows the ploy worked, but before you can a sharp, unexpected wave of shame crawls up your throat. Tyler wrinkles his brow, hands on his hips. When he takes a step forward you turn away without answering him. You head for your assigned car, only to stop abruptly when you see Peter, one of the meteorologists, sitting in the passenger seat with the door ajar.

“Morning. I think you might be in the wrong car,” you say. 

“Hey,” Peter greets, looking up from his computer. “Scott changed the rotation. You’re riding with Javi. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Oh.” You stare at your coworker unblinking, for a long moment. It was probably an oversight. Scott was so busy. "O-of course he did, I must have forgotten," you lie, forcing yourself to chuckle. “Lack of sleep,” you explain.

“Tell me about it. These motel beds are killing my back.”

“For sure,” you agree, offering him a wave and promising to catch up with him later. The second you turn away, your eyes sting and you brush at them angrily. Why are you crying? It’s not even a big deal. You liked riding with Javi, everyone did even though he was the boss. 

You head in the opposite direction of the others, unsure of where you’re going. All you know is that you need to move to dislodge the pressure in your chest. It’s only when you reach the edge of the motel’s property, standing at the boundary of the farm next door, that you finally stop. You drop your bag, sending up a small cloud of dust, and press a hand to your mouth as you stare across the field of knee-high corn. This was all so stupid, a childish overreaction. There’d be time to talk with Scott tonight again. You were getting upset over nothing.

You have only a few precious seconds to collect yourself before you hear footsteps approaching. Quickly, you scrub your hands over your eyes, trying to dry the tears as best as you can. It doesn’t matter who it is; you just don’t want to be seen like this.

“You know, sweetheart,” Tyler begins, his southern drawl softening the endearment, “I’m not used to chasing after a woman.” 

He stops a few feet away, his gaze fixed steadily on the horizon. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, his cowboy hat shading his expression from view. He's not exactly who you want to talk to at the moment but it was better than someone from your team. 

“Well," you start, clearing your throat to dislodge the unwanted emotion from your voice. "You’re welcome for the unique experience, I guess."

He turns to face you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. You’ve amused him.  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” he says, clearly waiting for you to elaborate.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Scott spent the night and that was what you wanted so why didn’t it feel that way? 

“Ah, he shit the bed, huh?” Tyler asks, understandingly. Your nose wrinkles at the euphemism and this time he laughs. “Well, we can always try again tonight.”

You realize then that Tyler thinks nothing happened between you and Scott last night. You should set him straight, but instead, you find yourself saying, “You don’t even know where we’re going.”

“Come on now. We both know everyone here is heading up to Bartlesville. The conditions look promising.” 

“What do you have planned to help me?”

Tyler tilts his cowboy hat up with a finger, stepping close enough that you find yourself beneath its brim. You look up at him and notice, for the first time, the dark stubble along his jaw and the dimples that appear when he smiles. You’ve always known he was handsome — everyone knew it, mostly because that was all Peter talked about after enough beers. But right now, it feels like you’re seeing Tyler Owens for the first time.

“You leave that up to me. Just be ready by 7 p.m. Wear that dress from last night.”

He steps away and you feel like you can breathe again. “Okay.” You agree.

“Okay?” he questions. “They don’t teach you manners up north?” He teases.

His comment catches you off guard and startles a genuine laugh from you, the first one you’ve had in a while, you realize. “Thank you,” you reply sincerely. 

Just like last night, Tyler taps your nose playfully and steps back. “7 p.m.,” he reminds you before he turns and heads off.

You don’t even notice it until you’re back at the truck, but the pressure in your chest that’s been weighing on you all morning is gone.

–

Riding to Bartlesville with Javi isn’t half bad, he’s more than willing to share the endless supply of snacks he’s got stashed all over the vehicle. You rummage through the glovebox, pushing away a questionable-looking melted bar of chocolate for a package of Skittles.

“So, you gonna tell me what last night was all about?” He asks.

You freeze, anxiety skittering up your spine. Does he know about you and Scott?

“Javi, I —”

“Tyler Owens?” he presses. “I saw you with his crew last night, and Scott mentioned he was bothering you this morning.”

At the mention of Scott’s name, there’s a familiar, painful tug in your chest. You ignore it, just like you do with the knowledge that Scott saw you and Tyler together. You don’t want to think about him right now.

“Are you asking as my friend or as my boss?” You question, propping your foot on the dashboard and tossing a Skittle into your mouth.  

“As your friend I want to make sure you’re being safe. And as your boss, I wanna know why you’re spending time with the competition,” he says. “Also, take your damn foot off the dash.”

You flash him a grin and place your other foot beside the first. Javi sighs in annoyance but extends his hand, waving his fingers expectantly. You sift through the bag and hand him the green Skittles. Despite the years that have passed from when he was a fresh-faced Corporal with a buzzcut and you were a civilian contractor feeling way out of your depth, you appreciate this part of your relationship remains unchanged.

“He was looking for some contouring tips.” You joke, earning another look. “He wanted to know where we were headed next,” you tell him, surprising yourself with how easy the lie comes to you.”Don’t worry, I told him we were going to Broken Bow.”

“He’s gonna meet us in Bartlesville, isn’t he?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree, rummaging through the Skittles bag to find another handful of green ones. “Does he really bother you that much?”

Javi shrugs, his expression thoughtful as he takes the Skittles from you. “He’s annoying and disruptive, but…not really, I guess. We’re still getting good data when he isn’t shooting fireworks into tornadoes.”

You laugh. “Peter loved that. He kept showing clips to everyone. I think it was the highlight of his week.”

“Yeah, how about you? You like Tyler Owens, too?”

You raise an eyebrow, a touch of exasperation in your voice. “Javi…”

“What?” he asks innocently, his gaze meeting yours. “It’s just a question.”

“Okay, if we’re just asking questions, how’s Kate doing?”

Javi shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he avoids your eyes. “You really shouldn’t be asking your boss personal questions like that.”

“Mmmm, okay,” you reply.

For as long as you’ve known Javi, Kate’s been a topic of conversation. It wasn’t until recently that he reconnected with her, though, flying off to New York to recruit her for the team. She turned him down but texted him sporadically. It was clear to you he was painfully in love with her.

“We’re texting again,” Javi admits finally. "And she agreed to go to dinner when I'm in New York again next week," he reveals with a smile. 

“Look at you go,” you encourage. 

“Don’t make it a big deal,” he says, reaching over to fiddle with the radio. 

Static bursts through a second later before it’s replaced by a soft, crooning voice. You settle back in your seat when you sense Javi’s done talking about the Kate situation. Based on the radar, you know it’s best to catch some sleep while you can. You close your eyes and tilt your head towards the sunlight streaming through the side window, letting the warmth wash over you. Tension drains from your body as you drift off to sleep, listening to Javi sing off-tune to the radio.  

–

At exactly 7 p.m., there’s a knock on your door. You open it to see Tyler standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, cowboy hat tipped low. He’s wearing a pearl snap shirt and sporting an impressively large belt buckle.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” Tyler reminds you with a smirk. Your cheeks heat as you meet his gaze, feeling slightly embarrassed. “It says ‘Tornado Wrangler.’ Just in case you were too distracted to read it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, though your tone lacks any real bite.

“But I do love a little flattery,” Tyler counters, extending his arm toward you. 

After a moment of hesitation, you slip your hand around his bicep, allowing yourself to be guided along. The parking lot is quiet. It seems that the weekend storm chasers have all gone home. There’s only one solitary figure in the distance, their cigarette glowing briefly with an orange flare in the darkness. Most of the motel rooms you pass are dark and you wonder if everyone on your team has gone to the bar Peter suggested in the group text. 

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“Only the finest establishment Bartlesville has to offer,” he replies.

“So the bar everyone else is headed to.”

“You city girls,” he says with a shake of his head. “Come on now,” he encourages, pulling you with him as he sprints across the road to another parking lot that’s crowded and brightly lit. 

The neon letters flashing above the entrance proclaim that you've arrived at Cowboys’ Dancehall. As you and Tyler approach, you both hand over your IDs to the bouncer stationed outside. He scrutinizes the out-of-state licenses for a long moment before waving you on. 

Inside, it’s loud and dimly lit. Couples spin around the dance floor to a fast-paced country song. The bar is crowded, but Tyler cuts through the throng of people with ease, keeping you beside him with a hand at your hip until you reach the old wooden bar. When he leans in to speak to the bartender his chest brushes your back.

“I’ll take a Bud Light, and the lady will have a rosé,” he tells her, his voice raised just enough to be heard over the music.

The bartender, an older woman with deep lines etched into her face, stares at Tyler before she pops the caps off two Bud Lights and slides them across the bar. “That’ll be $7 even,” she announces.

You press your hand to your mouth, stifling a laugh at the exchange.

“Well alright,” Tyler says, reaching for his wallet.

“I can pay for myself,” you insist, digging through your purse but he’s faster, dropping $10 on the counter. 

“A fake date is still a date.” He tells you. 

You’re relieved to escape the crush of the crowded bar as you make your way past the dance floor toward the quieter back area where tables are scattered. Peter spots you first, his face lighting up when he waves you over enthusiastically. You’re taken aback to see most of your coworkers seated at a table with Tyler’s crew. Boone greets you with a lopsided salute, while Lily gives you a fist bump. Tyler pulls out a chair for you, and you take a seat, distracted as you search the room for a familiar face.

“Don’t worry,” Peter half shouts to you over the table. “Javi and Scott are meeting with that investor guy.”

“Oh,” you respond, nodding and wondering just how often your coworkers hung out with Tyler’s team in Scott and Javi’s absence.

You were never one to go out with them before, preferring to wind down alone with a good book or movie. It’s clear that this isn’t the first time they’ve gathered like this; everyone seems pretty comfortable together. Tyler, in particular, is completely unfazed to find his crew mingling with Storm Par.

“You’re not going to rat us out to Scott are you?” Daniel asks nervously.

“City girl wouldn’t do that,” Tyler says confidently, resting an arm over the back of your chair. “Would you?” he asks.

He leans in slightly, his thumb brushing gently against your bare shoulder. The unexpectedly intimate touch startles you, and it takes a moment for you to regain your composure. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” you promise, offering Daniel a reassuring smile.

He seems to accept your words and you settle back into your chair, letting the conversation of the table wash over you. Sipping your beer, you occasionally glance toward the door. There’s no sign of Scott and you’re left wondering about Tyler’s plan. Everyone else seems confident he and Javi won’t make an appearance tonight. 

“Alright, enough sitting. Let’s dance,” Tyler announces, offering you his hand. 

You nearly choke on your beer. “Dance?” you repeat, waving him off. “No one mentioned anything about dancing.”

“I can’t have you leaving Oklahoma without learning how to two-step.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” you challenge.

“I get the impression you don’t let yourself have a lot of fun,” Tyler replies quietly. The softness of his eyes and the utter sincerity in his voice make it hard to hold his gaze. It’s unsettling how clearly he seems to see through you. 

“Come on,” he says, offering you his hand. “It’ll be fun.”

You glance at the door again before letting Tyler guide you toward the dance floor. The beat of the song is fast and you watch how effortlessly the other couples move, their steps fluid and graceful. Tyler takes your right hand and wraps his left arm around you, his palm resting firmly on your shoulder blade, drawing you close. After a moment’s hesitation, you place your left arm on his bicep. He feels warm and strong against you.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” You say, feeling silly and out of place. 

“Nothing to it. All you gotta do is follow, I’ll lead,” Tyler promises, surging forward and taking you with him. 

You stumble a little, but Tyler’s quick to adjust his pace for you. He keeps you to the outside of the dance floor, guiding you through the moves. You watch his feet, trying to coordinate your own, but you end up stepping on his toes more than a few times. He doesn’t seem to mind, gently correcting you. It feels like you have two left feet and your anxiety flares in response.

“Look up here,” Tyler says, waiting patiently until you meet his gaze before continuing. “Don’t overthink it — just feel it”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you mutter. 

“So let’s keep that big brain busy. Tell me about yourself. Did you go to a fancy school like MIT too?” He asks, his tone playful.

“Uh. No,” you say, glancing down only to have him tap your shoulder. You look up again. “I went to a state school.”

“So did I,” he reveals. “Though it was just for meteorology and atmospheric science.”

“You did?”

“Hey, no need to sound so surprised,” he replies, feigning mock hurt.

“A cowboy and a scholar,” you tease.

“Don’t forget a pretty great dancer, too,” he adds, lifting his arm to twirl you around before pulling you back into his embrace. When he does it again, a breathless laugh escapes you.

“Atta girl,” Tyler says, pulling you even closer. “Now we’re having fun.”

Your skin tingles and you feel warm all over. The world narrows to Tyler’s handsome face, his green eyes deep and captivating in the dim light. Your chest tightens, only allowing you to pull in shallow breaths that leave you lightheaded. In that moment, you realize you haven’t stumbled once — you’re moving perfectly in sync with him.

