mrs.darkandyandere

Swallowing the thick mixture of fear that threatens to clog your throat, you glance at the metal door across the room and Matt tuts, as if he catched the movement of your eyes even though his own are not supposed to work.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” he casually says, toying with the handle of his white cane.

You don’t like how relaxed he is, leaning against the wall with that handsome grin that undoubtedly does wonders with the ladies. 

“Do what?” you push back, playing dumb.

Matt’s grin grows wider and he nods towards the door. He’s closer to it than you are, but you have the gift of sight on your side. That has to give you an advantage…. right?

“I know what you’re thinking.” he confidently declares. “I can hear your heartbeat, it’s going off pretty fast. You’re scared and confused, but let’s not rush into mistakes.”

You scoff, the sound coming out less sharp than intended. “The only mistake here is what you’re doing. I’m leaving this place, I’m not… you can’t force me to stay here.”

“Think of this as your new home. It’s a nice apartment, right? Much better than your old one.” he declares, tilting his head and the dark round glasses twinkle. You press your palms against your pants, rubbing the clamminess away.

One careful step towards the door doesn’t get you anywhere closer to escaping, Matt immediately pushing away from the wall, shoulders straightening up. What the hell.

“What did we just talk about mistakes?”

“I thought you were blind?” you wonder, confused and suspicious at the same time. 

Matt’s lips curl into another smile. “I am. But being blind doesn’t mean my ears don’t work. They do, quite impressively if I may add.” 

He takes a step in your direction and you scramble back, away from him. 

“I’m faster than you are. Stronger too. I’d say those are reasons good enough for you not to try a stealthy escape. Won’t work anyways.” the smile slowly drops and his face turns more serious, more dangerous.

“You’d just be wasting time and energy for both of us and then I’d have to punish you for acting out. Still haven’t quite figured out how I’d do that, but it might involve a few mean words and broken limbs, maybe some blood. Not sure yet.”

Your unsteady legs carry you another step back, feeling your heart in your throat. He’s blind, Matt can’t see. But you can. You have the upper hand here.

Then why the hell are you cowering away like a small child?

“Or you’d prefer if I took it up with your family? That would be some strong incentive for you, wouldn’t it?” 

Your blood freezes at the suggestion, at the darkness that settles in Matt’s face. 

“I bet your parents are pretty excited for their cruise holiday next month. It’d be a shame to ruin their vacations.“ Matt hums, “Or your older sister, who just had a little baby boy. Would hate for anything to happen to them.”

“Please, don’t… just leave them out of this.” you plead, desperate. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do. Really, I’m trying to leave them out but that really just depends on you.” Matt shrugs his shoulders, with a small sigh. “What happens to your family is in your hands. Guess it all comes down to if you wanna do this the hard or the easy way. I prefer the easy one, to be honest, but it's your choice.”

The grin returns to Matt’s face in full-force, charming and confident like the conversation about broken limbs and killing your family never happened, like everything is fine. 

You hesitate for a moment before making your way to the kitchen, nearly wincing with every step you take with the ball of your feet aching from the short heels you wore all day.

Matt is right where he said he’d be, stirring the sauce cooking in the pan before going back to chopping off onions. Sometimes - well, most times - you’re jealous of how good your boyfriend is with multitasking, handling and juggling tasks with a precision and efficiency that you can only poorly mimic. 

“How was your day?” Matt asks, after pressing his lips to yours in a short kiss. 

“Good. Just another day at work, you know.” you mumble, pushing your face into the crook of his shoulder. “Do you need help with that?” 

“No, don’t worry, I got it.” Matt replies, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Want me to pour you some wine? You sound like you need it.” 

You smile against his skin and close your eyes for a moment, finding it hard to blink them open, exhaustion making your eyelids heavy. 

“I’m good. Don’t wanna fall asleep before dinner.” you say before sniffing the air, the scent of oregano and garlic clinging to the kitchen space. “Can’t miss out on this food, it smells delicious, Matt.”

Matt chuckles, “I’m glad to be of service. Can’t let my girlfriend survive on take-out only, now can I?”

You let out a small laugh and close your eyes for another second. God, you’re so tired, you can barely keep them open for any longer. Work has been busy these past weeks and the load keeps on stacking up, draining both your energy and sanity. 

