#cancer sucks so fucking much man

[whimsicalskeleton]

today we are saying goodbye to the most incomparable angel to ever live. i brought her home when i was 24 years old and she weighed barely 1lb. she has been the most loyal, stubborn, sweet, and loving companion that anyone could ever ask for. i am devastated but i will never forget her.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[rambling-ash]

It's been a year...

Redraw of the one I did last year

Last year's is under the cut

[1roentgen]

.

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

[gemini-atz]

NSFW Seonghwa as your Boyfriend₊˚⊹♡

('Realistic Imagines' + Astrology Based)

✩Genre : Pure unadulterated smut, imagines/headcanons, 18+

✩Contains NSFW, minors please use caution!!!

✩Warnings: just your standard bit of orgasm denial , creampie and cockwarming lol

✩Gemini Notes✩ I'm sick! I got so wrapped up in trying to imagine loving sex with an Aries Sun/Cancer Moon man that I blacked out and when came to, my hands had written this!

Read the astrology inspired fluffy imagine of Hwa as your bf here

Read about other members!

I see Seonghwa as someone who eventually gets into orgasm denial on his partner because of just how long he can go for. He’ll work you up while stroking his dick, getting himself close so that by the time he’s inside you, he won’t be pounding you to a pulp for 20 minutes. That Aries stamina feels like he's the type who can cum and be ready to go again faster than you were expecting.

There will be days where you are both off work, you sleepily wake up and stretch your arms over your head before feeling his warm hands roaming up the side of your hips, shamelessly moving to squeeze your breasts and you shiver because you know...he's about to really take his time with you. He'll spend so much time warming you up, kissing and sucking the side of your neck, pinching your nipples, and dry humping your ass through his boxers, and eventually you feel his precum leaking onto you. By the time he slips his long fingers into your panties and starts pressing into your clit, you nearly cum in 10 seconds flat. Unfortunately, he knows you too well and the second your breathing changes and your thighs clench he removes his hand, letting cold air hit your swollen pussy. And so it will go, with him rubbing your clit, fucking you on his fingers and then eating you out to the brink of orgasm over and over, each build up and denial making you drip and gush onto his sheets. You hear him groan with satisfaction every time he dives back in, licking and rubbing his tongue flat against your clit, all the while using one of his hands to stroke himself, jacking himself off to your taste. You nearly see stars when he starts to flick the tip harshly with the tip of his tongue.

"Y/N..You taste so good."

He whispers, pulling off of you. By this time you're so worked up you start to feel bleary tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

"S-Seonghwaaa-ya, no more, please...."

You plead, feeling like you can hear your heartbeat loud as a drum in your ears. He looks up at you and you can see amusement sparkling his eyes.

"No more?"

He asks, his voice deep and teasing.

"Just please, please fuck me already"

You whisper hoarsely, tangling your fingers through his long, thick hair.

He laughs, raising himself up and over your body before leaning down to kiss your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses over your collarbones.

"You're really so cute when you beg , Y/N"

You don't really have time to give him your annoyed answer before he's folded you in half under him, you gasp as you feel him rub his swollen cockhead against your aching clit before slowly pushing himself into you while sucking in the air through his teeth harshly. The stretch of him feels like a strange mixture of relief and pain after you had been edged so long. Once he's fully inside you, Seonghwa's entire body stills, and he bares his teeth, nose scrunching.

"Fuck..Baby, you feel so sosososo so good..."

His eyes are squeezed shut, feeling like he's nearly on the brink himself feeling how your pussy is squeezing the absolute life out of him. You whimper when you feel his cock pulse inside of you.

Once he starts moving, he's not very gentle. Each thrust inside you knocks a gasp out of you, his face above you while he presses your thighs to your chest, your knees practically pushed down to your ears. You feel your muscles aching, stretching deeply. The sound of his deep voice grunting and moaning your name as you watch his beautiful face contort with the pleasure of getting to fuck you has your head feeling floaty.

At some point the friction cause by his hips slamming into, his front rubbing against your pussy starts to build up that tension in you again, each snap of his hips forward causing delicious sparks to run up your back. When he feels you tighten around him, he looks up into your eyes sharply, and you see sweat running down his forehead and chin, his dark eyes glazed over with pleasure. He knows you're close and he fucks into you harder, craning his neck forward and kissing you sloppily, your tongues licking into each other's mouths.

"Do you feel good baby?"

He breaks away from the kiss, full lips swollen and flushed.

"mmmm..mmhmmm"

You bounce your head up and down in a nod, shamelessly moaning for him.

"Good...do you want me to make you cum now?"

He asks, his sweet eyes locking with yours as his long fingers sink punishingly into the flesh on the backs of your thighs, holding your body steady against his relentless thrusts.

"I-I wanna cum..pleasemakemecum"

You babble. Seonghwa leans down again, planting a wet kiss on your forehead. before reaching down and placing a hand over your pussy, increasing the friction caused by him fucking you. He's starting to become erratic with his movements, panting heavily, and you know he's close too. Finally, you're pushed over the edge as he rubs your sensitive spot firmly, and your eyes squeeze painfully shut, your mouth falling open dumbly as the wave of your delayed orgasm hits you.

"God-Oh God Hwa!"

Your back arches off of the the mattress as your mind goes blank, vision completely whiting out All you can feel is pleasure, your pussy pulsing around him. The only word you know is his name. Watching your body seize up as you come, clenching on his dick has him trying to bite back a long whine, but he’s following you soon after, throwing his head back and moaning loudly, caught up in the feeling of his dick pumping you full. You've barely come back into being able to feel your body when you feel him twitching against your inner walls, and you moan gently at the fullness and heat of him finishing inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, chest heaving, but he's still careful not to put his full body weight on you. You let your breathing return to normal before reaching up to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. Seonghwa nuzzles into you when he feels the gentle contact, rubbing his face against your chest.

"You're so pretty"

He murmurs, leaving soft, chaste kisses against your skin.

"You too."

You giggle, looking down your chin at him, and he looks up at you, big dark eyes looking indignant, but you can tell he's pleased at the compliment.

It's not until a few minutes later when you feel his dick twitch inside you that you realize you’re so blissed out you didn't notice he never pulled out.

You have a longggg morning ahead of you.

Seonghwa is also a cockwarming candidate to me, although he's unlikely to use your mouth because he doesn't want to cause you to be uncomfortable keeping your jaw open that long. You’d offer! But he’s more the type to come home from having a few too many drinks with his coworkers acting extra cuddly while you're trying to get some work done at home, pouting and asking you to "Pleaseeeeee just sit on it while you're doing your work" .

How could you ever say no to him? It ends with you on his lap with your back pressed against his chest, stuffed with his pretty cock. Your knees are spread wide, hooked over his, with you trying your absolute best to focus on the email you're attempting to compose to your coworker while he rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist and his face flushed, his eyes occasionally drooping shut. He brushes his nose up and down the side of your neck, your little shudders making his dick jump inside you.

[zepskies]

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.

AN: Here we go! lol. This is the highly requested Part 2 to This One’s For You, over in the BMD-verse!

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, edging, teasing, fluff, and feels.

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

You gasped, your nails raking through his hair. Your grip threatened to rip out a few strands as you panted into his neck.

“Ben, please…for God’s sake…”

“Please what?” he said. There was grit in his voice when he spoke into your ear, but he was all too controlled. Taunting.

Asshole.

He was relentless, dragging his fingers inside your quivering pussy, rubbing his thumb around your clit, but almost never where you wanted him. Your thighs were shaking on either side of his frame as he had you naked on your back, writhing in the middle of your shared bed. You’d sucked him off until his spine rattled and his eyes nearly crossed, swallowing up as much as you could of what he had to give.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m sorry!” you burst in frustration, but you also had to stifle your laughter. Your husband narrowed his eyes at you, spying the hint of your smile.

“How come I don’t fucking believe you?” said Ben. With his elbow digging into the bed beside your shoulder, his occupied fingers curled inside you, finally brushing against the sensitive ridge of your inner walls. It drew a faltering moan from your lips. 

“What exactly are you sorry for?” he demanded. He bowed his head and laid a biting kiss along your throat. “Use your fucking words.”

You exhaled roughly, gripping his hair tight again. Now that he couldn’t see your face, you could allow yourself to grin in amusement.

Three Days Ago…

Ben was tired and more irritable than usual when he stepped into the Flatiron Building. The night before had been a battle of wills between him and his infant daughter, who’d been finnicky, having a hard time going back to sleep. He’d done his best to help her get back to sleep, since you had been dead to the world and unable to leave the bed (or so you’d seemed).

Now, he took the elevator up to the right floor and used his key to get into the office suite, where Butcher and the rest of your delinquent friends were already dicking around.

Some horrible French rap was playing on the Bluetooth speaker. Kimiko was flicking tiny pieces of paper across the dining table, into a “goal” made by Hughie’s hands. Frenchie wore a “Kiss the Cook” apron as he pulled a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven in the kitchenette, while M.M. swept the excess flour stains off the counter. 

Annie was trying to get Butcher to smoke his cigarette out on the balcony.

“Really, you had fucking cancer. You’d think you’d try a little harder to take care of yourself,” she said. Butcher gave her a wan smile, and blew a coil of smoke upward between them.

“Nice,” she said flatly.

But all that stopped when Ben strode into the room. They stared at him, each starting to smile, no matter how much some of them tried to hide it (like Kimiko, with a hand over her mouth).

“What the fuck’re you staring at?” Ben snapped. “We got a job, right?”

Butcher cleared his throat and recovered first. He dabbed his cigarette on an ashtray on the dining table and grabbed an iPad to give to the supe.

“Yeah, got us an escapee. Our little slumlord, Sapphire,” he said.

Ben frowned. Sapphire was the supe who nearly vaporized you a couple of years ago, after they broke up her drug ring. While he read the file documenting detailing her escape and what the CIA knew of her whereabouts so far, Hughie shared a look with Kimiko and Annie before he spoke.

“So, uh, how’s Lila doing?”

 Ben shot him a look through furrowed brows.

“Fine. She’s with her mother,” he replied. Hughie predictably asked about you, and again, Ben said you were fine at home with the baby.

“Lila’s almost a year old, right?” Hughie asked. “Aw man, that’s gotta be a fun age, right? I mean, fun, but challenging. All the crying, the diaper changing. Getting her to sleep through the night must be tough.”

Ben’s attention piqued at that, and not in a good way. His dark suspicion grew when his gaze flicked up to Hughie’s dumb fucking face, and then the rest of them, with their dumbass smiles. Biting her lip to stop herself from smiling, Annie pressed a button on her phone.

All of a sudden, Ben heard his own voice playing from the speaker.

“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?”

“Now ain’t that a lovely warble,” Butcher remarked. Ben shot him a warning glare, but the Brit raised his hands in amused surrender. He crossed his arms and continued to smoke as he watched the scene unfold.

Ben tossed the iPad onto the kitchen counter and strode over to Annie with menacing steps, intending to put an end to this bullshit. She grinned and tossed her phone over to Kimiko, and Ben glowered, changing directions.

“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”

Kimiko’s eyes widened at the angry supe heading toward her. She tossed the phone to Frenchie next. The phone bounced between his flour-stained hands as he yelped in surprise.

“Oh, shit,” he uttered, when Ben began stomping his way.

“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”

“A voice like warm butter,” Frenchie praised. He quickly tried to move from side to side to evade his attacker. “You should be proud, Monsiuer Grincheux! A man soothing his baby is a beautiful thing.”

“Shut your fucking cockhole,” Ben gritted out, but he still reached out when the phone sailed under his arm—only to land in M.M.’s hands. He froze with widened eyes, not wanting to be in the game. But it was too late, for him and Ben.

“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” his voice sang, more quietly, more tender, deep and baritone. “This one’s for you…”

A brief pause. And then—

“What the fuck’re you doing?”

M.M. managed to pause the video. A beat of utter silence, and then...

Everyone burst out into laughter. Hughie started it; he was damn near folded in half, leaning heavily on his girlfriend as he wiped a tear out of his eye. M.M. tossed the phone back to Frenchie, whose entire frame was shaking with restrained glee.

Ben’s jaw worked as he contemplated how exactly he was going to kill every one of these cocksucking morons.

And then you. Because how else had they gotten that video? You had to have sent it somehow before he got ahold of you last night.

“All right, enough!” he bellowed.

The entire room fell silent.

“First of all, erase that shit right now, or it’s coming out your ass,” he barked, pointing at Frenchie. The other man jolted and did as he was told.

“As for the rest of you, I better not hear another fucking word about this, or so help me Christ, I’m gonna do some barbecuing.” 

About three days later, Sapphire had been caught and re-imprisoned, and Ben returned home. He found you in the living room. He was taciturn to your happy smile when you welcomed him with a hug around his waist, though your smile fell after he didn’t respond to your kiss.

He slowly lowered his gaze down to you, and you knew.

Biting your lip, you soothed a hand along his cheek. “So, how’d it go?”

“Fine,” he said, but little else.

In fact, Ben didn’t speak to you for most of the evening. You tried cooking him a good hot meal, but he barely said two words to you. The only thing he did, before he was even showered and changed, was venture into the nursery to lay a gentle hand on his daughter’s head as she slept, over her downy brown hair. He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

After that, he strode past you in the doorway and slammed the door shut in the bathroom.

Aw shit. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help chortling with laughter. You should’ve known he’d be a great big man child about this.

So you decided to call your mom and see if she could take Lila for the night.

You had some damage control to do.

Now…

He'd brought you to the edge of your pleasure three times before he withdrew his mouth or his hand from your body, not letting you touch yourself, not letting you come—driving you to the point of frustrated tears.

You grabbed his head with both hands and guided him to look you in the eyes.

“Baby, please. Stop torturing me,” you pleaded. You used every tool in your arsenal to make him break, giving him soft, tearful eyes. You leaned up and pressed gentle kisses to his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I need you,” you whispered, drawing him into deeper, messier kisses. Part of him started to falter. He briefly closed his eyes and breathed into your kiss.

But then, he stubbornly broke from you with a frown.

“Nice try. You’re not getting off that easy,” he said. “Now say it. Why the fuck are you sorry?”

You huffed in aggravation, but you twined your arms around his neck and brushed slightly sweaty strands of his hair away from his forehead.

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you,” you said, even though your mouth began to curve upward. “It was a sweet thing you did, and I’m glad I captured it. But I am sorry that sharing that moment with our friends bothers you so much.”

“First of all, they’re your idiot friends,” he said. You wanted to interject on that one, but you knew he wasn’t in the mood, and you didn’t want to fight with him for real.

“Second of all,” he began…but he didn’t have any more words after that. They were caught between his irritation, and his unwillingness to even voice what it was he felt. Eventually, he found them.

“There’s some shit that needs to stay between us,” he said.  

You smiled, but you mercifully drew him down for another slow kiss.

“Okay, okay. I hear you. It’s not that big a deal though. You love your family, and look! Your macho-ness is still very much intact,” you said, gesturing at his very much hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Now are you gonna fuck me like a man, or do I need to find a vibrator that will?”

At that Ben looked down at you with a raise of his brows. His lips twitched, mostly at your audacity. Shaking his head, he slid a hand behind your neck and drew you in for a kiss, fueled by passion and frustration in equal measure.

You wrapped your thighs around his hips, urging him closer. His straining length pressed against your center, the wet tip slipping against your glistening folds. He groaned at the sensation.

“Please,” you repeated, licking into his mouth for a sensuous kiss.

The once-iron grip on his restraint finally broke. Ben slid a hand between you to hold himself to your entrance. With one smooth thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. Your moan of relief echoed his own. If nothing else good came out of this situation, you two hadn’t had the time or the energy to go at it like this in a long time.

He grabbed your thigh and angled you higher, so he could sink in at an even better angle as he began to rut into you.

With all of his earlier edging and teasing, you were already so close. Your inner walls fluttered around him, welcoming him home and gripping him tight. All it took was a few well-placed swipes of his thumb over your clit to have you tumbling over the edge—a delicious cresting of pleasure that made you arch off the bed, biting your nails into his shoulders, a cry caught in your throat.

Ben fucked you through your release, all while chasing his own. His grip on your hip tightened as his thrusts grew ragged, his own breathing shallow and rough, until his balls tightened and his body locked up on him. He spent himself inside you, coating your inner walls until he had nothing left.

He just barely managed to keep himself from smothering you as his body relaxed. You still welcomed his weight on you, soothing your hands up and down his back while you both caught your breath. Your thighs slipped from his hips, your feet meeting bed and sliding out a little.

Ben brushed your sweaty hair away from your face. Looking down on you now, his face gentled from its hardened angles and furrowed brows. You smiled lazily.

“Still mad at me?” you teased.

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he let out a rough exhale through his nose.

“Something tells me you didn’t learn your lesson,” he said, somewhat incredulous, and yet, amused.

Your smile was undoubtedly cheeky, even as you leaned up to give him a sweeter kiss.

“Sure did, baby,” you said against his lips. And another kiss. “Lesson learned, I promise.”

He really did roll his eyes this time.

AN: 😂 Ben just can't win, can he?

Translation: Monsiuer Grincheux - "Mr. Grumpy" in French

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, Ben has his Adventures in Babysitting moment in Green:

Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

▶️ Keep Reading: Green

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[minswriting]

Our Little Secret - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: You had always been attracted to your new step father since the day your mom brought him home. He was an attractive older man. He treated your mother well, despite not being home enough. But that didn’t matter too much since your mother was rarely home either. You knew that you shouldn’t feel some sort of way about your step-father. But what happens when he comes home from a rough case and seems to want you too?

Warnings: Step-daughter/step-father dynamic, NSFW, MDNI, 18+ content, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, hair pulling, etc.

Word Count: 3200

Note: This may suck a bit but i hope you all enjoy!

Your relationship with your mother wasn’t the greatest, truthfully. Your mother left your father when you were ten years old, leaving him alone to work full time and take care of his daughter. But when he passed away when you were fifteen, about eight years ago, due to cancer, your mother had taken you in because you had nowhere else to go. While she wasn’t abusive, the two of you fought quite often as you held a lot of resentment against her for leaving you and your father. And now, you were twenty-three, still living with your mother as you went through college because it was the easiest thing to do.

When you first laid eyes on Aaron Hotchner, it was a year after his wife had passed away. He had met your mother and the two had gotten engaged rather quickly, exclaiming that the two of them didn’t want to wait when they didn’t have to. They were both adults interested in one another. And Aaron was just glad that Jack had taken a liking to you almost immediately.

You had always been attracted to Aaron. He was an attractive man. He was a great father to Jack, looked amazing in a suit, he was kind and respectful. Not to mention the authoritative voice he took when he answered his work calls never failed to cause you to clench your thighs. It’s wrong of you to be attracted to your step-father. It’s taboo. And yet you couldn’t help it. You had spent many nights fingering yourself to the thought of your step-father fucking you so ridiculously good.

It was a Friday night. Jack was at a sleepover with one of his friends, your mom was on a work trip as she works as a traveling sales representative, and Aaron was on a case in New York, leaving you home alone for the night. You had just gotten out of the shower, dressed in a pair of shorts and t-shirt and went downstairs to do your college coursework on your laptop.

As you worked on an essay for your psychology class, you heard keys turning in the front door, signaling that someone was home. You looked up from your computer as you were sitting on the couch to see Aaron walking in looking exhausted and stressed. “Hey,” you greeted softly.