“One more dance?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” you agree.

The current song fades into something softer and more subdued. The crowd begins to thin, but Tyler doesn’t seem deterred by the change. He lowers his hand to the small of your back, holding you close as he guides you in a slow, graceful sweep across the floor. Despite the smoky bar and the crowd of people, all you smell is Tyler's clean, crisp scent. It reminds you of the first storm of the season, the air electric and charged with energy. Full of potential. 

Tyler stares steadily at you as he continues to move you across the floor, and you find yourself unable to look away from him. The music seems to fade, leaving only the sound of his breathing and your own. Your lashes flutter and you close your eyes, allowing yourself to simply feel — weightless and free. 

It’s only when someone else bumps into you that your eyes snap open and reality comes rushing back. You stumble, but Tyler catches you, pulling you gently to the side.

“Doing alright?” He questions.

You nod, feeling strangely shaky. “I think I need some water.”

Hand still in yours, Tyler tugs you along until he reaches the end of the bar, where a large water jug sits. He hands you a cup, and you drink deeply, surveying the crowded bar. It takes you a while to realize you’re just taking in the sights and sounds, and you haven't thought about Scott at all.

“Our beers are probably warm by now. You want another?” He asks. 

“I shouldn’t.”

He smiles and pulls out his phone, opening the weather app. The screen shows a mess of red and yellow just south of you. “You’re probably right,” he admits.

You both head back to the table, where Boone groans at Tyler’s announcement that his crew should return to the motel after finishing their drinks. Your coworkers seem to agree, with some heading to the bar to settle their tabs.

“I’ll walk you back.” Tyler offers.

Outside, the moon is obscured by thick clouds and it feels cooler than when you first arrived. Your eyes roam the parking lot, catching sight of Scarecrow. Scott and Javi must be back from their meeting. A pang of disappointment hits you. You’d hoped Scott would have seen you with Tyler again. 

“Well…this is you,” Tyler says, stopping in front of your hotel room. “Not a bad night.”

“It wasn’t,” you agree. “But Scott didn’t show up.”

Tyler presses his lips together, his gaze falling away to look at something past you. His nostrils flare and then his eyes return to you, but the tension in his jaw remains.

"You had fun, didn't you?" He prods.

Even if tonight hadn't gone the way you wanted it to, you have to admit he was right. You had fun. 

"I did,” you say, offering him a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“Well, then, it wasn’t a total loss. You had a good time,” he says, his tone warm. To your surprise, he leans in, removing his cowboy hat and holding it level with your face, effectively blocking your view to the left. His hand settles lightly on your hip. “Looks like we’ve got an audience — tall, dark, and a total dipshit.”

You stare up at him, your whole body tingling. “Scott?” You whisper.

“Mmmhmm,” Tyler returns. “Now if you're asking for my advice, I'd let him stew a bit. A man should have to work for you. Put in some effort.”

You nod, and Tyler steps back, pulling his hat on. When you finally look to the left the walkway is deserted, bathed in the dim light filtering through the curtains of the neighboring rooms. Tyler insists on waiting until you're safely inside, and you watch him linger by the door for another minute before he finally turns to leave.

With a sigh, you sit on the bed and slip off your shoes, feeling strangely adrift and unsure. Your text to Scott from this morning remains unanswered and you have no idea if what you’re doing with Tyler is going to help the way you want it to. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to clear your mind. 

Lost in your thoughts, you nearly miss the soft knock at the door. You crack it open, looking up at Scott. His dark hair is damp, curling over his forehead. He smiles at you and your heart flutters in response. You almost invite him in on instinct, but Tyler’s earlier remarks rise to the surface.

“What?” Scott asks.

You straighten your shoulders, gathering the courage for what you want to ask. “Why didn’t you respond to my text message?”

His brow furrows, like he has zero idea what you’re talking about.

“I sent you a text this morning,” you clarify. 

“We’re not supposed to text and drive in a company vehicle, you know that.” 

His response immediately makes you feel silly because of course that made sense. Just last week Javi got on Daniel about texting and driving. 

“Are you really going to make me stand out here?” He asks, quickly looking down the hall. He was probably worried someone would see the two of you. 

“Of course not.” You step back to let him inside, chewing on the inside of your lip. “I just…why did you have me move cars?” 

Scott presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and exhales loudly. You wrap your arms around yourself and take a step back, but he follows you.

“You’ve ridden with me the last two days,” he says quietly. One of his large hands cups your jaw. “I can’t have people accusing me of favoritism, can I?” 

You shake your head, frowning. He’s too close, his aftershave nearly overpowering. You need some space. 

“Scott, I —” Whatever you were about to say is cut off as both your phones suddenly buzz, and outside you hear the all too familiar wail of the tornado siren.

♡

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[virgoilluminati]

can u please write a jude fic where your in a talking stage and he comes over and you both make out for the first time 🤭

It's been a long time coming...

A/N: this is my first request in absolutely ages so tysm you have made my day ✨❣️ As I am now unemployed (😜✌️) i have a lot of free time before i head back to university. So please if anyone has any ideas lmk 🥹

Inspo: Jude and You have been close friends since high school, but after one very drunken night, you admit your feelings for him, right before he leaves for the euro's. When Jude arrives home, he has only one goal, to give you that kiss that you've been waiting for.

Oh, you had royally fucked up.

So royally fucked up that you probably shouldn’t leave the house for at least the next two days, perhaps a week, even a month.

You’d told your best friend that you liked him, in a sweaty club, the night before he was going to the Euros. With the drink loosening your tongue, you blurted it out without thinking. The look on his face said it all; he was stunned into silence.

You and Jude had known each other since high school. He was in the year above you, but you both shared a huge interest in football. While he played for the boys’ squad, you played for the girls’. You got really close in the last year of high school as he began prepping for the under-21s football team while you were preparing for university. You became each other’s anchor, someone you both could rely on, no matter how tough it got. You told each other absolutely everything. So when you blurted out that you liked him, it was as if you had shattered an unspoken rule.

You had been drunk. That was the justification you were giving. You didn’t know what you were thinking; you couldn’t control what was going through your head. You couldn’t face him, not now. The memory of his expression replayed in your mind, a painful reminder.

You had sent him one text message, mentioning nothing about the incident, just wishing him luck in the Euros. Maybe he’d just forget it even happened. After all, he was pretty drunk too.

You had spent all morning preoccupying yourself with your uni work, taking the dog out for a walk, cleaning your room… basically anything to distract from the impending apocalypse. But it was pointless; every other second, you would check the blue tick on the message, with a simple “read” underneath it.

Hey, I hope the head isn’t too sore from last night ahaha. Best of luck in the Euros, I’ll be screaming your name at the local, love ya. (Read)

His response came about three hours later. In that time, you had gone through all five stages of grief. First, Denial: you denied that you even told him, that it was a huge mistake. Anger: you were angry that no one stopped you, as it was an open secret between all of your friends but him, but they had let you blurt it out. Bargaining: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you know. You could just say it was a mistake or you didn’t remember. Depression: this would be the end of your friendship—that he’d no longer look at you the same way ever again. Acceptance: your life was doomed, and that was the end of it. However, when his response came, you hadn’t actually prepared yourself.

Yeah, my head’s fine ahaha, though I think you drank more than me in the end. Currently on the way to the airport, Trent says hi. Pretty nervous about the Euros, I can’t lie.

You sat there staring at the three dots, wondering what else he was thinking. You cringed at him mentioning your drunkenness. He not only knew but he must’ve remembered. Oh god, this was going to be awkward.

You didn’t respond, noticing the frequent three dots on his screen going rapidly on and off. Sighing, you attempted to make a joke, quickly sending back a response.

I’m sure Trent is feeling it right now ahaha, how many shots did he have last night again? Don’t be nervous, you’ll be ace!

His reply came almost instantly.

Enough to need a new liver, I’m sure. Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’re about to board, talk later?

You couldn’t help but feel relieved. He wasn’t addressing your confession at all. Maybe he really had chosen to forget about it. Or perhaps he was giving you a way out, a chance to pretend it never happened. Either way, you seized the opportunity.

Sure, have a safe flight! Catch you later.

With that, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t ruin everything after all. For now, you’d focus on the positives: Jude was still talking to you, and you still had your friendship, even if it was a little shaken.

The next couple of days were a whirlwind of activity. Jude was swamped with training and media commitments, so your interactions were mostly confined to texts. Despite the busyness, he made sure to check in frequently, sending you updates and little messages that kept the connection alive.

After the Slovakia game, which they won in a nail-biting finish, you received a call from Jude. You could hear the adrenaline in his voice, the excitement of the victory still fresh.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course I did! You were amazing! That last-minute goal!" you replied, unable to hide the pride in your voice.

“Thanks. It felt good out there tonight. The fans were crazy. Nearly thought we were goners—"

"Nah, I knew you'd pull through."

"Really?" His voice sounded hopeful, as if he had more to say, but instead, he coughed and continued talking. "Uh, listen, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Okay, what’s up?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said."

"What I said? When?" you responded, your heart beating faster by the minute.

"The night before I went, about you liking me. I thought I could just put it aside and focus on the tournament, but… I can’t.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jude…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel. And the truth is, I like you too."

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I told Dec and Trent, and after they completely humbled me, they made me realize—I think I've always had a bit of a thing for you. It’s just… I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You won’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jude let out a breath. “Okay. One step at a time. I like the sound of that.”

For the rest of the night, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow naturally. The tension from the confession began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and excitement.

The next game was against Switzerland, and you decided to go out to the pub to watch it with a couple of your pals. The place was buzzing with excitement, filled with fans donning jerseys and scarves, and the energy was infectious. As the match began, you found yourself nervously scanning the screen for Jude, your eyes automatically seeking him out every few seconds.

Your friends, of course, noticed.

“Honestly, if you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through the screen,” teased Sarah, nudging you playfully.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “I’m just… making sure he’s doing okay.”

“Sure, just making sure,” Mark chimed in with a grin. “We all know you’re head over heels.”

“Guys, can we please just focus on the game?” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile.

As the match progressed, every time Jude touched the ball, your heart seemed to leap into your throat. You could hear your friends’ comments in the background, teasing you about how intently you were watching him.

“There he is again, Y/N! Are you taking notes on his every move?” Sarah laughed.

“Come on, give her a break. She’s just a supportive friend,” Mark added, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

You tried to ignore them, but the truth was, they weren’t entirely wrong. You were more invested in Jude’s performance than anything else. When he made a particularly brilliant pass, you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Sarah remarked, shaking her head in amusement.

The game was intense, with both teams playing aggressively. Jude was in top form, making crucial plays and demonstrating why he was such an asset to the team. As the game neared its end, with the score tied, the tension in the pub was palpable.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude.

Jude: Gaffer gave us 5 minutes, couldn't wait any longer to not text you.

You: What are you doing?! You're supposed to be on the pitch.

Jude: I think this is going to penalties, I feel it.

You quickly typed back, trying to infuse your message with as much confidence as you could muster.

You: Don’t worry, you’ve got this. I believe in you.

There was a brief pause before his next message came through.

Jude: Listen, how about this: if we win, I’ll take you out on a date.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at the screen, rereading his words. A date. With Jude. Your heart was racing now for an entirely different reason.

You: Deal.

The penalties were agonizing to watch. Each kick, each save, each miss, had the entire pub reacting in unison—groans of despair, cheers of relief, gasps of anticipation. You were barely breathing, your eyes fixed on the screen as if willing the ball into the net with sheer force of will.

Jude stepped up to take his shot. The pub fell silent. You could almost hear your own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, ran up, and kicked. The ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net. The pub erupted in cheers, and you jumped up, your shout of triumph mingling with everyone else’s.

The penalties continued, and finally, it came down to Trent. The pressure was immense. If he scored, England would win.

The pub fell silent again as Trent prepared for his shot. You could feel the tension in the air, your heart pounding louder than ever. He took his position, focused, ran up, and kicked. The ball flew towards the goal, past the goalkeeper, and hit the back of the net.

The pub exploded in cheers. People were hugging, high-fiving, and celebrating. You couldn’t believe it. They had done it.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jude: We did it! Can’t believe it. Guess I owe you that date ;)

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart soaring with pride and excitement.

You: You were amazing! We're so proud!! I can't wait x

Jude: Trust me, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N.

You spent the rest of the night celebrating with your friends, the victory and Jude’s promise keeping your spirits high. Amidst all the revelry, one thing was clear: your relationship with Jude was about to take a new and thrilling turn.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions and excitement. Jude’s team had just secured a 2-1 victory against the Netherlands. The pub you were in was filled with joyous celebration and raucous cheers. You knew Jude would be over the moon, and you couldn’t wait to hear from him.

Soon enough, your phone rang with an incoming call from Jude. You stepped outside, away from the pub’s noise, to answer.

“Hey, Jude!” you answered, your voice bright with excitement. “Congrats on the win!”