Matt breaks off your trance when he speaks again. 

“Maybe a pre-dinner nap might do you some good. You seem exhausted.”

“I’m okay.” you say, pulling away from him and fighting back a yawn. 

Matt puts the knife down on the board and turns his head towards you. 

“Are you? Are you really?” he questions you with a small sigh. 

“I am.” you don’t hesitate, the answer slipping right through your lips. “Matt, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you sure sound fine.” 

You ignore the sarcasm in his voice, but Matt refuses to let the conversation drift away. “You’re exhausted. I can feel that. That company is working you to the bone and you let them.” 

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. 

“Matt… not this again.” 

“It’s the truth, even if you don’t wanna face it.” he argues, “The way they keep increasing your workload and pushing you to do overtime. And for what? For a measly paycheck. How kind of them.”

“I can’t just quit.”

“Why not? It’s not like you’re doing rocket science for them, anyways. They’ll find someone else to overwork.”

You twist your fingers nervously. 

“But I need that job, Matt.”

Matt raises his eyebrows. “You do?”

“Well, my portion of the bills, the rent, groceries…”

“Which I don’t mind paying for. I don’t, truly.” Matt offers and you immediately shake your head, even though your boyfriend can’t see the movement. 

“Matt, no-”

“I’d prefer to take over the bills, if at least you got to rest a bit. C’mon, think about it.”

You shake your head again. “I can’t, Matt. The job market isn’t great right now and I don’t know how long it’d take for me to find something else.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that too much about it. We could make a deal. I take care of the bills and you take care of the apartment and the chores. Sounds fair to me.” Matt proposes with a shrug of his shoulders.

An incredulous chuckle escapes from you and you peer at Matt, confused whether he’s joking or not. 

“Matt, that’s not… it’s not realistic.” you carefully say. Matt reaches out, hand caressing up and down your arm. 

“Why not? It sounds like a good plan to me.” he argues, “I make enough money to handle all of the bills. You always liked taking care of the apartment, all the cleaning and cooking, right? Divide and conquer, sweetheart. Trust me, as a lawyer I can tell it’s a good arrangement.” 

You stare at Matt and the seriousness in his face tells you this isn’t a joke. He actually means it. Your answer doesn’t change though. You can’t accept it.

–

A few days later…

You’re half asleep scrolling on your phone when the email from work pings in your inbox and you lazily click on the notification.

Your eyes scan the email, reading the content before the realization sinks down. You straighten up and push yourself off from the bed, startled and in shock, re-reading the email. This can’t be, this can’t be right. 

Matt comes out from the bathroom, rubbing a small towel to his damp hair. “Sweetheart? Is everything okay? Your heartbeat just-”

“Matt,” you interrupt him, voice shaky as your eyes threaten to leak. “They fired me. They just-Matt, they-”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s alright.” Matt rushes towards you, firm arms closing up on you in a tight hug as he comforts you. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine, don’t worry.”

The door shakes as the knocks keep coming, annoyingly insistent even after a few minutes of being answered with silence.

Repressing back a sigh, you quietly tip toe closer to the door.

This is ruining your night and honestly, it’s getting a bit creepy. Not just the fact that Dex knows where you live - sure, he works in the FBI, maybe he found your address in their database even if that’s an option you’re very uncertain about - but why can’t he just take the hint and leave you alone?

Your name gets called from the hallway and a peep into the magic eye shows Dex still posted outside, one hand brushing through his short hair as he looks away, shoulders slumping. 

“Please, I just wanna talk. That’s all I want.” he pleads, a slightly different version of the same line he keeps using to try to get your attention. “I know you’re in there, I saw… I mean, I can hear you.”

You freeze, trying to quiet down your breathing. Great. Now that Dex knows you’re in here, he won’t leave your door the entire night.

You don’t want to call the police, that would be a mess, but maybe if one of your neighbours comes out to complain, maybe then he’ll take the hint. 

A wrinkle appears between his brows and he sniffs. He’s close enough for you to look at him and the hallway lightening doesn’t do any favors to the deep circles underneath his eyes or the way he nervously keeps tugging at the collar of the white shirt.

He looks like a nervous mess. 

“Please, I… I just want to explain myself and say how sorry I am about the other night. I know I must've given you the wrong impression, but please, just hear me out.” Dex says, his breathing becoming heavy enough for you to believe he’s gonna have some sort of panic attack. 

