#*cough cough* sen *cough*

[againstthegrainphoto]

I’m.🥹 So.🥲 happy.(🤮) my.🥴 Fav™️. Lil.🥲 guy.😬 Has.🤢. Employment.😮‍💨

[sen-sational]

I SOMEHOW CAME ACROSS THAT ONE SAMS SHIPPER'S ACCOUNT

THE ONE WITH MOON X LUNAR

😭😭😭💀💀💀

Adding that line thing to shield the people who don't wanna see THAT.

[senei]

welcome to my little blog :-)

i'm kind of just here to chill. feel free to block if you post stuff i shouldn't be seeing unfiltered lol

basic about below !

after a whopping 3 years ! of not doing ! anything with this blog !!! i thought i should probably do something and integrate myself in something with semblance of a community for once. so here i am. cannot guarantee i will post actively but hi

i am sen. short for senbe (which was my original url but i changed it on impulse right and someone took it before i changed back 💔) ! whatever pronouns you use i could care more just remember the golden rule fr. i am in EST (general time -4) so if i'm not saying anything that might be why. or just because i'm not exactly a stellar communicator. oops. since some people put their personality based stuff in bios so i guess i will too (infj-t)

this blog will be mostly comprised of art! (maaaaaybe writing. sometimes.) i'll really just post whatever i end up drawing that looks half decent, so there will be a variety in terms of fanart, original content and stuff i make for friends! there's gonna be a mix of old and new stuff, or at least starting out.

i will try my best to add tone indication where it's hard to distinguish, as well as tag for any potentially sensitive topics. please please Please don't be afraid to shoot me an ask or dm if i miss something !! or infact if i do anything wack in general !!!!!! some problems are best handled privately

and also just in general, i will keep my askbox open, so feel free to shoot any requests, questions or messages through there! even if i don't really know how to respond and don't make a post for it i appreciate it !!! i will try to interact wherever it may be given even though communication isn't necessarily a strong suit of mine.

most rbs and miscellaneous posting will be found on my sideblog, @sensbog ! or at least that's how i was thinking of keeping it organized. i may not. we'll see.

anyhow, i'll see you another time, fellow internetizen !! safe travels! o/

[kaedeakeshisworld]

I been studying my birth chart for some time now more like on and off to be fully honest

and I just realised I am royally fucked

not only I have taurus in the seventh house in addition I got Saturn there so I'm going really slow

pluto in the second house is a bonus too

no wonder why my blackass is a late bloomer

well time to go cry honestly 'cause self establishment ain't gon' happen overnight

[fragilecapric0rnn]

got sick again booooo

[sencrose]

. i forgot about his fucking accent

[b0mblover]

scars dont last forever. (thankfully) nor do people.

By: J

vauge tw; i wrote this bc i over think fucking everything. ikitai by shimon has saved me once again /srs

again. keep in mind i dont reread most of this stuff.

this would be better suited on my main but since its writing.

Ah, fuck.

im getting really tired of the game i play with myself

constant abuse

its nothing new

smoking and drinking myself to near-death

its nothing new, almost like second nature.

those hateful words that he spewed,

those mean jabs that she said,

acting as if i dont take them to heart.

XXX is this

XXX is that

its all a bunch of nonsense in the end.

you tell me to stop drinking, stop smoking

i consider it thrice

giving it chances

i feel like i never change.

you calm me down

saying how i deserve to live

its something i could almost believe.

Her piling up lies

his non-existent self respect,

it all comes crumbling down in the end.

XXX is this 

XXX is that

without noticing im.

when they beat me down

you gave me life.

when they cut me up 

you cleaned the wounds.

purposeful or not.

i cant help but wonder.

‘that jealous- self serving- selfish zealot’

‘the one they always wanted.’

wouldnt you know all about it?

after all. 

they miss you.

they hate me. 

XXX is this

XXX is that

I dont need reassurance from the dead

acting like XXX is-

you dont know -

i watched you question over and over again.

“Who are you” 

repeated more everytime.

XXX isnt this

XXX doesnt know you

that name.

isnt yours to hold onto.

I cant help but wonder, do you care?

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine nearly beating a bitch when they imply that ex-husband Gojo was anything but completely devoted.

Being married to one of the most powerful sorcerers in history was bound to garner some rumors. But the the rumor mill really went wild after your divorce.

You'd grown to ignore the rumors that Satoru left because you were unable to have children after Sen. Or that his Clan ordered you to divorce (though they would have if they could). Or that you weren't a strong enough sorcerer to maintain his interest. People could make up all kinds of baseless things, so you grew to ignore them quickly enough.

But of all the cruel, accusatory, presumptuous rumors surrounding your divorce, one stood far above the rest.

"Satoru Gojo's wife left him because of his wandering eye."

As if people knew anything about him. About how "devotion" is the core of his personality.

So, yes, you might have sent an up-and-coming clan heir through a wall at an official meeting. But she had it coming.

Sukuna sighs and yanks you back into your seat. "Calm down. The bitch doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Excuse me?" the young heir gasped. "How dare you speak of me that way?"

You flick a hand and send a water snake directly at her face, making sure to direct it at an angle that would force water right up her sinuses. She coughs and gags.

"Satoru was utterly devoted to me and our son. Our marriage may not have lasted, but he is still the most loving man I've ever met. If I ever hear another nasty comment about him from you again, I will remove your tongue," you growl.

The other clan staff sitting around the table gape at you. No one moves to help the young heir.

"Looks like this meeting's over," Sukuna drawls, gathering his papers. "Good thing. This was such a waste of time. Come back when you actually have something for me that makes sense." He shifts into his Ryomen form and uses his extra arms to grab your stuff. "C'mon, brat. I'm done with these idiots."

~

Imagine doing a consultation at Tokyo High and being a little extra nice to ex-husband Gojo.

"I organized each file with color tabs. They're pretty self-explanatory," you explain, handing over the stack.

"And here's to think you could hardly read when we met," Satoru teases.

"Hilarious," you deadpan. "And I left a bag of sandwiches and a gallon of cut fruit for you in the employee fridge. Don't forget to eat again or I'll force feed you myself."

Satoru's eyebrows lift. "Oh. That's different. What brought this on? Are you buttering me up for something? What'd you do?"

You scoff and make to leave his office. "I just don't need Suguru to complain to me about you passing out or something. Don't think about it too hard."

"Alright, thanks."

Just before you cross the threshold, you hear, "Thank you for defending me. You didn't have to do that."

You turn halfway and eye him warily. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Kuna ratted you out."

"Of course he did."

"Nice try, though." He gives you a rare smile.

Satoru never smiled much. He laughed, pouted, or sly grinned plenty, but you hadn't seen his gentle smile in a while. It made him look younger.

"Well." You shrug. "Bitches who don't know any better should keep their mouths shut."

He laughs. "The Teenage Jailbird version of you still jumps out sometimes, I see."

"She gets the job done." You linger in the doorway for a moment. Then you move before you can change your mind.

Satoru turns his chair to face you when you run round the desk and lets out a soft "oof" when you lock him in a tight embrace. Your clench fistfuls of his uniform jacket.

"It's okay." Satoru pats your back. "I'm not hurt. Really."

You have to pry yourself from him, but you manage. Wiping a stray tear - that even Satoru is surprised to see - you nod resolutely.

"Okay, well. Don't forget to eat or whatever. Bye, Satoru."

Satoru watches you speed walk down the hall. The six eyes pick up on you stopping outside the school gates and running your hands down your face. Once you're gone, he returns to his admin work newly energized.

It was hard to explain to you when you were married, but those little moments of affirmation made all the difference to him.

~ Thanks for reading!

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[nosyrobin]

|| WHEN UNCLE!READER GETS SICK AND THE BATBOYS HEAR ABOUT IT ||

Coughing, sneezing, raspy voice, achy body. Oh dear, you got a cold. Shaking like a damn leaf on a windy day, you called your brother. Bruce immediately picks up the phone, you knew he was in the bat cave. Hearing the bat-computer keys and talking. You could only roll your eyes as you talked to him. “Can’t make it. I’m sick” you said. He responded it with a “sick? Stay home. I’ll send Alfred to make you some soup Y/N.” You could only nod before coughing a storm up. If you could see your brother now, he would be frowning with concern.

“It’s not….deadly is it?” “What?! Bruce, no. It’s a cold. Yknow how I get.” You said closing your eyes about to hang up and rest. Bruce only sighed for the other side of the phone. “Alright.” “And Bruce.” “Yeah?” “DONT let the boys know I’m sick. Yknow how they get when I’m sick…” sadly they found out. You didn’t know how or when. But of course you knew who found out first.

Tim found out first, first because you didn’t show to the manor on the daily time you always do. Tim notice Alfred picking up your favorite soup you eat when sick when you use to live here at the manor when he was Robin. Tim frowned, you’re sick. You’re sick, alone, withering away in bed. What kind of nephew would he be if his dear uncle is not with company. So with that, he grabbed some doctor gloves, a face mask, hand sanitizer and Lysol. He was prepared. When Alfred went away to secure the packed soup, Tim took the packed up soup and ran out the door to drive to your house.

Jason surprisingly was the second to find out. He lives with you, like a roommate kinda of thing? So why in the world would he be second? Because he was too busy bleeding out in the manor after a fight and he had to stay in the same manor over night before you had gotten sick. Jason had seen Tim run out the door when he came down the stairs. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he also sen that the packed soup was the kind of soup you ate only if you were sick or terribly hungry. But since he knew you weren’t in the manor, he went with the former and immediately dressed up to go see his sick uncle.

Damian, he always knows when something is going on. But he definitely knows when something is going on when he sees his two brothers leave the manor. “Uncle’s sick Titus. Drake has his favorite soup and Todd has his favorite book. Pathetic, they forgot uncle’s heated up blanket.” Damian says with a smirk. Certainly holding it as Titus barks at his owner. “Guess we will pay my uncle a visit, I’ll see you later.” The brown skinned boy said as he pats his beloved dog. Leaving the manor with a shortcut to your house.