“Y/N!” Jude’s voice was noticeably slurred, and you could hear the background noise of a lively celebration. “I can’t believe we did it! We actually won!”

“I know, it was amazing!” you said, smiling. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thanks!” Jude’s words were slightly jumbled. “I’m just so… so buzzed right now! Remember when we were kids and we’d dream about moments like this? It’s really happening!”

“I know, it’s like a dream come true,” you said warmly.

“And you were always… so pretty, you know? I never really understood why you’d hang out with me,” he continued, his voice full of affection. “Everyone loved you, and I was just this goofy football guy.”

You felt a blush rising. “Jude, it didn’t matter. We had so much fun together.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I always thought… thought you were too good for me. I was just this guy with a big dream, and you were this amazing person who could have been anywhere.”

“Well, I was where I wanted to be,” you said softly. “With you.”

Jude’s voice grew more tender. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N. Even back then, I was captivated by you. The way you carried yourself, the way you looked—it was like you had this light that drew me in. I was always amazed by how stunning you were, both inside and out.”

You could hear Bukayo’s voice faintly in the background. “Jude, mate, turn the phone off. You're pissed-"

Jude chuckled, though his tone remained affectionate. “I can’t help it, Bukayo! Y/N, you have no idea how incredible you are. I mean, just thinking about you—how beautiful you looked back then and how stunning you still are—drives me crazy.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Jude, you’re making me blush.”

“I’m just speaking the truth,” he said earnestly. “You’ve always been this amazing person, and I’ve been lucky to have you as a friend and now… maybe something more.”

You felt a warm flutter in your chest. “I’m really glad we’re sharing these moments together. It means a lot to me.”

Jude’s voice grew more serious, though still a bit tipsy. “If we keep winning, I want to make sure we celebrate together. I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling. “For now, enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it.”

Jude’s laughter was warm and content. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But I’ll call you again soon, okay?”

“Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jude,” you said.

As you ended the call, you couldn’t help but smile. Jude’s heartfelt, tipsy confessions and the sound of his celebration had deepened your connection, making you realize just how much you both meant to each other. The future felt full of promise, and you were excited to see where this new chapter would lead.

When England lost 2-1 to Spain, the crushing disappointment was felt by everyone, especially Jude. As he and the team made their way back, he couldn't shake the feeling of defeat.

You, back home, had been anxiously awaiting any word from him. After a few hours, you decided to check in, hoping he was doing okay.

You: Hey Jude, are you alright? Just wanted to check in.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude. The text was brief, but the words were heavy with the weight of the loss.

Jude: Not great, honestly. It's been a rough night.

You felt a pang of sadness reading his message.

You could picture him, lost in thought, longing for comfort.

You: I'm so sorry, Jude. I wish I could be there with you too. You wanna hang out tomorrow? Watch a crappy horror movie and crash on my sofa?

The reply came back quickly.

Jude: Sure. I could use a little cheer up. I'd better go, journalists want a chat before we board.

You stared at the phone, hoping your words brought him some measure of comfort. You knew how much this loss meant to him, and how hard he had worked for this moment. The idea of him being alone in his thoughts broke your heart a little more.

You wanted to do something special for him, something that would show him just how much you cared. An idea started to form in your mind, and you sprang into action.

First, you pulled out his favorite hoodie from the closet. It was slightly oversized on you, but it felt like a warm hug. You wore it while you tidied up the apartment, making sure everything was perfect for when he got home.

Then, you went into the kitchen to start cooking his favorite meal. The process was therapeutic, each stir of the pot a way to channel your nervous energy. As the aromas filled the room, you felt a little more at peace, knowing that you were doing something to help him, even from afar.

As the hours ticked by, you kept checking your phone, hoping for any update on his flight. Finally, a message popped up.

Jude: Just landed. See you soon

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly finished setting the table, dimming the lights to create a cozy atmosphere. You lit a few candles, their soft glow adding a touch of warmth to the room.

When you heard the key in the lock, you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with anticipation. As the door opened, there he was, looking exhausted but so incredibly relieved to see you.

Without a word, he dropped his bags and pulled you into a tight embrace. You held him close, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he buried his face in your neck.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I missed you too, Jude," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I'm so glad you're home."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. "Come on, I made your favorite dinner. Let's sit down and talk about everything."

Later on, after you had let him get everything off his chest, you decided to watch a movie, something that would probably become background noise. As the movie played, you and Jude sat side by side on the couch, the tension between you that seemed to dance in time with the flickering images. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your arms or legs brushed, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

He was staring at the screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. The furrow in his brow, the way his jaw tightened, the constant fidgeting-he was still wrestling with the aftermath of the game.

You wished there was something you could do to ease his mind.

As if sensing your thoughts, he turned to you, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry I've been a grumpy sod."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "No, don't be. I'm your friend!" You smirk a little as you made eye contact with him for the first time that night. "I'm just glad you're here."

The movie continued, but the air between you grew thicker with unspoken words and emotions.

"Listen. About what I said-"

"We don't have too-"

"No we should! Because, i know I've been swept up with all of the euro's but- I meant what i said. I like you."

"I like you too."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you more frequently, and each time you met his eyes, it was like a silent conversation passed between you.

"Do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, you fell asleep halfway through."

He grinned, the first genuine smile you'd seen from him all night. "I was exhausted. You have a way of making me feel very relaxed. Always have done."

"It's a very good thing," he replied, his voice low.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his eyes. The movie, now a distant background noise, was all but forgotten. The distance between you seemed to shrink with each passing second.

"Jude..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. "I-." His eyes looked up and down at your lips as you settled into his embrace. He looks for any uncertainty before he continues.

"You make me feel seen. Like I can't hide anything from you. It's scary really-"

"Is that so-" you smile, your eyes casting over his lips.

"Mhmm. You make me such a good person-"

"Jude, just kiss me already." You laugh. He smiles instinctively,

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Can I...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to hold its breath as your lips finally met in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was like a spark igniting a fire, the kiss quickly deepening with a hunger that had been building all night. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more intense.

You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed against him, the kiss growing more intense. His lips were insistent, exploring yours with a desperate need. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own racing pulse.

Jude's hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back, sending shivers down your spine. Your skin felt electrified wherever he touched, each caress igniting a new wave of desire. You gasped as his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently at the sensitive skin.

"Jude," you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he continued his exploration, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

Your breath hitched when his lips found the hollow of your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you looked into his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Do you know how long l've wanted to do that?" you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of relief and desire.

Jude chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

"Probably as long as I have," he replied, his breath warm against your lips.

You both knew this was just the beginning, but for now, the world outside could wait. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled in each other's arms, finally giving in to the desire that had been simmering between you for so long.

[ineffable-romantics]

Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

___________________________________

Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

[inkbybambi]

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

One thing you love about Simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. Strong, steadfast, there when you need him. Even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

Not that you’ll tell him that.

You hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. Whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

Except for Simon.

Which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. You don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

Losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. You've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

But losing Simon? You don't think you'd ever get over that.

It's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. Your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

Your call log is all Simon.

Some appointments here and there, but Simon everywhere else.

Fuck.

You hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

You don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

He answers before the third ring.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. You take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "Am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired. “No, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. You’re only half-convinced.

"I'm sorry," you begin again. Your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. You're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my tram pass, and I don't have an umbrella, and — "

“Dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. You ache.

"I can just walk home, I-I'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone. “Darling,” he says, a little stern. Not angry, never angry. Trying to focus you. “What’s wrong?”

“U-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "I waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "Messaged him too, y'know. He just. Didn't show."

You think you hear Simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick. “Where are you?”

There's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. You manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking. “Twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “Sit there and be good and patient and I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"Okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

Thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. You make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

You can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

He says your name gently. You take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. He's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. Assessing you, worrying.

"I'm sorry," you croak out. You can't help it. It's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. He doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"Love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." Your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "You know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"This is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. You were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"Yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "You really think I'd let you stay home alone?"

His eyes are so fucking bright. It startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"I..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "I was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"As if I don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. You scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"Go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

You hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"Go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

His flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

Well.

You might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. It's a you're a bit clumsy thing. Simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

His bedroom is familiar as well. Which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

You take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. You’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

As you pad back out to the living room, Simon’s already on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. You’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

His balaclava is off. The last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“Knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“Am I that predictable?” you mumble, a small thank you as he hands you a bowl.

He doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

The silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

You blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. You can’t read his eyes. Something hot twists in your gut.

“I-I don’t know, Simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “Maybe?”

He doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “Depends how the date went, I suppose. Doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. His gaze hasn’t changed. “Why?”

His jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “You deserve better ‘n that.”

A confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “I know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

He seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. You feel sick.

Dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. You bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“Don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

Your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. Relationships aren’t easy. Being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

You never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. You don’t deserve that kind of attention. After a while, they’ll get tired. You’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

It’s easier to be by yourself. The only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“Love.” He tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. How hasn’t he gotten tired of you yet?

A hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. Your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“What’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

You swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “No one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

Frustration burns the back of your throat. Isn’t it obvious? You can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. How can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? How could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“You wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. You crumble back into the couch.

“Make me understand.”

Heat flashes at the nape of your neck. He takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. Your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“How aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. You look at him. Hesitant. Scared.

The silence is loud. His own frown deepens. It takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“You know I’d do anything for you, yeah?”

Your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“Because you do the same for me,” he continues. You doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

His touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. He slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips just above the waistband of his boxers.

You slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. Firm and broad and safe.

“You apologize so much. You worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. One hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“You’re allowed to ask for help.”

You shake your head, a no caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“Oh, love.” He cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “You have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

He lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. His cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. You’re so tired.

His lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. You’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

[koolades-world]

Ok so this is on the angsty side, you can write this how you generally want but I do hope you keep the concept the same, you can add less angst if you want

Ok so

A replaced AU where MC is pretty much discarded by the brothers so they can pay more attention to the new exchange student. It starts off slowly at first, them saying they want to make sure RN(replacement name) knows their way around and that they’re new so they want to make them feel welcomed, but then it starts becoming where they stop hanging out with MC in general. They stop inviting them out, they forget to tell them food is ready or that they ordered food(they don’t even get them food either). MC just feels very forgotten

Ok so for the actual request now lol

Can you do pretty much this concept for a fic with MC who got attacked and really badly injured by another demon, was found by either Solomon or Simeon, and after they contacted Diavolo(and got MC bandaged and cleaned up) they all collectively decided(Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and even Luke) that they wouldn’t tell the brothers what happened. They wouldn’t even have MC go back to HOL, they let them stay at purgatory hall and would have Barbatos keep an eye on them when they were in RAD. They’ll wait to see how long it takes them to notice their absence. And months pass. Months of MC slowly healing from her trauma of being attacked and slowly learning how to be a basic human again. None of the brothers realize MC is even gone. They only notice once one of them need something from them and they ask if anyone has seen them. When they go to Diavolo to ask, he immediately reprimands and yells at them for not noticing the fact that they were gone for MONTHS. He asks where they were when MC was attacked and bleeding out on the floor and where they were when they were healing from that attack

They now all feel like shit and they just get the exact same reaction from Solomon and Simeon when they try and call them too. Everytime they see MC in public, they always have someone by their side, always ready to keep them away from them. When they do see MC from far away, they see how small they look, how they’re constantly looking around and flinching at any sudden movement or loud sound. They feel even worse by the day. They were all also blocked on MC’s DDD so they can’t even try and talk through messages or calls. They need to slowly regain their trust, if they even regain it at all.

Yeah that got a little angsty lol

Again you don’t have to make it as angsty as I described, you can make it as angsty as you want(I would love a good cry though lol)

Please please please and thank you! Take your time with this one if you need

this request vanished on me a couple times now so I grabbed it as soon as I saw it again! curse tumblr and whatever it’s on. really hope they get around to fixing that because it is so scary and nerve wracking to have something disappear on you like that

i can only assume the second ask was also you haha it was quite fun to read and really get into the idea you created :) i decided to use Rn for the replacement mc, like how I used Mc as a name, since i liked it so much

alright enough about that, i love my angst and it feels like you almost knew it haha. you asked and i will deliver! i veered off the idea a little, but i hope you enjoy :)

enjoy <3

bygone

It was hard being second best at anything. Constantly being passed over and just missing the mark of being best. It hurt, knowing you were so close yet so far from number one. But what you were to the brothers now was far worse than second best; forgotten.

You don't know when this all had started, and initially, you'd been forgiving, because the treatment Rn was getting was the treatment you wished you'd had when you arrived in the Devildom. You wouldn't want to wish a negative experience upon them, since you were in their shoes at one point. And yet after everything, you couldn't find a reason to blame them for anything.

It wasn't their fault they were in the Devildom. It wasn't their fault they were more likable than you. And it wasn't their fault you were attacked.

It was particularly gloomy that day, and it was so windy you almost got swept away a couple times. But the brothers didn't care and you knew it. Your Purgatory Hall friends were all busy at clubs, and while they'd offered a quiet corner for you to do your work in so they could walk you home, you refused. You didn't want to bother then even though you knew they didn't mind.