You hesitate, hand latching onto the knob by instinct but the good sense left in you refuses to let you twist it. You don’t know Dex, not really, and it’d be tremendously stupid to let an unknown man with whom you’ve been on one disastrous date inside your apartment. 

“Listen, I wasn’t… “ Dex looks both ways at the corridor, before lowering his voice, “... stalking you, okay? I just… happened to notice a couple of things about you. I have a good eye and we cross each other quite a lot, y’know. That’s all.”

You squirm, not quite believing in him as his explanation sounds more like a half-baked lie than the reality.

No one notices such personal details, like he had the other night. Knowing you don’t like onions in your food, that you were wearing your favorite color, that you prefer your current job rather than your old one, that you don’t have a dog. 

On the other side of the door, Dex exhales. “Can you just talk to me? Please.” he grits out. 

When silence is all he receives, his jaw tightens as he calls out your name again, voice gaining an impatient edge, knuckles pounding the door. 

You hold back a sigh and as silently as you can, you slowly step away from the door only to halt when a particularly furious knock shakes the door. 

“If you don’t open this door, I’ll have to break it.” he snarls out the threat and you can’t help the scared yelp that escapes from you when a mean punch is delivered to the cheap wood, shaking the entire door on its frame. “Is that what you want? Uh? Then open the door and we can speak like adults.”

Your heart skips a beat before racing wildly and you gulp when your name gets repeated. This is officially getting out of hand.

“Fine. Have it your way. I’m gonna count to three and if you don’t open the door til then…” Dex leaves the threat open and you don’t waste another second, scrambling to get to your phone that you left on the couch. 

“One.” Dex hisses, the door knob rattling and twisting wildly. The phone slips from your shaky hands and slips between two pillows. “Two.” a fist gets slammed on the door just as you manage to retrieve the phone. 

“Last chance…” Dex warns with a hiss as you race to the bedroom, blindly trying to unlock the screen and praying for the flimsy lock of the room to hold up until the police shows up. 

You barely manage to slam the door of the bedroom close, clicking the lock into place when a voice booms.

The door shakes as the knocks keep coming, annoyingly insistent even after a few minutes of being answered with silence.

Repressing back a sigh, you quietly tip toe closer to the door.

This is ruining your night and honestly, it’s getting a bit creepy. Not just the fact that Dex knows where you live - sure, he works in the FBI, maybe he found your address in their database even if that’s an option you’re very uncertain about - but why can’t he just take the hint and leave you alone?

Your name gets called from the hallway and a peep into the magic eye shows Dex still posted outside, one hand brushing through his short hair as he looks away, shoulders slumping. 

“Please, I just wanna talk. That’s all I want.” he pleads, a slightly different version of the same line he keeps using to try to get your attention. “I know you’re in there, I saw… I mean, I can hear you.”

You freeze, trying to quiet down your breathing. Great. Now that Dex knows you’re in here, he won’t leave your door the entire night.

You don’t want to call the police, that would be a mess, but maybe if one of your neighbours comes out to complain, maybe then he’ll take the hint. 

A wrinkle appears between his brows and he sniffs. He’s close enough for you to look at him and the hallway lightening doesn’t do any favors to the deep circles underneath his eyes or the way he nervously keeps tugging at the collar of the white shirt.

He looks like a nervous mess. 

“Please, I… I just want to explain myself and say how sorry I am about the other night. I know I must've given you the wrong impression, but please, just hear me out.” Dex says, his breathing becoming heavy enough for you to believe he’s gonna have some sort of panic attack. 

You hesitate, hand latching onto the knob by instinct but the good sense left in you refuses to let you twist it. You don’t know Dex, not really, and it’d be tremendously stupid to let an unknown man with whom you’ve been on one disastrous date inside your apartment. 

“Listen, I wasn’t… “ Dex looks both ways at the corridor, before lowering his voice, “... stalking you, okay? I just… happened to notice a couple of things about you. I have a good eye and we cross each other quite a lot, y’know. That’s all.”

You squirm, not quite believing in him as his explanation sounds more like a half-baked lie than the reality.