Dick was last, and was mad knowing that no one informed him that you were sick! Like cmon, he’s the first Robin and he had more of a bond with you when he was little! So how could his brothers leave him in the dust like that! He immediately got off work and speeded over to your house. He got some of your snacks, a “get well soon” card. And just some flowers, it was perfect. Perfect for the “favorite” nephew of course.

Tim was first at your door and entered using a copy of your spare key, then Jason shoulder rushed Tim like a football player, Damian was going through your window, and dick…dick just stood there watching his little brothers cause havoc. The soup was saved by Damian sliding to catch it, Tim almost had a heart attack as Jason just glares at all the brothers in his “home.”

Damian smirks, ready to get the “best nephew” award by handing you the soup you desire when sick. That was before Jason picked him like a stray cat. “What the hell you’re doing here demon?” “I’m just doing what needs to be done. Helping uncle.” Damian says with a glare. Dick takes Damian out of Jason’s bear grip and then helps Tim up. “Well, arguing isn’t going to help. Let’s just see how unc is doing guys.” All the boys nod in agreement, going inside your room. Tim still looks like a doctor so he was the last one in.

You were surprised, very surprised to see all four of your brother’s kids and your nephews at your house smiling as if they didn’t just break in. You heard them, but you thought you were just hallucinating. Damian gave you the still hot and ready soup on your night stand and your blanket. He wanted to get on your bed and lay with you, but you shook your head no. Not wanting to get him sick. Jason just sat down in a chair you have in your room, watching you closely like a hawk in case something happens. Tim was taking your temperature, asking you about the medicine you have taken. Basically a worried baby worried for his poor “old” uncle. Dick just lays the basket of things he bought for you. Smirking as he made a comment about how he is obviously the “favorite” nephew. That made everyone mad, cue to loud arguing and Damian ready to jump his brother.

As much as the boys loved you, they acted as if you were on your death bed. Which made you kinda mad, but at least they care for you a lot. But the constant arguing was not helping you as headaches started to attack. You coughed loudly as you felt your eyes droop more. You hated being sick, but you mostly hated your peace being ruined.

“Out! Out now!” You yelled with a raspy voice, all the boys stop. Frowning before leaving, except for Jason who stood there with crossed arms. “I live here unc…” you glare before throwing a box of tissues at your buffed up nephew who didn’t seem phased at all. “Not as of now mister, you stay at the manor or whatever you go until I get better.” Jason stayed silent before leaving. Not before putting a bottled up medicine by your bed, with a small note that says “get better.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

You're having a bad day so they do their own version of Magic Mike for you

ANON! This ask sent me into a fit of giggles. I am so happy to do this. I had a lot of fun putting together some quick writes. I know you've been waiting a while. I hope you have a good laugh out of this, and maybe even giggle and/or kick your feet with glee. I know I did!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, dancing, singing, striptease, lap dance, brief non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"Everything okay, love?" asks John from the bathroom.

"Just a headache," you reply. "Had a busy day."

"Busy? Or bad?"

He knows you too well.

"Bad," you sigh, propping yourself up on an elbow.

John is no longer in the bathroom. He stands inside the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with one hand.

Freshly showered. Towel hanging on his hips.

"What?" you ask, noticing the smirk on his face.

John lightly pushes off from the doorframe. In a sultry sway, John begins to approach you, both hands reaching as if to undo the towel.

"John?"

He doesn't drop the towel, just teases the undressing. Your face grows hot as he nears. John comes to a stop just in front of you, the towel still perched on his hips.

"Go on," he purrs with a heated stare.

You tug and the towel falls away.

"Plan to fuck away my headache?" you cough out, gaze darting upward, focusing on his face and not what’s behind the towel.

John grabs your forearm, helping you to a seated position. "Not yet." He places one knee beside you on the bed. John holds your chin with thumb and forefinger. "No touching until I say so."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"I’ve had a bad day," you sigh. “I’m tired.”

Turning your head away from Simon, you glance out the window.

As you exhale, something soft and large lands on your head. You yank it away. It's Simon's shirt. As you turn to address him, something else comes flying in your direction.

With a yelp, you snag it out of the air before it hits you. Simon's jeans. Belt included.

"What—"

Simon stands ramrod straight with arms at his sides in nothing but his boxer briefs and socks.

Perplexed, you fail to form words as Simon starts to saunter over to you. It’s stilted. Odd. The man has no rhythm but clearly all the confidence in the world.

"Oh my God," you murmur, clutching Simon's clothes to your chest, sinking further into the couch.

He's trying. He really is. But all you can focus on is how intense Simon’s face is, and how stiffly he…dances?

"Are you okay?" you ask.

Simon blinks. Frowns. "Yes." He glances down at himself. "Do you not like this?"

Whatever foul mood you were in has vanished, replaced with soft amusement and disbelief.

“Just…cuddle with me on the couch.”

“Clothes off?”

“Clothes off,” you confirm.

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

When you glance up, Johnny has a devilish grin on his face.

"What?" you ask cautiously.

Johnny pushes off from the kitchen counter and reaches over his head, removing his shirt. Your mind promptly forgets its previous concern. All it cares about is Johnny's broad chest and muscled stomach.

"What are you doing?" you laugh as Johnny twists the shirt and grabs either end, placing it behind your neck.

"Helping," he coos.

Now in only grey sweatpants, Johnny pushes in. You lean back, a bit startled.

"Helping how?" you giggle.

Johnny rocks his hips, swaying them slightly in a semi-erotic rotation.

"You look ridiculous."

"Maybe,” he agrees. “But you're smiling."

You are. To the point that your cheeks ache.

"I could keep going," he teases, rolling his hips again.

You playfully push at his stomach and Johnny takes that moment to sink down into your lap. "Nope," you laugh. “Absolutely not."

Johnny does an exaggeratingly awful impression of a lap dance. It sends you into a fit of giggles, and he doesn't stop until you're wheezing.

"Better?" he teases.

The bad mood is gone.

"Much."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"My brain is static," you groan. Kyle grins and starts to hum. "What are you doing?"

He saunters over to you, the humming turning into singing.

"Is that Pony by Ginuwine?" you laugh, disbelieving.

“Girl, when I break you off,” he continues to sing, removing his shirt, spinning it over his head like a lasso. “I promise that you won't want to get off.”

"Oh my god," you mutter, covering your face, cheeks flaring hot.

You peek through your fingers only for Kyle to toss the shirt at you. It lands above your head.

“If you’re horny, let’s do it,” he sings, reaching for the front of his pants. “Ride it.”

Your mouth is open, staring at Kyle as more of his clothes disappear. He’s in nothing but boxer briefs. Placing his foot on the couch, his hips flex forward, giving you a clear view of what’s beneath the fabric.

"Stop," you giggle, covering your eyes with one hand. The other extends to cover his junk.

Kyle takes your wrist and draws your palm to his chiseled stomach. "How are you feeling now?"

The static is gone, replaced with a soft affection that warms your everywhere.

"I'm better,” you laugh.

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[kyoghurts]

MY WEAKNESS!!!!!!!!! PLOTLESS MUNDANE PURE FLUFF!!!!! THE YEARNING!!!!!!!!! HUGS!!!!!!!!!! K.O!!!!!!!!!!!1

COMFORT ──── modern! rayne ames x gn! reader. pure fluff. wc of 500. rayne is a football player btw. happy birthday dearest @kyoghurts, i luv you loads 🖤

rayne ames misses you. it has been a few weeks ever since he last saw you. facetimes and calls weren't satisfying his sudden loneliness. the male had been on a business trip with the rest of his football club team, including a few matches that were in neighbouring countries.

he knew this was going to be a long trip but not that long until he starts to miss your presence, feeling empty like a simple jar that was emptied out, all affection and love spilling from a tiny crack in the jar.

his newfound loneliness would soon be gone the moment he stepped into the house, finding you watching your favourite show for what he could guess had been hours since the living room was all gloomy and depressing.

you were so buried deep into the plot you didn't even hear your boyfriend shuffle, dropping his bags in the ground and walking towards the couch, seating himself before capturing you in his arms.

"shit. i've missed you so damn much," rayne said while giving you the most warming heart that filled in your own loneliness.

the ames had never been someone who likes physical touches. his love language has always been gift gifting or quality time but not a fan of physical touch. but when he did have moments where it includes the warmth of each other, it was something to die for. it's the little gestures he does with your hands or your face.

his hugs made you want to melt and perish in that moment, captivated by his sudden welcome and warmth.

"ahhh rayne i miss you more!" your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you could feel his smile against your skin where his head was buried deep into.

rayne pulled away, staring at your face momentarily before connecting his lips with yours. your lips never tasted differently other than the lingering flavour of your favourite snack which he always tasted every single time he kissed you.

whereas rayne's lips has a light and longing flavour of rich and fine wine, a final toast to his team victory before the departure from brazil.

the kiss felt like it was for an eternity, how the both of you stayed on each other's lips just taking in with sweet smooches that were filled with so much love and reassurance. his fingers cupped your cheeks to gently caress them as your arms remained wrapped around him.

it all felt so surreal in that moment, where both of your loneliness was filled with the old familiar love that never disappears.

you smiled into the kiss, rayne pulling away after what felt like a million years of just pure kissing with the intentions of giving each other love.

he then rests his head on top of yours, his palms cupping the shape of your head to play with your hair.

"did you know how long i've been wanting to do that?”

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.27

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 27 - A Bullet and a Cure

Huh? Did you hear that right?

You'd never seen this man before, so why in the world would he want to kill you? It didn't make any sen-

Before the thought could even finish

forming, the black-haired male vanished, like a ghost. Your heart raced in panic, and your eyes darted around the space searching for any sign of his presence.

But it was too late.

A bone-shattering force slammed into your ribs from behind, sending you stumbling forward. The air forced out your lungs, as you doubled over, coughing and spluttering violently.

Instinctively, you whipped around, still breathless, only to see him standing there, casually twirling the three-section staff in his hand as if it were nothing more than a child’s toy. The ease in his movements, the casual confidence—it froze your blood.