Aaron looked over at the couch, giving you a small smile. “Hey,” he greeted back, placing his bag down before walking over to the couch and sitting down next to you. “How’s everything going?” he asked, getting himself comfortable. His legs were spread, his knee touching yours unintentionally. But you made no effort to move away.

“Everything is good,” You replied, closing your laptop and placing it onto the coffee table. “Jack is at Pete’s house for the night. His mom will be taking him home in the morning. Mom’s still on her work trip for another week. And I was just working on an essay.” You took a deep breath, looking at Aaron. “How was the case?”

Aaron sighed, running a hand over his face. “It was certainly…something,” he said exhaustedly. “It was truthfully a rough one. It involves kids and those are always so hard.” You nodded in understanding, not really sure of what else to say. “How come you’re not out on a Friday night?” Aaron asked, looking at you with a curious look.

“Didn’t really feel like it,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. “My boyfriend asked me to go out but…I just didn’t feel like seeing him tonight.”

“Did something happen?” Aaron asked.

“Just a dumb argument a few days ago,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Nothing important.”

Aaron hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you even love him?” he asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion about the question. “What?” you asked, looking at your step father.

Aaron looked at you expectedly. “Do you even love him?” he asked again. “You are in this relationship and yet your body language shows that you’re not that interested in him.”

“Is that really any of your business?” you asked defensively.

“It is when your attention seems to be on me,” Aaron replied smoothly. He adjusted himself so that he was closer to you ever so slightly. His arm was draped on the top of the couch.

Your cheeks became hot as you looked at your step-father, unsure of what to say or what to do. “I-I have no idea what you mean,” you exclaimed, very clearly a lie though you didn’t want to admit that.

“Oh but I think I do,” Aaron said, quirking his lip. “I see the way you look at me, y/n. With those beautiful eyes, you look at me with longing, desire, and admiration. As though I am the thing you need and want most.” Aaron’s tone was soft but knowing. He was a profiler. He could likely tell you things about yourself that even you didn’t know.

“What about it?” You whispered, your attention focused on him completely. Your heart raced with anxiety. You weren’t quite sure what to do. Aaron’s words were true. You had desired him since the day you laid eyes on him. But it wasn’t right. It was taboo. Which is why you never thought that Aaron would ever feel the same or even acknowledge your thoughts.

Aaron’s arm moved to your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. His other hand went to your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “I look at you the same way,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning your cheek.

Hearing these words made your heart flutter and heat pool near your thighs. Your mother and step-fathers relationship had been a bit strained from the beginning. They sort of rushed into it, only caring about the fact that they didn’t need to worry about one another too much since neither one of them were home that much. The rare times they were both home, they acted like a perfect couple for a few days until reality settles in and they’re stuck with one another. But you never thought that Aaron would ever feel a type of way about you.

Without any other words spoken, Aaron softly placed his lips onto yours. It took you a moment to process what was truly happening. Your step-dad was kissing you. Something you’ve longed for quite a while was finally happening. And after a few moments of shock, you kissed Aaron back. For what started off as soft and innocent quickly turned hot and heated as Aaron’s hand began to roam your body. You found yourself moving onto his lap, sitting on top of him as you cupped his face. One of his hands landed on your hip while the other entangled in your hair.

You felt heat going straight to your core, dampening your panties. You couldn’t help but crave friction. While kissing Aaron, you tentatively moved your hips against his, grinding your cunt onto his clothed bulge. The both of you let out soft moans of pleasure, Aaron’s fingers digging into your hip. He pulled away from the kiss to look up at you, placing his other hand on your other hip. “Can you feel just how much I want you?” he asked in that same soft tone as before as he grinded you on his cock again.

You let out a soft moan, nodding your head. “Yes,” you replied. “Take me to bed?” you asked, biting your lip.

“Of course, princess,” Aaron replied. He moved you off of him to stand up before picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs. You held on by wrapping your arms around his neck. He brought you to his bedroom, the one he shared with your mother, placing you on the edge of his side of the bed. He leaned down, still standing as you were sitting, and placed his lips on yours once more.

One of his hands roamed your body, landing on your right boob as he massaged the skin through your shirt. You gasped into the kiss, the sensation sending sparkes to your cunt. Aaron pulled away from the kiss, moving to grab the hem of your shirt before pulling it off of you, revealing your flesh to him. You hadn’t worn a bra after getting out of the shower as you didn’t expect anyone to be home tonight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron said, moving a piece of your hair out of your face before leaning back down to kiss you. His hand massaged your skin, rolling your nipple around with his thumb. You let out a moan into Aaron’s mouth, unable to help yourself from making the noise.

After a few minutes of massaging both of your breasts, Aaron’s fingers trailed lower, reaching the waistline of your shorts. He pulled away from the kiss, looking at you with a serious face. “If you want me to stop, now would be the time to do so,” He exclaimed.

“Please don’t stop,” you responded, looking up at Aaron with a lustful gaze. “I-I need you so bad,” you admitted, blushing in slight embarrassment.

“Good girl,” Aaron replied, moving his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts and panties. His praise caused you to let out a whimper. “You like being called that, don’t you?”

You nodded your head in response.

Aaron simply hummed in acknowledgement, running a finger down your slit to feel your wetness. “God, you’re soaked,” he whispered in awe. “All for me, princess?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered back, the name just falling out of your mouth without any thought.

You hadn't even realized you said it until Aaron let out a groan. “Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. Those two words sent a jolt of heat straight to his cock as he processed what you had said. “I’ll give you anything you want, darling. You’re being such a good girl for me.” And with that, he began to rub your clit.

You let out a low moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you did so. Aaron moved himself so that he was sat behind you, his hand still on your clit while your back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped his other arm around you, leaning in to kiss your neck. His finger went from your clit to your hole, spreading your wetness around before easing a finger inside of you. You whined at the feeling, letting out a soft “daddy,” in pleasure.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said into your skin. He began moving his finger slowly inside of you, teasing your pussy. Your soft moans were like music to Aaron’s ears as he played with your cunt. He eventually added a second finger, stretching you out slightly as he quickened his pace. He hooked his fingers, hitting your g-spot and causing you to jolt and arch your back.

“O-oh fuck,” you moaned, placing a hand on Aaron’s thigh. “Oh my god.”

If you had asked yourself earlier in the day if your step-father would be finger fucking you right now, you likely would’ve laughed. But here you are, getting finger fucked by the man you’ve only thought about, never thinking it would actually happen. The room was filled with the sounds of your wet cunt as Aaron sped up his fingers. You were writhing in his arms, your head rested on his shoulder.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured into your ear, his hot breath on your skin. “I’ve dreamt about doing this,” he began to speak. “Every time I come home from a case and you’re just sitting there in your pajamas, focused on your coursework, looking so beautiful.” Aaron’s other hand moved to your left boob, massaging the skin. “When you’d stretch and let out a small moan, it never failed to make me want to bend you over and take you right then and there.”

You whined in response, his words, the added pleasure, the repeated movements of his fingers inside of you, it was all so much. You felt that familiar heat building in your abdomen as your orgasm slowly approached. “Don’t even get me started on that vacation we took a few months ago,” Aaron continued. “That skimpy bathing suit that barely hid anything when we went to the beach,” His voice was very attractive and soft as he spoke. “Couldn’t help but touch myself that night in the shower to the thought of you while your mother was just in the other room.”

“Daddy,” you moaned, your breathing becoming heavy and shaky. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby,” Aaron replied, moving his digits inside of you faster. “You’re doing so good.”

Your walls clenched around Aaron’s fingers as your orgasm came over you. Your thighs clamped together as you arched your back against Aaron, whining and moaning as you came. Aaron fingered you through your orgasm, coaxing you through it. And when you finally came down from your high, Aaron gave you soft kisses along your skin, calming you down.

“Daddy,” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “Need your cock,” you turned your head to look at Aaron, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“And you’ll get it, baby,” Aaron hummed, turning his face to kiss you on the lips. He let go of you, standing up from his spot behind you. “Take your shorts off for me.” He said as he began unbuttoning his shirt. You obliged, pulling down your shorts and tossing them to the side, leaving you fully nude. You bit your lip, looking up at Aaron with doe eyes.

Aaron tossed his shirt to the side before moving to unbuckle his pants. He tossed his belt to the side, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his boxer briefs. You let out a small whimper as Aaron’s cock sprang out. He was about seven inches but he was quite girthy, definitely bigger than your previous partners. “You’re so big,” you whispered, looking at his cock.

Your words caused Aaron to chuckle. “Am I?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. “Glad you think so, princess.” He walked back over to the bed as he kicked his pants away. “Lay on your side for me.”

You nodded your head, laying down on your side, your head on the pillows. Aaron moved your leg, holding it up slightly as he kneeled on the mattress, straddling your other leg. He rested your leg on his thigh, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your pussy. He brought the tip to your clit before moving it down, spreading your wetness onto his cock. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the sheets. His cock moved to your hole, slowly probing at your entrance. You moaned at the intrusion, feeling the stretch in your cunt. Aaron hissed in pleasure as your walls enclosed around his member.

Tears formed in your eyes at the sting. Aaron leaned down to kiss your temple, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to relax you. When Aaron bottomed out, he stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. After a few minutes, the pain subsided. “Y-you can move,” you said.

Aaron began to slowly thrust, moving his hips out before moving back inside of you. The both of you let out moans as he settled into a slow rhythm. “You’re so fucking tight, princess,” Aaron groaned.

“So big, daddy,” you whined, burying your head into the pillow. Aaron’s cock filled you up so good, hitting in spots you had never felt before. “Never been so full.”

Aaron moaned softly, leaning down to capture your lips with his as he thrusted his hips. His cock grazed your g-spot, going deeper inside of you, causing you to let out a choked moan. “O-oh fuck,” you moaned against Aaron’s lips. “F-faster, please.”

And he obliged. He moved his hips at a faster pace, putting a hand in your hair and tugging at the strands. You started to moan louder, your eyes fluttering shut as Aaron’s cock plunged in and out of you. “You’re so perfect,” Aaron exclaimed, breathing heavily. “Being such a good girl for me.” Aaron started thrusting into you harshly, causing your walls to clench around his cock. “Mine,” he said, leaning down to nip at your neck.

“All yours, daddy,” you whined. “Always yours.” The moans leaving your mouth were whorish as his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making you see stars. You turned your head to bury it in the pillows.

That was until Aaron gripped your hair, yanking your head back a bit. “Look at me while I fuck you,” he said, his voice rough and filled with desire. You obeyed, turning your head to look up at Aaron with your beautiful eyes. His brown orbs were on you as he fucked you, his pace almost brutual.

The sensation of his cock pounding into you made tears of pleasure well up in your eyes, making you let out a sob. “Daddy,” you sobbed in pleasure. “it’s too much, too much.” you babbled.

Aaron cooed, running a soothing hand through your hair. “You can take it,” he replied, not relenting up. “Be a good girl and take it.” Aaron groaned.

The repeated assault onto your g-spot made your abdomen tighten as you felt your orgasm approaching. “So close,” you whimpered.

“Me too, baby, me too.”

And with just a few thrusts, you were clenching around Aaron’s cock, cumming for the second time that night. Aaron hissed in pleasure, letting out a moan as he followed suit, cumming inside of your cunt. You babbled as you came, letting out a mantra of “oh my gods” and “daddy” as Aaron moaned out sweet nothings.

When you both finished, the both of you were breathing heavily, Aaron still inside of you. He kissed your cheek. “You did so good,” he murmured.

As you came down from your high, Aaron pulled out, laying down next to you. He wrapped an arm around you, putting his other arm underneath your head and pulling you close to him. You turned towards him, laying your head on his chest. The both of you were silent, not saying a word as you processed what had happened. Your step father just fucked you into oblivion.

So what happens now?

“What does this mean for us?” You murmured softly, glancing up at Aaron’s face.

Aaron gave you a small smile, moving a piece of hair out of your face. “Well, we can continue as we were and pretend as though this didn’t happen,” he murmured back. “Or we can keep this a secret and explore what this is.”

“Our little secret?” You asked.

“Our little secret, princess.”

And so, that’s what it was. Your own little secret with your step-father. And thus your intimate relationship began.

[chimcess]

Bittersweet || myg (1)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Other Tags: Grad Student!Yoongi, Undergrad!Reader, Grad Student!Hoseok, Uncle!Namjoon, Doctor!Namjoon, Grad Student!Jimin, Fuckboy!Jungkook, GradStudent!Jungkook, Boss!Seokjin, Yoongi POV Genre: College!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, kinda Student/Teacher but not really, Older!Yoongi, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut Word Count: 19.9k+ Summary: When a cynical graduate student meets an overly enthusiastic undergraduate, the air crackles with tension—though not all of it is good. Warnings: Mean!Yoongi, he's extremely rude, like extremely so, prank gone wrong, bitter grad student to the max, strong language, Jimin is a snitch, possible wrong science information (i'm sorry i'm not perfect), sexual tension, reader faints at the sight of blood, unfunny pranks, Yoongi is jaded, he's a softie once you get to know him, hospital visit, non-descriptive male masterbation, reader has a stutter when nervous, Yoongi just being in denial for almost 20k words, kissing at work, almost caught, Jealous!Yoongi, i'm sorry but this JK is kind of a slime ball, Reader knows what she's doing, they're adorable, lots of bickering, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Another old draft I found buried in my Google Docs! I didn't need to change too much, and it's very loosely edited, so please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes. This was rather long (and I don't know why I never posted it), so it had to be split into two parts because of Tumblr's new rules. Thanks for reading!

Next

Subject: Undergrad Mentoring From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 6:18 AM   To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu  

Yoongi,  

I’m forwarding an email from a brilliant undergraduate. Have you thought about mentoring a student? I really think you should.  

— Jin  

---

From: ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu   Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 2:08 AM   To: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Subject: Undergraduate Research  

Dear Professor Kim,  

My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m a junior in the School of Arts and Sciences, majoring in microbiology. I’m incredibly interested in undergraduate research, particularly in your fascinating work on Helicobacter pylori and its connection to stomach cancer.  

Although I don’t have prior research experience, I’m hardworking and responsible, and I would appreciate the chance to join your team. Please let me know if you have space available in your lab.  

Attached are my CV and transcript.  

Thank you!  

Y/N Y/L/N  

---

Dr. Seokjin Kim Member, Division of Basic Sciences   Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center   1100 Fairview Avenue North   Seattle, WA 98109-1024  

I stared at Jin's email, the words bouncing around in my head. No previous research experience? Oh great! Just fucking great!

As the clock hit noon, I trudged into the break room, where the fluorescent lights buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. It was my little escape, my sanctuary from the suffocating hallways of academia. Hoseok, the only graduate student I considered a friend, was already inhaling his lunch.

I plopped my Tupperware into the microwave, the day’s weight pressing down on me like a thick fog. “Jin wants me to take on an undergrad,” I grumbled, feeling the words stick in my throat.

“Seriously?” Hoseok asked, mouth half-full. He didn’t even bother to swallow before adding, “Have them do the dishes.”

“Oh man, this is going to suck,” I muttered, stirring my mac and cheese with the enthusiasm of a person headed to their execution. “I have to train her, and she has zero lab experience. I don’t have time for this crap.”

The microwave beeped, its harsh sound grating against my nerves. I pulled out my steaming food, the steam rising ominously. “I tried to get out of it, but Jin insisted it’s ‘all part of the training.’” I mimicked his voice, nasal and overdramatic. Hoseok chuckled, nearly choking on his food.

I dug into my lunch, my mind racing. “She’s probably some pre-med trying to pad her CV. Calling our research ‘fascinating’ like she even knows what we do here—just another cookie-cutter student firing off a hundred emails.” 

“Maybe she’s cute?” Hoseok waggled his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him. My single status was a constant source of irritation for him. He meant well, but his attempts at matchmaking were like trying to fix a flat tire with a spoon.

“I already did my required TA-ing last year, and it nearly gave me an ulcer. I thought I was done with whiny undergrads! This really sucks!” The words burst out, hot and angry. The idea of babysitting a clueless student gnawed at me like a persistent itch.

I focused on my research, hoping it would be my ticket out of this academic purgatory. Mentoring an undergrad was the last thing I needed—a distraction threatening to derail my meticulously planned escape.

After lunch, I headed to the incubator to check on my cultures, the familiar hum a small comfort amidst the chaos. Then I settled at my desk, drafting a reluctant email to the undergrad, my words dripping with begrudging obligation.

From: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu   Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 1:05 PM   To: ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu  

Come to the lab on Monday between 8 AM and 7 PM. Bring your schedule.  

Yoongi Min PhD Candidate   Kim Lab   Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center   1100 Fairview Avenue North   Seattle, WA 98109-1024  

This was going to suck.

“Hi, I’m looking for Yoongi Min?” A stranger’s voice cut through the quiet of the lab, and I felt my focus waver. I was knee-deep in DNA sequencing data, desperately searching for a start codon when the interruption struck like nails on a chalkboard.

“That’s him over there,” Jimin, my lab mate, replied. I didn’t need to look up; I knew he was pointing at me.

“CTT ATC GTG ACT…” I murmured; eyes glued to the screen. The code demanded my attention.

A shadow crept closer, invading my peripheral vision. I ignored it, hyper-fixated on the screen.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” the shadow solidified into the undergrad I’d been dreading. I continued to stare at the screen, unwilling to break my concentration.

“Did you bring your schedule?” My voice was clipped, an attempt to maintain my rhythm.

CGC CTC CGT ATG… There it was! I highlighted the start codon, feeling a small sense of victory amidst the irritation. Finally, I turned to face her. She held a crumpled piece of paper in trembling hands.

The crackling noise of the paper grated on my nerves, and I snatched it from her. A quick scan revealed she had a limited availability. Tuesdays and Thursdays it was.

“Do you want one or two credits?” I asked, filling out her form with practiced efficiency.

“Oh… um… t-two,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oh great, a stammerer. I disliked her already. My frustration bubbled beneath the surface.

“That’s ten hours a week,” I said, scribbling on the form. “Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, maybe some Wednesday mornings.” I thrust the completed form back at her and turned back to my computer.

“See you tomorrow,” I dismissed her with a wave, eager to end the interaction. Her stammering was already wearing on my patience.

When I returned from lunch, she was perched at my bench. A laugh escaped me at the sight of her attire.

“What the hell is that?” I pointed at her lab coat, which was covered in hand-drawn bacteria.

She jumped, eyes wide. “My la-la-lab coat?” she stuttered.

Oh great, she’s a fucking idiot.

I took a deep breath, scanning her outfit for safety violations. At least she wore closed shoes and jeans, but her long hair hung loose.

“You should tie your hair up. You’ll be working near the flame.”

She pulled a hairband from her wrist and started tying her hair back. As I walked past, I noticed the back of her lab coat had “Bacteria Rule” scrawled in huge letters.

Bacteria Rule? Is she serious? I wanted to stab my eyes out with the pen in my hand. Who wastes time drawing on a lab coat? Nobody in their right mind, that’s for sure.

Something was off about her—I was certain of it. Concerned about her competence, I decided she couldn’t be trusted with any real work. Instead, I assigned her mundane chores, the kind even a high schooler could handle. It might not have been what Jin envisioned, but it was the only way.

God, I’m already dreading this. Can it be Friday already?