No one notices such personal details, like he had the other night. Knowing you don’t like onions in your food, that you were wearing your favorite color, that you prefer your current job rather than your old one, that you don’t have a dog. 

On the other side of the door, Dex exhales. “Can you just talk to me? Please.” he grits out. 

When silence is all he receives, his jaw tightens as he calls out your name again, voice gaining an impatient edge, knuckles pounding the door. 

You hold back a sigh and as silently as you can, you slowly step away from the door only to halt when a particularly furious knock shakes the door. 

“If you don’t open this door, I’ll have to break it.” he snarls out the threat and you can’t help the scared yelp that escapes from you when a mean punch is delivered to the cheap wood, shaking the entire door on its frame. “Is that what you want? Uh? Then open the door and we can speak like adults.”

Your heart skips a beat before racing wildly and you gulp when your name gets repeated. This is officially getting out of hand.

“Fine. Have it your way. I’m gonna count to three and if you don’t open the door til then…” Dex leaves the threat open and you don’t waste another second, scrambling to get to your phone that you left on the couch. 

“One.” Dex hisses, the door knob rattling and twisting wildly. The phone slips from your shaky hands and slips between two pillows. “Two.” a fist gets slammed on the door just as you manage to retrieve the phone. 

“Last chance…” Dex warns with a hiss as you race to the bedroom, blindly trying to unlock the screen and praying for the flimsy lock of the room to hold up until the police shows up. 

You barely manage to slam the door of the bedroom close, clicking the lock into place when a voice booms.

“Ethan… stop.”

Your words have no effect over him, his lips still sucking the sensitive skin of your neck. But what bothers you the most are your boyfriend's wandering hands, each time going deeper inside your shirt and your pants.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale hard, trying to find the courage to stop Ethan. Your breath stops when a hand starts jumbling with your zipper. You instinctively bat his hand away, eyes glossy with incoming tears. 

“Stop!” 

He finally pulls away, face shocked at your sudden reaction. Then he notices the tears and his annoyed expression cracks, replaced with remorse and guilt. 

“Babe, shit. I’m so sorry.” he apologizes, trying to make you look at him. But you don’t, pulling your knees to your chest, burying your face in them.

You’re not ready for sex but no matter how many times you declare that, Ethan still tries to change your mind, thinking you’re as horny as he is. 

He always pushes your limits over and over again and you’re slowly getting fed up with it. 

Your soft sniffs are the only noise in the room, Ethan attempts to make you look at him going fruitless as you decidedly ignore him. 

“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to push things this far.” you raise your head, glaring at him through the rainfall of tears. 

“You always say that, Ethan. I’m so tired of you pushing my boundaries. I’m not ready yet.” you declare, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over your bare legs, finding little comfort in it. 

Ethan chews the inside of his cheek, his curls falling to his eyes as he sits in silence, remorsefully.  A hesitant hand comes to caress your cheek and when you don’t avoid his touch, he cleans some of your tears. 

Pressing a small kiss to your forehead, he apologizes. 

“I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll do better, I swear.”

You find it impossible to stay mad at him, especially when he truly looks this upset, allowing him to pull you into a hug. 

Only you don’t know that he doesn't truly mean to keep his promise, already planning on the most effective way to fuck you.

Because consent is irrelevant when you’re already his property.

Uneasiness keeps stirring inside you, fruit of the oppressive silence looming in the room. The room is immersed in darkness, just like your future. 

You twist around in the bed, restless and tired at the same time. Exhaustion clings to every muscle in your body but the sleep evades you. A storm of emotions doesn’t let you sleep. Anxiety, uneasiness, stress, sadness, anger.

Your mind can’t rest, not even for a minute. 

The nightstand clock marks nearly five in the morning. 

You turn to the side, shifting the blankets around you. A quiet grunt has you freezing.

Glancing back, Bakugo’s sprawled body takes more of your side of the bed than you’d like, his hand latched to your forearm like a rope. With how restless you’ve been and his feather-light sleep, you’re still half expecting Bakugo to wake and nag you about how fundamental sleep and resting are for you at this stage.

But his heavy breathing reveals that he’s still out cold, deeply worn-out after a last-minute emergency that took him away for the better part of yesterday’s afternoon. You watched the news while they covered his nearly two-hour fight with a fire quirk villain. It was long and gruesome and he won it in the end, like he always does.  