You thought the walk home would've been uneventful, like it usually was. You were right, and you made it home safely, until you realized you'd left an important textbook in your locker. You made it successfully back to RAD, and were in front of your locker trying to open it when you were slammed from behind into it. You must've hit your head, because everything after that was hazy and you struggled to recall what happened, or who attacked you. The next thing you remembered was Simeon hovering over you, looking more distressed than you'd ever seen him.

The morning after, you woke up with a pounding headache you thought was due to your morning alarm. You'd reached over to turn it off, but before you could, Luke rushed in the room and began scolding you for trying to get up. As he talked at you, his words went in one ear and out the other. The other members of Purgatory Hall, as well as Barbatos entered the room at some point. They all looked strained or disturbed in a way. When you asked what had happened, Solomon was the one to break the news to you. You didn't know quite how to feel, but you knew at the very least that you were finally in good hands.

After this, the four of them sat in the room with you, and just chatted with you. It was nice to feel welcome in such a casual space again. At some point, you realized you weren't at home, and were instead at Purgatory Hall. That was when they revealed their plan to just not tell the brothers, and that you were more than welcome to live with your friends at Purgatory Hall instead. You felt a weak smile form on your face. It was good to be wanted again.

As time passed by, you grew physically better thanks to the attentive care of your new housemates, but the same couldn't be said emotionally. In the comfort of home, you felt safe, especially surrounded by your wonderful support system. At first, you couldn't even bring yourself to leave the house, and the first time you saw one of the brothers again was a major setback, but you did what you could. Those around you gave you all the time you needed to heal, and you let them know you were finally ready to try and take that next step again.

Barbatos and Diavolo had invited the residents of Purgatory Hall over for a nice little tea party, which you were proud to say you were now included in. They’d told you to get dressed up to spend a nice afternoon with them and enjoy yourself. It was something to look forward to, so the night before, you laid out an outfit. The next morning, you woke up feeling excited for once. Your new support system seemed determined to make this the best day possible, and despite asking them not to jump through hoops for you, they went to whatever lengths possible just to see you smile.

You felt possible the happiest you’d ever been since before Rn arrived when you got to the castle. All the little D’s welcomed you enthusiastically and ushered the four of you into the castle. Diavolo was already seated, but got up as soon as you walked into the room. He greeted you with a hug and soon, the five of you were happily talking. Barbatos joined you at some point, and knowing you would insist he relax, he sat down with the promise to get up if you needed anything.

It was supposed to be perfect.

You were enjoying your second cup of tea when there was a frantic knock at the door. It was distant, but you could all hear the panic behind it. Barbatos was the first to get up and he announced he would check it out. The five of you glanced around at each other, but continued as normal. A couple minutes went by, and a little D flew into the room and pleaded with Diavolo for help. This alarmed all of you, but Diavolo had you sit back down while he went to go assist Barbatos. Solomon and Simeon exchanged glances, but did as he asked.

You began to hear yelling, and the door Diavolo had just left through burst open. An awfully familiar pair of blue eyes locked onto you. "Mc!" Mammon called out. You froze, not sure how to react. Solomon stood up, pushing his chair back and letting it scrape against the ground.

Before anyone could speak, Diavolo pushed past Mammon and stood directly in front of him, arms crossed. "I didn't give you permission to enter my home." You'd never seen Diavolo more serious. Mammon was hidden from view now, thankfully, but that couldn't stop the sound of his voice reaching your ears.

"You lied to us. Mc is here." Mammon's tone was so sharp, it nearly cut the tension in the room.

"Why would you do that? We miss them." Levi sounded more angry than you'd ever heard him. The noise of his tails thrashing angrily about against the marble floors echoed through the hall.

"Oh really? You miss them, you say? Did you miss them when they were alone because of your actions? Did you miss them when they were bleeding out in the halls of RAD? Did you miss them in the months of recovery? You were so consumed with Rn that you failed to notice the absence of the very person that solved many of your problems and brought your family back together." Diavolo had shifted into his demon form in the middle of his rant. You could feel the waves of anger peeling off of him, and you knew sure as hell that the brothers could feel it too.

The room was filled with silence again. Solomon moved to stand next to the future king. "You should go now." His voice was soft, but firm.

"I'll see them out." Barbatos was behind the brothers somewhere. They left without much resistance after they got a glimpse at your face. During the entire interaction, you felt silent tears streaming down your face. Luke leant over and tried to offer you a handkerchief with his name embroidered on the corner. When you didn't move to take it, he dabbed the tears from your face for you and embraced you tightly.

"I'm sorry about them, Mc." Diavolo walked back over to you and stood behind you.

"It's alright." You hugged Luke back. Diavolo joined in, causing Solomon and Simeon to as well. "I have you guys, don't I?"

[starryknight-tarot]

𝓦𝓱𝓸 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼?

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

my masterlist<3 . paid readings

Hello beautiful souls✨ Today we will be looking into what kind of people your future friends are and maybe a little more into your dynamic together. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath, and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Credit to @benkeibear for the divider and @thuminnoo on instagram.

Pile 1 Cards: Temperance, Three of Swords, Six of Swords, Strength, Three of Pentacles, Nine of Wands, Page of Pentacles, Ace of Cups rx Back of the Deck: Five of Pentacles

The energy for this pile has a lot of layers to it. While I was shuffling, I heard the word "first" pretty clearly, so your future friends might be the first time you can really call someone a friend or simply your first time having friends at all . I feel like all of your future friends are going to have very big personalities. If you are an introvert, you are going to feel like you were adopted by a bunch of extroverts. I am actually getting Mean Girls vibes from this pile, like in a school setting, all your friends would be the talk of the school. The cool kids so to speak lol. And the energy you are going to feel with them also feels pretty complicated. In friendships, you can have good days where everyone is getting along and having fun, and then other day when things can feel more awkward and even a little uncomfortable, your friend group isn't going to be safe from this. Although, you may feel like you may feel like you don't truly fit in with them. I am hearing "Imposter Syndrome" so with your future friends, you may feel like you don't deserve to be around them. But I am getting that your future friends REALLY don't want you to feel this way. In fact, I feel like there may be a moment in your friendship where all this doubt in yourself comes to the surface and you and your friends have a deep conversation about. I am getting for some of you that really don't resonate with this self doubt energy, it might be the other way around where one of your future friends isn't too confident in their friendship with you. Also, no matter what gender you identify as, your future friends are going to help you embrace your feminine energy. For some specific groups of yall, your friends are going to spark your interest in makeup. Some of yall are going to be making new friends at the gym or on a run, something physical. Like I am seeing the visual of someone running a marathon and chatting it up with the person next to them. I think for my pile 1's, yall need to start having a clear idea of what you want and need in a friend. Because if you just let anyone that shows you kindness, you might end up in a distasteful situation. If you don't feel like you and another person have a connection, it's time to cut ties with that person. But with the Page of Pentacles, I feel like you guys will actually find friends that will feel like manifested them into existence. If you have a manifestation journal, it may help to dedicate a page for qualities you want in a friend and spirit is saying that this will bring you closer to these friends. I also keep hearing "They aren't perfect" so even if you are manifesting them, they may not be the perfect person but they are going to be there for you. Also one last message for my introverts, you may want to try and put yourself out there to find friends.

Advice Cards:

Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspects of your life

Spend some time in stillness to reflect

Be adventurous. It's time to go for it!

A powerful dream will guide you

Your heart is a center of institute intelligence. Listen to it!

You are greater than your story

Channeled Songs: (I laughed when I got Please Me but some of yall may have a message there lol)

Pile 2 Cards: Ace of Swords, Nine of Wands rx, King of Swords, The Tower rx, Ten of Wands rx, The Fool, The Emperor, Two of Pentacles Back of the Deck: Three of Swords

So I was picking up a few different types of energies for this pile, I feel like a lot of people may pick this pile so there is a lot of different people involved or each one of your friends is going to be very different personalities, take it how it resonates. One of the first things I was picking up was that your friends are gonna be labeled as the "weird kids" lol. I don't mean that in a bad way at all, they just might be the type to be labeled as nerds or dorks or whatever but they are just have really silly energy. Specifically, someone in your group is gonna be quite eccentric and unique but I think you will love that about them. This eccentric friend has lovely energy. I keep hearing ENFP or they may might just be really into MBTI. I am also picking up on someone that has a really regal vibe to them? Maybe, they feel like they were royalty in their past life or they could come from wealth. But I am getting such a sweet vibe from this person. This friend group seems like a bunch of softies and I am living for it. I was also picking up that you might have to go through some really shitty friends before you get to the friends that we are currently looking into. Spirit said "those people were never truly your friends" so some people who you thought were your friends may actually be pieces of shit and never even truly saw you as a friend. I am hearing for someone of you that these might be your current friends, of course that isn't going to be for everyone but you are seeing some signs from your current friends that they don't truly respect you as a person, or that they are leave you out of stuff, those people aren't your friends. But with the Fool, I feel like you guys are really going to start a new journey in terms of friends so there are going to be quite a few people who are coming into your life. I heard "They are going to turn your life upside down" so you may start seeing the world differently after meeting them. I do feel like you and your future friends may not always see eye to eye and may have a falling out, I'm not too sure why, it seems like a lot of misunderstandings may happen between yall. These misunderstand may cause yall to have prolonged times apart for a little while. But I do think you will come back together. I'm also not too sure this energy is for everyone or perhaps that keeping this message in mind may cause these misunderstands to be avoided. Spirit is saying "Keep an open mind" so you may need to just hear each other. I am also getting for this pile that your group of friends may be really big, like a lot of people that are gonna hang around you.

Advice Cards:

Hold your life from a sacred viewpoint. Witness the universal picture

Relax and feel good. You deserve more joy!

Your are greater than your story

Pay attention to your breathing, it's reflecting your life

Reflect on the state and use of your personal energy

You are wiser than you think

You are a natural teacher

Channeled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: Three of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, The Emperor rx, Six of Pentacles rx, Ten of Pentacles, The Fool rx, Ten of Swords Back of the Deck: Four of Cups

Excuse me for my language, but I fucking love this pile so much, your future friends have top tier energy. These friends might be people from your childhood that you rekindle with or just friends you have known for a while. Actually I am also getting that for some of you, you may meet them very suddenly and become friends very fast in your adult life, but I'm not really getting an in between. For some of you, I feel like you are already around your future friends. They seem to be more of the rebellious vibes, I am hearing Lost Boys energy. Your future friends may be strong activists and are very vocal about what is right and wrong. Your friends seems like the type of people that really stand out in the crowd. Probably for a very specific group of you, I feel like you may meet in an art class or just somewhere surrounded by art. And your future friends are SO creative and have such big imaginations. For some of you, you are going to make a career with these future friends and I am hearing starting a Youtube channel or something like that. Whatever it is, it seems like it will be really successful because of the chemistry you and your friends share. Especially with all the pentacles in this pile, yall might make major bank together. For a lot of you, these friends are going to be your soul family. For some of you, there is going to be someone in your friend group that takes up a sort of mother role and they are going to help heal you through a lot of childhood wounds that you may not have even realized you had. I heard for some of you, they are going to get you out more and get you out of a hermit period for you. There is a very small group of you that I feel like you will very suddenly stop seeing each other or perhaps this friendship will have been going on for years and some of you will want to expand your friendship to other people and not talk as much, I am getting maybe two people. A little larger group of you may just drift part after time and find new friends, but you guys would never forget each other and always hold so much love for each other. Yall story seems like it could be made into a story lol. But even then, I won't let that stop you from enjoying your friends with these people and trying your best to make it last since yall do seem really compatible. For real it's so beautiful I almost want to cry. But there is a group of you that I see growing old together basically. Yall will still be causing trouble till yall's hairs grey and you are chilling in the nursing homes lol.

Advice Cards: Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspect of your life

Reflect on the state and use of your personal energy

Be aware of your inner messages

A powerful dream will guide you

The key is in the application. Practice!

Spend some time in stillness to reflect

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: King of Pentacles, Ten of Cups, Four of Pentacles rx, Five of Swords, Six of Pentacles rx, Nine of Swords, The Tower, The Fool rx Back of the Deck: Six of Wands

This pile is very interesting indeed. So one of the first things I was picking up was that you may marry one of your future friends and it is going to be like "Marrying my best friend" kind of moments. Which is real cute for yall. I was also getting that your friend group might be pretty well off, like they all grew up in a pretty wealthy area or something like that. I am kind of picking up on those people that grew up rich but don't really even realize it until you point it out. But they seem like might spoil you a little, take you around to see things you may have never seen without them. I am also hearing some of you may be the rich friend. I am also getting that the way you guys will meet will be through shared struggle. Like I am getting that you and your future friends will go though an experience that not many will have gone through and while you will walk away with a lot of trouble from this experience, you will also walk away with new friendships because not many have gone through what yall have gone through. I am getting that you will have around three or four friends that you are particularly close with. With the mixture of the Tower and the Five of Swords, I feel like you are going to have a big falling out with these people. Although since we have the Six of Wands at the back of the deck, I feel this story will have a very satisfying ending. I just suddenly saw people meeting at a very tropical setting. It could just be the beach but for some of you, this feels like a different country and you will meet up there and it will feel so nice. I am also getting that instead of this falling out energy, your future friends are going to have A LOT of trauma and they may feel like they don't deserve your friendship, something along those lines. Your future friends have very shy energy. They don't seem to trust a lot of people but you managed to gain their trust. Although I feel like one of your friends is very shy and the another is very bold and confident, but even this person seems to have some inner struggles as well. I'm sorry because I feel like there is part of a puzzle that your future friends don't really want to share here. Perhaps your story with them is just something they really want you to experience without any expectations. They seem to have really good intentions with you.