Hoseok and I lounged in the break room, our feet propped up on the coffee table, Tupperwares in our laps. The lack of a proper dining table didn’t bother us; it still beat eating at our desks.

“How’s it going with the undergrad?” Hoseok asked, mouth full.

“I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong with her,” I said, dead serious.

Hoseok laughed, even though I wasn’t joking.

“All she does is nod at what I say,” I elaborated. “Like one of those bobblehead dolls.” I stretched my neck and bobbed my head for effect. “Except she has bangs flopping all over her face when she nods frantically at everything I say.”

Hoseok snorted but kept eating.

“And she stutters! Well, when she speaks, that is. She doesn’t speak much. I kind of like that about her.”

Hoseok chuckled. “Sounds like you’re in love, bro.”

“Fuck you, Hoseok,” I shot back, uninterested. I already knew where this was heading.

“Is she cute?” Hoseok asked, glancing at me with a smirk.

“She’s a baby.”

“Is she a cute baby?”

“Hoseok, she’s… she’s a zygote.”

“Well, maybe with this zygote, you’ll learn how to be human again.” He turned his attention back to his food.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on. You’re not exactly social, bro. All you do is lab stuff and occasionally hang out with me and Serena.”

“What are you talking about? I am social.” My tone came out whiny, betraying my disbelief.

“Oh, really?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow, gesturing to my Tupperware. “So social that you prefer to eat alone in the lab over joining us in the break room?”

“Do you even hear yourself? You’re such a dork. I eat in here because the lab is a mess, not because I’m antisocial.” I shrugged, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping into my cheeks.

“Whatever you say, Yoongi,” he laughed, clearly unconvinced.  

I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about this right now. Instead, I grabbed my backpack, bracing myself for the next round of research duties.

After a few weeks of working together, I had to admit—albeit grudgingly—that the undergrad was following instructions better than I’d expected. If I could just ignore her ridiculous lab coat and the way those bangs flopped annoyingly over her forehead, she wouldn’t be half bad. The real annoyance, though, was her constant presence invading my space. But honestly, it could be worse; at least she wasn’t stammering nonstop. Most of the time, she barely spoke, and mercifully, she didn’t ask a ton of questions.

As I walked back from lunch with Hoseok, I was surprised to realize I didn’t dread the thought of the undergrad being in the lab when I arrived. Maybe having her shadow me wouldn’t be the end of the world after all.

Of course, the moment that thought crossed my mind, I jinxed myself. Stepping into the lab, I found her cleaning my bench, and a wave of irritation crashed over me. 

“What the heck are you doing?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

She flinched, turning slowly to face me, her gloved hands still gripping an ethanol squeeze bottle. “I-I just thought I’d clean up a bit,” she stammered.

“Did you touch my samples?” I shot back, a surge of panic coursing through me.

“Which samples?” 

“Those!” I pointed at the upside-down tubes that had been perfectly positioned when I left, now carelessly shoved to the side. 

“I-I just mov—”

“Did you touch my RNA samples?” Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air—an annoyingly stupid fish. “Do you know how labile RNA is?”

“L-la-labile?” 

“Yes! Unstable—easily degradable. The main point here: you don’t touch my RNA samples!” 

“I-I used gloves… I’m sorry,” she mumbled, tears shimmering in her eyes. 

If she started crying, I was really going to lose it. 

I took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose to calm the storm brewing inside me. Slipping on my own gloves, I gently set my samples back in their rightful place, praying I hadn’t lost a week’s worth of work. 

I could hear her sniffling next to me, and I groaned out loud. “Why don’t you and your la-la-lab coat coat go find something useful to do?” 

I listened as she shuffled away, clearly eager to escape my sight. I should have known better than to think this arrangement would work out.

From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Sent: Monday, February 14, 2024, 6:27 AM To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Yoongi,  

Part of the undergrad training involves more than just doing chores. Cleaning dishes, stacking pipette tips, and capping tubes do not count as experiments.  

I expect your undergrad to have enough experimental data to give a presentation at the end of the semester.  

Jin  

What the hell? Did she tell him I’m only having her do chores? 

Shit, shit, shit, shit. 

Jin was right, though. All she’d done these past few weeks were chores. Aside from that little incident with my RNA samples, she hadn’t completely messed up yet. Maybe I should cut her some slack and give her a real project. She might learn something—or at the very least, realize how frustrating science could be and decide to give up on it sooner rather than later. 

Oh God, how was she going to give a presentation if she couldn’t even say one coherent sentence without stuttering? 

This would be an embarrassment, not just for her but for me too. If she messed up, she’d make me look bad. 

Decision made. I needed to lighten up a bit and actually try to teach her something.

On Thursday, the undergrad was busy with her chores when I approached her, project sheet in hand. 

She looked at it, her eyebrows raised. “What is this?” 

“Your project for the next few weeks.” 

Her face lit up with excitement. 

“You didn’t have to go crying to Jin. I was going to give you a project anyway.” 

Her smile faltered into a frown. “W-What are you talking about?” She gazed up at me, bewildered, but I waved her off, unwilling to explain further. 

“Enough chattering. Those tubes aren’t going to wash themselves.” 

Gotcha, undergrad. Your puppy dog eyes don’t work on me.

It was the first week of real work for the undergrad, and I felt a knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach. My palms were clammy, and my heart raced uncomfortably. 

Am I excited about this? Nah… I’m probably just hungry.

“Do you know what PCR is?” 

She nodded eagerly, pulling out her notepad, ready to take notes. 

I explained how I wanted her to amplify two toxin genes from a set of H. pylori samples that had just arrived that morning from the hospital. Naturally, I only gave her a small subset of the total samples. It was a manageable number—enough for her to play around with, but not so many that I’d be ready to murder her if she messed up.

As usual, the undergrad took notes on everything I said, jotting down even where I pointed out the locations of various equipment. For all I knew, she was sketching a detailed map of the lab in that notepad of hers.

The undergrad sat at the bench, PCR tubes lined up in front of her, the protocol to her left, pipettes to her right, and a rack of reagents looming in the back. I watched her as she stared at everything, nervously picking at the edges of her gloves. 

She was going to drive me insane. 

“Do you know how to use the pipettes?” 

She looked up at me, shaking her head timidly. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” My voice came out louder than intended, and she flinched. 

We were never going to get anywhere like this. 

I took a deep breath and tried again, grabbing one of the micropipettes. “You set the volume here.” I pointed to the rings. “Clockwise to increase, counterclockwise to decrease.” 

I demonstrated, twisting the rings as I explained the display window and where to discard the disposable tips when she was done. 

After a few trials, the undergrad carefully pipetted into the PCR tubes, preparing the reaction with surprising precision. 

She was focused, making sure not to contaminate anything. It was clear she was paying close attention to every detail. 

Skilled hands, I noted, feeling a flicker of satisfaction. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.

I led the undergrad into the darkroom, where shadows clung to the walls like forgotten secrets, ready to ensnare us. The air was thick with a sharp, chemical tang, buzzing with anticipation as we approached the agarose gel. The PCR products shimmered faintly under the dim light, a hidden treasure waiting to be revealed. Surprisingly, a flicker of excitement sparked within me, a rare departure from my usual brooding.

“The ethidium bromide binds to the DNA,” I explained, my voice echoing softly in the sterile silence. “When we expose it to UV light, it fluoresces an orange color. You’ll see the PCR products light up on the gel.”

She walked beside me, clutching the gel like a sacred relic, her wide eyes absorbing every word. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind, likely wishing she had her notepad to document my brilliance, as if capturing my words would somehow validate her existence.

As we stepped into the darkroom, she hesitated, like a deer caught in headlights, before gingerly placing the gel inside the UV box. She moved carefully, avoiding the pitfalls of air bubbles that could ruin everything. Either she’d done this before, or she had the sense to read up on it. 

Good. I liked a prepared undergrad.

Once she’d set the gel, I instructed her to turn off the lights. The room plunged into darkness, and I leaned in, my heart racing a little faster. Peering into the UV box, I couldn’t help but grin. “Well, look at that. All your reactions worked.”

“Really?” Her voice trembled from the back, laced with a quiver of hope.

“Yeah,” I called back, though the shadows played tricks on me. “Come closer so you can see.”

I waited, but she lingered in the gloom, frozen as if afraid to approach the light. “Come here, I don’t bite,” I coaxed, trying to keep my tone lighthearted.

Finally, she moved, her profile illuminated under the eerie purple glow. Her eyes widened, and a smile broke across her face like dawn piercing through a dark night. I snorted softly, amused by how easily undergrads were impressed.

After she soaked in the spectacle, I showed her how to take a photo of her gel, and we returned to the lab. She began dutifully filling in her lab notebook, and a glimmer of pride swelled within me. That was until I checked her progress later. The notebook was pristine—a meticulous record of her every move since day one. Hope flickered in my chest, only to sputter out when I turned to the last page. There it was, taped prominently: a picture of the gel with “All worked!” scrawled underneath, accompanied by a crude smiley face.

A fucking smiley face.

This undergrad, I thought, definitely had a screw loose.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” 

“What’s wrong with it?” I glanced down at my sweater, a worn piece of fabric riddled with holes—just like my soul. It was what I had been wearing all day, and it sufficed. 

“It has holes in it.”

“And?” I shot back, genuinely baffled. It was just clothing—a shield against the chill of the world.

“Are you making a fashion statement? You do know grunge was over twenty years ago? I know you live in Seattle and all, but I’m not digging the Kurt Cobain look… at all.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered, irritation bubbling beneath my skin. “I’m starting to regret bringing you to this.”

“Relax, it’s just beers with Hobi and Serena,” she said, rolling her eyes like I was some petulant child.

I raked a hand through my hair, but it sprang back defiantly, so I slapped on a beanie to cover the chaos.

“You know, Yoongi, it wouldn’t hurt to wash your hair once in a while. How are you going to meet any cute girls?”

Here we go again.

“Yoonji, would you get off my case? I don’t want to meet anybody.” 

Yoonji dropped in at least once a month, a whirlwind of concern and relentless nagging. She never believed me when I claimed to be fine over the phone. 

It was endearing, in a way, but mostly a burden I didn’t need. My family was my anchor, yet their relentless need to take care of me felt like shackles.

“Okay, okay... let’s go then.” 

“It’s just beers, for crying out loud.” 

“I’m telling you to relax.” 

In the car, I felt her eyes boring into me. “It’s just... I worry about you.” She brushed her hand along my arm, and I sighed.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, but I could see the disbelief flickering across her face. “Really. I’m just tired of school. I want to start real life already. I’ll be twenty-six this summer, and I’m still stuck in this academic limbo.”

“Hell, I’m twenty-seven!” Hoseok said when we arrived at the bar, lifting his pint in a mock salute. “And look at all the fuck I give!” He downed it with a flourish.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I shot back.

“Hey,” Serena interjected, her tone warning.

“It’s okay…” Hoseok waved dismissively. “He’s just got a bad case of graduate bitterness.”

Graduate bitterness... yes, that was exactly it. A malaise that settled in my bones like a persistent chill. I glanced around, my throat tightening as if the weight of my uncertainty was squeezing the life out of me.

I led the undergrad through the winding corridors of the building, our footsteps echoing like whispers in the shadows. She walked beside me in near silence, her gaze occasionally darting down to her notepad, scribbling furiously as if the ink might escape her. If only she spent as much time observing her surroundings as she did with her frantic notes, she wouldn’t need them to find her way back to the sequencing facility.

There was something peculiar about her. She avoided meeting my eyes, her demeanor skirting the edges of unease, a deep-seated shyness that pricked at my irritation. And Hoseok thinks I’m the antisocial one!

As we turned a corner, I pondered the unspoken rules of social behavior in the lab when we suddenly bumped into Jungkook Wand, another graduate student known for his knack for lurking around.

“Min,” he greeted, his gaze fixated on my undergrad, likely eyeing her in that ridiculous lab coat that looked like it had seen better days. Why she insisted on wearing that tattered garment was beyond me.

“We missed you at happy hour,” he added, his eyes still glued to her, ignoring me completely.

Every Friday, the department hosted a gathering that, while lame, at least offered beer. Last week, Yoonji was visiting, and I wouldn’t have dreamed of dragging her into that debacle.

“Yeah, my cousin was in town,” I managed, trying to shake off the feeling of being an afterthought.

Jungkook’s smile widened as he turned his attention to her. I should probably introduce them, but for the life of me, her name eluded me. Panic set in like a cold sweat.

“Hi,” Jungkook said, flashing a grin that felt a bit too eager.

Shit. What was her name again?

The girl glanced up at me, and a flash of annoyance crossed her features, as if she could read my mind. “I’m Y/N,” she said, her voice laced with indignation as she extended her hand. The scowl she shot me could peel paint off the walls.

Y/N. The name landed in my mind like a lead weight. How had I forgotten it?

Before I could muster an excuse, Jungkook was launching into conversation, his gaze lingering on her with a familiarity that irked me. I didn’t like Jungkook, nor the way he looked at my undergrad, so I steered her away from him, back toward the safety of the lab.

Now, what was her name again? Damn it.

The following week, I was knee-deep in sequence alignments at my cluttered desk when the fire alarm shrieked, slicing through the stillness like a knife. I turned to find my undergrad, her wide eyes betraying sheer panic. 

She thought it was real. In that moment, a mischievous idea sparked in my mind. 

“Run, Becca! Run!” I shouted, leaping from my chair.

“What?” 

The color drained from her face, and I couldn't help but laugh as confusion and fear played out across her features— priceless. I doubled over, laughter bubbling out like soda from a shaken can. 

The alarm blared on, drowning out her startled gasp as she clutched a rack of tubes, trembling. “It’s just a fire drill! Relax!” I finally managed to gasp.

She set the tubes down, took a deep breath, and shot me a glare, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “That was not funny,” she huffed, her voice laced with indignation. “And my name is Y/N!”

With that, she stormed off, leaving me with echoes of my laughter still ringing in my ears. 

Oh, being social was unexpectedly entertaining!

The fire alarms continued to test my patience, ringing again and again. Each time, I chuckled at the memory of her startled expression. Now, standing outside for what felt like the fifth time, I glanced sideways at Y/N, who was shifting her weight from foot to foot, hands shoved into her pockets. 

“Want to grab some coffee?” I asked, feeling an odd urge to make amends.

She blinked at me, surprise flickering across her face as if she couldn’t believe I was actually talking to her.

The cafeteria at the library was our destination, and we walked in silence, the clouds parting for a moment to let in the faintest hint of sunshine. 

As we stood in line, I noticed her tense shoulders. Suddenly, she muttered a string of curses under her breath. Before I could react, her arm was around mine, grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, bewildered.

She maintained her smile but released me, stepping in front. “Say something funny,” she ordered, her voice low and urgent.

“What?”

Then she erupted in laughter, leaving me standing there in utter confusion.

She pressed a hand against my chest, and I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or alarmed. Was this how lab partners acted in her world?

But just as quickly as the laughter came, it faded, and she stepped back, looking sheepish, as if the moment had been a strange dream.

I moved up in line to get my coffee. “Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. I decided to drop the subject entirely.

As we started heading back, she caught up to me, her expression suddenly earnest. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “There’s this guy, Jonah. He won’t take a hint. I thought if he saw me with someone…”

I tuned out her words, her rhythm a blur as I realized just how bizarre everything was.

Could undergrads get any weirder?

Sitting alone on a bench Wednesday afternoon, I savored the solitude when Jungkook appeared, looming over me like a vulture. 

“Min,” he said, his tone dripping with false familiarity.

I glared at him, not in the mood for whatever nonsense he was about to spill. 

“Where’s that cute little thing you were with?” 

“Who?”

“You know, the one in the colorful lab coat.”

Colorful? I snorted, recalling the eyesore she wore.

“She’s not here,” I replied curtly.

“Got her number?”

“Why would I have her number? And why do you want it?”

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his face. “You know… you and her…”

I cut him off, anger flaring in my chest. “Me and her what?”

“Is she up for grabs?”

I couldn’t believe he’d come to my lab just to ask about her.

“Jungkook, she’s an undergrad.”

He laughed, completely oblivious. “Dude, have you looked at her? She’s fine.”

“Yeah, and she’s crazy.”

“Even better!” His expression made my stomach churn.

“I don’t have her number, and if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

With that, I shoved my earbuds in, blocking him out as he stormed off, his words echoing in my mind.

Fucking creep.

Even though it was Friday—one of those days Y/N usually avoided—the lab felt off-kilter, like an old, rickety house holding its breath. She hovered at my desk while I pulled up the sequencing results on my laptop. Last night, I’d sent her a simple email, expecting a casual response. But her reply had come back faster than a ghost in the night. She wanted to see the data today.

As we sat there, the silence between us thickened, almost palpable. Her face was a mask of concentration, but her expressions kept faltering, crumpling like old paper. Not that I cared too much; she had to learn that research was 90% disappointment wrapped in frustration.

“Why didn’t it work?” she asked, her voice tinged with sadness, as if she were mourning a lost hope.

“Maybe you made a mistake?” I suggested, trying to sound casual.

“I was very careful,” she shot back, defensive, her eyes narrowing like a predator ready to pounce.

How typical. Pre-med students always thought they were immune to failure, that the universe owed them success on a silver platter.

“It happens,” I shrugged, trying to dismiss the tension.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her brows knitting together.

“There's a reason it’s called research. If you only had to do it once, it would be called a search.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“You start over.”

“From the beginning?” Her voice trembled, disbelief flickering in her eyes.

“Yeah.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she gazed at her notebook, defeated. Her eyes flitted to the calendar on the wall, and her pencil scratched furiously on the pad. “Can I come tomorrow? I want to have cells growing by Monday.”

Her eagerness surprised me. I added “overachiever” to the growing list of quirks that made Y/N so peculiar.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I know that.”

“Don’t you have a frat party to attend?” I quipped, but her glare silenced me, a reprimand that cut through the lab's sterile air. “Fine, come tomorrow,” I relented, knowing I’d be here anyway. Weekends in the lab were the best; no distractions, just the hum of machinery and the click of keys.

“Awesomesauce!” she chirped, her smile lighting up the dim room. I rolled my eyes, annoyed yet impressed by her determination. Maybe, just maybe, she had what it took for grad school after all.

Saturdays were sacred—my little slice of peace amid the storm of classes and lab reports. After a killer morning workout, I made my way back to the lab, my damp hair fluttering in the cool breeze. Just as I settled into my zone, my phone buzzed with a message that snapped me back to reality. 

“Mr. Graduate Student, I’m at the front of the building. Y/N.”

I chuckled, shaking my head at her cheesy attempt at humor. By the time I reached the entrance, I found her wrestling with her hair, tying it up into a high ponytail that looked like it could give anyone a headache just by looking at it. But when she caught sight of me, her face lit up with a grin that could brighten the cloudiest day.

“Very funny,” I replied dryly as I held the door open for her. “It’s Yoongi, remember?”

As we stepped inside, the silence stretched between us, thick and awkward. I considered tossing out a quip about her hairstyle or her lab coat, but then a mischievous prank began to brew in my mind—dark and delightful, like a noxious weed spreading through my thoughts.

“Start your experiment from scratch,” I said, forcing a serious tone. “Could be that my reagents were contaminated.”

Her eyes widened, and I could barely suppress a smirk. It was a complete lie, of course; the old autoclave in the corner was already wheezing like an ancient beast. But picturing her panic was too tempting. 