With a final flick of his wrist, he released the weapon, letting it sail just over your head. You barely had time to flinch before he vanished again, disappearing into thin air. You heard the faint clink of chains as the weapon fell back into his grasp, caught effortlessly behind you. Then, before you could turn around, it struck you—this time straight to your spine.

A searing, all-encompassing agony tore through your back like fire, paralyzing your thoughts. Your knees buckled, but instinct kicked in and you dropped into a roll instead, desperate to escape the next blow you knew was coming. It felt like you were trapped in a relentless game, where no matter how frantically you pressed the dodge button, you couldn't escape the barrage of attacks.

How was he moving like that? How could he vanish and reappear in the blink of an eye? Was it his cursed technique, or was he simply that fast—so fast your eyes couldn’t keep up?

Whatever it was, you had to find a way to turn the tide. Now.

Outmatching him physically was impossible. His presence alone was enough to dwarf you—a towering beast, corded with muscle that stretched out his skin-tight shirt. He was a predator, designed solely for destruction.

That left you with only two options: your cursed technique and your wits. If you couldn’t meet him head-on, you’d have to be smarter somehow.

But how could you get close? Close enough to touch him? He was relentless, with no openings, not a single break in his attacks. You needed a distraction, something to shift his focus for just a second. Amidst your ragged breaths, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Hey, dickhead—who even are you?”

His expression remained unchanged, but you caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as he swung again. The segments of the staff danced through the air, straight at you. You barely managed to sidestep the strike just as the weapon slammed down, shattering the concrete where you had stood moments before.

That dickhead just ignored you.

He dissapeared once more, reappearing close enough for you to feel the rush of air as he swung at your side. You twisted sharply, muscles screaming in protest and the open bite-wound on your shoulder stretching wide as you evaded the strike by mere inches.

“Seriously?” you gasped between heavy breaths. “You’re just—” another jolt of pain, as the staff grazed your arm, “—gonna kill me without—a damn introduction?”

He exhaled a quiet sigh, as though the entire exchange bored him. "My name doesn't matter doll," he said, his voice low and indifferent. "It’s nothing personal. Just a job."

Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the strain of the fight and the bombshell revelation that someone had actually hired some type of hitman to take you out.

Who the hell would go that far? And why?

Certainly not Sukuna; if he wanted you dead, he’d take the pleasure himself—heck, it’d probably be the highlight of his week.

The notion briefly distracted you, making you stumble as another swing narrowly missed your face. You only managed to dodge because of the clattering of chains that preceded the strike.

“A job?” you wheezed, your lungs burning. “Who… who hired you?”

He didn’t bother responding, just swung the weapon down again. You threw yourself to the side, and the world spun as your head slammed into the concrete.

Just as the metallic tang of blood filled your mouth, he finally spared you a most unsatisfying answer. “Can’t say. Client confidentiality.” Then, with a scratch of his cheek, he added, “Why ask? You’ll be dead soon anyway.”

Dead soon. Fantastic.

You staggered to your feet, legs barely holding you upright. “You—” you coughed, spitting out blood, “you should at least tell me your name then.”

He hesitated for a moment, until he shrugged in a way that said, Hell, do I care, and muttered, “Toji Fushiguro.”

Hah. What a weird coincidence. Wasn’t that Megumi’s name, too? Now that you thought about it, this guy did bear some resemblance to a buffed-up version of your classmate. The comparison made you chuckle, and a laugh slipped out just as you ducked another swing aimed at your head.

Toji raised an eyebrow at your chuckle, grumbling, “Huh? What’re you laughin’ at?”

You wiped away the damp strands of hair clinging to your sweaty face and muttered, “Oh, it’s nothing.”

His grip on the weapon tightened, clearly annoyed by your lackluster answer. Sensing his tension, you quickly added, “It’s just... I’ve got a classmate with that name—Fushiguro.”

Toji’s swift movements suddenly halted. For a split second, he stood there, eyes slightly widened, as if something had caught him off guard. But before you had time to think about that odd reaction, you sprang into action, closing the gap and grabbing a tight hold of his free arm.

You weren’t about to let this chance slip.

Just as you braced for the sweet kick of his cursed energy fueling you—right when you desperately needed that extra burst, you noticed—there was nothing.

You focused harder, searching for the familiar pulse of power. But when you really looked at him for the first time, it hit you: Toji was your natural enemy.

He had no cursed energy. Not a single trace. Just an unnerving, terrifying stillness surrounding him. How could you have missed this? You’d just assumed—given his speed, beastly strength, and those insane reflexes... But you were wrong, terribly wrong, and that mistake might very well cost you your life.

Toji stared down at you, unbothered, as you clung desperately to his arm, breaking out in a cold sweat. Up close, you noticed the scar running straight down his lip. For some reason, you committed every detail of that face to your memory—the face of the man who was inevitably going to kill you.

With a casual motion, Toji slung the three-section staff over his shoulder and shot you a questioning look. “What now? Trying to flirt your way out of this?”

And then you noticed something out of the corner of your eye; the faint hum of cursed energy radiating from the three-section staff. Suddenly, you remembered Gojo's words to you, when he'd shown you around the weaponry room at Jujutsu High:

“Each weapon is imbued with a curse.”

You hadn’t tested this one crucial possibility. Could your technique work on anything with cursed energy, even that weapon? The thought sent a thrill through you—what if it really worked?

Your fingers twitched as you let go of his arm and seized the staff slung over his shoulder. A rush of cursed energy surged through the weapon—stronger than you had anticipated. You focused, drawing as much of it into you as possible, draining it like a final lifeline.

Toji's eyes narrowed as he yanked the staff back, but you'd felt it—the curse within the weapon weakening bit by bit while your own strength intensified. You felt rejuvenated, like you had just downed a shot of espresso on a particularly groggy morning.

You summoned every ounce of cursed energy you had, and gracefully transferred it to your leg, swinging your foot at Toji's side in a powerful kick.

He dodged, with his irritating inhuman reflexes, but your kick did manage to graze his thigh, sending a jolt of cursed energy through him. The corners of his mouth turned upwards, seemingly amused by your sudden power boost. "Finally gonna give me a real fight, huh?"

You shot him a challenging smirk. The answer was yes—because you had a plan now. Sure, it might be a bit reckless, but hey, a plan is a plan.

With the energy you’d siphoned from his weapon, it had to be losing its edge. But to drain even more and render that weapon completely useless, you needed to make contact again and again. So for now, you'd keep dodging—but not entirely. Just enough for the staff to whip against your legs and arms.

It’d hurt like hell, but with your life on the line, you’d just have to tough it out.

Toji and you resumed your earlier dance of strikes and dodges, and you began willingly ruining your evasions, taking the hits to your limbs. Each moment of contact became a calculated risk, and with each hit you clenched your jaw against the pain, drawing in as much energy as possible in that one second.

Toji, on the other hand, seemed blissfully unaware of your strategy, his ego swelling with every strike he landed. “Hah, looks like you’ve lost your edge already, huh? Don’t worry, doll, this’ll be over soon,” he taunted.

But the more battered and bruised your limbs became, the lighter the incoming strikes seemed to hit. The cursed weapon was losing its power, and with it, your chance for victory was growing.

It was time for your offensive.

With his next attack, you seized the three-section staff with your bare hand. You saw the flicker of surprise in Toji’s eyes when you didn’t even flinch, and in one swift motion, yanked the weapon toward you, forcing him to stumble forward.

In that split second, you reached for the cursed dagger tucked snugly by your ankle, hurling it straight at his face.

Naturally, he deflected it. But by then, you’d already closed the distance, channeling your cursed energy into a powerful strike aimed at his stomach.

Toji didn’t dodge. He didn’t block. Instead, he took the hit head-on, just as you had with his earlier blows. He clenched his jaw, a raspy groan escaping his lips as he reached for the worm draped across his chest.

“Ouch. That hurt, kid,”

You prepared to strike again, ready to take advantage of his proximity. But right then, with an unsettling nonchalance, he plunged his free hand into the worm's mouth. His other hand released the staff, letting it clatter against the concrete with a sharp echo.

He reached deep into the curse’s mouth, pulling out something gleaming—a dark metal catching the light through the gaps of his fingers. But before you could make out the object's shape, his arm swung down with blinding speed.

And whatever that object was, it was cold, hard, and now pressing forcibly against your stomach. It didn’t hurt—not yet—but a primal instinct screamed that something was terribly wrong.

BANG.

First, your ears rang. Then a strange warmth spread through your stomach, a warmth that made you look down in confusion.

A gun.

Then came the pain, piercing pain, screaming pain, unbearable pain.

BANG.

Another shot.

Your vision grew hazy and your legs collapsed. Somewhere above you, Toji’s voice drifted through the haze. “Told ya this would be over soon.” Then footsteps walking away. A wet sticky sound as his slippers pulled from the pool of blood.

Your blood.

Ah this strange sense of peace, you'd felt it before. That's right when Mahito tore open your stomach and the life seeped from your bones. When you were sure you'd die but Sukuna saved you.

Sukuna... he wasn't here to save you now. So that lie did come back to bite you in the end, huh.

The cold began to spread. It started with your fingers and toes, then crawled up your limbs. The chill settled in your belly, then your face and chest.

And then, finally, your heart.

---------------------------------------------------------

That icy, suffocating chill—the kind that seemed to freeze time, breath, and life itself—was the last thing you remembered.

Now, though, warmth had blossomed in its place, like sunlight breaking through the horizon after a long, dark night. It wrapped around you gently, like a soft, silken cocoon.

You could see a faint light shine through your closed eyelids—warm and golden—casting everything in a dream-like haze. And beneath that warmth, you became aware of your body, bare and free from the restrictions of clothing, as if you had merged with nature itself.

Guess they don’t do clothes in heaven, huh?

There was a scent too, comforting and familiar, like the soft smolder of a campfire’s dying embers, mingling with fragrant earthy spices. It reminded you of the way Sukuna’s sheets smelled that one time you accidently took a nap on his bed.