Advice Cards:

Release all attachments that do not serve you

Take a lighter approach and smile about all facets in your life. A smile reflects a heart at peace You are ready to receive your fortune. Be miracle minded!

The key is in the application. Practice! You are intuitively gifted. Trust you guidance

Pay attention to the issue that time plays in your life right now

Channeled Songs:

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi guys <3

I just wanted to talk about something that's really hit me this morning.

I feel like in the past few months, many people in this fandom have chosen to take a step back from fandom spaces, especially more interactive ones like twitter, tiktok, tumblr, etc. We've had a huge influx of people binding works for profit, sending hate on multiple platforms, and literally chasing people out of the fandom. Just this morning, I watched a tiktok of someone in this fandom reading hateful messages he received, and some of them were literal death threats.

Don't get me wrong- I do not blame a single person for privating their works, removing their creations, or taking a step back from fandom. In fact, I think it's absolutely warranted, and mental health comes first. While I would never delude myself into thinking I am as well-known as some of the people who struggle with these things, I myself have considered taking a break a few times, as it can definitely be overwhelming.

However, fandom is first and foremost and escape for me. I use it as a means of coping with past traumas and current stressors, and I have seen the way it has helped literally thousands of people deal with similar things.

I have to be honest. For years, fandom was a more-taboo community of 'nerds' and 'geeks.' When I was a kid, it was absolutely unheard of to read fanfiction, and I hid in my room for hours reading fanfiction.net, terrified someone would find me. But since it's become more socially acceptable, I feel like hate and judgement has only grown.

But the thing is, so many of you guys are ruining this. The hate you are spreading because you don't like a ship or because you dislike the way a fic has been written or because you, god forbid, hate that a character is written as feminine, is ruining this space for so many people. For god's sake, if you don't like it, don't fucking read it. Don't like Jegulus? Don't read it. Don't like transfem Sirius? Don't read it.

For so many people this is the only safe space.

And I'm gonna be so honest when I say that I need this safe space. This is something that keeps me going and helps me so much. So please, before you send hate, or bash a ship, or say something negative about anyone, remember that this is supposed to be fun. This is supposed to be a safe space. This is supposed to be positive. And you are interacting with PEOPLE. Nobody here is a deity, nobody here is above it all, and nobody here deserves the hate that has been spread. (Except JK Rowling).

Sending love <3

P.s. this is NOT me asking you to go after the people spreading the hate. While I enjoy teasing trolls as much as the next person, sending more hate is not the answer.

[icyg4l]

PAC: July 2024 Predictions

Hello beautiful people! This is my last week posting/sending readings out for a while! I will be back, but I just need a moment to focus on real life. So if you would like to book a reading with me, don’t hesitate to message me privately! Anyway, tonight I will be talking about your July 2024. So please, without further ado, please select the pile that resonates with you!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-3)

Pile One: I heard "weighing out your options". I think you may be in the middle of figuring out your taste in love. However, you may be making a risky decision. Remember this everything that feels good ain't always good for you. This month, you will learn to be stingier with your love. Also, there may be someone around you that is negligent. There is no reason to take the high road with them, you need to figure out what goes on and come up with a resolution to prevent this from going on any further. I feel like you will be cutting ties with someone who has been embarrassing you. It will be sad and hard to do, but you only have one life. I also heard "count your blessings". You need to see the light in today. Act like you care about what's going on around you. There is someone who has been picking with you, it's time to cut them off! I see you feeling relieved by the end of the month (only because Leo season aka the best season has startedddd) Overall, this month seems like a good month to start over. Reignite the passion in your life and start today!

Pile Two: "Plagued with confusion" is what I just heard. I feel like this July will be kind of hard for you, Pile Two. There is something that will feel off about this month. Get your mind out the gutter, for one. But also, there is something that is feeding on your energy. It feels vampiric. A person who treats you like a baby or has a newborn baby could be significant. You are your own person. You show up as yourself and get the job done! But you have to stop letting people take advantage of your innocence. I'm watching this anime called Nana. Nana K is the very innocent, perky, loving friend who wouldn't hurt a fly. That's you, Pile Two. But just because you wouldn't hurt a fly, doesn't mean the fly won't hurt you. It seems as though you will be on a quest for independence. Trying to find your way while also trying to see what's your niche. You are young and you will figure it out. Don't let anyone tell you thank you can't. If you really want it that bad, then it can be achieved. This is cliche to say, but just believe! "Wish Upon A Star!" could be a relevant movie to you.

Pile Three: You could be taking a trip out of the country. Barcelona comes to mind. I see you also being receptive to food requests as well. You may be a picky eater, but this month you won't be, lol. Some of you are in summer school, trying to bring a grade up/trying to make the next school year easier. You should try to receive counseling as much as you can. It will ease your mind and in return, your grades will be much better. I heard the word proficient. During this time, you could find yourself doing a lot of backpacking. This is very specific but if you have been praying on someone's downfall, they will receiving their rightfully deserved karma. I am hearing a leprechaun laugh. This is someone's abusive ex or manipulative ex-bestie. I think that you will try to keep your calm this month. You should repeat mantras to yourself, everyday. Maybe you should listen to some more Jhene Aiko. I heard Kevin Gates??? LOL! You will be in touch with your feminine energy during this month so try not to be so active. Be ready for anything, beloved. And lastly, some of you will try out for a sports team. You'll get in because of your connection to the coach or one of the primetime players. Also, some of you could be going to a sports game for free because of one of the players/coaches.

[ssinboo]

It's Always been Us

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

Part 3 of As it Was

pairing: Middle School Teacher! Reader x Entertainer!Seungkwan

word count: 16.5k (1h~ read)

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

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

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

Beep.

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

Beep.

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

Beep.

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

Beep.

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

Beep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here?” He finally asks,

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

“Who’s at the door?”

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

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

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

That is until he sees you.

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

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

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

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

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

He knows the truth.

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

There’s silence.

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

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

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

“Are you…?”

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

You nod.

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

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

You were pregnant with his child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For once, you needed him to be there.

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

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

You would be okay with his absence.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll fix you up something.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You ask accusingly.

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

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

“A month ago.”

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

“Do you know what is it?”

You shrug, shaking your head

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

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

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

You nod. “Yeah.”

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

But terrifying all at the same time.

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

Seungkwan looks up from his plate, surprised.

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

“It’s your choice…” He whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile, relived, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your eyebrows.

“No.”

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

You said you loved him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?!”

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

“Don’t you love me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be at my mum’s.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re paying,” It’s a truce.

You smile excitedly, adjusting the scarf around your neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine,” He says.

You hum.

He notices how you cradle your bump when you eat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a sonogram.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t thought about it…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Four months?”

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

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

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

“Seriously?”

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

“Does it feel hard?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seungkwan worriedly looks at you.

You smile at his dumbfounded, worried expression.

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

“Come closer,” You urge.

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

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

And a lot scarier, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know?!”

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

Once again, you glance at him.

“It’s your choice,” He says.

“But what do you want?”

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

You’re seated rather quickly and given menus.

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

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

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

You ball up a napkin and throw at him.

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

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

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

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

The waiter returns with your drinks.

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

Seungkwan smiles. “Not yet…”

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

“I got it.”

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

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

“Goddammit.”

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

“You could’ve told them!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The knife slides in, cutting through soft icing.

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

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

The spectators burst into cheer.

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

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

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

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

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

“Congrats!”

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

You look up from your plate.

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

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

“A baby, huh?”

“Yup.”

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

Soonyoung clears his throat.

“How far along are you?”

“Twenty weeks.”

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

“Wow, that’s really far along…”

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

“C-Can I feel it?”

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

“The fuck you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He settles down next to you.

“Tired?” You ask.

He hums.

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

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

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

He laughs.

“Give mummy a rest, will you?”

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

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

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

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

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

Seungkwan stares at you.

“What?” You ask, worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re laughing at his dramatic antics.

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

“Yeah,” He clears his throat.

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

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

“Don’t,” He pleads.

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

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

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

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

Seungkwan chokes.

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

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

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

“You suck.”

He smirks, “You wish.”

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

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

“Take me, then.”

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

“Can I take you on that offer?”

“Holy fuck, yes.”

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

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

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

“Fuck… You smell fucking divine…”

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

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

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

“Sh–shut up!”

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

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

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’s your fault.”

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

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

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

“Teasing you, yeah?”

“Y—Yeah!” You gulp,

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

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

“Go on, love.”

“Looked so… Handsome.”

“Did I, now?”

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close, baby?”

You nod with a whiny moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? No, you’re—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shower?”

You smile, “You read my mind.”

“I want to get a house.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seungkwan half-panics, “But what?”

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

“To Seoul?” He inches closer.

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

“A-Are you sure? It’s a big change.”

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

“That’s true… But you love it here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

He smiles, “Consider it done.”

“Three bedrooms minimum.”

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

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

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

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

“Already?” You raise an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

“Say my name, princess.”

“You. Seungkwan, you do—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s your turn to laugh.

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

And… You crave him.

Like nothing before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like the black,” You suggest.

“It’s too obvious,” He whines.

“How about beige?”

He ponders with a low hum.

“It’s classy!” You add.

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

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

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

A sigh leaves your painted lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ready?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We just got here," Seungkwan explains.

"Well, let's go, then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The photograph is taken in a flash.

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

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

You look at Seungkwan, waiting for his reply.

He nods, "Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh at the situation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you putting your shoes back on?"

"I need to pee, I think."

"You think?" He raises an eyebrow.

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

"She's a good girl."

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

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

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

"Seungkwan! So good to see you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You reckon I would've made it?"

"Mhm?"

"As an actress, you think I would make it big?" She smiles expectedly.

"Sure," He shrugs and it's clearly not enough.

"Oh, please. You can be honest!" She nudges at his shoulders, her hands lingering far too long, rubbing across his chest.

He licks at his lips, openly uncomfortable. "We can't know for sure."

"I mean, look at me! I've got a face for drama, " She poses, "I'm unforgettable, y'know. Well, I'm sure you know," Sohee laughs, "you're probably still hung up on me!" she bites at her lip, looking him up and down.

That strikes a bit of a nerve.

"No– I–"

"It's fine! I know… And…" She takes a step closer, "I'm not opposed to it," Her manicured finger draws circles on his chest, "I'm open if you wanna play," She winks.

Seungkwan takes a step back.

"I just think… it takes more than an average face to make it into the industry… And into my bed."

Oh, how furious she is.

It's such a sudden shift in her mood, he almost flinches. Can't say it wasn't satisfying as hell getting to say that after so many years.

"What?! Average?! Average?! Oh, fuck you! Just because I rejected you in high school, doesn't mean you should hold a grudge!"

Seungkwan looks around at the people that suddenly are very interested in their conversation.

"I'll tell you what, I don't need your opinion! Every day, I get stopped by men dying to get with me and you know what–"

It seems you heard his silent but very desperate prayers, appearing just when he needed you the most.

"What's up?" You ask, quite confused.

"What is up, is that this cunt holds a grudge because I rejected him in high school," Sohee crosses her arms childishly.

"That's not–" Seungkwan tries to explain it to you, but you know Sohee well enough to predict her temper.

"Come on, it's your wedding day, why do you care what he thinks, just relax," You argument, hoping it's enough to convince her.

"You're right, it is my wedding day and I deserve an apology."

"A what now?"

"An apology, I deserve one or you're kicked out."

"Oh, fuck off!" You yell, turning on your heels and dragging Seungkwan with you.

You hope you're far away enough she won't give chase. Or security, maybe.

Too bad for you she immediately signals for security and you hurry your step.

Bumping into Seokmin on the way, you steal your flats from his hands.

"You guys, what's the hurry?" He laughs.

"Thank you, Seokmin, great party!" You yell, shrugging off your heels and toeing into the flats as fast as you can.

Still confused, he pries in further, "What? Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, long story, your sister kicked us out."

"What?!"

Seungkwan crouches to pick up your discarded shoes, "Great party, though."

"Yeah, I loved seeing you and the kids, we need to schedule a reunion sometime," You add.

"Are you done?" Seungkwan asks.