Settling at my bench, I could barely contain my excitement. But instead of the expected rush of alarm, there was a loud crash—glass shattering like a million tiny dreams—and then silence. 

What the hell was that?

I found her on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass that sparkled like lost hopes. The autoclave hissed and wheezed, steam curling around us like a ghost. I rushed to her side, trying to stem the leak with my hands. 

“What happened?” I asked, crouching beside her. She looked like a wilted flower, her head buried in her knees, eyes squeezed shut.

“Are you okay?” I tried again, dread pooling in my stomach as I saw her trembling hands. Her breath came in quick bursts, and my heart raced. 

She mumbled something I couldn’t catch, her palm pressed hard against her leg. “Let me see,” I urged, only to be hit with a wave of horror: a deep gash across her palm, crimson pooling onto the cold tiles.

Oh, no...

Panic surged as I scooped her up, her fragile body slumping against mine. “You’re okay,” I whispered, the words feeling hollow. “It’s okay.” 

I hurried her to the sink, the cool water a sharp contrast to the rising heat in the lab. She buried her face in my chest, her panic palpable against my shirt. 

“Is there still blood?” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Mostly gone. But we need to get to the ER,” I insisted, urgency tightening my tone.

She groaned, eyes still shut tight, her composure slipping away. 

“Please, open your eyes,” I pleaded, gently lifting her chin. I rubbed my thumb along her cheek, trying to anchor her to reality.

“Can you walk?” 

She nodded weakly, but when she tried to stand, her legs buckled. I swept her back up, panic clawing at my throat. 

What have I done? The air felt thick with dread, and I knew I had to get her out of there. 

I carried her to my car, the world outside fading into a blur, as if the universe was holding its breath. Carefully, I placed her in the passenger seat, her eyes still shut like she was blocking out the horrors around us. I fastened her seatbelt, feeling the weight of the moment. "Please say something," I urged, glancing at her, desperate for any sign of life.

"I hate blood," she mumbled, voice fragile.

Relief washed over me—she was talking. It struck me as strange that a pre-med student would detest blood. "Are you still dizzy?" 

She nodded, and my heart sank at her admission. The crease in her forehead deepened, and I wanted nothing more than to smooth it away.

"We’ll be at the hospital in ten minutes," I promised, focusing on the road ahead.

"Would you distract me, so I don’t think about the blood?" 

"I don’t know how," I admitted sheepishly.

"Say something funny." 

"Funny? Okay. It’s pretty funny that you want to go to med school and you faint at the sight of blood." 

"Who says I'm pre-med?" she shot back, and I blinked in surprise.

"You're not?" 

"No, and that really wasn’t funny. Talking about blood isn’t going to help me forget about it." 

Frustration clawed at me as I struggled for something to say. 

"What do you want me to say?" 

"Don’t you know any jokes?" There was an edge of frustration in her voice.

"No." 

"Everyone knows at least one joke, Yoongi." The way she said my name sent a jolt through me, tightening my stomach with something close to admiration.

Before I knew it, I blurted out the lamest joke I could remember from college. "Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar," I began, watching her lips twitch upward. "One says, ‘I think I've lost an electron.’ The other asks, ‘Are you sure?’ The first replies, ‘Yes. I'm positive.’"

I cringed at how cheesy it was, but when her smile finally broke through, it felt like winning the lottery.

"That was lame," she said, but the glimmer of her smile gave me hope.

At a red light, I risked a glance at her. Her eyes were still closed, but the pale green tint to her skin had faded, replaced by a healthy glow. My heart swelled with relief.

The driver behind me honked impatiently, snapping me back to reality.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, noticing her fingers curling around her injured wrist. 

She nodded, a pout forming on her lips that made my heart ache. I nearly missed a stop sign, cursing under my breath.

"God, I’m such a jerk," I muttered, guilt gnawing at me. I had messed up, all in the name of a stupid joke. I racked my brain for something else to say but came up empty.

"I don’t know any more jokes, but I was good at geeky pickup lines back in college," I offered, desperate to lift her spirits. Her smile returned, lighting up the car.

"This better be good," she warned teasingly.

"If I were an enzyme, I’d be DNA helicase, so I could unzip your genes." 

"Oh my God," she snorted, and I laughed, relieved to see her react. "Did you use that on anybody?" 

"Maybe," I hinted, my chest tightening with excitement.

"Did it work?" 

"No," I admitted, but I was laughing now, and she was grinning, even with her eyes still closed. I was determined to keep her smiling. 

"Oh! Do you like The Police?" 

"The police?" She frowned, confusion crossing her features.

"Yeah…" 

"As in the profession?" 

"No, you dork. The band. Sting's band?" 

"Oh, yeah. I guess." She shrugged.

And against my better judgment, I cleared my throat and began singing. "Every bond you break… Every electron you take…"

Finally, her eyes fluttered open, surprise and delight dancing across her face. I couldn’t help but wiggle my eyebrows, and her smile broadened, banishing the shadows of panic. "Oh, can’t you see, you’re covalently bonded to me…" I sang, pouring my energy into the ridiculousness of it. Nothing felt more beautiful than the light in her eyes. 

How had I never noticed how amazing her smile was before?

We pulled into the University’s Medical Center in under ten minutes, just like I expected. I parked quickly and rushed around to help her out, but she stumbled out on her own, nearly losing her balance. I caught her just before she could face plant onto the pavement—or worse, land hard on her injured hand.

I could feel irritation bubbling up inside me. Did she really think I wouldn’t help? Sure, I was an idiot sometimes, but I still had a decent sense of gentlemanly instincts. 

“Can you walk?” I asked, keeping my hand around her elbow as we approached the entrance.

“I think so,” she replied softly, but I kept my grip steady, guiding her into the emergency room. 

Inside, a flicker of relief hit me—the place was nearly empty, and we should get seen fairly quickly. “Hello,” I said to the front desk lady, who was glued to her computer screen. She glanced up, her expression completely bored, and didn’t reply. Instant dislike. 

“She cut her hand, and it looks deep,” I said, gesturing toward Y/N beside me.

“Name?” The front desk lady’s question hung in the air like a sword about to drop, and suddenly, I froze.

Goddammit…

She didn’t mean my name. My stomach twisted as I desperately searched my memory. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten her name again.

It starts with a B, doesn’t it? I racked my brain, stalling as the front desk lady’s eyebrows shot up impatiently.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” came the shaky voice next to me, cutting through my fog of embarrassment.

God, I was such an idiot! I wanted to punch myself for being so careless.

I looked at her—Y/N—and even though she shook her head, a grin crept onto the corner of her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, I was forgiven. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… I repeated silently, determined that this time I would remember.

I was convinced that the “doctor” tending to Y/N wasn’t a real doctor—not yet, anyway. He claimed the cut wasn’t deep and that it hadn’t damaged any tendons or nerves. He even said it was clean enough to glue shut, which apparently was a thing now. But my gut twisted with doubt; something about him set off alarms in my head.

Y/N had her eyes squeezed shut, clutching my hand like it was a lifeline while this wannabe physician—Doogie Howser, I mentally dubbed him—cleaned her wound. She perched on the examination table, her injured hand resting on a tray beside her, as I stood behind her, anxiety tightening my chest. In the chaos of her injury and my desperate attempts to care for her, her ponytail had loosened, hanging low at the nape of her neck. A sudden curiosity gripped me: What would her hair look like, cascading down like a waterfall?

“Y/N,” I whispered, leaning closer, needing to say her name again, to engrain it into my memory. “Breathe through your mouth. It’ll help.”

I lingered near her neck, unable to pull away, drawn by something I couldn’t quite name. I tried to find the words to describe her scent—something fresh, like the morning air spilling through an open window—but words failed me. I’d caught a hint of it earlier when I held her close at the sink, but now, in the confined space of the ER, it enveloped me, bringing back echoes of happier times.

Y/N smelled good—no, different. Refreshing, like the world waking up after a long sleep. And I was trapped in this moment, lost in the intoxicating blend of her presence and the sterile smell of antiseptic.

Every time she flinched, my instinct was to lash out at Doogie. I wanted to punch him for every wince that slipped from her lips, but I knew that wouldn’t help; it might just make things worse. I fought against the urge to ask the nurse for someone else to help her, terrified to leave her side. So I stayed, fingers entwined with hers, trying to offer some measure of comfort in the storm of uncertainty.

When Doogie finished and began to bandage her hand, I felt a wave of relief wash over me as she released her grip. I stepped back, taking a breath that felt heavy in my chest. Tension still coiled inside me; I hated that she’d gotten hurt, but a part of me marveled at her resilience. Despite her aversion to blood, she had held herself together with a strength I hadn’t given her credit for. There was more to Y/N than I realized, and that realization struck me hard.

“Listen, I’m really sorry,” I said once we were back in the car, the weight of guilt pressing down on me.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault I’m such a klutz.” She offered a radiant smile that twisted my insides with guilt all over again.

“So, what happened?” I asked tentatively, hoping against hope that this wasn’t really my fault.

“I was carrying a rack of test tubes when that thing started shooting vapor out. I freaked out. I thought it was going to explode! So I dropped the tubes and cut my hand trying to pick them up,” she admitted, embarrassment creeping into her voice as she stared down at her hands.

I should have known...

“Shit…” I thumped my head against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up inside me.

“Hey, stop.” Her hand reached up to my shoulder, a gentle gesture that only deepened my self-loathing. “You couldn’t possibly have known that thing was going to start leaking, right?” I peeked at her, guilt etched on my face. She scrutinized me, her brow furrowing as realization dawned. “You did know, didn’t you?” Her hand dropped from my shoulder, and I felt the accusation hanging between us like a thick fog.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” I said earnestly, trying to convey the depth of my regret, how much I hated myself for her injury.

“You’re unbelievably cruel!” she shot back, eyebrows knitting together as she glared at me.

She was right, but I felt compelled to explain. “There wasn’t any risk of you getting hurt. The door just leaks a little vapor. I was going to close it after you got scared. It was a stupid joke, Y/N. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

“Well, excuse me for ruining your prank,” she snapped, rolling her eyes and turning away from me.

Sarcasm. Just lovely.

“I am truly sorry. Can you forgive me?” I asked, keeping my gaze on her even though she pointedly avoided me.

“Whatever, Yoongi.” She shrugged, irritation radiating from her as she stared out the window.

I wanted to tell her she was acting like a child, but I held my tongue, knowing that teasing her wouldn’t help my case. Instead, I focused on driving, ruminating on how to make this right again.

How the hell do I fix this?

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” I said to Y/N, trying to sound calm even though a knot twisted in my stomach as I parked in front of the research building.

“This is really not necessary, Yoongi. I’m fine,” she replied, brushing off my concern.

“Y/N, can you please, just for once, not contradict me?” I shot back, frustration bubbling under the surface.

“I never contradict you!” she protested, eyes wide in disbelief.

I fixed her with a glare until the tension between us shifted, and a small smile broke through her pout as I climbed out of the car. Maybe I was getting through to her, even just a little.

I dashed into the lab to grab her bag, but was abruptly halted when I spotted Jimin hunched over her bench. An urge to warn Y/N about the mess brewing in the autoclave room hit me hard. 

“Jimin?” I called, feeling an unusual tension in the air as he turned to me, eyes wide like I’d just spoken an alien dialect. We rarely exchanged more than necessary pleasantries. “There’s a big mess in the autoclave room. I’ll be right back to clean it up.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” he shot back, still looking as confused as a cat in a dog park.

“There’s a bunch of glass… I don’t know. My undergrad—she dropped the tubes. I—” The words tumbled out in a jumbled mess, and Jimin continued to stare at me like I’d just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. “Never mind,” I muttered, eager to escape the awkwardness.

“How’s that for a change? First, you have her doing your chores, and now you’re cleaning up after her,” he called after me.

I spun around to glare at him, irritation sparking. Sure, he was right, but I had bigger problems than petty lab gossip. I left him behind, shaking off the encounter.

When I climbed back into the car, Y/N was waiting for me, eyebrow raised, holding a CD case. My stomach dropped as I recognized it—my mom’s treasured Carpenters album.

“Really, Yoongi?” she asked, her smile widening. “The Carpenters? Okay, cool.” She casually tucked the CD case back into the glove box.

She was teasing me—smiling at me. That had to be a good sign, right? Maybe she had forgiven me after all.

I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on her face, how her smile lit up the whole car. It was stunning; how had I never noticed it before? A pang of regret hit me for all the moments I had let slip by.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just—uh, how’s your living situation?” I mumbled as I started the car and drove off, reminding myself to keep it together. She’s just an undergrad, I thought, shaking off the flutter in my stomach.

As I parked in front of her building, my chest tightened again. I was still angry—mostly at myself—for letting her get hurt. I wouldn’t feel at ease until she was safely tucked inside her apartment.

“Are you still dizzy?” I asked, unable to hide the concern in my voice.

“I think I’m all right now,” she replied, a small grin dancing on her lips.

Would it be weird if I walked her to her door? Did guys still do that? It had been ages since I’d been on a date. What was the protocol these days?

What the hell am I thinking? This isn’t a date.

But she didn’t look a hundred percent. Maybe carrying her bag would help. I climbed out of the car, and she shot me a bewildered look as I opened her door.

“I’ll feel better once I know you’re safe inside,” I insisted, my voice firm.

“I’m fine. You don’t hav—”

“Please, humor me,” I interrupted.

Y/N hesitated, then took my hand as she stumbled out of the car. I grabbed her backpack, and we walked inside together, a strange sense of connection warming the air between us.

At her door, she paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. When she turned to look at me, her brown eyes sparkled with something I couldn’t quite pin down.

“I’ll see you Tuesday then,” I said, handing her the bag.

“Yes. Tuesday.” Her gaze flickered up through her long lashes, and I was momentarily mesmerized. “Not Monday.” A playful grin crept across her face, and I felt my breath catch at the sight of her eyes crinkling with delight. “You know why not Monday?”

I was still entranced by her smile and completely missed the point she was trying to make. “Because rainy days and Mondays always get me down,” she said, and heat rushed to my cheeks.

Great… she’s making fun of me.

I took a deep breath and snorted, forcing myself to look away from her lips. “You’re such a dork, Y/N. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Too long.” Her giggle sent my heart racing, a rhythm I couldn't ignore.

“Good night, Y/N,” I replied, managing a smile despite my racing heart.

As I walked back to my car, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and was horrified to find myself grinning like a fool. I frowned and climbed inside, but before I could drive away, I pulled my mom’s CD from the glove box, popped it in, and began to hum along.

Why do birds suddenly appear… every time… you are near?

I slammed on the brakes and hit the eject button.

Holy shit, what the hell is wrong with me?

Thankfully, when I returned to the lab, Jimin was gone. I started cleaning up the autoclave room, picking up shards of glass and mopping away the blood from the floor. As I worked, I spotted Y/N’s lab coat next to the sink, and my heart sank. It didn’t look festive anymore; it resembled a tattered Halloween costume.

Shit… She loved that ridiculous thing, and now it was ruined.

Before I knew it, I found myself washing the lab coat. I tried everything, even bleach. When I was done, the blood stains had vanished, but so had the whimsical bacteria drawings she’d painstakingly decorated it with.

Fuck my life...

When Hoseok called, I told him the chances of me making it to Serena’s party were slim. “I’m stuck in the lab and still have a long way to go,” I said, leaving out the details of my time spent doodling on a lab coat that now looked like a toddler’s art project. I also didn’t mention that I was starting Y/N’s experiment along with my own.

After inspecting the now-ruined lab coat, I realized I couldn’t give it back to her. Tossing it felt wrong, though—I’d just spent hours on the damn thing. So, I wrapped it in a plastic bag and tucked it under my desk, trying to forget it existed.

I left the lab after two in the morning, exhausted but restless. My mind buzzed with thoughts, not about experiments this time, but about Y/N—how she had gotten hurt because of me, and yet she hadn’t unleashed her fury. Somehow, she felt bigger than this. Bigger than me.

God, I’ve been such an asshole.

Images of her haunted me throughout the night. The way she smiled at my lame jokes, how she laughed at my terrible rendition of “Every Breath You Take.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sung to someone, not since my mom had forced me to sing The Carpenters with her. I turned over in bed, a smile creeping onto my face at the memory.

I didn’t have to be a jerk to Y/N anymore. I didn’t want to be. It wasn’t her fault grad school was a pain. If anything, having her around made it bearable. Maybe I could lighten up a bit… or maybe we could both learn something from this. No, I wanted to be nicer to her. I wanted to see her smile.

I want to make her smile?

First The Carpenters, now this?

When did I turn into such a marshmallow?

Monday night in the dingy gym felt like a scene straight out of a bad movie. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh, sterile glow that did nothing to uplift the atmosphere. Hoseok and I were at the bench press, trading off sets like two battered soldiers in a war that would never be chronicled. I stood behind him, bracing for the weight, but my gaze was pulled away, caught in the orbit of something infinitely more captivating.

There she was—Y/N—effortlessly gliding on the treadmill like she was born to run. Her ponytail swung rhythmically with each stride, a pendulum marking the time as she jogged. My breath hitched, a tightening in my chest as I let my eyes wander down her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. And then—oh God—those shorts. Tiny and black, they hugged her body in a way that made my heart race uncontrollably.

The fabric didn’t just cling; it cradled her curves, indenting just enough in the middle to draw the eye downwards. I could almost feel the heat radiating off her skin, my mind spiraling into places I really didn’t want it to go.

“Dude! Hold the bar, would ya?” Hoseok’s voice jolted me from my daze. I blinked hard, shaking off the spell as I refocused on the weights pressing down on him.

“Right, sorry,” I mumbled, fumbling with the bar as I lifted it off him.

Hoseok wiped the sweat from his brow, the glistening drops catching the unforgiving light. I tried desperately to keep my thoughts in check, to suppress the smirk that threatened to creep onto my face, but my eyes betrayed me, fixating once more on Y/N’s ass as it bounced with every determined step on the treadmill.

“What is it?” Hoseok shot me a sideways glance, amusement dancing in his eyes. He knew. Damn him. “You look like a kid in a candy store.”

“Nothing,” I shot back, the word cracking like ice beneath my weight. I raked a hand through my hair, feeling more like a deer caught in headlights than a man. “That’s... um... that’s my undergrad.”

“Your undergrad?” He nearly shouted, and I winced at the volume.

“Shut up!” I hissed, heat creeping up my neck.

“She’s your undergrad?” He lowered his voice, his tone conspiratorial, as if we were discussing some top-secret mission.

“Yes,” I said, willing myself to tear my gaze from Y/N and muster some semblance of composure. “I don’t know why she’s here. This is the first time I’ve seen her in this gym.”

“Are you kidding?” Hoseok replied, incredulous. “She’s here all the time! You’ve just never noticed because you’re practically blind.”

My eyes darted back to her. She was still running, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing behind me. Could Hoseok really be right? Had I been so wrapped up in my own world that I hadn’t seen her before?

But then again, I didn’t recognize anyone else in this place. I came here every day—every damn day—and not one face looked familiar. Blind. I was completely blind.

And yet, here I was, rooted to the spot, entranced by the hypnotic sway of her hips, the way her legs flexed with each determined stride. It was as if she had cast a spell over me, one I didn’t want to break. But I had to; I was standing there like a moron, the weight of Hoseok’s gaze a smirk stretched across his face as he shifted to take his place on the bench.