Wait… this wasn’t heaven, was it?

If Sukuna haunted your thoughts even here, then this surely couldn't be heaven.

There was a hollow disappointment. You’d almost convinced yourself that you might see Ayumi again, though a deeper part of you knew you wouldn’t have been able to face her—not after failing her so spectacularly.

You let out a deep, bitter sigh and whispered to yourself, "I'm nothing but a worthless mess… such a pathetic excuse for a person."

When suddenly, a voice cut through your private dialogue.

"Finally, something sensible out of your mouth. Now, add 'treacherous lying rat' to that list of yours."

Your eyes snapped open. That voice—it was...

Blinking in confusion, you took in your surroundings: walls drenched in deep crimson, intimidating weapons mounted like trophies, the furnishings a rich, dark teak.

Your heart stuttered. Sukuna’s room.

Your eyes darted to the side as Sukuna’s presence fell over you like a weighted blanket. He sat cross-legged in his robes, eyes closed, resting against a pillow propped up to the wall. Then, as though he could feel your gaze even through his shut eyelids, his eyes snapped open, locking onto you with a seething glare that spoke volumes—far more than words ever could.

He was furious.

He extended his hand, subtly pointing a single finger in your direction. You tilted your head, momentarily puzzled by the gesture—until his intentions became painfully clear. With a voice barely above a whisper, he uttered a single word that belied the power it held. “Dismantle.”

A sharp sting followed, and alongside it, a long, thin line cut across the skin of your upper arm. Blood began to trickle out. It was as if the entire length of the cut wept, red seeping downward in a steady flow. You gasped, clutching the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

“What the hell?!” You yelped.

Sukuna’s brow furrowed deeper, his sneer revealing the pointy edge of his corner teeth. His cold voice cut through the air, just as sharp as the wound he had inflicted.

“That’s the price for trying to deceive me, you worthless human.”

As you opened your mouth to defend yourself, Sukuna extended his hand again, repeating the same gesture. Another precise slice appeared beneath the first, mirroring its length and depth. You muttered a soft “ouch,” struggling to cover both wounds with one trembling hand.

For some reason, you found yourself trying to keep the blood from staining the silken sheets, though you weren’t entirely sure why you cared at all.

When you met Sukuna's unwavering glare once more, it was clear he felt entitled to punish you. To him, this was merely the fair consequence of your actions. "That was for your foolish decision to take on an opponent far beyond your capabilities."

What? That was just rude. You hadn’t exactly had a choice in the matter. Just as you were about to protest, “I couldn’t do anyth—”

He cut you off. “This one is your final warning not to push me any further, woman. After this, it won't be a mere cut to your arm. Do with that knowledge what you will.”

Slash. Another deep cut sliced into your arm, joining the others in a perfect row of three. Blood oozed from the fresh wound, and your single hand struggled to contain the flow. Your other hand rushed in to assist, but in the chaos, the covers slipped dangerously close to exposing you.

That’s when you realized that the part of your dreamlike state—the part where you were completely bare and devoid of clothing—hadn’t been a fragment of your imagination at all.

“What the—?” Your bloodied hand instinctively reached for your stomach, and to your surprise, it felt supple, soft, and whole—no festering gunshot wounds. You shot Sukuna a look. He must have been the one to save you, and you were grateful for that, but you couldn’t possibly overlook the fact that you were naked in his bed and that he must have seen everything.

“Did you do this?!”

He snapped back, his expression unfazed. “What? Strip you bare or patch you up?”

“Shit. Both,” you retorted, heat rising in your cheeks at the bluntness of his words.

“Hmph. Yes and no.”

Huh? What did he mean by 'no'? Did those wounds close up by themselves? Had someone else intervened?

“How do you explain this, then?” You asked, gesturing to your stomach before returning to clamp your hands over the oozing cuts on your upper arm.

For the first time, Sukuna’s stern, angry gaze gave way for a teasing one, the corners of his lips twitching upward ever so slightly. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, little sorcerer. Perhaps you should lift the sheets and enlighten me.”

You shot him a glare that screamed, Go to hell. He clearly relished the opportunity to mess with you, even now, just moments after you had practically risen from the dead.

Catching your venomous stare, Sukuna scratched his head in irritation, and scoffed, “Tch. stop your whining. In the Heian Era, bare flesh was as common as dirt. I’ve seen countless naked women; you’re nothing special.”

Yeah, remarks like that must have really scored him points with the ladies back then, you thought, rolling your eyes.

Before you could muster a retort, Sukuna went on to explain the absence of the two gaping holes in your stomach.

"When I found you, you were nothing but a bloody sack of meat, barely clinging to life. Your body refused to die properly, stubbornly twitching with the feeble remnants of cursed energy you absorbed before getting shot. That meager bit of power was making a half-hearted attempt at reversing the damage—keeping you alive but, little more than that "

Was he implying that your own body had tried to perform a type of Reverse Cursed Technique on itself? How was that even possible?

Sukuna leaned back against the wall, before continuing, "I dragged you back here, even tried to undo the damage myself. Why I'd waste such effort on a lying wretch like you is beyond me. But it was useless—you were already more corpse than human."

A sly grin curled his lips. “At that point, finishing you off would have been a mercy. But I've wasted too much time training a measly dog like you to let it all go to waste. So I took a gamble.”

You clutched the sheets tightly, torn between a desire to hear more about what had transpired and a growing irritation at his condescending tone. Yet, despite your frustration with him, the fact that he had attempted to revive you at all, kindled a warmth within you. It stirred feelings that were quite at odds with your anger.

Sukuna let out a weary sigh, as if the task of explaining everything to you was an exhausting chore. "I reasoned forcing you to absorb my cursed energy might do the trick. Either you'd finally kick the bucket, or your body would utilize it for a proper Reverse Cursed Technique."

He regarded you in silence, his expression blank, while you stared back, wondering why he didn't continue his explanation.

“And?” you prodded, impatience creeping into your voice.

He growled back with one brow arched in disbelief at your stupidity. “What do you mean 'and?' Are you dense as well as weak? You're breathing, aren't you?”

Well, he had a point.

A grin crept onto your lips as it sank in—you had actually pulled off something like RCT. That was a feat only the most skilled sorcerers could manage after years and years of grueling training. Not too shabby for a 'measly dog like you,' huh?

But then again, that still didn’t explain why you were naked.

“So why are my clothes gone?” you asked, demanding a proper answer even as a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. Because deep down, you already knew the answer wouldn’t change a thing; the damage was done—Sukuna had seen you naked, and you had to live with that now.

Sukuna's nails sank into the pillow beneath him, his expression one of mild exasperation, as if you were the one missing the obvious. "Have you forgetten how your own technique works? Skin contact, you fool."

You raised an eyebrow, still confused, as a playful retort slipped out. "So... what? You decided to cozy up, and lay down on my bare body?”

“Of course not, brat.”

Thank god. You let out a sigh of relief, recalling how your last joke about him joining the memorial had spectacularly backfired. You were really glad history wasn’t about to repeat itself. But just as that thought crossed your mind, Sukuna added with a casual tone,

“I laid your bare body atop mine.”

He didn’t even smirk, nor twitch. He was dead serious.

Oh god. Your cheeks flared hotter than a freshly boiled lobster, a shade of red you didn’t even know existed. You’d been knocked out and left to play naked cuddle with the King of Curses. You should’ve felt disgusted—like a normal person would—but somehow, your traitorous body buzzed with something entirely different.

You yanked the sheets over your head, desperately trying to shield yourself from the onslaught of images swirling in your mind: Your bare breasts pressed against the hard contours of his muscles, the heat radiating from his skin slowly thawing your own icy body. Each rise and fall of his chest as he breathed inducing a tantalizing friction against your nipples.

If it hadn’t been for the RCT you had performed on yourself, you might have chalked these thoughts and feelings up to the aftermath of cracking your head on the concrete during the fight with Toji. But if all the damage in your body had been reversed, that meant that there could only be one explanation—one inconvenient truth you couldn’t ignore any longer, no matter how hard you tried.

You had a crush on the biggest asshole you’d ever met—a man who had used you as little more than a chew toy, who’d just as soon roast you alive than spare you a second glance.

You had a crush on the King of Curses.

---------------------------------------------------------

Sorry this chap took a bit longer, I have no excuse friends I was just being lazy 🤭

Hope you enjoyed it <3

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel

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[neonfretra]

[Image description: Twitter feed of the Ottawa Senators during their rookie face off game. 25 minutes ago: "Goaltender change, David Egorov is now in net for the #Sens." 27 minutes ago: "Devils make it 6-0." End description.]

man if i was Micheal Simpson i would've killed myself right then and there.

[ikkosu]

DISTRACTION

summary : prowl gets distracted and it’s not his fault. warnings : suggestive, not full smut

PROWL feels strange and he hates it. Much like entities perched onto his shoulders, he hates that he’s stuck between giving into the warm impulse of the angel and shoving the thing away with the ire of the devil. Not that the latter wasn’t preferable, he’d do it in a heartbeat if he had any, the former was just — too tempting.

In the event he’d give in — to the angel, of course, — his actions would contradict the program he set for himself. The strict routine of a decree he abides by with the full heart of a servant. What is he, a lowly coward to fall prey towards such minuscule temptations?

“Prowl?”

There. There it is again, that adorable lilt in your tone. The stretch of the vowels that chirps into a playful purr. Oh, to strangle you dead and throw you outside the window was a better temptation than the one you're prodding him with. If Loki was a human, not that he wasn't one, you'd be the prime embodiment of the trickster.

He’s glaring at the datapad than the source of his misery : the lump of human flesh, cradled on his lap, the same way a cat does when it prefers to breach it’s owner’s sense of privacy. Except your face is smushed against his chassis and your arms are curled around his sides. Your pliant lips pressed against the cool metal did nothing to help. Why was it even there in the first place if not to piss him off?

"Prowwwwll."

"What.”

“What’s with the long face?” You had the nerve to ask.

Prowl grimaces. "If you didn't know any better I'd say you’re deliberately trying to distract me.”