"Yeah," You nod.

"Let's go," He grabs your hand.

"Bye, Seokmin!"

"Bye-bye," You parrot.

And the two of you bolt down the hall toward the parking lot.

You're laughing your heads off by the time the valet brings around the rental, recalling just how crazy the past five minutes have been.

Seungkwan opens the door for you after leaving the valet a very generous tip.

"What did she want?" Your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Oh, fucking hell," He rolls his eyes, pulling out of the event hall. "You won't believe it."

"What?" You're already laughing at the idea.

"She kept hitting on me."

"What?" No longer laughing, you adjust yourself in your seat, "And what did tell her?"

"I said she needs more than an average face to make it into my bed."

You laugh awkwardly, not sure how to reply.

"Does that mean you're finally over her… Or… Do you still like Sohee?"

"Are you kidding me?!" He laughs at the absurdity of your suggestion. "I mean, I guess I knew it in my heart ages ago, but I sort of realised it today… I got over her a long time ago."

"You mean it?"

"Oh, getting kicked out of her wedding didn't prove it?"

You smile, "I guess it does prove you don't want to fuck her."

"You couldn't pay me to!"

Barely containing your foolish smile, you play with the hem of your dress.

"Besides," Seungkwan opens a mischievous smile, "I've got my eyes on the world's hottest MILF,"

You groan, hitting at his shoulder between your fits of laughter, "Stop it!"

Arriving at your place, you couldn't wait to finally get out of your party outfit and into your comfy pajamas. Toeing off your shoes halfway through your hallway, you pit-patter into your dimly lit bedroom with Seungkwan as your shadow.

"Can you help me?" Your plea is sleepy and sweet, carrying him to you before he can even process your words.

You're standing barefoot, dress clinging onto your shoulder, zipper halfway down. Seungkwan reaches for it, feeling the sudden spark of your bare skin grazing along his fingers. Once the zipper is all the way down, you sigh in relief and shrug the dress off. He feels like a puberty stricken teenager, being overcome with lust with a simple glance of your hyptonitisng body.

Looking back, you watch him stare at you, completely frozen.

"What?"

He doesn't respond.

"Do you want help, too?" You lean forward with a tease.

Fingers wrapping around his expensive tie, you pull him just close enough until his breath caresses your lips. Watching through half-lidded eyes, you glance at his pouty lips, overcome with the urge to take them.

Reading your mind, Seungkwan cups your burning hot cheeks, crashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss.

It's disgustingly messy with clashing teeth and breathless moans devoured alive with insatiable hunger. You're melting into his arms, clumsy synchronised steps toward the bed, almost tripping on your discarded dress.

Your fall into the bed isn't enough to part your frantic kiss, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him impossibly close, feeling the fabric of his suit grazing against your naked body, every wrinkle and fold a torturous experience.

Seungkwan shrugs off his blazer, throwing it somewhere in the room. He pulls at his tie with one arm and had your eyes been open, they'd be glued to the throbbing veins that decorate his skin.

"Keep–" You breathe out, "Keep it on–"

His smile is almost devilish. "Fuck me, aren't you naughty?"

You nod thoughtlessly, "I'm fuckin' crazy about you in that suit…" "Yeah?" Egging you on, he can barely contain his own lust at your words. The mere thought that you had been containing yourself all day, that he drove you just as crazy.

"Mmh," You kiss him, "I was thinking about you all day,"

"Fuck."

His hands are on your body, grabbing, kneading at your burning skin, touching every inch he pour his greedy touch on. Although he wants to kiss and your worship you, he dreads the thought of leaving your lips. Oh, such a tough choice.

Expertly, he undoes your bra, giving into your relief and lust at once. His hands find your breasts, massaging, flicking at your sensitive nipples.

Every single one of your quiet moans are muffled with his eager kisses.

You're pulling him closer and closer, toying with his dress shirt, pulling at each button. Torturously slow, you undo every button, feeling every inch of his bare skin on yours.

Pretty fingers grazing along the bulge that strains his slacks, you bat your eyelashes with a pout and he near melts. A mischievous smile plays at your lips as you blindly navigate his belt and zipper, finding your way into his pants.

He pulsates in your hands, hot and heavy and burning in desire.

You run a single finger along his length and it's enough to have him stuttering.

"I need to be in you, baby–"

You're drunk with lust at this point, the very thought of having him inside you is clouding your judgement beyond recognition. You can only nod fervoursly, parting your legs to receive him.

He leans back on his heels, staring at you, glossy eyes and parted lips, practically begging for him. He takes a long, hard stare at your round figure, the size of your stomach, the very thought that it was his seed that made you like this driving him insane with the primal sense of possession.

"You drive me crazy, y'know," He whispers against your kiss-swollen lips and you feel every vibration of his lust ridden whisper.

Maybe it's the atmosphere or the abstinence that's making you drunk on him. But you feel every inch of his body, every single touch of his feels a thousand times. His body burns against yours, fastened hearts irregularly dancing around each other's beats.

Having him inside you after so long feels like nothing ever before. You're getting split on his cock, mouth in a constant 'O'. He can feel every agonising inch of your wall clinging and squeezing around him.

Seungkwan holds himself back, willing his mind to think completely natural thoughts lest he come too fast. You're so warm, wrapping tightly around his length, pulsating and eager. What could a man do besides keep you filled up?

He drinks your every broken moan, every ragged breath resembling his name, relishing in the effect he has on you.

With sluggish thrusts, Seungkwan finally moves. Bottoming out feels heavenly, you can barely think. How you're split open deliciously on his length, you feel him throb inside you, dragging out of your walls before slamming back in.

"Fuck– You're choking me, baby–" You hum, not really focusing on anything other than the way he feels.

Fastening his pace, he is entranced with how your body looks under him.

Your eyes are tightly closed, limbs tangled around. Your entire body is jiggling with every thrust of his, following his every move. Fuck. He buries his head in the dip of your neck, biting at your skin to quiet himself, hot breath tickling your sensitive skin.

He has to will himself into a slower tempo lest he finish too fast, no, he wishes to drag this out impossibly long. To savour every millisecond, burn it in his brain until he can see and think of nothing but the way you come apart under him, the way you melt and fit around his body.

Your entire body sizzles with unadulterated lust.

"I'm– I'm close," You warn.

He hums, interrupted by a groan.

"Cum for me, princess, come on–"

You nod, voice crescendo into a string of disconnected words, chanting his name over and over. The sight of your pretty face overtaken by pleasure is enough to send him into his own climax, spilling into you with a final thrust.

Careful not to crush you, Seungkwan collapses to your side, reaching for your hand to intertwine your fingers together. He brings your hand to his lips, placing a loving kiss.

You snuggle into his chest.

"Can't believe I just fucked a MILF."

You laugh in desbelief.

"What the fuck!"

Moving had always proven to be a sisyphean task, it was no different when moving in with the father of your baby with whom you had an unlabeled very complicated relationship. At least he was more than willing to actually pay for a moving company as opposed to enticing your closest friends with beer and pizza.

And you very close to a good day until you grabbed an unassuming bag, only to discover a huge gash that extended to some of the clothing inside. After a justified breakdown, you sighed and surrendered to fate.

“Do you have a sewing kit?” You ask Seungkwan, looking at the large hole in your favourite sweater.

“In my nightstand,” Seungkwan replies mindlessly, eyes glued onto the TV. While he did help with the moving, the harmless idea of turning on the game had suddenly resulted in him holding open boxes while standing in the middle of the hallway, very entranced by the game.

You make your way through the mess of discarded boxes and enter his bedroom, being welcomed by the ever enticing scent of his cologne.

It’s only a minute or two after, that Seungkwan realises the predicament he’s in and stumbles his way into the bedroom, tripping over every single item on the floor.

He does realise it took him too long.

"What's all this?" You furrow your brows, looking at the very large array of velvet boxes in his nightstand.

"Nothing," Seungkwan hurries, closing the drawer way too fast. It comes out less as something he's embarrassed of and more that you should keep out of his business, not what he meant, of course.

"Right, sorry," You clear your throat, turning away without ever meeting his eyes.

It's enough to make him realise how his actions were received. "It's… Nothing, really, I mean it."

"Yeah, of course," You shrug, forcing a smile.

He sighs, "I mean it, look," reaching to pull the drawer open, Seungkwan gestures to the items inside.

In the drawer are a few velvet boxes tucked away and a tiny box with a loose ring and a necklace.

"It's fine!" You insist, "I shouldn't pry into something private."

"It's not private."

"Of course it is, I'm sure you keep your exes' stuff for sentimental reasons."

Seungkwan furrows his brow, staring at you, "They're not from my exes."

"You don't have to lie."

"I mean it."

"Seungkwan–"

"I mean it!" He kneels in front of you, reaching into the drawer.

"This one, I got you when we started pretending in uni… I felt like I needed to get you something… Both to prove that we were together and as a thanks," He places the shiny pendant in your hand. "This one is from when… we started sleeping together… I thought I should get you a ring for y'know," He shrugs, placing a single ring next to the pendant in your palm.

Seungkwan reaches into the drawer, picking up the first velvet box, "This one I bought for your birthday after I came to Seoul but I never got around to giving it to you." It's a very delicate necklace and it looks a little more expensive than the others. "And then the same year, when I started seeing someone else and didn't even tell you, I thought I should get you something as an apology and… a parting gift."

In the fancier box is a pair of stud earrings with tiny pearl drops.

"And then we kept seeing each other… and years passed and I realised I liked you… I wanted to make it official but… I was terrified," He confesses, "I was terrified of the commitment, I was terrified of what would happen if it didn't work out… But I got us matching rings, that never saw the light of day, of course," He laughs, the type of laugh that hides truer feelings.

The third box contained the matching couple rings.

You're speechless.

"And finally… when you came into my apartment… you got me out of my terrible, sorry state, you stayed by my side… Always did, but… Anyway– I–You said you loved me," He stares into your eyes and you are filled with so much emotion, he is sincere, you can feel it. "And I realised I loved you, too."

From the way your legs turn into jelly at the very sound of those words, you are so thankful for being sat.

"So I bought these rings and I scheduled a meeting with my company to talk about my future wedding. That's when my old PR manager went batshit on how it would ruin my career and decided to fuck me over… And it took me months to fix everything and make sure that we wouldn't have any problems," He raises his head to look at you, "So I came to visit and you were pregnant and I was. So. Happy…" His voice trails off. "I never wanted to marry you faster than right then and there. But then, you know what happened."

"Are you… fucking serious?"

His big brown eyes that more often than not prove themselves to be the bane of your existence glance away from your face.

Seungkwan readies himself for the incoming flurry of teasing that should come.

But it doesn't.

And then he raises his head, only to see that your face has contorted into a very ugly frown as you try to will your tears back into your eyes.

"What?" His face softens immediately and he's on you the very next second, reaching for your hands.

"I can't believe it," You hiccup.

"What's wrong?"

You can barely formulate coherent sentences with the turmoil that clouds your brain.

Seungkwan liked you.

For much longer than you could even fathom, he cherished you and the whole time you just thought he maybe tolerated your presence for the sake of getting into your pants. And all those years of suppressing your stupid feelings had culminated in this: a drawer full of unopened jewelry and erased love.

You can't help the very self-deprecating thoughts that tell you: you should've been braver.

"Baby, what's wrong?" His voice is soft and loving and stupid.

"Don't call me baby!" You wail, throwing your arms around his neck in a very confusing turn of events.

He does comfort you with light taps to your back.

"All this time," You hiccup, "I liked you and you liked me back and I kept hiding it because I was stupid! I'm sorry I said I didn't want to marry you."

"No, you… You were right to protect yourself," he shushes your cries. "I never proved myself to be someone very… Relationship worthy."

"No!" You shake your head, "I should've just… told you."

"Look… I was a dumb kid… I was terrified of being real with my feelings once I realised I liked you… And the longer I waited, the harder it got."

You nod.

"When you said "I love you"… It just felt like everything was coming together, y'know?"

"I do! I do love you!"

He smiles, hands reaching to cup your face.

"I wanted to marry you, I wanted to marry you so bad! But I was scared! I was scared you were only marrying me because I got pregnant!"

Seungkwan reaches to wipe your tears away.

"I thought if we got married for the baby, you'd grow to resent us both…"

"I could never resent you… Or our daughter."

"Oh, please, how was I supposed to know?!"

He laughs, "I should've told you I loved you. I should've told you I loved you and I wanted to marry you out of love."

"Tell me you love me again," You plea.

"I love you."

You can barely contain the stupid smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

"I love you so much, Kwannie. I have loved you for so long…"

Seungkwan adjusts himself, pushing you back into a sitting position. He returns to his kneeling position on the floor and clears his throat.

"Marry me?"

Your dumbfounded stare goes for a bit longer than you wished for, enough to make him nervous another rejection was coming. But you break out into the world's most beautiful smile while you happily shout.

"Yes!"

"Oh, thank God."