“Yoongi!” he called, pulling me from my daydream. “It’s your turn.”

I shook my head as if waking up from a fog and stepped to the bench, but my mind remained tangled in thoughts of what I’d just seen. Y/N’s form, bouncing like it was teasing me, was too much. Too distracting. My body was responding in ways I hadn’t felt in years, and it took every ounce of willpower to focus on lifting weights instead of ogling her.

Then, as if she sensed my eyes on her, Y/N turned her head slightly, her gaze locking with mine. For a brief moment, the world melted away—the gym, the weight, the noise—all faded into the background as our eyes met. She faltered on the treadmill, her grip tightening on the bars like a lifeline before she recovered just in time.

What was I doing? I didn’t realize I was moving until I stood beside her, the tension thick enough to slice through the air.

“Hi,” I managed, the word slipping out like a confession.

“Hi?” Her smile lit up the stale space between us, brightening everything. “Who are you and what did you do to my bitter grad student?”

“What?” I stammered, disbelief knotting my stomach. “You’ve seen me here before?”

*Her eyes rolled in a way that was both exasperating and endearing. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m saying hi now. So, hi.”

“Hi…” she giggled, and I felt a low groan bubble up from my chest. What was happening? I hated how she made me feel, how she toppled everything I thought I had under control.

“How’s your hand?” I asked, grasping for something to anchor myself in this whirlwind of emotions.

“It’s fine,” she said, lifting her bandaged hand like it was a trophy. But I was lost, mesmerized by the way her lips moved, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and how the sweat glistened on her skin.

I needed to leave before my body betrayed me further. “Um, I should go,” I interrupted, offering a shaky goodbye as I fled, a whirlwind of confusion and unwanted desire crashing over me.

What the hell was happening to me?

I ran home, my legs pumping, heart racing, trying to outrun the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind. It had been four years since Estelle, and the memory felt as distant as a long-forgotten dream. But Y/N was everywhere now, invading my thoughts—her freckles, her laugh, those bangs that had once annoyed me but now framed her face like a masterpiece.

I stormed through my apartment, shedding my sweat-soaked clothes, bewildered by this tempest of feelings. I couldn’t fathom why it had taken me so long to notice her, why she had pierced through the fog of my indifference and settled in my mind like an unwelcome guest.

In the shower, the warm water cascaded over me, soothing yet insufficient to wash away the turmoil. She was a kid, for Christ’s sake! Nineteen? Twenty? Too young, too innocent for someone like me. I banged my head against the tiled wall, cursing my own weakness.

And yet, even as I stood there, I could feel her presence lingering, like a ghost clinging to the edges of my consciousness—a haunting I couldn’t shake. Was I becoming one of those men who pursued young girls, crossing lines drawn in the sand, sliding down that slippery slope of desire? The universe had a wicked sense of humor.

God, I hoped I wouldn’t see her again at the gym. The very thought sent a chill down my spine—a mix of longing and guilt. But there I was, fantasizing about her hands instead of my own.

When did I become such a creep?

I’m in a foul mood. Not a glimmer of sunshine inside me, just the dense fog of irritability that seems to thicken the air around me. Maybe it’s the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders, or maybe it’s just Tuesday. Either way, I know I’ll probably regret having lunch with Hoseok today, but deep down, I’m still holding onto the hope that, by some miracle, he didn’t notice my bizarre behavior at the gym last night.

As I step into the lunchroom, Hoseok’s voice slices through the stillness. “What the heck happened to you yesterday?”

Well, so much for miracles.

“Nothing. Why?” I try to sound casual as I toss my food into the microwave, but my heart races in protest.

“Nothing? You nearly killed me, bolted off to talk to Y/N, and then stormed out. That seems normal to you?” He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin stretching across his face.

I shrug, feigning indifference, but my stomach twists.

“We were supposed to have drinks with Serena and her friend with the—” he gestures dramatically, “the big personality.”

“Listen, you and Serena need to stop setting me up with her friends.”

“Why? Did you take a vow of celibacy or something?”

“I’m just not in the mood for this today, Hoseok.” I plop down in a chair, my food forgotten.

“Is it because of Y/N?” he asks, cheeks bulging with half-chewed food.

“No,” I reply, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “And her name is Y/N, by the way.”

“OH. MY. GOSH. It is! You’re totally crushing on her!” Hoseok leaps from his chair, fork aimed at me like a weapon. His eyes widen as if he’s just uncovered a major conspiracy.

“What? NO!”

“Dude, you remembered her name!” He plops back down beside me, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Hoseok, what does that—”

“Oh man. This is too good... like, really, really good.” His grin is the kind that makes me want to punch him—or maybe just smack some sense into him.

“Hoseok, please. Just for one day…” I rub my forehead, trying to ease the confusion tightening my temples. The last thing I need is Hoseok’s theories swirling around my mind like a chaotic storm.

“Okay, okay…” He continues to chew, stealing glances at me every few seconds. “So, when’s Yoonji coming?” he asks, smirking, and I shoot him a glare that could curdle milk.

So what if I remembered her name? It hardly means anything. I’ve been working with her for weeks now. I’m not some clueless idiot; I can remember a name. I don’t care what Hoseok or Yoonji think. This is nothing. This doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does. Because Y/N, not “the girl” or “the undergrad,” is going to be in the lab when I return. And I’m not just aware of it—I’m looking forward to it. I want to see her smile, to hear her laugh.

I want to hear her giggle? Jesus, I need to get a grip on myself.

My bad mood evaporates the moment I spot Y/N at my bench, scribbling away in her notepad. Her hair cascades over her shoulder, wild and free. It should bother me—should send alarm bells ringing—but it doesn’t. It looks soft and inviting, and suddenly, all I want is to run my fingers through it.

Okay… I’ve really lost it now.

And just like that, my bad mood crashes back in.

“I can’t find my lab coat,” she says, tying her hair up with an intensity that almost makes me envious.

I feel a spark of irritation at the safety rules that dictate her hair must be tied back. I find myself imagining the kinds of experiments that would allow her to leave it down, just so I could watch it flow freely.

“Do you know where it could be?” she asks, glancing up at me.

I’ve completely lost track of her words, staring at her blankly.

“My lab coat?” she repeats, tilting her head.

Right… the lab coat.

“Let me get you a new one. That one was all covered in blood.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wash it.”

“We have lab coats here, Y/N—new ones. I’ll get you one,” I say, moving past her, determination pushing me forward.

She stops me, grabbing my elbow. “Please, can I have my old one back?” Her eyes are wide and earnest, as if I hold the key to some sacred treasure.

A flush of embarrassment rises in me, and instead of confessing, I lie. “I threw it away.”

“What? Why?” Her gaze pierces through my flimsy excuse.

“It was covered in blood!” I bark, frustration bubbling over.

“I could have washed it!” she snaps, defiance igniting her eyes.

“I’m getting you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new one. Is this some cruel joke? Because if it is, I’d really, really like my lab coat back. It means a lot to me.” The shift in her expression from anger to sadness tugs at something deep within me. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, like I’ve just crushed her puppy.

Realization washes over me like a cold wave: I’m making her cry. With a deep sigh, I relent. “Okay, I didn’t get rid of it.”

“Oh thank God,” she breathes, closing her eyes in relief.

“But… I tried to wash it, and the bloodstains wouldn’t come out. I thought it would be a good idea to use bleach. And it was. I mean, it got rid of the bloodstains, but it also erased your drawings.”

“Oh no…” Her eyes fly open, panic etching her features.

“I’m sorry. Can I please get you a new one?” I plead, hoping to smooth over this disaster before it spirals further.

“I would really prefer to have my old one back,” she insists, crossing her arms defiantly, her gaze unwavering.

Jesus! Why does she have to be so difficult?

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” I groan. She’s staring at me like she’s just won the lottery, and I can’t bring myself to back down. “Fine…” I reach under my desk for the bag containing her lab coat and hand it over, feeling like I’m offering her a corpse.

I should have burned the damn thing.

Her gasp as she pulls the coat from the bag makes my stomach drop.

“Oh my gosh!” She turns it around, inspecting the shapes I drew in a moment of misguided creativity. When she spots my pathetic attempt at rewriting “Bacteria Rule” on the back, she giggles, and I swear my heart stumbles.

How do I keep up with her?

One minute, she’s annoyed; the next, she’s crying; now, she’s laughing. It’s like watching a storm change directions on a whim.

“You… did you do this?” She glances up at me, her eyelashes still damp, and my chest tightens painfully.

“Yeah, it looks even more ridiculous now. Didn’t think that was possible. Would you please let me get you a new one?”

“Oh no. I’m wearing this one,” she chirps, slipping her arms into the sleeves like she’s donning a crown.

“Please say you’re kidding.”

“What? It’s perfect!” she beams, buttoning the coat closed, that radiant smile piercing through my irritation.

Even as she parades around in that god-awful coat, all I can think about is pulling her close and kissing her senseless. It’s ridiculous and utterly baffling, but I can’t shake it.

I really must have lost it now.

The morning air felt heavy, thick with a strange malaise that weighed on me like a thick blanket. "So, what's on the agenda for today, Boss?" Y/N chirped, her pen clicking in a cheerful rhythm as she flipped open her notebook, the sound almost irritatingly upbeat.

"Don’t call me Boss," I grumbled, trying to shake off the oppressive darkness that seemed to cling to me like damp fog.

"Okay, Grumpy. What are we doing today?" Her smile was a bright spark against the backdrop of my brooding mood.

I could tell she was trying to be funny, deliberately poking at my irritation. With an exasperated huff, I shoved the list of activities at her. "Try not to mess up this time, Becca."

She took the list with a theatrical pout, and I stifled a real smile beneath my carefully crafted mask of indifference—a skill I'd perfected over the years. 

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the list. "I thought I was starting from scratch."

"You are," I replied, trying to keep my tone as casual as possible.

"But you did all these steps already." She pointed to the initial tasks, her voice laced with disbelief.

"I was bored Saturday," I said, as if boredom were an acceptable excuse for taking the initiative.

Her eyes darted between the list and mine, a spark of awe lighting up her face. "You started my experiment for me?"

The way she looked at me made my skin crawl—a mixture of discomfort and something warmer I didn’t want to acknowledge. I clamped down on my tongue, suppressing the urge to explain myself. 

"You better get cracking, Y/L/N. There's a seminar at four I want to attend."

Her gaze lingered on me a moment longer before she shook it off, returning to her notebook. A sense of relief washed over me. 

We worked in silence, but I could feel her stealing glances at me like a kid peeking into a haunted house. I knew—I just knew—I had crossed some invisible line. What I felt was tangled, a confusion I was desperate to untangle.

"What’s the seminar about?" she asked, her voice light with curiosity as we carried bottles of growth media to the incubators.

"I don’t know," I said, holding the door for her as we entered the incubator room.

"Then why are you going?" She squatted to stow the bottles inside, her dark hair falling around her face like a curtain.

"Free food." I shrugged, trying to sound indifferent.

"Seriously?" She looked up at me, disbelief written all over her features.

"Y/N… if you go to grad school, you’ll learn to appreciate the majesty of free food."

When she stood up, she released my hand with a huff, her pride surfacing. "When I go to grad school, I’ll enjoy the seminars, even without the free food."

"Right…" I turned away, shaking my head.

"So, can I come?" she asked shyly, her voice nearly drowned out by the hum of the incubators.

"You want to come to the seminar?" I shot her a skeptical glance.

"Hells to the yeah!" 

I suppressed a snort, the surprise of her enthusiasm bubbling up inside me. "Why?"

"I might learn something."

"Okay, you can come, but the la-la-lab coat stays." 

The thought of her actually being excited about attending a seminar with me sent a strange thrill through my chest, one that both excited and unnerved me.

As we made our way to the seminar, Y/N rattled on about her dreams for grad school, her voice bubbling over with energy. I struggled to interject, her words flowing like a vibrant stream, full of life.

When we reached the seminar room, she shook her head at my heaping plate of food. I settled into my seat, grateful for the chance to hide from the annoyed glances of the people behind us. Y/N plopped down beside me, her nervous energy radiating from her.

"That one with the sweater vest is Prof. Waylon," I said, nodding toward him. "He has a serious case of narcolepsy. Snores through the entire talk but wakes up right on cue to ask the hardest questions."

She giggled, and the sound pierced through the fog that had settled around me.

"And over there, with the red bow tie, is Dr. Amun-Kebi. Brilliant but completely bonkers—he discovered Quorum Sensing, yet can’t make eye contact because he’s too busy staring at the ceiling."

She snorted, laughter bubbling up as she covered her mouth, her joy infectious.

"Then there’s Jin," I continued, "who dresses like he’s going to a board meeting every day. Knows more adjectives than a thesaurus, but his favorite is definitely 'fascinating.'"

I mimicked Jin’s exaggerated tone, and Y/N laughed again, drawing some disapproving throat-clearing from the folks behind us.

"Main point is, Y/N," I said, "science makes you lose your mind. You’ve been warned."

"Oh, I think I can handle it," she replied, winking at me, and my heart twisted painfully in my chest.

As the speaker began, I couldn't help but chuckle when I noticed her furiously scribbling notes as if her life depended on it.

Once the seminar ended, we returned to the lab. Y/N still had work to catch up on after being away for an hour. I’d finished my tasks long ago, but I lingered, a shadow in the corner, unwilling to leave her alone in this sterile, fluorescent-lit space.

She closed her notebook with a satisfying smack and turned to me, her eyes bright. "This is so exciting! I can’t wait to see if it works this time."

"Yeah, you’ll get over it," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

"Have you always been such a grump? Or was there a time when you actually liked what you do?"

Her question hit me like a punch to the gut, catching me off guard. I could feel her gaze piercing through my defenses.

"I like what I do."

"Do you love it?"

Her question hung in the air like a dark cloud, and I found myself lost in a maze of memories, the joy of discovery overshadowed by the weight of expectations. Had there ever been a time when I shared her enthusiasm?

"I don’t really remember," I mumbled, avoiding the truth. "It’s getting late, Y/N. How are you getting home?"

"I’m walking."

"I’m walking too. Let’s go."

Did I used to love what I did? The memory felt elusive, slipping through my fingers like water.

As we walked, Y/N asked, "Why did you decide to go to grad school?"

"Why does anyone?" I shot back, a cryptic smirk teasing my lips.

"To make a difference? To revolutionize the field?"

"Very cute, Y/N."

"It’s not cute. It’s true."

"Is that why you want to go to grad school?"

"Yes. I’ve always wanted to help people. Since medical school is out of the question for me—"

"You’ll get over the smell of blood, Y/N."

"It’s not just that. I get too attached. I’d rather contribute silently from the lab." She smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Plus, where would medicine be without science? They’d still be pouring hot oil into wounds!"

I chuckled, a genuine laugh bubbling up like warmth breaking through winter’s chill. "You’re funny." The words slipped out before I could think better of it, and before I could process my thoughts, my fingers brushed against her arm, lingering over the fabric of her hoodie.

She halted, her cheeks tinged pink, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

I froze, my hand dropping to my side, panic racing through me. That had to be inappropriate.

"I’ve been called worse," she joked, her smile radiating a warmth that sent shivers down my spine.

We walked on in silence until we reached her building.

"Do you live on campus too?" she asked, fishing for her keys from her bag.

"No. I live in Portage Bay."

"Oh… we passed that already."

"I know."

Suspicion flared in her gaze as she pieced things together, and I felt the weight of my own guilt creeping up on me. She would realize I was that gross old grad student trying to woo the sweet, naive undergrad—the very person I had mocked in others. The thought made my stomach churn.

"I know what you’re doing," she accused, crossing her arms defensively.

Here it comes…

"You feel guilty because I got hurt," she said, her voice steady. "You feel responsible. But you don’t have to do this."

Is that really what she thought?

"You think I’m walking you home out of guilt?" My voice was harsher than I intended, anger bubbling up inside me.

"I know you are."

"You don’t know anything," I spat, turning away, desperate to escape the rising tide of emotions threatening to drown me.

"Yoongi, wait!" she called after me, dread washing over me.

Keep walking… don’t look back.

I couldn’t believe she thought I was being nice out of guilt. I had done nothing but act like a jerk for too long, and now I was about to lose the only flicker of light stupid, lonely world.

God, she had no clue.

Wednesday morning felt heavy with an unsettling quiet when Y/N arrived at the lab a little earlier than usual. I was already there, lurking like a shadow in the corner, unable to shake off the ghosts of a sleepless night. I busied myself with the equipment, clinging to the hope that keeping my distance would somehow quell the anger simmering beneath my skin.

It was confusing, really. I was furious with her—not just because of the injury that haunted my thoughts like a ghost, but because she had twisted my kindness into something it wasn’t. Sure, I felt like a hollow shell, the guilt gnawing at my insides like a rat in a rotting wall, but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy walking her home. Yesterday’s seminar had been a strange kind of fun—the first I’d experienced in what felt like ages.

As I returned to the lab, pretending to check something in my desk drawer, I caught her gaze from across the bench. The way her eyes followed me stirred something deep inside, a mix of frustration and longing I couldn’t quite place. I tried to slip away, but as I turned to leave, her fingers brushed against my elbow.

“Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said, her voice soft and sincere, those puppy-dog eyes piercing through my defenses. Warmth rushed through me, a strange blend of emotions swirling inside. “It was really nice of you to walk with me. Thank you.”

With a timid smile, she released my arm, leaving me reeling, torn between the urge to pull her back and the need to retreat. Just then, I caught sight of Jimin, his piercing blue eyes wide with suspicion from the shadows of the lab. What the hell?

“You’re welcome,” I muttered dryly to Y/N, my voice almost a growl, before storming away, seeking refuge from the chaos in my head.

In the media preparation room, I paced like a caged animal, cracking my knuckles repeatedly to chase away the madness. This was absurd. I was losing it over a girl—an undergrad—who seemed blissfully unaware of the tempest she stirred within me. Deep breaths. Focus. But I knew this strange obsession wasn’t going anywhere.

When I returned to the lab, I found Jungkook leaning casually against my bench, chatting with Y/N. She wore that timid smile again, twisting something inside me. My hands curled into fists, rage and jealousy flaring up like a wildfire.

“I’ll see you Friday,” Jungkook said, flashing a grin as he sauntered past me. Did he just ask her out? The urge to grab him by the ponytail and shove him to the floor was overwhelming. “What did he want?” I spat, unable to contain the fury boiling within.

“Nothing,” she replied innocently, her attention flitting back to her notebook as if she hadn’t just tossed gasoline on my fire.

“Y/N,” I hissed, slicing through the air with my words, demanding her attention. “What did he want?”

“Nothing important,” she clarified, but her eyes locked onto mine, searching. My resolve wavered. What the hell was wrong with me? The desire to pummel Jungkook quickly transformed into an intense longing to press my lips against that bottom lip she kept biting. The confusion swirled around us, thick and suffocating, and I felt trapped.

Just then, Jimin reentered the lab, breaking the spell that had ensnared us. I stepped back, the tension snapping like a brittle twig, and Y/N sighed, disappointment heavy in the air.

“Are you done?” I asked, my voice cold, each word laced with the weight of my internal turmoil. “I need to use the bench.”