“Distract you?" You guffawed dramatically like you weren't. "Me? Me distracting you? What makes you think I, the oh so vulnerable fleshie, am?"

Of course, he didn't have the pride to address that, because if he did you're never going to let it down until the day he's old, worn, rusty and tattered. And Cybertronians live for on centuries. So he hisses. "Don’t test me, missy. I'll have you know I'm still your superior. So you're in no way—"

“You said I could sit, so I sat.”

"On the couch. Beside me."

"On you or off it, it doesn't matter. I followed your orders and stuck to the plan. So suck it."

"In a professional manner. This is, in now way, howba subordinate would treat their superior."

"But this is more better." Your finger curls out to tap his nose and he flinches with a scowl. “You’re the one who’s getting aaaall warm by yourself and you're mad at me?"

“This is ridiculous. I’m getting warm because you’re hogging my body heat.” He grits through his dentas, reigning the last thread of calm. “ I’m not a chair for you to use as you please. I am the chief strategist, the second in command and I demand that you—"

“Too late, I’ve taken colony here,”

He's this close to snapping. Also, inaccurate wording, if you must. “That’s not how it works. Colonization refers to—“

“I meant, I like it here.”

“ I was under the impression humans would prefer things that are warm and soft. Not hard metal that could potentially crush you.”

That’s not the only thing hard, right now. He thinks grimly. Just as he thinks you're out of antics, you pull yourself up further against his torso, thigh against his sides, warmth wrapping around him. Prowl stiffens, hiding the muffled clang from below with a cough.

“Oh, they do. But d’you know what’s interesting about humans?”

His circuits cloud with the buzz of a hundred bees nagging his processors. No, he mustn’t give in. Ignore the thing and it’ll leave when it pleases. As he steels himself not to lose focus, his faceplate burned up, much the same way when he’s chastised by Ultra Magnus for implementing another ‘unruly’, ’inhumane’ course of actions against — well, whatever the problem is. But this time it’s not vexation he feels, no. It’s chagrin.

Your soft hands curl around his neck cables, dancing around the cords, tracing along the lines. Curse Primus and whoever forged that region to be so sensitive. He’s snapped into a trance against once the warmth of your body archs into his cold metal ones, molding into the crevices perfectly. The smile is still there; mischievous, always so playful.

“Do you know what it is, Prowl? Why humans are considered so interesting? So lovable, so adorable so....enticing?"

Prowl feels his dentas grinding and digits further digging into the rims of the datapad. That’s impossible. He can’t possibly be deterred like this. Prowl? The Prowl. Second in Command Autobot Prowl? Please, that’s just atrociously, physically imp—

“If you’re so insistent…” His helm swivels to you. The datapad is long forgotten, tossed to the side and his servos cup your sides with a gentle grip. He's seething calmly if that's even possible. “Can you indulge me about what’s so interesting about humans?"

He leans close, arching his body to dwarf over your own. The heat of his body is just as flaring as his frustration.

"They're inferior, just like you are—" You're now caged in by his arms, "—Emotional, brittle little fleshbags who can't keep their hands to themselves, so pathetic—" His croons rumbles like waves through your body even if he's an ass about it.

"How can they possibly be so...lovable, as you insist it to be so? In fact, I find them quite repulsive. Good for stomping."

His thumb pressed against your lips. What's a better way to counter his attack than striking up a better blow?

“How about you find out for yourself, Prowler?”

Your tongue flicks out, pink and slick and it trails a path down the digit.

He’s not always one to smile, but when he does it’s always that punchable, smug ridden tug of his lips. Like he knows better than half the planet does.Like he's always right and you're wrong. The crook of his nose nudges your own.

“Maybe, I will.”

His helm dives down, dermas latching onto your lips and before you know it you’re pushed up against the desk, datapads and stylus pens cluttering about to the ground disregarded. Your fingers curls into the crevices of his back.

So much for distracting.

[stargazer-sims]

I wrote a thing and It took me way longer than it should have...

---------------

Full Circle

Yuri is almost asleep when he hears the front door being slammed shut. The sound startles him enough to pull him halfway back from the edge of consciousness, but not enough to compel him to get up. He's far too settled to move unless it's absolutely necessary.

Beside him, Victor is completely asleep and snoring softly. That's another reason Yuri doesn't want to move.

It'd taken a lot of effort to convince Victor the sofa wasn't the best place for him to rest. He's sick with some sort of respiratory virus that's kept him home from work for the past couple of days, and although he has been sleeping in his bed at night, during the day he alternates between the living room couch and the armchair in Yuri's home office.

Victor may be an excellent nurse, but he's an absolutely terrible patient, and at one point it seemed to Yuri as if no amount of coaxing and cajoling would persuade him that he really should be in bed for at least part of the day. Evidently, he'd rather follow Yuri around the house like a sad puppy, or huddle under his blanket on the sofa and whine about how he’d probably die soon from dehydration or from his headache and fever, or from the ache in all his muscles.

"Wouldn't you rather pass away in the comfort of your bed?" Yuri said, trying not to let his exasperation show.

Apparently, Victor found that hilarious, and perhaps not unexpectedly his laughter devolved into a coughing fit so severe that he was gasping for air by the time it resolved and his face was wet with tears.

"Yeah," he whispered, after several seconds. "Maybe I would rather die in bed."

"Okay. Let's just tidy you up a bit first, though. No one likes a messy ending.”

Victor's eyes said he wanted to laugh again, but his body language told a different story. He placed one palm on the center of his chest and massaged slowly as if that might help ease what Yuri assumed was pain and tightness. Yuri felt sorry for him.

"I'm glad you're here to make sure I look nice and neat," Victor said.

"It's not about neatness. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Now, let's clean your face, all right?"

Victor nodded his acquiescence. He meekly allowed Yuri to pat the tears from his cheeks with a tissue and then to hold several more under his nostrils while encouraging him to blow his nose.

Yuri hadn't really understood the English phrase 'man cold' until he'd experienced one of Victor's for the first time. Back when their relationship was new, he'd panicked because he thought Victor's illness was just as serious as Victor was making it out to be. He'd rung up the emergency clinic and everything, whereupon the female nurse practitioner who took his call had laughed at him and told him to give Victor acetaminophen and herbal tea and plenty of attention.

Solid advice, he acknowledges now. Naturally, hindsight is the clearest form of vision. A little more than twenty years after that first scary situation, he's a veteran of his husband's man colds and knows exactly how to care for him on the occasions when he's under the weather.

After disposing of the tissues, he helped Victor up the stairs as best as he could, tucked him into bed, checked his temperature, and then crawled under the covers with him. Victor would've inevitably wanted cuddles, and Yuri had essentially given up on accomplishing any more work in any case, so he decided he'd save Victor the effort of having to ask him to lie down with him.

Victor made a contented little noise when Yuri snuggled against his side and wrapped an arm around him.

"Comfortable?" Yuri asked.

"No, but I like it when you're close to me," Victor replied. He reached around to run his fingers through Yuri's hair, and added, "I'm not actually dying, just so you know. I only feel like I'm going to."

"I know," Yuri said. "I'm sorry I said that."

"It was funny. No need to apologize. I might feel like I'm ready for the morgue, but my sense of humour is still alive and well."

"That's good." He shifted position slightly so he could rest his head on Victor's shoulder. "Are we going to take a nap?"

"Hmm..." was Victor's wordless response.

Yuri can't help remembering how stressed Victor used to get when he had a cold or flu. He'd desperately want to be taken care of, but he didn't want to let Yuri do it, fearing that if Yuri got too close to him he would catch whatever Victor had. Eventually, they both figured out that it didn't matter because nine times out of ten Yuri would catch it regardless. After that, Victor learned to relax and to permit Yuri to fuss over him as much as he clearly wanted.

Yuri had once remarked to his mother-in-law how he thought time had changed both him and Victor. Grace's eloquent response was, "No, time doesn't change anyone. It gives people the opportunity to change themselves."

And how we've changed ourselves, he reflects as he lies next to his sleeping husband. Our attitudes have changed. Our priorities are different than they used to be. We're stronger than before.

This thought makes him happy. He used to fear change, but over the years he's come to understand that change can be good. He and Victor learned that together.

Well, not all our priorities have changed, he amends. I still love this one to the ends of the Earth and back and I still want to spend the rest of my life with him.

Yuri's mind is drawn back to the present by more slamming noises from downstairs. It's cabinet doors this time. And...the refrigerator? The fridge door being closed so hard that he's able to hear it from Victor's room cannot be good.

Victor stirs and mumbles something that sounds like, "What's going on?"

"I'd say Caroline's home from school," Yuri replies.

"Why's she so noisy?" At least that's what Yuri imagines his husband asks. Victor is obviously awake enough to hear, but not awake enough to produce coherent speech.

"I don't know, but I think I'd better go and check."

"No, I'll go," Victor says.

Victor moves like he's attempting to get up, but Yuri holds him in place with one hand. "No, you will not. If she really needs you, I'll send her up to talk to you. Otherwise, I'll look after her."

"But—"

"No 'buts'." Yuri leans over and kisses him on the forehead. "You don't need to handle everything yourself, love. You know that. Just rest, and let me take care of this."

The fact that Victor doesn't protest any further is an eloquent testimony of how bad he's feeling. "Okay," is all he says.

"I'll be back," Yuri promises.

"Okay," Victor murmurs again.

Yuri climbs off the bed and makes his way downstairs. He's still getting used to the layout of their new home. At the old house, the kitchen was in a direct line of sight from the stairs, but here the stairs are tucked away behind a wall and he has to round the corner to observe what's going on in the kitchen, dining room or foyer. He likes it better this way, though. The new house is almost as big as the old one, but somehow it feels more compact and cozy.

As he steps past the bookcases in the corner of the living room, he's able to spot Caroline sitting at the kitchen island. Her back is to him, but he can see that she's eating something from a bowl. Her hot pink backpack is on the floor next to the stool she's seated on, and its contents are peeking out of the half-opened main compartment. He notices her swimsuit and swimming cap in a clear plastic bag. The suit looks dry.