Maybe it took a bit longer than most for you to find each other. But in the end, you had your future husband, your perfect baby and soon a dreamy home.

Seungkwan would announce his nuptials and upcoming paternity and receive a lot of love from the public. Many saw it as a show of maturity and trustworthiness, which did end up helping his career. Speaking of, he did go on a very long break as soon as you entered your third trimester, present at every waking moment. Except for when he almost passed out when you went into labour.

Parenthood hadn't been quite a challenge, not when you had each other. Your daughter was the sweetest, quietest little baby and such a cuddlebug. She always greeted her mummy and daddy with that toothless grin and sweet giggles, which made it very hard to think of stopping at just one kid.

You would return to teaching, balancing your family and work life and Seungkwan would come back to the spotlight. You two settled into the routine easily, picking up where the other needed.

Although life was different from as it was when you were younger, it wouldn't be hard to make do when you had each other. The future never looked as bright.

Since the very beginning, it had always been you and him against the world.

And until the very end, so it will be.

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Hiay so read the one you did for sebastian vettel the one where they break up??

What if xoz did a part two??

Where maybe it is rumoured that reader has started dating mark or jenson? But not really casue he did to show that seb still loves her

Shenanigans happens and in the end seb and reader are back together?

Thank you ❤️❤️

a/n: Thank you for requesting! Part two takes place around five years later. Sebastian drives for Ferrari. 

Part 1

Couple of years have passed since your breakup. You thought you moved on but you couldn’t bring yourself to get in a relationship with anyone other than Sebastian. You had no idea how he was doing. Anything you knew came from a tabloid or scant information provided by your mutual friends. He seemed more mature and calm than before which made your heart ache as the lack in those aspects caused your splitting. 

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, the hum of the paddock a distant murmur as he scrolled through his phone. His eyes widened as he stumbled upon the latest headline: "Mark Webber's New Flame: Sebastian Vettel's Ex?" He clicked on the article, his heart pounding as he saw pictures of you and his now ex-coworker at a charity event, laughing and appearing close. The rumors spread like wildfire, and his mind raced with a mix of jealousy and sadness.

He tossed his phone onto the table, frustration bubbling up inside him. The thought of you with Mark stirred something deep within - a realization of how much he still cared about you. The memory of your breakup, the harsh words exchanged, and the lingering pain of your absence came rushing back. He had been trying to move on, he changed a lot during the last couple of years, but seeing you with someone else, especially Mark, made it impossible to ignore his true feelings.

A few days later, after a practice session, Sebastian found himself pacing in his hotel room. His mind was a cluster of thoughts, and he couldn't shake the image of you and Mark together. He knew he had to talk to you, to clear the air. He couldn’t believe it was true. You two hadn’t spoken for a long time but dating Mark was unlike you. 

He picked up his phone and hesitated for a moment before typing a message: "Can we meet? I need to talk to you”. He still had your number saved on his phone, hoping for a moment like this one where with a rush of adrenaline he would text you.

The reply came quicker than he expected: "What happened to “hi, how are you”? Sure. How about that cafe near the circuit tomorrow at 3?"

The next afternoon, Sebastian arrived at the cafe, his heart pounding with nerves. He spotted you sitting at a corner table, looking even more beautiful than the day you two broke up and certainly more beautiful than in the pictures alongside Mark. As he approached, you glanced up, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and anxiety.

"Hi, Seb," you greeted him softly, a hesitant smile on your lips.

"Hi," he replied, taking a seat across from you. For a moment, there was an awkward silence as you both gathered your thoughts.

"I saw the article," he finally said, breaking the tension. "About you and Mark".

You sighed, shaking your head and smirking. "It's not what you think. Mark and I are just friends. The media blew it out of proportion, as usual. You know I wouldn’t break up with you and just go date your enemy”.

Relief washed over him, but he still felt the need to explain. "When I saw those pictures, it hit me hard. Not because I don't trust you or I'm not a fan of his, but because it made me realize how much I still care about you. Even after all those years".

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face. He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I never stopped thinking about you. I know I messed up, and I've spent every day regretting it. The partying, the distractions - I let them come between us, and it was the worst mistake of my life."

"Seb..." you started, but he cut you off gently. "Please, let me finish. I've changed. I’ve had to face some hard truths about myself, and I realize now what I lost. Seeing those rumors made me confront the fact that I still love you. I never stopped loving you. I have changed a lot, you know it".

You were silent for a moment, processing his words. Then, you reached out and took his hand, your touch sending a jolt of warmth through him. "I never stopped loving you either, Seb. But things can't just go back to the way they were. We have both evolved".

He nodded, squeezing your hand. "I understand. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I just want a chance to make things right”.

A small smile spread across your lips. "Then let's take it slow, one step at a time. We'll see where this goes".

Sebastian's heart swelled with hope. "I'd like that. More than anything. So, how have you been? What were you up to for those past years?”.

As you both sat there, hand in hand, the world outside the cafe seemed to fade away. For the first time in a long while, Sebastian felt a sense of peace and excitement thinking about your relationship. You spent hours catching up, getting to know each other and rebuilding broken bridges between you. 

Not even half a year later the two of you were spotted walking hand in hand and giggling. This time the headlines weren’t lying. 

June 9, 2024

[benedictscanvas]

i'd love to love you, someday - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: it's just pining fluff with a couple pet names

a/n: hello sunflowers <3 this can be read as a part two to this, but it works on its own! i can't stop writing soft!fic right now, so if you have any requests along those lines, please do send them in. this was also technically requested by @onceuponaoneshot, I know you asked for young!Remus but i'm picturing early twenties in this!! i hope that's okay and i'm wishing you so well lovely <3

---

Remus has now kissed the top of your head three times. He’s told you that he likes you twice. He still does not think that you’re aware of the overwhelmingly massive/silly little crush he has on you.

Crush is the wrong word, but he also thinks telling someone you love them before you’re even with them is, at best, naive and, at worst, selfish. He’s not in love with you, but he knows he could be. He knows he would be if he could kiss you on the top of the head whenever he liked, if he could run the backs of his knuckles over your cheek and stare at you, really stare at you. He knows he’d be in love with you then.

He needs to get you the message about his feelings first, though, because you seem persistent in ignoring them. He’d told you he liked you more than the rest of your friends at the night market and all you’d done is start referring to him as your best friend. He’d kissed you on the crown of your head twice at that time, then kissed you on the temple during a brave parting hug a week later. Just yesterday, after he’d watched you arguing with Sirius in the pub about something that didn’t matter at all, he told you breathlessly.

“I like you so much,” he had said, watching your chest heave after all that talking you’d done, watching a drop of sweat travel down your neck because the heating in this place is always far too hot.

You had laughed as if he said something funny and then almost shoved him over in your haste to get away from him. If he didn’t know you as he does, or if he listened to his insecurities, he’d think you were trying to brush him off. But he knows you, really knows you. He knows you were as embarrassed by his words as you are in the face of almost any affection. It’s why you call him an idiot so often, with that look in your eyes that gives him so much bloody hope. It hurts his chest sometimes.

Today he’s going to tell you how he feels and you’re going to understand him. He’s decided it.

“Remus!” you greet him, with an excitement he’s never sure he’s earned. You catch him in a tight hug, arms wrapped around his shoulders, so he braves his fourth kiss to the top of your head. When you pull away, you’re beaming up at him, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You saw me yesterday, lovely,” he says, just a fact, not a complaint. You furrow your brow. It’s adorable.

“Exactly. It’s so good to see you today. Especially without people trying to ruin our bestie time.”

He’s been pretending to hate that new phrase, so he rolls his eyes at you, but you just can’t stop beaming. He’s finding it difficult not to join you.

“You mean Sirius?”

You huff at the mention of him.

“He took up so much of my time last night. About cows! Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” he says, smiling wryly at you. You and Sirius could argue about anything and despite any protests, you both enjoyed it immensely.

“Right,” you huff again, “But still. It meant not nearly enough time talking to you. And I want to hear about your week! You said there was a promotion you were thinking of going for?”

He had said that. In a group setting, where he didn’t expect anyone to ever ask about it again. He’d been threatening to go for a promotion for a few years, but never quite managing to go for it.

“I thought you’d assume I chickened out again.”

“You’ve never chickened out!” you protest, linking you arm through his as you start walking through the park you’ve met in. At some point you’ll try to remember stop for lunch, but Remus isn’t sure when, “You decided it wasn’t for you.”

“Because I was scared,” he argued but you slapped him gently on the hand instinctively.

“Stop being self-deprecating” you warn him, “I don’t enjoy it.”

And he never wants to do anything you don’t enjoy, so he stops immediately. It’s amazing the effect you can have on him. He’s going to tell you so, so soon. Very soon. Next few sentences, he thinks. But then sentences go by and you get into a rather brilliant conversation and he just can’t butt in with his own wants. 

“Lily thinks he’s being stubborn but I think he just wants everything to be right for her.”

The two of you have been talking about Lily and James and their potential engagement for a few minutes now. It’s only a matter of time, but how much time is up for debate.

“He’s a romantic. It has to be perfect for her. You’d think he knows by now there’s no such thing.”

“You don’t believe in perfect?” you ask him, no longer clinging on to his arm but walking close enough that your arms brush every now and then.

“Not objective perfection, no,” he says, measuring his words carefully, “But I think something can be perfect to someone, you know? People can be perfect for each other.”

You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he knows the teasing is coming. He feels the flush creeping up his neck already.

“Like soulmates?”

Your eyes are alight with mischief.

“I suppose. If they’re not predestined. If you can choose your soulmate.”

“You think we were destined to be besties or that we chose each other then?” you say, as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world and you’re not implying that you might be soulmates. He feels lightheaded.

“You think we’re soulmates?”

“Answer my question, Rem! It’s a hypothetical, you love a hypothetical.”

You still look mischievous, not hypothetical, but he’ll answer you anyway.

“I don’t know how you feel, but I think I chose you as one of my favourite people. I feel very lucky you chose me back.”

He’s definitely blushing. He can feel it, even without bringing his hands to his cheeks to give it away. You’re grinning at him, and it’s making him blush more, but he also feels better. Feels like you might finally understand his meaning.

“This is why I can’t argue with you like I do Sirius,” you say, which wasn’t what he was expecting, “We agree on far too much.”

He smiles down at the ground to stop himself from barking out an altogether unattractive laugh. But it’s his chance and he’s going to take it, because he wants to so desperately.

“If my soul has a mate, I think it’s you,” he says quietly.

He’s sure his heart stutters in his chest in the brief silence that follows. You both walk a few more slow paces forwards but then you finally speak up.

“I’ve never had a person like you, all my life,” you say seriously, staring up into his face for a moment before you have to look where you’re going again and the moment he thinks is coming fades, “We must be as close as it gets, buddy.”

Buddy. His heart sinks. You are the prettiest human being in the world and the most oblivious and Remus really, really wants to fall in love with you. If only you’d let him. If only you could hear him basically declare you his potential soulmate and realise he might have some intentions towards you that weren’t very platonic.

He’s not sure if he’s chickened out or if you have, but he decides whatever moment he wanted isn’t going to arrive today. He spots a nearby cafe after a few minutes talking about his potential promotion, which he pinky promises to go for, so he’ll have to follow through.

A three hour lunch later, and another half hour walking back to your cars, and he hasn’t said another word to you about his feelings. But he’s had a lovely few hours and he thinks you have too.

"Bye, Rem. See you Wednesday?"

There's four of you going to play mini golf on Wednesday night. He hates mini golf.

"Can't wait. Bye, sweetheart."

Whatever rush he thinks he’s in fades when you kiss him on the cheek as you say goodbye. Once you’ve driven off in your car, waving to him all the way down the road, he decides that you might be working up the courage for something too, and he might need to wait until you’re both feeling brave to do something about it. 

He can wait. He carries that kiss on the cheek with him the rest of the weekend and into the next week, where he puts his name down for that promotion first thing Monday.

And if it’s solely so he has something to text you about, so be it.

---

if you've gotten this far, please know i'm very grateful. really hope you enjoyed, sunflowers <3

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do- Part 3

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts. wc: 1263

“Sorry for intruding on your haunt! Total accident. Please don’t disembowel me. Sorry again,” Dick read off the card that had been tucked into the gift basket. He glanced from the card, to the rest of the assembled batclan, and back to the card in confusion.

Of course Dick had insisted on coming with Jason to check over Crime Alley. Of course when they found the basket Dick had insisted on bringing it back to the Cave to be tested for poisons—

“They’re bathbombs, who’s going to fucking poison bathbombs.”

“We’ve seen weirder, Jaybird.”

—and so of course the whole family was there now.

Before Dick had even let them move the basket, he checked it out for basic booby traps. (To be fair, this was the first thing Jason did too.) Once the basked had been to the Cave, it was checked over, again, by various Bats. Then, Tim had taken all the contents to run a chemical analysis on the chocolate and bathbombs (seriously, who poisons bathbombs?). And finally, Bruce gave the all clear on examining the basket itself.