Hurt flickered in her eyes before she masked it, and guilt settled in my stomach like a stone. I tried to focus on my work, but her presence lingered, a distraction gnawing at my concentration until she finally left for the day. This is ridiculous! Why did she affect me so much? I couldn’t keep living like this.

Thursday afternoon arrived, and I maneuvered around Y/N like a ghost. I didn’t want to be a jerk, but the thought of her and Jungkook had me seething. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire, irritation coiling tighter with every passing second. I tried to stick to succinct answers and instructions, but the tension thickened around us like fog.

As we received her sequencing results, I could no longer pretend she didn’t exist. She pulled a chair next to me at my desk, her presence suffocatingly close. My fingers twitched on the mouse, nerves sparking as I avoided glancing her way. She tapped her pen rhythmically; each tap a countdown to my sanity.

“Please, stop that,” I groaned, frustration spilling over.

She halted instantly, a sigh escaping her lips, and my heart sank. I hated feeling this way—trapped between annoyance and an attraction that sent shivers down my spine. How was that even possible?

Finally, the software loaded, and I opened her file. Y/N gasped, and I held my breath as she leaned closer, the tension between us palpable.

“Sample 1. Ran well. Sample 2. Ran well… ran well, ran well, ran well…” All fifty samples had run flawlessly. Impressive. I couldn’t recall a time when every single sequencing reaction had succeeded; there was always a failure or two. Y/N was undeniably skilled.

As I turned to her, a smile crept onto my lips despite myself. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and before I could process it, she squeaked, throwing her arms around my neck. Her warmth enveloped me, her hair brushing against my face, and the world narrowed to just her, the scent of her shampoo intoxicating. My body responded in ways I couldn’t understand.

I shot up from my chair, breaking the spell. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her cheeks a deep crimson, laughter spilling from her lips. “I’m just so happy! They all worked!”

My heart raced, shock coursing through me as I struggled to regain composure. The pull I felt toward her was almost unbearable, thrumming like an electric wire, demanding release.

“Good job,” I managed, forcing my voice to remain steady. But as she smiled at me, her joy tearing through my carefully constructed barriers, I knew I was in deep trouble. I wanted to hold her again, to kiss her until the world faded away. God, I needed help.

As I turned to her, a smile crept onto my lips despite myself. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and before I could process it, she squeaked, throwing her arms around my neck, her warmth enveloping me, her hair brushing against my face. The world narrowed to just her, the scent of her shampoo intoxicating, my body responding in ways I couldn’t understand. 

God, I needed help.

You know those days when nothing seems to go right? When you drag yourself out of bed, and it feels like the universe is playing tricks on you, pushing you back with every step forward? Yeah, today is one of those days. A downright miserable Friday, and I can’t help but feel that the promise of the weekend is just a hollow consolation.

This morning was a disaster. I tossed and turned all night, haunted by thoughts of Y/N. Her smile flickered in my mind like a candle caught in the wind—warm and inviting one moment, then snuffed out the next. The irony is, while I’m relieved I won’t have to face her today, the gnawing uncertainty of whether she’s out with Jungkook weighs heavily in my stomach. Anger simmers beneath my skin, bubbling over in waves I can’t seem to control.

As I step into the lunchroom, the emptiness greets me, broken only by the taunting hum of the microwave. I slam my fist against its cold metal side, frustrated when it refuses to cooperate. It beeps at me, a cruel mockery in the sterile silence. I slam the door shut again, and my temper flares.

“What did the microwave do to you?” A familiar voice cuts through my frustration. It’s Hoseok, ever the jester, his amusement practically radiating off him.

“It’s broken,” I mutter, fingers still mashing buttons like a madman.

“Step away from the microwave,” he orders, a playful yet firm tone in his voice. In two quick moves, he’s heating up my food. “What’s up your ass?”

“Nothing,” I groan, flopping down in a chair with a defeated sigh. “Just one of those days.”

“Why?” 

“It’s just one of those days…” I can’t muster the energy to say more.

“Like, ‘Everything’s messed up and everyone sucks’?” He turns his baseball cap backward, bobbing his head as if ready to launch into a nu-metal anthem.

“Great, Hoseok. Quote Limp Bizkit. That’s really going to help.” I cut him off before he can get into full swing.

“Dude, you’re in a mood. What happened?” His eyes reflect genuine concern as he rummages through the fridge.

“Nothing,” I insist, rising to retrieve my Tupperware.

“Bullshit. I’ve known you for four years. This isn’t just a failed PCR kind of mood.” He crosses his arms, blocking my path.

Part of me wants to spill my guts, but the words feel lodged in my throat. Still, they tumble out. “If I tell you, can you at least try to be mature about it?”

“Mature is my middle name,” he grins, but I can’t help but scowl.

“Fine. It’s Y/N.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” 

I bury my face in my hands, feeling the weight of his excitement pressing down on me. “What happened?” he whispers, leaning in, all ears.

“She’s... I don’t know.”

“Come on, man. I’m serious.”

“Yeah, she’s out with Jungkook.”

“Jungkook?” Hoseok’s voice rises as if he’s just spotted a raccoon in the hall.

“Jesus, Hoseok!” I hiss. “Keep it down!”

“Sorry.” His whisper is tinged with amusement. “Jungkook fucking Jeon?”

“Yes.” I take a deep breath, frustration bubbling over. “And she’s my undergrad.”

“Puh-lease. Who cares?” 

“I’m at least five years older than her,” I retort.

“The younger, the better.” He waggles his eyebrows, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Disgusting.”

“Stop brooding, dude. Jeon’s got nothing on you. Go get your girl. She’s fine, and she was always checking you out at the gym—like I told you a thousand times.”

Y/N checking me out? No way. Hoseok’s just being delusional. I shake my head, dismissing his words. This fixation has to end. She’s just my undergrad. That’s all she’ll ever be—at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Happy Hour. The name is ironic, a pathetic excuse for mingling—if you can even call it that. It never lasts an hour, and “happy” is a stretch, but hey, there’s free beer, so here I am. Alone in the corner, I down red cups like they might wash away the grime of the day. By the time Hoseok and Serena finally stroll in, I’ve polished off four.

“You’re here before us. That’s weird,” Serena quips as they approach.

“Thanks for the observation, Captain Obvious.” 

“What’s his problem?” Serena glares at Hoseok, arms crossed.

“He’s in a mood,” Hoseok replies, handing me another red cup that I chug.

“Why?” Her tone is whiny, as if I owe her an explanation.

“Lady problems,” Hoseok shoots back before I can stop him.

“Yoongi has lady problems?” Serena sounds incredulous, as if she’s just discovered a new planet.

“I’m standing right here!” My voice is louder than I intended, laced with irritation.

“So you like a girl, Yoongi. Not the end of the world. I mean, this self-imposed celibacy was bound to end someday. I just wish I knew who she is.” She twists the conversation back to herself, as always.

“It’s not just a girl. It’s his undergrad,” Hoseok interjects, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

“You old perv!” Serena playfully smacks my chest, and I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

“I’m going to get fired,” I murmur, tipping my cup back for the last drops of liquid courage.

“No, you won’t, drama queen.” She dismisses me with a wave, annoyance radiating off her.

“It happens all the time! PIs hit on post-docs, post-docs on grad students, grads on undergrads. What world do you live in?”

“It’s like a jungle,” Hoseok chuckles.

“Shut up, Hoseok,” Serena snaps. “Good news is, now that there’s this girl, you can stop with the emo bitterness. It’s getting old.”

“Fuck you, Serena.”

“Hey, hey now,” Hoseok says, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go get another round.”

When we return, my anger toward Serena simmers just beneath the surface, but I’m too tipsy to think straight. “For your information, Serena, this girl has a name. Her name is Becca. No, wait... it’s Y/N! Dammit!” My palm meets my forehead in a facepalm of pure embarrassment.

“Wow. She must be something special, Yoongi. You don’t even know her name.”

“Baby, stop. He’s drunk, and he’s having a shitty day.”

“Why?” 

“Y/N is out with Jungkook,” Hoseok explains.

“Jeon?” Serena’s expression shifts to one of shock, and they dive into speculation, completely oblivious to my presence.

I shut them out, groaning into my cup as I gulp it down. It’s true. I know it. Jungkook is with Y/N tonight, probably taking her to dinner and drinks, sharing laughs while I’m stuck here. My mind spirals into a dark abyss—what if he kisses her? What if she invites him in? God, I’m sick just thinking about it.

Of all the undergrads in this department, Jungkook Jeon had to go after mine. I hope Y/N gets drunk and spills her drink all over him.

Worst. Hangover. Ever.

Well, maybe not the worst, but it’s definitely up there. My head pounds like a jackhammer, and my stomach feels like a chaotic whirlpool of regret as I stumble into the shower. The hot water cascades over me, a fleeting relief, but all I can think about is how tempting sleep sounds right now. But I have things to do in the lab. Don’t I always?

The apartment is a total disaster zone—a messy tribute to last night’s antics. Red cups are scattered across the coffee table like the remnants of a forgotten battle, and chip crumbs litter the floor like confetti from a party that had long overstayed its welcome. Hoseok and Serena wouldn’t leave me alone last night, terrified I’d do something reckless, so we ended up bringing Happy Hour back to my place. I was just the third wheel, watching them get lost in their own world of laughter and flirting. By the time I woke up on the couch, blanketed by a pile of crumpled chips, they were long gone.

I shuffle into the library, desperate for my usual caffeine fix on the way to the lab, but my stomach is rebelling. Still, I know I’ll need that coffee to survive the day.

Inside, the library feels like a claustrophobic hive of undergrads buzzing around like over-caffeinated bees. It’s overwhelming.

What a nightmare!

I hurry to the coffee line, pouring sugar into my mug like it’s a lifeline. Just as I catch my breath, I spot her—Y/N—sitting at a table surrounded by a fortress of books. Her hair falls like a curtain, hiding her face from view. I can’t help myself; I’m drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

“Hello, Y/N,” I say, sliding into the chair across from her.

She looks up, surprise flickering across her features, and for a moment, my heart races. 

“Oh, so I’m back to being Y/N?” There’s no hint of humor in her voice, only seriousness, and it feels like a punch to the gut.

What’s going on? Where’s the smile that usually lights up her face?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light as I settle in.

“What are you doing here?” she replies, her gaze cool and collected.

“Y/N, please go easy on me today. I’m not feeling great,” I admit, running a hand down my face, feeling every ache from the night before.

“Oh... what’s wrong?” Her stoic facade starts to crumble, replaced by genuine concern, and it warms me a bit.

“Too much beer,” I confess, and the word makes my stomach churn at the memory of my poor choices.

“I see... does that explain this?” She pulls out her phone and turns it toward me.

Grumpy: Becca, you’ve just revealed yourself to have absolutely no taste.

“Who the hell is Grumpy, and why does he call you Becca?” I blurt out, anger bubbling up before I can stop it.

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re the only Grumpy I know.”

“Are you saying I sent you that text?” 

“Yes,” she says, sighing as her eyes drift away like leaves in the wind.

I pull my phone from my pocket, my heart sinking as I check my sent texts.

Well, great…

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes, wishing I could take back last night’s mistakes.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean either. No taste in what? Music? Food? Men?” 

“Men?” I let out a dry laugh. “Jungkook is not a man. He’s a tool.”

“So this is about Jungkook?” she says, gesturing to her phone.

“Yes.” My brain feels sluggish, like I’m moving through molasses.

“Why do you care?” 

“I’m uncomfortable with you dating my classmate,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to appear nonchalant.

“He’s not your classmate, and we’re not dating.”

“We both started our PhDs at the same time in the same program. That makes him my classmate… Wait… you’re not dating?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. We went out for coffee, talked, he asked me out again, and I kindly declined. I’m focused on my studies right now, Yoongi, and I really don’t have room for anything more.”

“Oh…�� Relief floods through me, even as my hangover rages on. I might even be smiling.

“Yes, oh indeed. Which brings me back to why you’re sitting here distracting me from my study session.”

“What are you studying?” I ask softly, a smile creeping onto my face, hoping to steer the conversation away from Jungkook.

“I have an organic chemistry exam on Monday.”

“Oh, I see…” I hesitate, but the temptation of spending time with her outweighs my growing pile of work in the lab. “Well, it might just be your lucky day, Y/L/N, because I happen to be an expert in all things organic chemistry.”

“You are?” Her lips curl into a small grin, and I feel a surge of relief wash over me. She’s back.

“I am…” I smile at her. “So, do you want some help?”

“I could use some help.”

Help… yeah… that’s what I’m here for… help.

For the next two hours, I guide Y/N through her organic reaction problem sets, all while ignoring my cooling coffee. She’s a quick study, soaking up the information, and I’m confident she’ll ace her test on Monday.

I keep my hands clasped between my knees—except when I need to draw reactions for her—wanting to hide how my fingers twitch every time she brushes her hair behind her ear.

Y/N is focused on her notebook, but the third time I yawn, she looks up at me.

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, just tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Tell me about it… On average, I get about four hours a night.”

“Four hours? If I don’t get at least six, I get grumpy.”

“Grumpier than this?” she says, waving a hand at me, a smile teasing at her lips.

“This,” I gesture to my chest, “this is the five-hours-of-sleep me.” I stretch, feeling my muscles pull, and I notice her eyes trace down my torso before I quickly pull my shirt down.

Was Y/N checking me out?

“Anyway…” I scramble for a distraction. “It’s healthy to sleep eight hours. I’m all about being healthy.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re an old man.”

“Hey… I’m only twenty-five!”

She laughs, and before I can ask how old she is, her gaze shifts behind me, and I can sense her tension.

“Shit…” she whispers.

“What?”

“Remember that guy I told you about, Jonah Rodgers, the stalker?” Her voice drops to a near whisper, laced with panic.

I wrack my brain, trying to recall. Y/N had a stalker? She looks at me, and it’s clear she knows I’m lost.

“Just play along, please,” she whispers, scooting her chair closer to me. Her hand brushes my knee, and I’m startled by the tentative touch.

A vague memory flickers in my mind—her acting strange around me one day, but it’s obscured by the haze of regret and longing.

Y/N’s gaze is intense, making it hard to focus on anything else. She smiles shyly, then looks down before peeking at me through her thick lashes.

God, what is she doing to me?

I know she’s faking it, pretending for someone else—but I can’t help how my body reacts, how hyper-aware I am of her presence. My hand moves to her cheek, my thumb tracing her soft skin. She blushes, biting her lip, and it sends a jolt through me, a deep ache to pull her closer—bring her lips to mine.

Her hand slides from my knee, brushing my thigh, and I can feel a warmth stirring inside me.

This isn’t real… it can’t be.

She’s still staring at me, and I’m lost in her gaze, wondering what she’s thinking, if she feels it too.

But then, all too soon, her attention darts behind me again.

“He’s gone,” she breathes, relief washing over her. Her hand rubs my thigh one last time before she withdraws. “Thank you.”

I know I should let go, but I can’t. My hand remains on her face, my thumb tracing her cheek while my fingers tangle in the nape of her neck. Her expression shifts, confusion knitting her brow. She reaches for my hand, her fingers enveloping my wrist—her thumb brushing the top of my hand, once, twice—and then she smiles.

But she’s not looking at me seductively anymore. She’s looking at me like she doesn’t understand why I haven’t let go. And honestly? Neither do I.

I drop my hand from her face and stand abruptly.

“I better get to the lab,” I say, running a hand through my disheveled hair. “Good luck on your test.” Her eyes linger on me, confusion clouding her expression as I turn to leave.

I guess the show is over…

I spent the rest of the weekend in the lab, mostly because I had nothing better to do. It felt easier to throw myself into my work than to face the nagging thoughts of Y/N swirling around in my head. Pining after her felt wrong—she was just a kid, my intern, and whatever was brewing inside me needed to stop. I had to keep my distance.

When Y/N walked in on Tuesday, she looked a bit worn out. I wanted to ask her about the test, but I bit my tongue, forcing myself to act indifferent.

As the day wound down, she asked for my help, and I followed her into the dark room. She needed to cut different bands from an agarose gel to purify the DNA. Even though she knew how to use the UV light box, I guided her through the excising process.

Once inside the dimly lit room, Y/N flipped on the UV box and switched off the lights. I stood behind her, watching as her shaky hand hovered nervously over the gel, clutching the blade. 

"I think it’s safe to say that not going to medical school was the right choice for you," I teased, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension. "With those shaky hands, I wouldn't want you holding a scalpel near me."

"I had too much coffee today," she shot back, her tone sharp but playful.

"Right," I snorted, a grin breaking free.

"Shut up. You're making me nervous." I could almost hear her smile through her words.

"Here," I said, inching closer. I covered her hand with mine, steadying her fingers over the blade. "Relax," I suggested, hoping it would ease both our nerves.

Her proximity felt electric, as if the air around us vibrated with tension. The scent of her hair—fresh and unplaceable—danced under my nose, making my heart race. Y/N's hand trembled beneath mine as she turned to glance up at me. In the faint blue glow of the UV light, her features looked even more striking. 

"This is making it worse," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

I felt her warm breath against my neck, and everything inside me screamed that we were too close. I should step back. I needed to step back. But God, I wanted to kiss her. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

Her bewildered expression shifted as her eyes drifted from my gaze to my lips. My heart thundered in my chest as I watched her tongue trace the edge of her bottom lip before she began to nibble on it nervously.

Then, without thinking, I closed the distance and pressed my lips against hers.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, intoxicated by her sweet scent as my mouth enveloped her bottom lip. Y/N whimpered softly against me, turning her body to face mine. My hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

What was I doing?

I felt lost, unsure of how to proceed or how to stop. Reluctantly, I released her neck and gripped the bench for support, struggling against the rising tide of desire. All I wanted was to wrap my arms around her and pull her onto the counter, to lose myself in her warmth.

No, stop! This is wrong!

I broke the kiss, panting heavily. "Y/N…" I gasped. "Shit, I'm so sorry." I stepped back, needing space. She was breathing hard too. "I-I didn’t mean to do that. I shouldn’t have… Shit." My hands raked through my hair, searching for words that eluded me.

Then, with a single determined step, Y/N closed the distance. She grabbed my t-shirt and pulled me down to her level. Her lips collided with mine once more, and I felt her inhale sharply.

I was too tall, or she was too short; either way, I hunched over her as her legs wrapped around my hips, lifting her onto the countertop beside the UV box.

Her hands tangled in my hair, tugging in a way that made me groan into her mouth, while my own hands hovered uncertainly over her body, torn between desire and restraint.

Loud, insistent knocking on the door shattered the moment.

Y/N gasped, and her legs slipped from my sides. 

"I need to look at a gel, Yoongi. What’s taking so long?" Jimin's voice rang out.

Jimin… shit…

I groaned against Y/N's shoulder, gripping her thighs to steady myself. Her fingers remained tangled in my hair, and I felt dangerously close to losing it.

"We're cutting a gel, Jimin," I called out, taking a reluctant step away from Y/N. "Give me a fucking break," I muttered under my breath.

I heard Jimin huff through the door, and Y/N’s voice came low and tense. "What do we do?"

I didn't know about her, but I needed to get out of there. I was uncomfortable and desperately needed to regain control. I moved to the UV box, which was still glowing. Y/N jumped down from the bench as I grabbed the blade, cutting around the bands on the gel. I found it ironic that my hands were now shaking, yet I managed to do a decent job.