"Caroline," he says.

She doesn't turn to acknowledge him, but she says, "Hi."

He makes his way over to join her at the island. She's eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, which is her and Victor's collective favourite ice cream flavour.

She was slamming the freezer door, then.

"How was school?" he inquires.

"You know, it was school."

"And what about swim practice? You're home early. Was it cancelled today?"

'No," she says. "I didn't go. I didn't feel like it." She scoops an excessive spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and adds around the mouthful, "Don't worry. Jack and Matilda know. I said I wasn't feeling good."

"Aren't you? Feeling well, I mean. Maybe you're coming down with what Victor has."

"No, I’m not sick. I'm fine," she asserts. “Physically, anyway."

“So, what's the matter?"

"Nothing."

He smiles in spite of the circumstances. The blatant contradiction is such a typically teenage thing. "Are you certain?"

She stabs at her ice cream aggressively with the tip of her spoon. "Where's Victor?"

"He's in his room, resting. He's still not feeling well."

"Oh."

"Did you want to talk to him?"

"Yeah, but I guess it can wait," she says.

Yuri perches on the stool next to hers. "You can talk to me if you like."

He doesn't expect her to take him up on it. It's not that she never comes to him when she needs something, but he's much better at solving practical problems like how to write a good essay, who to call to get her bicycle fixed, and how to budget her money. She rarely asks him for help with more abstract personal issues, maybe because she thinks he's not good at that sort of thing, or perhaps it's because she's closer with Victor than she is with him.

Victor has always been Caroline's favourite parent. She'd bonded with him almost immediately upon meeting him, while she was still his patient, before he and Yuri even discussed the possibility of fostering her. It had taken much longer for her and Yuri to warm up to each other.

Yuri can admit he'd resented Victor's natural, easy relationship with Caroline in the beginning. He'd consoled himself by repeating over and over in his mind that it didn't matter because she was only a foster child and they wouldn't have her forever, but when Victor started bringing up the subject of adoption... To say he'd felt genuine panic would've been an understatement.

He'd been reluctant to tell Victor how he felt, but he knew he had to. Adopting a child was far too big a step for him to simply go along with it because it was something that would make Victor happy. That might've caused more discomfort and resentment in the end. It might've torn a rift between them that would've been impossible to repair, and that was the last thing Yuri wanted.

He shouldn't have been surprised at Victor's response. Rather than being upset or disappointed, Victor listened patiently while he poured out his fears and misgivings.

"I feel like an awful person," he'd confessed. He's never been one to put his emotions on display, but he'd been overwhelmed in that moment and couldn't prevent a few tears from escaping. It wasn't just his inability to embrace Caroline's presence in their lives the way Victor had that was troubling him, but also all the negative sentiments he'd been experiencing; insecurity, inadequacy, resentment, and perhaps even a little jealousy. On top of that, he was struggling under a weight of guilt and shame for having all those other feelings in the first place.

"You shouldn't," Victor told him. He'd pulled Yuri gently into his arms and let him lean against his chest. "You're not a terrible person."

"But... shouldn't I get along with her like you do?"

"Not necessarily. We all build relationships in different ways, don't we? Do you have the same relationship with both your parents?"

"No."

"No, and I don't have the same relationship with Mom that I have with Julian either, and that's okay. I love them both, and I know they love me, and that's what's important."

"That's the problem," he said. "It's obvious Caroline loves you. Shouldn't she love me too? Shouldn't she want me to help her with things and play with her and comfort her? How can I think about adopting a child who doesn't want..." He'd let the sentence fade away, unfinished. He could hardly bear to complete the thought, much less lend words to it.

"Yuri." Victor's voice was soft. He didn't speak again for several seconds, choosing instead to rub Yuri's back with the long, firm strokes Yuri had always liked. After a while, he said, "Tell me something. Do you love Caroline?"

"Yes," Yuri said. He couldn't deny that. Despite his failure to form the kind of connection with her that Victor had, he still cared deeply for her. The difficulty was, he wasn't sure she cared for him, and he was equally uncertain his love for her would be enough to make a permanent arrangement work.

As if reading his thoughts, Victor told him, "That's enough for now. Showing her you love her is the right first step. It's gonna take time for her to trust you, but you'll get there."

"She trusted you straight away. How much time will it take for me?"

"I don't know exactly," Victor said. "It could be weeks or months. You gotta keep in mind that she's been through a lot, and maybe you remind her of things she's trying to not remember right now."

"Such as?"

"Her old life. Speaking Japanese, eating with chopsticks, following all those social etiquette rules... stuff like that. Plus, you kind of look like her dad. I mean, you've seen his passport photo. I know I would've struggled if somebody who looked like my dad suddenly came into my life after he died."

"Oh." This had never occurred to Yuri before, mostly because he'd been looking at everything from his own point of view rather than trying to see things through Caroline's eyes. "Then... maybe adopting her truly isn't a good idea. I... I don't want to make it worse for her."

"You won't," Victor said. "Believe it or not, she needs something you can give her that I can't. Lots of things, actually, but she's going to learn resilience from you. She's gonna learn courage and perseverance and patience, and you know... how to pick herself up and keep going."

"Because she has a disability?"

"Yeah. I can't teach her how to live with a disability, but you can. But, it's more than just that. It's for everything in life, 'cause she's gonna fail sometimes and she might have to go through more bad experiences, and she's going to need to know how to take care of herself and not give up when stuff like that happens. You're amazing at that."

"So are you."

"Only because I've got you to support me," Victor said. "And because I figured out how to follow your example."

"But, how can I teach Caroline anything if I can't even get close to her?" he asked, hoping his desperation didn't show too much.

"Don't underestimate her," said Victor. "It's not like a violin lesson where you have to actively teach her. Just be there for her, and give her time. Let her see who you really are, and try to see her for who she really is."

"How am I meant to do that?"

"How do you do it with anybody?" Victor countered. "Like, you coexist with her, live your life alongside her, and... I don't know. Maybe ask her if there's something she'd like the two of you to do together. If you can work out what you have in common, that might help you communicate better, and I think that'd help you get closer."

Victor had been right, of course. About everything. It'd all gone much better once Yuri stopped worrying about how Caroline felt about him and turned his attention toward finding more common ground with her.

It started with gardening. One day, he asked her if she'd like to help him in the garden, and she said she would. After that, they spent a lot of time tending both the outdoor and indoor plants together. They rarely conversed at first, but they enjoyed being together nevertheless. Slowly but surely, Yuri began to feel less like an extra and more like a main character in the story of his family's life again.

Then, a day came when Caroline noticed him clipping his bonsai tree and asked him about it. Without thinking, he answered her in Japanese, something he'd been careful to avoid doing for the several preceding weeks.

To his utter shock, Caroline began to cry. Alarmed, he put down his shears and dropped to one knee so that he was at eye level with the six year old. When he asked her what was wrong, she told him tearfully that she missed speaking Japanese.

"I thought you didn't want to," he said.

"I didn't," she agreed. "You know, 'cause it made me sad. But then I got scared that I might forget, but I was also kinda scared to tell you that I changed my mind."

"It's okay," he said. "You can tell me anything you want. You don't have to be scared. I'll always listen to you, and I won't be upset if you change your mind about something."

"Really?"

"Really," he assured her. "People don't always feel the same way about everything all the time. It's totally normal to change your mind about things, especially if you know something new that you didn't know before."

"Like... how I didn't want to eat hot dogs, but now I do 'cause I know they don't really have dogs in them?"

Yuri smiled. "Yeah, exactly like that."

"Yuri?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have my own bonsai tree? I want you to teach me how to make it pretty like yours. Then I'll know something else I didn't know before, and maybe I'll want to change my mind about... other stuff."

She did not elaborate on what 'other stuff' meant, but Yuri was sure he could guess. "Of course you can have your own tree. We can ask ojii-chan to send you one from Japan. Would you like that?"

Could he have gotten her a tree from a local plant nursery? Obviously he could have, but it somehow seemed more appropriate to ask his parents to send one.

That was exactly the right choice, as things turned out. Caroline got very excited when Yuri told her his father had sent them a tracking number for the package, and for the next few days it became their little ritual to check the location of Caroline's tree on its journey from Japan to Canada. When the courier arrived, Caroline wanted to sign for the box herself, and the man graciously let her do it. Yuri scrawled his initials next to Caroline's wobbly signature, and thanked the courier for such good service.

The little tree was perfect. It survived its long voyage with no damage, and only needed water and sunlight for it to get back to looking its best. Caroline cherished it, caring for it and talking to it as if it were a pet, and she eventually learned how to trim it herself. She still tends it with as much care and dedication as she did back then, and she still loves to show it off to visitors. Under her hands, the tiny juniper tree is thriving.

It's a lot like Caroline herself, he thinks.

He'd had to learn how to nurture her, how to guide her and teach her to grow. He didn't always get it right, and as flawless a parent as Victor appeared to be, he made mistakes sometimes too. Overall, though, Yuri is proud of their progress, and he's exceptionally proud of the daughter he and Victor have raised together.

Caroline's voice inserts itself into his musings. "If I talk to you, are you going to pay attention?"

Yuri blinks. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was lost in thought."

"Long day, I guess."

"Victor's a handful when he's ill."

The smallest hint of a smile lifts the corners of Caroline's mouth. "Is he dying this time?"

"Yes, quite dramatically if you must know," Yuri says. "In a scene taken straight from a soap opera, I'd say."

This elicits a laugh. "That's how you know it's not as bad as he wants you to believe it is. If he was really sick or in a lot of pain, he wouldn't be all dramatic and stuff. Remember when he had to get those two teeth out?"

Yuri does remember. There hadn't been any theatrics that day; just Victor with his bruised and swollen jaw, crying quietly in the passenger's seat of Yuri's car on the way home from the hospital. He'd gone straight to bed with no fuss as soon as they got home, and later that evening he'd let Caroline feed him puréed fruit mixed with protein powder, with a look in his eyes of such profound gratitude that it made Yuri's heart ache to see it.