You toss around for a few minutes, trying any and every position that could possibly allow you to fall asleep. And then you give up.

Insomnia has become an inseparable companionship for you these past days and tonight isn’t gonna be any different. The stress makes it worse, especially now that you’ve reached that daunting deadline.

Any day now. Any minute now. 

Finally giving up on the long-lost quest for sleep, you leave the bed. It’s a bit of a struggle, especially with the added weight on your belly but you make it work.

The bedroom door creaks the slightest when closed and you hover near the door for a moment, waiting to see if it woke Bakugo up. No sounds come from inside the room. Nothing happens. 

You walk away, crossing corners while carefully wobbling down the long hallway until you’ve reached your destination: the living room. Much like the rest of the apartment, the main lights are off which leaves the room in a darker sombre.

But unlike the remaining divisions, there’s a gentle lightening casted from the tall Christmas tree, which is impressively illuminated with a colorful array of red, green, golden and blue. 

Your eyes don’t leave the tree as you sit down on the couch, fascinated and enamoured by the light show. The shine is dim and slow as the colors blend into each other as they transform. 

There’s something comforting about them. Peaceful. Or maybe you’re just desperate enough to seek comfort in what used to be a happy occasion for you. Especially now that change is on the verge of happening. Unconsciously, your hand reaches down. Palm resting on your very round stomach.

There’s not a single muscle in your body that isn’t hurting. Everything aches. Despite how much you hated the first few months of pregnancy, that was nothing compared to these final months. It’s nothing short of a nightmare, bloated and heavy, back aching so much that it gets hard to stand for too long and it’s been a few decent weeks since you’ve been able to freely move around without the constant heaviness and size of your belly slowing you down.

A Christmas baby. A perfect occasion to welcome the baby and grow the family. Or so Bakugo said. He’s eager to meet them, his precious baby. You, on the other hand, aren’t so sure about it. 

A cramp in your back as you leaning down against the pillows, lips parting as you breathe in. Something stirs in your gut, leaving you uncertain of whether it’s the baby or just anxiety. 

Right below the tree, the floor is swamped with an impressive amount of wrapped boxes and you almost cringe at the small fortune everything combined must make up for.

A small amount is for Bakugo, with him finally allowing you to shop online without hovering over your shoulder, even though it’s a given fact that he most certainly does check for the money transactions. Unsure of what a wealthy high-ranking Pro-Hero could possibly want, you settled for simple things.

A fancy watch. An All Might card collection set. An All Might comic book. A new shaving kit. A boxing book. A ridiculously expensive whiskey. Random things you clicked around cause you didn’t want to waste too much time thinking about what your kidnapper would enjoy as a Christmas gift. 

Another portion of the presents, a bigger one, are for you. ‘You deserve every gift in the world’ is what Bakugo had said, lips lovingly touching your forehead while his big hand caressed the bump protruding from your torso. 

And the bigger count of the boxes is meant for the little one that is yet to arrive.

You look at them, absently wondering if Bakugo intends on waiting for the baby’s arrival to open the presents. As if the baby would need even more gifts when considering the already overwhelming amount of toys and plushes decorating the nursery and the playroom Bakugo so thoroughly designed and built.

A sigh half escapes past your lips at that.

Nothing was left behind or half-done with Bakugo. He really took matters into his own hands and did all the work, spending countless hours and days searching and studying for the best room designs, the perfect lights, the most educational books to read to babies, cognitive-development toys, ...

He’s the epitome of well-prepared. More than ready to be a father. Unlike you. You’re not ready. Far from it.

As much as you try not to harbor any ill-feelings towards the baby, it’s deeply hard to feel anything akin to love for it. Conceived under extremely unfortunate circumstances and certainly to be raised in an even worse environment.

Will the child eventually see through the cracks of its parents relationship as they grow older and wiser? Or will Bakugo do everything in his power to keep the facade of a happy family? 

You don’t know. Sometimes it gets so hard to pretend, to put on a happy face and act like everything is fine. 

There’s another flutter in your stomach, a little stronger than before. Maybe the baby can sense you thinking about them. You hope they don’t think bad of you for thinking so ill of them.

They don’t deserve that. But neither do you. 