Dick had snagged the little card out of it’s little envelope before Jason could even make a grab for it and read off the message. “’Please don’t disembowel me’? What the fuck, Jason.”

Jason raised his hands up with a shrug. “Don’t ask me. Sure, ‘please don’t behead me’ I could get—” he ignored the slight flinch that caused from Tim and Bruce— “But pretty sure word has gotten around that killing isn’t really my sort of MO anymore.”

Thankfully the computer beeped before they could get into all that.

Again.

Tim read over the results before announcing, “Report came back clean on everything.”

“Huh.” Dick seemed actually surprised by that. Jason was feeling really fucking done with his family.

“Perhaps a chemical inside the bathbombs that will explode when exposed to water?” Damian suggested.

Really fucking done.

“We do all get how messed up it is that your brains go there, right?” Duke asked. (Duke might be Jason’s favorite at the moment.)

“Can’t be that,” Tim said, ignoring Duke’s comment about their mental stability with practiced ease. “I took a sample core all the way to the center. It really is just a basket with bathbombs and some chocolate.”

“Sweet,” Stephanie said as she made a lunge for the box of chocolates. Jason quickly pulled the basket and its contents out of reach.

“Back off, it’s my gift,” Jason said with a snarl that was only half for show. As much as he had calmed back down, he still felt tense— like there was a heavy weight in the center of his chest.

Damian gave him a wholly unimpressed look. “Why? Do you deserve it for, and I quote, not disemboweling someone?”

“I mean, I haven’t,” Jason said with a shrug as he grabbed his helmet; the gift basket was tucked securely under the other arm.

“Jason, we have to talk about this,” Bruce said in that tone of his; the one that implied Jason was making a stupid mistake. The one he always seemed to have—

Jason shook the thoughts away. He didn’t need to tempt the Pit today by doing down that path. He could feel that green tinged anger lurking on the edge of his mind already. He kept heading to his bike. If he got out of here, the temptation to pick a fight would go away. He knew that. He just had to make the choice to walk away from the fight. “Fuck no. Look. I’ll check my system and put up new cameras or some shit, okay?”

The footage on every camera he had up around the exterior of his apartment had either shown nothing at all or had glitched out into a fuzz of static. There had been someone at his door— a slight person, dark clothing— but that's as much detail as they could get. Which was, sure, concerning, but seemed like no harm no foul. (Not that the rest of the family agreed with that assessment.)

“I’ll bring over some better cameras in a few days and check through your system,” Tim said, already turning his attention to the task.

Jason didn’t want that.

He didn’t want anyone else messing with his system. But he was starting to understand that having his hands on the information of his family was Tim’s way of showing he cared. Jason hated it, but he understood it, so he’d allow it. He owed Tim more than a little acceptance. He owed Tim so much.

“Sure thing, Replacement.”

-----

Jason spent hours going over every inch of his place when he returned. None of the traps or markers had been triggered to show that anyone had actually come inside his space. The feeling he had experienced at dinner hadn’t come back. All that he felt was a slight unease and that was easy enough to dismiss as lingering feelings from earlier in the day. It wasn’t any worse than a Pit hangover.

Finally, satisfied that his place was secure, Jason sank down onto his couch with a huff of air.

The gift basket mocked him from where it sat on the coffee table. He’d dumped it there when he first came in, ignoring the odd present in favor of making sure that his place was safe. It would have been convenient for someone to break in and set up a trap while they were off dealing with the basket, but no one had. Now both him and the Pit were settled and the basket was still there.

Who the fuck gave bathbombs for not being disemboweled?

Leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, Jason plucked out the card. It was a simple thing, just a bit of cream cardstock in a little envelope. No logo or distinguishing features. The writing was a scrawled, half cursive— just this side of legible. Distinctive, but not any handwriting that Jason recognized. It wasn’t signed.

That would have been too easy.

That was the real issue of it all, wasn’t it? Who would leave a note like that for him? Jason Todd shouldn’t be getting a note like that. Red Hood, sure, he could understand getting such a message. He hated it a little, now that he was further away from the worst of the Pit Rage, but he got it. But him as Jason? Reclusive, miraculously returned son of Bruce Wayne? Jason shouldn’t have anyone afraid of him like that.

It spoke to someone knowing of his life as vigilante turned crime boss turned vigilante again, and that was dangerous. It was dangerous for him. It was dangerous for his family. It was dangerous for Crime Alley.

It was just another fucking thing he had to deal with. As if it wasn’t enough to having only recently, officially, returned to the living. There was also the work he was trying to do as Red Hood, the work he was trying to do for Crime Alley as Jason, and the effort of trying to spend more time with his family (preferably without stabbing anyone). Now he had this mystery too.

Maybe the bathbombs actually were a good gift and didn’t that idea make him scowl. When was the last time he’d actually taken some time to just relax? It had to be a while with the size that his ‘to read’ pile had grown to was any indication.

He could use one. They were just bathbombs.

He could run a warm bath, relax, crack open a book, eat some chocolate… and just try not to worry for a bit. Nothing was going to be solved tonight. Bruce had ordered him off patrol— which normally wouldn’t stop him, but Cass had given him big worried eyes too. There were no other pressing matters. His apartment was secure…

Fuck it. He grabbed the little basket and headed to the bathroom.

Time for some self care.

-----

AN: We'll likely get a Danny scene to cap chapter 2 off, but I though this was a nice little bundle to post! And my poor migraine is going to get even worse with the Artic front so wanted to get this posted~

Thank you all for such a lovely response on the other parts! This will be going up on ao3, but I want to get at least three chapters done first to get a little buffer. Everyone who asked should be in the tag list (as of yesterday), but if I missed you, or you want to be added, just let me know in the replies!

Stay delightful my darlings!

@fisticuffsatapplebees | @thegatorsgoose | @wolfeyedwitch | @lazy-bouqet | @confusedandghostly | @glomsk | @kailithiel | @bahfev | @d4ydr34min9 | @claudiashq | @someonebored0100 | @pastalavistamf | @samgirl98 | @angelheartgamer | @lehana37 | @spiteismymiddlename | @rosecinnamonbun | @demon-cat-goes-woof | @violet-catsarelife | @trickerdi | @avelnfear | @undead-essence | @basilf1res | @amillionandonefandoms | @stealingyourbones | @sarcastic-yami | @bun-fish | @aconitewolfsbane | @dontfightmecauseillcry | @omgnectarina

[ddollfface]

𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐲

𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙞 𝙊𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙝𝙞 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨

Warnings; bad writing, might be ooc (don't come at me lol), not proofread, obsessional behavior, idk if this is really Yandere tbh, honestly, this is just be dipping my toes into fanfiction... If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ I've only watched the tv shows, so all of my information comes from that and the wiki. If anyone knows where to read the manga, then please message me! Also, this is inspired by @mothwingwritings and @yandere-writer-momo ♡

Throughout the series, Katsumi is shown to be loyal to those he deems close and important to him. One of these people is Karate (I suppose, it's a thing, but whatever). Even when faced with people he respects, like Retsu, he refuses to give it up, to deny the power it has. This is shown during the tournament saga where Retsu demands that Katsumi admit that Chinese Kenpō is superior to Karate, of course, he denies it.

Now, what does this say about Katsumi? Well, it shows that when he feels loyalty towards someone/something, he'll cling to it and fight for it until his last breath. Katsumi is strong-willed, and never gives in without a fight; he fights for others' honor. He's been shown to have a vengeance streak, where he'll seek out those he's deemed to have defamed the people he holds dear to him.

He's very smooth with his words and has a boyish charm to him, allowing you to drop your guard when you really shouldn't. His sheepish smile and constant cocky appeal cause you to feel relaxed and underestimate him, forgetting that he's a dangerous man who could snap you in half with his pinky. It's really too easy for him to find where you live, sneak into your apartment, and watch you. All without you noticing; how sweet of you. You don't even realize that Katsumi has grown so attached, not noticing how close he sticks to your side or how his eyes darken whenever you talk to Retsu or Katou (if he ever comes around).

I can imagine Katsumi with most types of darlings, but I think he'd lean towards darlings who are a Good Samaritan. How they show that empathetic behavior solely depends on their personality. You don't have to be energetic and bubbly to be a good person and to help others, instead, you can be quiet and timid. You can be a little colder, but as long as you're willing to step in and help others when they're in need, even if you might put yourself in danger, Katsumi will ultimately find you attractive and court you.

I think that the empathetic characteristic is the root of his attraction, seeing you be so kind and caring just makes his heart swell. He knows you're a good person, and that's what makes you so attractive. Well, you're appearance is also a key factor, but ignore that.

Katsumi just wants someone selfless and willing to put themselves on the line for others, no matter if they know the person or not, as he knows that they'd make a good partner, a good mama. That's ultimately Katsumi's goal in life: to have a family. I subscribe to the headcanon that Katsumi has a breeding kink and he loves children; I don't care what anybody says.

There's no doubt in my mind that he's a loverboy who just wants someone to love, but things go wrong when that love isn't recognized or reciprocated. Not only that, but Katsumi's love can be... overbearing, to say the least. He can get a little too excited, especially when he's around you. And that's when his boyish nature comes in. He becomes too aggressive with his courting tactics (this is similar to Ali Jr. and Baki, me thinks).

These three guys, especially Katsumi, have been shown to be a little blinded by arrogance and their youth (not saying that other characters, who are older, haven't). They're all in their early twenties, and Katsumi being twenty in the Pickle saga, meaning they don't have a lot of experience with women.

Now that we're on the topic of experience, I think that Katsumi has been on dates with women, talked to women, and flirted with women. I mean, look at him. He's attractive, both physically and emotionally, and he's in the prime of his life. Not only that, but he's the adoptive son of Doppo Orochi, though I doubt that matters to most girls, but whatever. This means that he's got money, a lot of it. Doppo's wealth has been reiterated throughout the series that Katsumi is a spoiled kid, and I see that point.

So there's no denying that girls are attracted to him, and I think Katsumi isn't afraid to go up to women; he's quite charismatic. But why doesn't he have a girl? I think that's partially because of his dedication to his martial arts, making it difficult to maintain a relationship, and most girls wouldn't stick around for that. Now, that factor wipes out half of his dating pool, making it difficult for him to have anything but a one-night stand or a few dates.

He can't help but long for someone deeper, long for someone who truly cares for him. Katsumi wants someone who needs him, and relies on him to be provided for, and cared for. He wants to be acknowledged for his hard work, how calloused his hands are, and how good of a leader he strives to be. He just wants someone who'd be his cheerleader, someone who'd support him the way he'd support them.

This drive and desperate need for someone causes him to act irrationally when he finally finds someone even close to his dreams. It doesn't matter where or when you meet, whether it's before or after he's lost his arm, as long as he feels that recognition, he's lovestruck.

(This is where I go off on a tangent, I'm so sorry)

I've read a book called Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell, and it's all about humans and how we think as a species. He goes on and on about this thing called thin slicing. Thin slicing is an ability that all humans have, something we've developed through years of evolution, and it's the ability to make a split-second decision (on a situation or person) based off of little information. According to Gladwell, we do this every day. Thin slicing is fueled by our fight or flight response, more so whether or not we fight, fight, or freeze.

Gladwell says that the moment we make eye contact with someone, or speak a singular word with someone, we've already decided whether or not we like them or not, whether or not we'll befriend them. In multiple studies, Gladwell cites, he says that you can determine whether or not a couple will have a long-lasting relationship just based off of one conversation, a conversation that's no more than a minute long.

It's all about subconscious cues we give off when we speak, much like the phrase 'actions speak louder than words.' Certain cues attract people to each other, unknowing actions that we do that pull others toward us.

Honestly, it's a really interesting thing, and I think that because a lot of Baki men rely on their instincts, and they use thin slicing in every one of their fights, they'll use their instincts to determine who their darlings are. If you were to ask any of the Baki men, in this hypothetical world where they have a darling, I think they wouldn't be able to answer. That they wouldn't know. And that's because it was an instinctual decision, something they knew subconsciously the moment they met you, you, you.

There was just something about you that drew them in, and they would be able to give a broad definition, but they wouldn't be able to tell specifics. And that's the beauty of attraction, so if you think about it, love at first sight is a real thing, yeah?

End of tangent

Because of this, he'll take any one of your interactions and dramatize them. You say that it's cold outside? Now, he thinks you're trying to hint to him that you want his jacket (you don't; you were making small talk). You say that you think his hair looks nice today? Welp, that means you must want to play with his hair, right (Natsue just told you he got a haircut). Hell, your shoulders brush against each other while you two are walking? You're practically telling him that you want a hug! (No, you just were too close to the street).

The point is that any normal reaction or conversation is used to fuel his obsession with you. Within a few weeks of knowing each other, he's thinking that you're going to be the mama of his children. There's no doubt in his mind that you're meant to be. Katsumi will even look at your zodiacs. Did you know that you two are compatible? What a coincidence. It must be fate.