Yuri nods. "You're right. That was different."

"He'll be okay," Caroline says.

"I know, but how about you? Are you going to be all right?"

Caroline sighs. "Yeah, probably. I'm mad, but I'll get over it. It's dumb teenager stuff anyway."

"It can't be all that trivial, if you wanted to talk to Victor about it and it made you want to skip swim practice and break all the cabinet doors," Yuri says.

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine. You're not in trouble," he says. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She eats a spoonful of ice cream, and then sits there with the spoon still in her mouth, clearly weighing up her options. Finally, she puts the spoon down and then turns slightly on her stool so she can look at him directly. "I think I'm going to break up with Forest."

This pronouncement takes him by surprise. "Why?"

"We had a fight," she says. "Not some silly disagreement over some random thing, but like, a really serious argument."

"About what?"

"You know this week at school is Futures Week, right?"

'Yes," Yuri says. "I remembered that was happening this week."

"We're in our last year of high school, and we've gotta start planning what we're going to do after," Caroline says. "They've got people from different universities and colleges coming in to give presentations, and even some guy from the military was there. Plus, we can schedule meetings with the school's guidance counsellors, and today was career day, where they had all these different professionals come in and set up tables in the gym so that we could meet them and talk about what it's like to have different kinds of jobs."

"I know about that too. James went there to represent our firm."

"I know. I talked to him. Felicity Greene's dad too, and Uncle Leo, although I don't really want to be a lawyer or a preschool teacher. Felicity said it was weird that her dad was there, and like, no surprise that Nora didn't even go 'cause she was too embarrassed about her dad being there. Honestly, I wouldn't have been embarrassed. I would've liked it if you and Victor came."

"We were otherwise occupied," he says. "But, you were telling me about you and Forest, weren't you?"

"Stupid Forest," she grumbles.

"What happened?"

"Forest didn't go either," she declares.

"Do you mean, he didn't go to school today?"

"No, he was at school, but he didn't sign up for any of the university presentations this week, and he totally refused to come to the career thing. He hid in the library the whole time."

"That doesn't sound good."

"You know my friend Mohammad? He saw Forest in there and he told me, so I went to get him, and that's how the argument started." She looks away from him momentarily as her pale skin turns deep pink. "We... we got kicked out of the library."

"Did you get detention?"

She shakes her head. "No. We went outside so we could keep talking, but that's when it really got bad. Forest told me he's not going to university."

Yuri frowns. "I thought he was planning to go to art school."

"I thought so too," Caroline says, "But now he's not. He says he doesn't want to waste his time and his parents' money on something that probably isn't going to help him get a job anyway. He says he's just going to keep working at the pizza place after graduation until... until whenever we get married. Can you believe he actually said that? I never said I wanted to marry him!"

"Didn't you?" Yuri queries. "The way I recall it, you and Forest have both been saying since you were seven years old that you want to marry each other some day."

"Yeah, well... I changed my mind," she says adamantly. "Maybe I said I wanted to marry him before I realized he has like, absolutely zero ambition. How can he be happy making pizza for minimum wage? How does a person not care about their own future?"

"There are loads of reasons why somebody might not care about their future," Yuri says.

"I'm sure none of them are very good reasons," Caroline scoffs. "Anyway, I can't be with somebody who doesn't even have goals."

Yuri is silent for a handful of seconds as he composes his thoughts. At last, he asks quietly, "Have you ever considered that you're his goal?"

Caroline peers at him, a look of perplexity on her face. "What do you mean? How can a person be another person's goal?"

"You and Forest remind me a lot of Victor and me," he says. "For the longest time, I didn't have any goals or ambitions for the future either. The only thing I wanted in life was to be with Victor. I wanted him to stay close to me and love me and give me as much attention as possible, and I wanted him to be happy. I thought that if he was happy, that would make me happy."

"Yeah, that kind of sounds like Forest," she affirms.

"And you're like Victor. You've got plans and dreams. You want to have adventures and accomplish loads of things in your life."

"Exactly."

"Another way you're like him is that your happiness doesn't depend on other people."

Caroline nods. "I learned that from Victor, actually. I remember when I was little and I'd be upset, he always told me that it was okay to feel angry or sad or scared, but that I shouldn't let myself stay like that. Like, he said if I wanted to feel better I could get there, 'cause my happiness is my own responsibility."

"He's right," Yuri says. "I know because he taught me that, too."

"Really?"

"Really. I used to be scared about quite a lot of things, and that was one of the biggest reasons why I didn't have any goals for myself. I was too afraid I'd fail at anything I tried, so I barely tried to do anything new. Then, I was depressed and frustrated, thinking about how I'd never accomplish anything."

"So, what did you do?"

"I ate a strawberry."

Caroline laughs out loud. "You always say strawberries make everything better. But seriously, what did you do? How'd you fix yourself? 'Cause you've never seemed like the type of person who's afraid of much of anything to me."

"I really ate a strawberry." Yuri repeats. He recalls the monumental effort it'd taken to pick up his chopsticks and feed himself that one small piece of fruit. "It was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

Caroline is staring at him as if he's setting up for some sort of joke. "But, you love strawberries."

"I do," he concedes. "But that doesn't mean it's always been easy for me to eat them. The winter before we moved here from Japan, I was so ill that I didn't know if I'd survive it. I couldn't eat, and I was so weak and in so much pain that I couldn't even sit up in bed on my own. My doctor decided that if she was going to keep me alive, I'd need to have a feeding tube, so that's what we did."

"Is that what the little scar on your belly is from?"

"It is," he confirms. "One might think it'd be scary to get all your nourishment through a tube in your stomach, but it was such a relief to me. It meant I didn't have to physically eat anything, and I knew the formula would be safe and wouldn't cause me any pain. That eliminated the anxiety of eating."

"Eating gave you anxiety? Like... just eating?"

"Yes, and it still does sometimes, as hard as that might be to grasp."

"It kind of is, honestly. I love eating."

"I know you do. That's another way you're more like Victor than like me." He smiles. "I'm glad you love to eat. I wouldn't wish my problems on anybody."

"So, what happened?" she prompts. "Obviously you started eating real food again."

"I had to go through a lot of therapy," he says. "The goal was to remove the tube within a year, and as much as I was relieved that I didn't have to put food in my mouth for a while, I also knew I didn't want to live with the tube long-term. So, my doctor and therapist got me to start by setting small goals, and the first one was that if I wanted to eat anything by mouth, I had to feed myself."

"You weren't feeding yourself?"

"No."

"Why?" Caroline asks.

"It was too difficult," he replies. "At least that's what I'd convinced myself of, but the truth was, I'd essentially given up on everything. I couldn't imagine a future with anything other than more pain and fear and failure, and it was... too much."

"But eating a strawberry changed your mind?"

"It wasn't actually as simple as that, but eating a strawberry showed me what was possible," he says. "Victor was having a fruit salad. The strawberries were fresh and they smelled delicious, and I really wanted one, but Victor wasn't allowed to feed it to me. It took all the willpower I had in me to put that strawberry into my mouth, and I almost changed my mind at the last second, but to this day I'm glad I didn't. Now I like to think that one strawberry was the beginning of the rest of my life."

"How?"

"Because it made me realize even the smallest victories matter," he says. "Because I started to understand that success can be measured in tiny increments and doesn't have to be something huge or spectacular. But, mostly because I finally saw that I could do things for myself, that I could set goals and work for them."

"So... you're saying Forest should eat a strawberry?"

"Metaphorically speaking, yes."

"How can I get him to do it?" Caroline wants to know.

Yuri reaches across the space between them and touches her hand lightly. "That's the thing, little one. You can't."

"But—"

"Forest has to be ready to learn that lesson on his own," Yuri says. "I'm sure Victor was frustrated with me sometimes, and maybe he even secretly questioned why he'd agreed to marry someone with so little self-worth, but he never pushed me. That wouldn't have worked."

"What did he do?"

"He stuck with me even when I thought he'd be better off leaving. He was patient with me, and he loved me when I didn't know how to love myself."

Caroline picks up her spoon again and begins to fidget with it. "Are you saying I shouldn't break up with Forest?"

"No," Yuri says. "Only you and Forest can decide whether or not that's the right choice. What I'm saying is to give yourselves some time to calm down after what happened today, and then ask him if the two of you can talk. Arguing is normal, but you need to deal with the thing that caused the argument to begin with."

"Even if we're not going to be girlfriend and boyfriend?"

"Even so, especially if you still want to be friends with him."

"I do," Caroline says emphatically. "I love Forest. He’s my best friend. Even if we end up marrying other people some day, I always want us to be friends."

"If that's truly how you feel, then don't give up on him," Yuri says. "You can still help him even if you're not in a relationship."

"But... you just said I can't make him eat the metaphorical strawberry."

"You can't make him do it, but that doesn't mean you can't show him the way. You can talk to him and try to find out what's holding him back, and you can support and encourage him when he wants to try new things."

"Like getting his driver's license?"

"Exactly. If you're proud of him for doing that, then tell him."

"I am," she says. "That was a big deal 'cause he was so scared he wouldn't pass the road test, but he did it."

"Then make a big deal of it," Yuri says. "That might seem silly, but unless I miss my guess, it won't seem silly at all to Forest."

"Do you think it'll work?"

"Only time will tell," he says. "The surest way to find out is to try."

"Okay," Caroline says. She slips off her stool and steps forward to hug him. "Thanks for the talk, Papa."

He reciprocates the embrace, pleased as always to hear her call him 'Papa' and to get a hug from her. She's physically demonstrative like Victor, and although her spontaneous displays of affection sometimes made him uncomfortable in the early days, he's grown to appreciate them very much.

"You're welcome," he says.

"Is it okay if I go upstairs and say hi to Victor now?"

"I'm sure he'd like that, but don't disturb him if he's sleeping."

"I know," Caroline says. "If he's sleeping, I'll just stay in there and start my homework. You know, so he won't be alone when he wakes up."

"Good idea," Yuri says. "I was going to go back up there with him and I thought perhaps we'd order something for dinner, but now that you're here, you can keep him company and I can cook instead."