Once finished, I shut off the UV light and flicked the room lights back on. Y/N jumped a little, and though I was sure she was staring at me, I couldn’t meet her gaze—I wouldn’t.

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. "Take each piece of gel and put it in a single epi tube," I instructed, forcing myself to focus on anything but her. "You can follow the rest of the protocol at the bench."

"Yoongi," she whispered, urgency lacing her voice.

"I’ll be back in a bit," I said, my hand on the doorknob. I didn’t risk a glance at her, fearing that a single look would draw me back in. I opened the door and stormed out, nearly colliding with Jimin, who stood there with his arms crossed.

What the hell just happened?

A few moments later, I was outside the building. Rain hammered down, but I didn’t care. I wished I smoked, drank, or had any vice to help me calm down. I tried deep breaths to steady myself, but the rain only added to the chaos swirling inside me. I made it to the tree line behind the parking lot, leaning against a trunk with one hand while the other pressed against my chest, where my heart threatened to pound its way out. I was panting, sweating, and completely unraveling.

What the hell had I been thinking?

Well, clearly, I hadn’t been thinking at all.

God, I could still taste her on my lips.

I swallowed hard.

Y/N had the sweetest lips I’d ever kissed.

I was doomed.

This could ruin everything. I couldn’t let myself be distracted by Y/N like this. I had lost all control, and I didn’t know what would have happened if Jimin hadn’t knocked. Or worse, what if Y/N had opened the door without knocking? Thank God the light was off, and the “IN USE” sign was outside.

No one could know about this, especially not Jimin—he was Jin’s puppy! If Jin ever found out…

God, this was all so messed up!

I had to make it clear to Y/N—this had to stay between us. We had to pretend it never happened.

It would never happen again.

I could never have my lips on hers again—just the thought of it made my chest ache.

I had known kissing her would be good. She had the most beautiful lips I’d ever seen. They didn’t disappoint. Her kiss exceeded any expectation I had dared to dream. How could I endure not kissing her again, knowing how sweet she tasted?

If I thought it was torture to be around her before, now it was going to be hell.

And she had kissed me back. She had. It wasn’t just me. She wanted this too. Didn’t she know it was wrong? I needed to talk to her, to explain that this couldn’t happen again. We had to keep things professional, to work together without awkwardness. We had to manage that. I needed to manage that.

I wouldn’t look at her lips, or her smile, if that’s what it took. Maybe I could lie and say we needed to wear mouth masks for the rest of the project…

With a groan, I stepped away from the tree. I fisted my hair, realizing I was getting drenched, and walked back into the building. I shook my head to rid myself of some of the water, but I was still soaked when I climbed the stairs.

When I entered the lab, Y/N pretended not to see me, but I knew better. Her posture shifted, her back straightened, and the foot she had been tapping on the floor stilled.

I noticed Jimin was in the lab, standing at his bench across from Y/N, staring at her. It became clear to me that Y/N was putting on a show for him.

I sighed, feeling a little relief wash over me.

Y/N wouldn’t tell anyone—at least that much was clear.

But I still needed to talk to her. What happened was wrong and completely inappropriate. I couldn’t let her get the wrong idea.

I buried myself in my computer for a while, pretending to work by aimlessly scrolling and clicking, but my attention was entirely on Y/N. She seemed to move through the purification protocol without a hitch. What was going through her head?

Y/N strolled into the lab on Thursday, her smile cutting through the sterile, fluorescent gloom like a ray of sunlight. I gave her a nod—polite, detached—but that didn’t stop my heart from racing at the flicker of warmth in her gaze. As I turned back to my work, she let out a sigh that lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her glancing at Jimin's empty bench, and the reminder of his absence hung like a storm cloud between us. 

"Okay," she began, hands planted defiantly on her hips. "Should we talk about this?"

I forced myself to meet her gaze, focusing on those deep, captivating eyes while battling the temptation to let my gaze wander to her lips, which seemed to whisper promises that drove me mad with longing. 

"There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N."

"Well, are you going to go back to being mean to me?" 

"I was never mean to you."

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and heat crept into my cheeks as I remembered all the stunts I’d pulled—the pranks that had hurt her, the lab coat I’d ruined...

"I won't be mean to you again," I muttered, letting out a heavy sigh and looking at the floor.

"Yoongi..." Her voice was soft, almost melodic, and it tugged at my heart. 

When I met her gaze again, it was a mistake—her lip caught between her teeth was a distraction I didn’t need. My hands clenched into fists, seeking refuge in my pockets as her eyes searched mine, wary but hopeful, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"It won't be awkward, all right? I promise."

That smile of hers struck me like a bolt of lightning, forcing a groan deep within my chest. I could see the words dancing on her lips, ready to spill out, but they vanished like smoke when Jimin walked back into the lab. Taking advantage of the reprieve, I buried myself in my work, fighting to act normal.

But normalcy felt like a distant memory whenever Y/N was near. She moved through the lab with quiet grace, while I stood like a rock in a river of uncertainty, drowning in my thoughts.

As the day wore on and shadows lengthened, I noticed her gathering her things. Instinct kicked in—I pretended to be engrossed in my computer, watching her shuffle and fidget until she finally took a step toward me.

"Hey, Yoongi?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" I turned to face her, masking the turmoil inside.

"Um, I was wondering... I know I’m just an undergrad here, and there’s really no room for me to... I-I mean, I know it’s really not my place to ask, but..." Her words faltered, and the crimson blush creeping up her cheeks sent my heart racing.

"Y/N, would you get on with it? I don’t have all day." My frustration boiled over, the energy it took to be normal around her fraying my patience.

Her frown was instant, a storm brewing in those beautiful eyes. 

Shit, that was uncalled for...

"Never mind…" she sighed, disappointment echoing in the air.

"Wait." I took a breath, willing myself to soften. "I’m sorry. Please, Y/N, tell me."

She sighed again, a deep, resigned breath. "I know there’s that recruitment party this Saturday. It’s for prospective students to meet the current students in the department. And I know, I’m just the undergrad, but I think it would be great if I could meet them. You know? Hopefully, in a year, I’ll be going through recruitment myself." Her fingers twisted anxiously in front of her, a sight that both amused and strained my patience.

"Is there a question you wanted to ask?" I barked, the irritation bubbling to the surface.

"Yes…" she snapped back, indignation rising. "My question is: do you mind if I’m there?" She crossed her arms, defiance written all over her.

Why would I care if she came? I hadn’t even planned on attending that stupid party. But suddenly, the thought twisted in my gut, a knot tightening as a realization hit me.

I shot up from my chair, startling her. "Who told you about the party?"

Her eyes dropped, a sigh escaping her lips, and just like that, the truth hit me like a freight train. I fucking knew it.

"You’re going with Jungkook, aren’t you?" I took a step closer, looming over her.

"No, I’m not going with Jungkook." Her voice was steady, but her gaze flickered to meet mine. "But I’m going."

"Well, I guess I’ll see you there, then."

"Okay," she said with a nonchalant shrug, but the smile that graced her lips made my stomach twist. She turned to leave, and I felt something unravel within me—my hands instinctively reached out, fingers curling into frustrated fists. I didn’t know if I wanted to strangle her or pull her into a desperate embrace. All I knew was that I was left staring helplessly as she walked away.

I didn’t need her to say it; I knew Jungkook was behind this. She might not be going with him, but the thought of him lurking at that party made my blood boil. For the first time in a long while, I felt the gnawing sensation of jealousy eat away at my insides.

Fucking Jungkook Jeon.

I couldn’t believe I was even considering this.

Why did it matter if Y/N went to the recruitment party? It shouldn’t. Yet here I was, battling an angry tide rising in my chest, all because of that idiot Jungkook. If she were going with someone more acceptable—someone who didn’t make my skin crawl—I’d be okay with it. I should be okay with it. The rational part of my brain knew that, but the irritation overshadowed everything else.

What did she even see in Jungkook? The guy barely scraped by on his Qual after taking it twice and hadn’t published a single paper. He was working with fruit flies for crying out loud! And his personality? A brick wall. I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t like him. I couldn’t stand him.

I had to go to this party.

At lunch, against my better judgment, I decided to bring it up with Hoseok. 

"Hey, where’s the recruitment party this year?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I stabbed my fork into the mac and cheese.

"You’re going to the recruitment party?" Hoseok dropped his fork, suspicion etched across his face like a roadmap to his thoughts.

"Yes," I groaned, already regretting bringing it up. Of course, he’d make a fuss.

"To our department’s recruitment party?" He pressed a finger to his chest as if I’d committed a heinous crime.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I shrugged, pushing the macaroni around in my bowl.

"Let me think… maybe because I’ve organized every single one since I got here, and you’ve never attended."

"Will you just answer my question?" I snapped, frustration boiling over.

"It’s at the South Campus Center, bro." Even though he finally answered, his gaze lingered, scrutinizing me like I was a specimen under his microscope.

"Great, thanks." I tried to keep my tone light, rolling my eyes at his obvious scrutiny.

"I can’t believe you’re going." A knowing smile danced at the corners of his lips, and I loathed it.

I pretended not to care, shrugging off the comment as he took a seat next to me. 

"If only I had known all it would take was an undergrad to get through you."

"This has nothing to do with Y/N," I spat, defensiveness creeping in, my irritation sharpening with each word. Her name was Y/N, not ‘the undergrad.’

"Right, so it’s just a coincidence… this is just the year you happen to decide to attend this thing."

"Yes."

"Is she going?" His eyebrow arched, mischief glinting in his eyes.

I groaned and turned away, pretending to be absorbed in my food.

"Dude, I can see it. How she’s affected you. It’s kind of obvious. You can talk to me, you know? It might help."

The breath I took was deep and shaky, every nerve ending igniting with frustration. But before I could stop myself, the words came pouring out. "She drives me crazy, Hoseok. I can’t stand it. I lose all control when I’m around her. I kissed her… I kissed her, and she said she doesn’t want to jeopardize her work in the lab. And it makes sense for her to think that. But the worst part is now I can’t stop seeing her everywhere. She’s in the lab, at the gym, at the freaking library where I get my coffee—she’s everywhere! I need to go back to not seeing her, because I can’t handle this." I stared down at my lunch, the food suddenly unappetizing, a lifeless pile of carbs.

"So you don’t want to see her?" Hoseok asked, surprisingly calm, like he was dissecting a specimen on his lab bench.

"Exactly."

"You don’t want to kiss her again?" He pushed, an amused grin creeping across his face.

"I don’t know what I want!" I barked, irritation flaring.

"Sounds to me like you want to go to the party, see her, and kiss her again. The question is, how are you going to deal with Jungkook?"

My shoulders tightened at the mention of his name, a cold shiver running down my spine. "I don’t care about him."

"I don’t know, man. It’s weird. The vibes are strange. You’re talking about her with a lot of… emotion."

"Emotion?" I snapped, but deep down, I felt the truth behind his words. I was at the mercy of my own feelings, a trembling wreck in the face of Y/N’s smile. I hated it. I wanted to turn it off. I couldn’t afford to feel anything.

"Fine," I muttered, sinking back into my chair, wishing to be swallowed by it.

"You’re going to have to confront those feelings eventually, Yoongi."

I grunted in response, refusing to admit he was right. I didn’t want to think about Y/N, and I definitely didn’t want to deal with Jungkook. All I wanted was to escape this mess, but deep down, I knew I was already trapped.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[maxwell-grant]

So is Worm good from what you have read

"Yes" doesn't begin to cover it but yes. Worm is a brain-rewiring mobius strip disguised as a bible disguised as a superhero web serial that either cured your cancer or shot your dog or both depending on who you ask, and it has many extremely dedicated, brilliant scholar priest surgeons publicly dissecting it on this platform on the regular to the point I don't think I have much to add to the conversations surrounding it, even if I do have some The Thoughts about it. I had never even really seriously thought about superhero prose before and Worm isn't a thing I go back and reread frequently but it did a complete and total 180 on the way I think about superheroes and even fiction, and I've never stopped thinking about it since I've read it.

It is a monumentally impressive story with completely absolutely incredible characters that I cannot stop thinking about. No matter where it was going, even past stretches that were less interesting or more of a slog to read or worse, I could not put the story of Taylor Hebert down for one minute. Tattletale fascinated me every step of the way, I had to keep up with her. Rachel Lindt was a character I feel like I'd been waiting my whole life for. What was I gonna do, not see them through? I feel like Worm easily loses you if you don't particularly connect with the characters enough to justify to yourself the amount of time you'll spend with them, but man, I could not unglue my eyeballs from these people enough (I love all the core Undersiders, to be clear, I'd say it's Rachel > Taylor > Tattletale > Aisha and Alec and Brian, there are very small gaps between these, I just don't go berserk for the last three like I do for the first three, I'm taking Bitch and Skitter to the grave I'm dead serious)

Worm irreparably destroys your ability to engage with superhero fiction the same way ever again, as evidenced by the fact that it destroyed the author's own ability to engage with his own superhero fiction ever again. And everybody who read it has one or several gripes with it with some major dealbreakers in the mix. Tumblr's kinda the only place online where you can really talk about them at length without the spectre of John Wildbow hanging over the discussion, which enables discussion to the point where yes, maybe it does look like to outsiders that nobody can agree on whether Worm is good or what is it even about or whether it even has worms in it (it has at least one, although it's a very big one).

And it is good, it has the Undersiders in it and the Undersiders are one of the greatest groups of characters ever put together, but everyone has at least one major point of contention with Worm whether it's the timeskip or the length or the racism or the gross fatphobia or aspects surrounding the Dallon-Pelham Torment Nexus and etc. I'd say it has maybe the most racist vision of Latin America I've ever seen in a superhero text a hair short of pro-colonial tracts in Golden Age comics and that is a tall fucking order by any metric (part of why I started WEON4 as a project was motivated by spite, to try and make my own stories about non-American superheroes even if just as practice). It is Complicated, and that winds up making it so fascinating to talk about.

Worm has self-sustaining ecological systems of posts up here, far away from the Spacebattles and Reddit battlegrounds where it has different ones and that's not getting into Weaverdice or the sequel or Wildbow's larger body of work, which I haven't gotten to and probably will not any time soon because Worm was enough of a commitment as is. Do I recommend Worm to everyone? It is certainly not to everyone's tastes and I personally find it difficult to describe it simply enough to make it sound appealing or not like a pyramid scheme. But yes I do think it's good, in fact great, in fact, amazing, except when it isn't, and except it Plainly Sucks, but then something like Taylor vs Mannequin or Kevin Norton's interlude or "You needed worthy opponents" happens and it fucks harder than anything has ever fucked before and you don't walk away from it the same, so yes I guess "good" will have to do now.

It's certainly a lot but I definitely found it worth my time to read and then read the texts written about it here. You'll have to take my endorsement of Worm as proof of it's quality and proof of how deranged it makes it's readerbase, they're not mutually exclusive. If you can make it, Worm and the wormosphere has layers and layers to wade through and talk about and enjoy, despite how we're all so very small in the end *gunshot*.

[dovveri]

you can kiss a hundred boys in bars

synopsis: good luck, babe! - inspired fic (essentially sana left 6 years ago and you still can't stop thinking about her even though you're married to another man)

warnings: cheating, internalised homophobia, not chronological, implied sex, cursing

w/c: 6.4k

a/n: hi 😀 this one may not hit as many of the audiences but it was interesting to write. i zon't think i like it toooo much for how much time i spent on it (edit: the moots have made my day i do like this one a lot actually) but just one of those things i needed to get out before i was able to move on to the next thing :P weeeEEEEHHEEEE i love angst!!!!!!!

ok this one's going to be a bit different guys pls READ THIS or you'll be like what the fuck. purple text is the present. ty enjoy, that was it LOL.

▂▂⌇

you wake up with a migraine. it came not long after you married frank and it’s stayed ever since. you sit up on the bed, careful not to make too much movement or sound to wake your husband next to you. although that was pretty unlikely anyway considering how he slept.

you sigh lightly, holding your head in your hands trying to mitigate the damage.

your head starts drifting off, as it did on most nights these days. it seemed the only thing that ever worked to stop the pounding in your head was thinking about her.

▂▂⌇

funnily enough, sana was actually the reason you and frank had met.

it had happened when the both of you were at a bar after class celebrating the end of exams. sana being sana had made a whole group of friends 10 minutes upon entering the establishment. you were sitting back watching her challenge someone to down the most shots in one minute. you would have stopped her on another day but after the hell week she's been through with her finals, you figured she deserved it. and you'd be there to take her home afterwards anyway.

she's whooping and jumping around, turning back to you with a grin when she wins. the poor loser skulking away back to his friends.

frank goes up to her then. introducing himself with that kind voice of his, just making sure she had someone to go home with and look after her.

and sana adored the attention. she's flirting with that charm of hers that no one could resist. but strangely enough, frank resisted. he was a gentleman, not wanting to pursue anything while sana was intoxicated, instead, he asked who could look after her, and sana points to you.

▂▂⌇

you're not getting back to sleep. instead you silently step out of bed, grabbing your phone and the hidden pack of cigarettes you kept in the second drawer of your bedside cupboard.

you step outside onto the balcony, breathing in the cool night air, shivering a little as you wrap the blanket you left on the balcony chair around you.

you click the lighter on, the small flame illuminating the darkness of the night, the only other light source aside from the moon. you're thinking if sana's somewhere she can see the moon right now while you put the lighter to the end of your cigarette. is it night for her? was she asleep? did she ever think about you?

you bring the stick to your mouth, inhaling, feeling the roughness of the nicotine hit your lungs, and exhaling softly, watching the wisps of smoke dissolve into the night sky.

sana hated when you smoked. frank didn't like it too much either, but he was never able to stop you.

▂▂⌇

"do you have to do that here?" sana's frowning when you release a puff of smoke into the air.

"sorry. stressed." you mumble in response, cig still stuck between your lips.

"you know i can help with that. just not when you taste like an ashtray." sana's still staring at the cancer stick you're sucking on with contempt, she never hated anything but if you had to place your money on something it'd be your bad habit.

you're smiling sheepishly, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and smooshing the end until it's not burning anymore.

the frown on her face is gone immediately, she's charmed you listen to her so easily. and she sticks to her word, stepping closer and leaning in.

your lips meet lazily, she's got a hand on your cheek, the other at your waist. you're wrapping your arms around her hips, holding her against you as your lips slot against each other.

sana was an attractive woman. there was no doubt about that. the two of you had met during high school. she had caught you sneaking off for a smoke during P.E. and had somehow convinced you to go and get your nails done with her instead. ever since then you two had been inseperable.

it was after you broke up with your first boyfriend in college that you started sleeping together. you remember he had decided to call it off because he was going all mormon and was ashamed of having had sex already, calling you a 'sex-addicted whore who was sent by the devil to tempt him into the flames of hell'. sana despised that he made you feel unwanted, and even more that he blamed you for the break up. she needed you to know just how valued you were, just how wanted you were, and in her drunk dazed mind that meant worshipping you until you came crying under her. and in your drunk dazed, heartbroken, self-pitying mind, you let her.

when it happened again, and again, and again, and then not under any alcoholic influence, the both of you decided to continue seeking each other out for sexual relief whenever you were stressed, or in any sort of mood that called for sex. you stopped every time one of you started a new relationship, but you always found your way back into each other's arms eventually.