The lights change colors at their own pace, steady and calm, unrushed by the world. You yawn, eyes blinking slowly. In this small moment, you can almost pretend that you’re fine. That you’re back at your family house, pulling an all-nighter under the pretext of a movie marathon while your parents are asleep in their beds. That you’re safe and sound. That you’re happy and living your best life … 

It doesn’t take long for the illusion to break. 

The creaking of the wood panels is quiet and yet awfully loud in the dead silence of the night, soon followed by the sound of feet padding through the floor board. 

The white light is unexpected as it blinds your eyes painfully. You frown deeply, one hand above your eyes to protect them from the shock. Bakugo stands stiffly by the door for a moment before marching his way to you, wide awake and alert.

The room shifts, the melancholic peace transformed into a tense silence. The enchanting lights and their effect significantly dim under the oppressive white lights and that sours your mood. 

Bakugo comes to stand across from you, hands framing his hips. Blonde hair tussled and the lines from the pillow etched to his cheek. “The hell you doing awake at this time? You should be sleeping.” 

“I’m not tired.” Not entirely a lie. 

He sighs, heavy and deep.

His patience thoroughly tested these past months, forcing himself to lower his tone when talking to you and keeping his hand light ever since the doctor gave him a serious talk on the heavy impact of your state of mind and happiness on his child’s health.  

“We talked about this, haven’t we? You need to rest, both of you do.” 

“I am resting right now.” you talk back, eyebrows raising in defiance. The stirring nerves putting you on edge.  

“And you can also rest in bed, which is where I want you. So get up.” 

You scowl, upset. 

“I really don’t want to.”

Now it’s his turn to scowl. 

“Don’t care. Get up.” 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” 

The words escape past your lips before you can stop or regret them. A new hardness sets into Bakugo’s jaw and his hand clenches for a moment before releasing.

You look away, feeling his heated gaze reek of disappointment and frustration. Fully aware that he’s just itching to deliver a much-needed slap, something to steer you away from the annoying brat you’ve become. He might still do it. His patience is on its last fumes and maybe you shouldn’t push him too much. But you’re equally just as tired of him as he is with you. 

Your name is hissed, the edge on his voice making it sound awfully like a warning. You flinch when his hand sneaks around your forearm, fingers gripping it firmly. 

“I’m really not in the mood for this. And I’m getting real tired of your bullshit. So get your ass up and in bed because I’m not-” 

“Why do you always have to be like this?” the words are barely out of your mouth before the tears break free, wildly cascading down your cheeks. Your composure breaks, the cold anger melting into something pitiful.

You hyperventilate, the lump in your throat growing by the second, shoulders unable to stop shaking as you sob with abandon. The tears run wild and free, the dam fully open now. 

“Hey.” Bakugo kneels in front of you with a quieter tone. His large hands trying to be gentle as he takes your face into them. “Hey. None of that. Damnit, don’t cry.” 

You shake your head, weakly attempting to push him away even though it’s useless. Bakugo is as solid as a wall. He only lets out a tired sigh, before firmly tilting your face towards him. 

“I shouldn’t have- Hey, you gotta listen to me.” he growls, inching closer until your noses are close to touching.

There’s an intensity to his red eyes that always makes you feel small, almost as if he can see the depth of you, all of your secrets and deepest fears. 

“Enough with the crying.” he hushes you now, pulling you into his chest. Your massive belly gets in the way, making it an awkward position but Bakugo doesn’t let go.

His thin shirt quickly soaks with your tears and yet the warmth from his chest feels pleasantly nice. “You’ve got no reason to cry. I know you’re stressed. Scared. I get it. Fuck, I am too.”

His fingers caress the top of your head as gently as he can get. 

“We’re about to be parents. That’s a huge fuckin’ deal.” he lets out a soft chuckle, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “I know you’re scared but I’ve got you. Always had and always will. Nothing’s gonna happen while I’m here, I promise. I’m taking care of you and our baby. Protecting you both.”

A string of snot hangs from your nose, tears burning your eyes and blurring your vision. All you can hear is Bakugo and his voice filling your ears with his pathetic attempt to console you. 

“Everything is gonna be fine, I promise you that. You’re gonna learn to be happy with this, with us.” 

A pinch of hate stirs when his hand reaches for your swollen stomach, his palm wide enough to cover the majority of it. 

“Our little family.”