"What are you going to make?"

"How do you feel about carrot and ginger soup? That's fairly easy. And I can make grilled cheese sandwiches for you and Victor."

"We like those," Caroline says. "Ice cream for dessert?"

Yuri smiles. "Haven't you already had enough ice cream?"

"Is there such a thing as too much ice cream?" She gathers her backpack from the floor and slings the strap over her shoulder before turning to leave. “You can text me when it's ready. That way, you won't have to yell."

Yuri waves in the direction of the stairs. "Go. I'll just bring your sandwiches to you, and then you can come down here for soup afterwards."

"Cool. Thanks!"

Yuri watches her as she disappears around the edge of the bookcases. He can hear her bounding up the steps with all the energy her mere seventeen years afford her and wonders if, like Victor, she'll retain most of that energy into middle age. Caroline and Victor may not be biologically related, but they're so much alike that they might as well be.

Both of us may be her parents, but she's truly his child.

Shaking his head, Yuri returns to the kitchen. He picks up Caroline's abandoned bowl and spoon, rinses them, and puts them in the dishwasher. Typically he would've asked her to do that herself, but today is an atypical day.

He puts on some classical music and then focuses on the business of making dinner. Carrot soup is one of his favourite dishes. Victor used to make it for him often when he was relearning how to eat, and once he'd graduated to doing meal preparation, he began making it on his own. Usually, they have it with garlic bread and a garden salad topped with diced chicken, but Victor hasn't had much of an appetite today and Yuri guesses he'd prefer to have his favourite comfort food, grilled cheese. Besides, grilled cheese sandwiches are a lot less effort.

He prepares the soup first. While it's simmering in the slow cooker and filling the kitchen with the warm aroma of ginger, he gets to work on the grilled cheese. He decides he'll have peanut butter toast to go with his soup, since he doesn't like cheese, but he can get that ready after he finishes with the sandwiches for Victor and Caroline.

Soon enough, he's making his way up the stairs with a tray laden with two golden grilled sandwiches and two mugs of steaming green tea with honey. He passes Caroline's room and is nearly at the half-opened door of Victor's when he catches the thread of a conversation.

"...and I don't think he realizes it, but he's a totally amazing parent."

Victor's voice is hoarse, but he sounds much more awake and alert than he did earlier. "I think so too."

Yuri pauses outside the door and tries to peek into the room without being noticed. Victor is lying diagonally across his bed, and Caroline is sitting cross-legged beside him, holding his hand. Caroline is facing away from the door, and he thinks she's likely blocking Victor's view of the hallway.

"I was so mad, but Yuri knew exactly what to say," Caroline continues. "Like, he understood the problem right away and he told me what I should do, and it actually made a lot of sense."

"You shouldn't be shocked," says Victor. "You know, he's very smart and his advice is just as valid as mine. Maybe more so, depending on the subject. There's stuff he can do a lot better than I can."

"Well, he's really good at explaining stuff, and he knows how to get me to see things from a different perspective." Caroline says. "He helped me a lot with what happened today."

Yuri can hear Victor's smile in his voice. "You should tell him that. Sometimes he still worries about whether or not he's doing a good job."

There's no hesitation in Caroline's reply. "He's always done a good job. You're my favourite, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate him or that he's not good at being a dad. He's awesome and I love him just as much as I love you."

"I'm glad," Victor says. "You know, it'd make his day to hear that."

"I'll tell him," Caroline says.

For a moment Yuri stays in place, trying to take in what he's just overheard. Then, not wanting to give away the fact that he was eavesdropping, he backs carefully down the hall and approaches the door again, deliberately making a bit of noise this time.

He halts in the doorway of Victor's room with a cheerful, "Dinner is served!"

It sounds a bit too upbeat to his ears, but Caroline doesn't seem to notice. Victor does, though. He catches Yuri's eye, smiles and mouths, "Nice one." Yuri wonders whether Victor was able to see him in the hallway after all.

Caroline bounces off the bed and comes over to inspect the tray. "This smells so good!"

"The soup is ready too, if you want some of that."

"Yes, please," Caroline says as she lifts one of the plates. "I'm going to take this to the kitchen and have some soup too, and then I'm going to FaceTime with Felicity because I promised her I'd help her with our math homework."

"Isn't Felicity's mother a financial analyst or something?" Victor asks.

"Yeah, but Felicity says she doesn't know how to make math simple," Caroline explains. "She'd rather get help from somebody who can tell her how to do it step by step, so... Captain Math to the rescue."

"All right, Captain Math," Yuri says. "Enjoy your dinner and your study session."

As Caroline exits the room, Yuri sets the tray with the remaining sandwich and the two cups of tea on the bedside table. Victor sits up, and remarks, "That does look good. I wish I could smell it."

"Hopefully you'll be able to taste it," Yuri says.

"We're about to find out." He picks up half the sandwich and bites into it. With his mouth full, he continues, "So, I guess you heard Caroline singing your praises?"

Yuri looks away. His face is suddenly hot, and he says, "Sorry. I wasn't intentionally spying on the two of you."

"I know," Victor says. He pats the space next to him. "Come here and let me tell you why Caroline is right."

Yuri obligingly climbs onto the bed and then reaches across Victor to get one of the mugs of tea before finally settling against Victor's side. "You think she's right?"

Victor slides an arm around his shoulders. "Why wouldn't I? You are totally amazing as a partner and a parent, and Caroline is right about you having a talent for getting people to see things in new ways. I knew that about you before we ever had Caroline, but how you're able to break stuff down in a way that she understands? That's a real skill, and you know what else?"

"What else?"

"You passed it on to her."

"At least I passed something along to her."

"What are you talking about? You've given her a lot. Whether or not you realize it, she's like you in a lot of ways. She's strong and determined like you, and she's practical and logical and great at reading people. Plus, she has your sense of humour."

"That... that's not exactly something to be proud of."

"Sure it is," Victor says. "You can make me laugh, and sometimes that's worth more than all the wealth in the universe."

"Did I really give all that to Caroline?" Yuri asks.

"Yeah, you did. That, and a lot more. You can ask her if you want to. I'm pretty sure she wants to tell you."

"I'm not sure I'd be comfortable asking."

"That's okay," Victor says. "I think she'll tell you on her own, when she finds the right moment."

Yuri closes his eyes and leans into the warmth of his husband's one-armed embrace. "I never thought we'd reach this point," he says. "Caroline and me, I mean."

"I knew you would," Victor says.

"That's because you're an eternal optimist."

Victor kisses the top of his head. "It's easy to be optimistic when I have such a great family. You and Caroline make me happy and you help me keep my faith in humanity. How could I think the future's gonna be anything but good with the two of you around?"

Yuri contemplates this for a moment, and feels his features gradually relax into a smile. They may have had a rough beginning, but everything is better now, and he has to acknowledge Victor is right. Their lives may not be perfect and they may have difficult times ahead, but that doesn't mean the future won't be good. His family loves him and he loves them. No matter what happens, with the three of them all supporting each other, they can make the best of it.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets Day 17: Resolution

cw: loss of a friend, grieving

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 659

=~=~=

Monty could hardly believe it when everyone showed up.

It had been five years since the team was disbanded, and a lot could change in five years. He still kept in touch with everyone else, more or less, and they'd all seemingly adjusted well. Moved on, grown past the past.

But the team hadn't reunited because Monty had asked nicely. It was because everyone still felt the loss.

He certainly did.

No one had taken the time to talk about what happened when it happened; they were all a bunch of dumb kids playing dumb games, left to grapple with feelings too big to hold when everything suddenly got real.

Tom hadn't shown them the footage, but the way his voice shook when he told them what happened, the look on his face… Monty knew it must've been awful. And none of them had been able to stop it. None of them had been able to save him.

Sen was the first to show up. They'd all agreed to meet in the park. Near the facility they'd trained in, but not too close. 

“Hey,” he greeted them. “Been a while.”

“Yeah.” They nodded, their expression pensive, like they didn't know what to say next. Did any of them? How did you swallow something like this, even after so long? How could you have a team reunion when it was supposed to be five of you, not four?

Faye and Emery made their appearance a few minutes after Sen, hand in hand. They’d started dating after the team was discontinued, taking comfort in one another. Something about shared experience, about being one of just a few people who understood. Monty was glad to see they were still together, but he couldn't help the pang that came at the sight of them.

He could've been holding someone's hand too, if only…

“How do we start?” Emery was the first to speak, after the four of them spent a good several minutes in silence, staring at the grass where they used to take lunch breaks, or study, or spar.

“What can you say?” Faye murmured. “He's gone. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Only remember,” Emery offered.

“Remembering hurts.”

“Don't we owe him that much?” Monty’s own voice, thick with a tremor, almost surprised him. The others gave him looks he might've called pitiful, if they weren't all suffering the same loss.

“He was… he was always the one who pushed us to keep trying,” he continued. “Never just gave up and called it quits when things got tough in training. That's how I remember him.”

Sen nodded. “He would've made a good leader. I know we always said there was no leader, but it would've been him.”

“He didn't hold grudges,” Faye added with a short laugh. “I… I was kind of a bitch to him for the first month, and he still just… welcomed me into the group. Y'know. He was—” Her voice broke. She covered it with a cough. “He was a good guy.”

“He was a giant nerd,” Emery said. “Remember how much he used to talk about Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Oh my gosh, don't get me started—”

“He was always saying he'd run a campaign for us one day.”

“Remember the one story from his highschool campaign he always used to tell? About the rat in the cellar that just wouldn't die?”

“It just wouldn't die.”

Soon they were laughing past their tears, the somber air dissolving into recounted memories. It was better this way, wasn't it? How remembering was supposed to be?

“Maybe we should get a campaign started,” Emery said. “I can run it if you guys want.”

“Yeah.” Faye wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I think we should.”

Emery threw an arm around her shoulder. Sen joined in the hug, already crying again. After a moment, Monty joined too.

“Look at us, becoming nerds. I think Ander would be proud.”