▂▂⌇

you curse lightly when you reach the end of your cigarette.

picking out another one, you’re repeating your actions, lighting it up, bringing it between your lips, inhaling, feeling it fill your lungs, and then pushing it back out.

there hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by where you hadn’t thought about sana. frank didn’t get it at first. he asked you why you couldn’t just call her, you two were the best of friends, surely it wouldn’t be that difficult to reconnect?

he didn’t know you slept with sana on the night of you and frank’s wedding. doesn’t know the countless times you’ve slept with her before that. doesn’t know sana woke up earlier than you the next day, disappearing into the early morning, no note, no text, nothing. you were too ashamed to try and contact her for weeks after that, it wasn’t until you came back from your honeymoon that you realised you were knocking on an empty door when you tried to find her at her apartment. it was cleaned out, no furniture, no remnants of her, nothing to prove she even existed. you had called her over and over, tears of desperation spilling over, holding back choked sobs that only grew stronger with each voicemail message.

it wasn't until sana's old landlord holding a 'for lease' sign in his hand comes and kicks you out that you finally realise you'd lost her.

after that, your relationship with frank started to deteriorate. what did you expect though? was it sana's fault? if sana hadn't left would you have lived happily ever after, the three of you together?

it took a long time to realise the answer to that was no. you spent years blaming sana for leaving, and when you finally came to the terms that you were the one who drove her away, it was too much to bear.

▂▂⌇

"y/n!"

you smile at the sound of sana calling you in the corridor, turning to meet her hug as she crashes into you.

she starts talking your ear off and you nod along enthusiastically, but suddenly she stops, looks down to your hand, intertwined with someone else's.

"oh. who's this y/n?"

you look over at your newest boyfriend in surprise, almost forgetting he was holding your hand and standing next to you. you tended to forget a lot of things when sana was around.

"oh this is danny. we met at that bar i told you about last week remember?"

"hmm..." she's looking up at him in scrutiny, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed. you can feel danny's palms start to sweat under her gaze.

"one week huh? not bad, let's see how long you last, if you go longer than a month then i'll introduce myself to you." sana says then.

"sana!" you're hitting her lightly, flabbergasted at her insinuation.

"what? your last one was like 3 days. you just keep breaking these guys' hearts y/n." she places a hand over her heart dramatically.

danny's tightening his grip around your hand, speaking up, "excuse me, i don’t appreciate you wishing doom on our relationship even before its started. and i wouldn’t want to be introduced to a slut who’s never had a real relationship before anyway.”

sana’s speechless for a second but her face morphs into a scowl quickly after, “okay danny,” spitting out his name, “first rule of being a decent boyfriend? don’t talk shit about your girlfriend’s best friends. let’s see you last another hour after that comment.” she turns to you, raising an eyebrow, “you gonna let him off with that y/n?”

you’re stuck, and danny’s looking at you expectantly.

“sana… that comment was a little uncalled for y’know… you did kinda start this…”

danny’s smirking, looking smugly back towards sana.

“what?! are you serious right now y/n? y’know what? i don’t care. your life and whatever. see you later.” she’s stomping off, your heart sinking as you watch her.

“c’mon babe, forget her. let’s go get sushi.” danny doesn’t wait for a response before he’s pulling you in the other direction.

▂▂⌇

when you wake up again the next day, frank’s gone.

you stumble to your feet, clumsily making your way to the bathroom.

it’s almost late afternoon already. you’re lucky you didn’t have work today.

sana always used to scold you if you woke up past noon. she said you'd waste the whole day sleeping when you could have been spending it with her.

these days the second option wasn't exactly viable.

you cringe a little when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. unkempt hair, dark circles under your eyes, visible signs of ageing. you'd bet sana still looked as radiant as she was all those years ago.

your phone starts buzzing when you turn on your electric toothbrush. it couldn't be anyone else other than frank. you didn't really talk to anyone else anyway. after sana left, you became a social recluse, and a lot of your friends were technically sana's friends so without that mutual connection anymore, you drifted from them very quickly.

“hello?”

“hey y/n, is my white button-up back from the dry cleaners yet? i need it tonight for this work event.”

“… no you didn’t tell me to pick anything up.”

“what? i left a note for you on the fridge did you not see it?”

“i just woke up frank.”

“it’s 2pm.”

“yeah.”

you can hear him sigh over the phone, “alright it’s fine i’ll pick it up after work.” he hangs up abruptly after he says that.

no goodbye, no i love you, he doesn’t call you by any pet names anymore either, just y/n. well it’s not like you did any of those things for him so you suppose it’s fair. he did do a lot of those things when you were dating and early in your marriage but eventually, when you stopped responding and got more and more tired of being with him, he stopped trying as well. you can’t even remember the last time you were intimate together.

frank had suggested the both of you try out marriage counselling but you were strongly against the idea. you didn’t feel particularly excited about disclosing everything that went on with sana with frank let alone with a complete stranger. you remember that week you fought about it and you ran away and didn’t come back until a month later. frank only tried to call you once during that time.

▂▂⌇

you were standing in front of an apartment door in japan.

you weren’t really thinking when you stood at the front desk of the airport, demanding a ticket for the next flight to osaka with only a small backpack and some essentials you were able to grab after your fight with frank.

it wasn’t until you were physically in the plane that you realised you didn’t actually know anyone but sana there. and you had made that unconscious decision because being with frank was simply too… nothing, and being with sana was… everything. it had been over 6 years since you had seen her last, when she left you that quiet night in may.

though it seems fate was on your side this time. sana’s cousin just happened to be working at the airport the night you arrived, when she recognised you, she was waving excitedly, ushering you over.

“y/n right? oh my goodness i haven’t seen you in so long! not since that time sana brought you here 7 years ago right?” her accent is a little thick but you’re grateful she can speak korean regardless, you could only understand very basic japanese picked up from sana.

you’re nervously rubbing the back of your neck, “ahaha yeah… do you actually happen to have sana’s address?”

she frowns a little, “she didn’t give it to you when she found out you were coming?”

it seems like sana hasn’t told many people about your relationship with her either.

“u-um ahaha no she must have forgotten. you know how she gets… too excited she forgets the important little details.”

the cousin laughs a little in response, agreeing and quickly typing in sana’s address on your phone. internally you’re thanking all the gods and deities you know of for this stroke of luck or you’d really be stranded in osaka with no knowledge of the language and nowhere to stay.

“i have to get back to work but say hi to sana for me! we haven’t seen her much since she came back a few years ago, she’s been really busy with work i think.”

you nod, heart pounding at the tidbits of information you’re getting about sana. anything to fill in the 6 year gap you’ve been apart.

you wave goodbye, thanking her again and then you’re hailing down a taxi and showing the driver the destination on your phone.

so now you’re standing in front of her apartment door, hands sweaty and nervous, just praying she wouldn’t kick you out or worse.

you’ve been standing here stupidly, deliberating when, how, if you should even knock. when there’s a slight commotion to your left, the sound of a bag of groceries dropping and a light gasp.

“y/n?”

it’s very cinematic when you turn, sana coming into view for the first time in so long is like finding water in a desert. you’re drinking her in hungrily, her darker hair, smile lines, perfect nose, she looks just as beautiful as you remember.

“sana…” you’re voice is hoarse with emotion.

she’s taking slow steps towards you after picking up her groceries. one… two…

“what are you doing here?”

“i-i- u-um i-“

“how did you get my address?”

“u-um i saw y-your cousin at the airport and she recognised me and i- i may have asked her for your address... i'm sorry! i would have called or like let you know but... y'know... i-i couldn't really do that..."

she considers you for a little bit, looking you up and down, her face stoic.

"...did you come here for something then?"

"i- um- well not really it was k-kinda an impulse decision. u-um frank and i fought and i just- i don't know i went to the airport and i found myself here i guess..."

you notice how her hand tightens at the mention of frank's name, the slight sound of the crinkling of her grocery bag.

"and what did you want me to do about that?" she's pushing past you now, taking out her keys and starting to unlock her door. you begin to panic, scrambling for words.

"i- sana please! i- i'm sorry! i'm sorry okay?"

the jingling of her keys stops, but she doesn't look back at you.

"what are you sorry for? i'm the one who left remember?" her voice is bitter and a little shaky, you realise she's not facing you because she's trying not to cry. you ache to hold her.

"i… i’m the reason you left though. right? it took me a long time to realise but i’m sorry i wasn’t able to be true to myself and i’m sorry you were a casualty to that. i missed you sana…." your voice is quiet, you feel your own tears welling up in your eyes.

“… what weren’t you true to yourself about?”

you take a big inhale, breath shaky when you let it back out. “that i love you.” your voice is tiny, you just confessed your love for the woman you’ve spent most of your life with, the woman that’s occupied your mind every second of every minute since she’s entered your life. the woman you were too scared to admit you loved, who waited for you to do exactly that only for you to enter a loveless marriage with someone else. you can only imagine the pain you’ve put her through. it would be nothing compared to the last 6 years without her. and the last 6 years without sana were undoubtedly the worst of your life.

sana’s sniffling now, unable to hold back her cries.

you inch forward and tentatively place a hand on her shoulder. when she doesn’t move it, you shift closer again to wrap your arms around her loosely.

suddenly sana’s turning and burrowing her face in your neck, you feel her wet tears stain your skin, but also your own start to run down your face. you're surrounded with sana sana sana, her smell, her sounds, the feel of her against you when you tighten your arms around her. you missed this so fucking much. you missed her. and for the first time in 6 years, you finally felt like you were home again.

▂▂⌇

after you've finished your morning routine, you lazily trudge into the kitchen, discarding the small note frank had told you about, and pouring yourself a bowl of cereal.

you sigh into the empty house. frank wanted kids of course, that's why you bought such a large house in the first place. he had dreamt of the whole white-picket fence family and you were excited to share that with him and sana. she had helped you design the place, decorate it when you first moved in, she was meant to move across the street and you were going to grow old together and watch as your kids played around and became the best of friends, just like the two of you were.

now though? you hated this house. it just felt so much more empty. you and frank had tried for kids, although that only really drove you further apart. sex just became more of a chore than something you enjoyed, and when people know you're trying to get pregnant? suddenly everyone has their 2 cents on what you should eat, what types of exercise you should do, the latest superfood that was meant to make you more fertile. everyone seemed to have more control over your own relationship, over your own body than you did.

eventually, the small amounts of love you and frank had for each other, fizzled out. and you decided you didn't want to raise a child in a loveless marriage, that wouldn't be fair to them. frank, even with his endless optimism and kind soul, agreed.

▂▂⌇

that night in japan, for the first time in six years since you saw sana, you were able to kiss her again, to feel her bare skin against yours, to taste her as she writhed and cried out your name above you.

you woke up before her the next day, sun sluggishly making its way past the horizon. you watched as her breaths came in and out, soft, her expression at peace, not clouded with anger or sadness at you. you traced the lines of her face, recollecting every single hair, every mole, every perfection and imperfection on her, so she'd always be with you in your memory.

she stirred after a while, blinking softly and you wait for her to come to, fingers tracing soft lines over her side.

you feel her freeze under you, breathing picking up, just barely noticeable but you were sharing the same airspace. her eyes meet yours for the first time that morning and you're committing the brown irises to memory now as well.

"you didn't leave." her voice is laced with morning fatigue.

you only hum in response, continuing to trace random shapes into her skin.

"why?"

you take a moment to think about your answer. years ago, you would've been terrified with the idea that someone would've found out about the two of you. that someone would know your dirty little secret. and that secret was that you were in love with your best friend. it was different for sana. sana was flamboyant, and proud, and happy. it wouldn't matter who sana liked because that didn't take away from her personality. she was still valuable as a person. you weren't like that though. you were always just sana's best friend or danny's girlfriend or frank's girlfriend or whoever else you dated at the time. the moment you deviated from that, a new label would be stuck on you, and people would pity sana, talk about how she could do so much better, how you were a witch who lured sana in. so you were selfish. you took from sana, and you never gave back. because sana was perfect in your mind, and she didn't need anything else.

"i'm sorry. there's a lot to be sorry for and a lot i need to make up to you. but at the core of it all, i love you sana. these six years without you have been hell. and i'm sorry it took that long for me to realise this, but i love you, not frank, not anyone else, just you."

you feel your eyes begin to tear up, heavy with emotions, sana's mirroring you, her bottom lip slightly quivering.

"what happened with frank?" her voice is a little shaky.

"we fought. i didn't want to deal with him anymore, my feet took me to the airport, and i ended up here."

sana sighs then, turning away from you and lying on her back. "so you're still together?"

"well... i- no but-"

"how is this time any different then y/n?"

"i- i- it's over, me and him. seeing you again has affirmed that for me. there hasn't been love between frank and i for a long time. i never loved him the way i love you. i'm ending things as soon as i get back. i promise sana. please- please believe me." you're scrambling a little, you couldn't afford to lose sana again. not after you had just gotten her back.

you can see tears running down the side of her face. you hate yourself for making her cry. that seems to be all you ever made her do.

"okay."

"okay?"

she turns to you again, wiping at her eyes, "okay. i really shouldn't but i love you too much and i've missed you too much to say no."

"really?" your perking up, disbelief clear.

"you keep asking me that and i'll change my mind." she teases, smiling for the first time.

you're overjoyed. rolling onto her and sweeping her up in a kiss, hoping your actions convey your feelings for her better than your words do. she's laughing into you and god have you missed that sound. you attack her sides immediately, almost desperate to hear it again, to make her feel something other than the sadness you've caused her. you make a promise to yourself in that moment, that you'd never, never make sana cry again.

it took you only a month to break that promise.

▂▂⌇

"hi, frank's wife right?"

you resist the very strong urge to roll your eyes, instead nodding politely and listening as the woman who approached you launches into a conversation about her husband and how he and frank got along at work and really you couldn't care less.

you were at the work event frank had mentioned in the morning. he did end up picking up his own dry cleaning and you saw him briefly at the event when you first showed up, only saying a quick hello and kissing your cheek before he was off again mingling and entertaining guests.

you had intended on just sticking to the bar and making use of the free-flow alcohol but now this woman was talking to you about her kids, and whatever else and you really just want to throw your drink in her face and yell at her about how to read a room.

you spot frank in the corner of your eye, surrounded by a group of women. you knew he had slept with other people ever since you stopped accepting his advances and affection. you're honestly surprised he hasn't asked for a divorce yet.

but frank was kinder than you. you were still his friend before you were his wife. he still cared about you and didn't want you to be left alone. you couldn't seem to convince him you were fine alone. you learnt to be fine when sana left. although lately, even he seemed to see you less as a friend and more and more, just as his wife.

▂▂⌇

"i still can't believe that time you thought danny was a good choice for you. and you defended him too!" sana was laughing, slapping your arm playfully.

you whine in response, "i told you i was sorry for that alright!!"

she's still laughing when frank comes back to the two of you, looking at you inquisitively and gesturing vaguely towards sana. you shrug, helping him set the food he had ordered for the three of you on the table.

"what's funny sana?" he asks, sliding into the booth with you and picking up a burger.

sana's waving a chip around now, pointing at you, "just talking about y/n's shitty taste in men."

frank fakes shock, looking at you with an exaggerated look of hurt, "me?"

you laugh, hitting him lightly, "not you dummy."

"yeah you're one of the good ones franky. probably the only good one out there."

"aww thanks sana."

sana grins, digging into her food.

you smile at the two of them. your two favourite people in the world. when you first met frank, you were skeptical of him. you were sure he was only trying to be friends with you to get with sana. so imagine your surprise when he had actually been plotting with sana behind your back to ask you out. you had said yes of course, he was a sweet guy, attractive too, and most importantly, sana liked him.

you ended up hitting it off, and the three of you were almost inseparable after that.

it wasn't until about 7 months into your relationship that sana started distancing herself. she would say she was busy, turn down more offers to go out, start hanging around a new group of people.

you heard from frank later that they had some sort of disagreement, which was why sana had started avoiding you. you were hurt by this though, because sana was still your friend. she was yours before you were frank's, and even when you were frank's you were still hers. didn't she know that? she had to.

you intended for her to know that when you cornered her, a late afternoon on a friday when the three of you used to go out for ice-cream as a reward for the week's end, but she had been staying behind to study or always had something else on instead.

"why are you avoiding me?"

sana's eyes are everywhere, her movements skittish as she tries to look for an escape before giving up and huffing. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"yes you do."

"no i don't."

"stop this sana. frank told me the two of you fought. if you don't want to be around him fine. that's your choice. but that doesn't mean you get to avoid me too."

she looks at you then, eyes fiery, "is that what he told you?"

you nod, "i don't understand sana. i don't care that you fought. i can seperate us and my relationship with frank. you're still my best friend."

"we fought because he told me he felt like i was stealing you from him."

"what?"

"yeah. he said he never got to spend any time with you. i was always there. he felt like he was the one who was third-wheeling our relationship."

the words third-wheel and our relationship swim around in your mind, "w-what? that's impossible!"

"is it really though y/n?" sana's voice is soft now.

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, is it really impossible for you to see us that way? frank obviously did, and he felt threatened by that."

"w-what- sana what are you talking about?"

she sighs a little in frustration, and then suddenly she's yanking you forward by the collar and planting her lips against yours. you react automatically, kissing her back, hands immediately going to her waist as you revel in the feeling of her soft lips against yours. it was always so different kissing sana compared to all the other guys you've been with. you chalked it up to the fact that sana took care of her skin, her lips, the way she smelled, all of that made kissing her that much sweeter.

but then you remember frank and you're pulling away, breaths heavier than they were mere seconds ago. "what the fuck sana?!" you're whipping your head around, looking to see if anyone had seen the two of you. it seemed to be clear.

sana's chuckling lowly, wiping at her lips, face downcast.

"what were you thinking?! i'm with frank! you set me up with frank!"

her eyes meet yours again, and you're taken back by the glassy look on her face. she's whispering, "i know. i know and i hate myself for it. i thought- i thought if- i thought i could get over this if i saw you happy with someone else. and then you were! and i just felt worse y/n. and then frank could tell and that was the last straw i guess. i needed to be away, away from you so i could get make these stupid feelings go away. i'm sorry y/n i'm so so sorry."

you're dumbfounded, staring at her blankly when she starts sobbing, hands coming to wipe at tears falling faster than she could catch them.

you don't understand what this means, what you felt, all you knew in that moment was sana was crying. the person you cared about most in the world was crying and you were the reason for it. so you do the one thing to make her stop. you tilt her chin up, heart breaking at the sniffles and the watery eyes, and you press your lips against hers again.

you end up where you've ended up so many times. legs entangled, sweaty bodies on sheets, heavy breathing, and minds lost.

▂▂⌇

you couldn't stand being inside anymore. it was suffocating.

you breathe out smoke as you exhale, the cigarette end still burning.

you watch as someone makes their way outside, shuffling around a little in their pockets and cursing when they realise they don't have a lighter.

the person looks towards you and you hold out yours. you help them light the end of their cigarette and nod when they mutter their thanks, inhaling the smoke into their lungs and standing awkwardly to the side.

it's a few minutes here in the cold, and you're almost finished your cigarette, about to throw it away when the stranger speaks up.

"do i know you from somewhere?"

you pause, looking back, you don't think you recognise this person. "you must have me confused for someone else, i'm sorry."

"wait... no you're sana's best friend right!?"

you drop the cigarette in your hand in shock. it had been a long time since someone had said that name out loud. she only ever lived in your head, it was hard to believe she was someone to other people too.

"right yes of course i remember now! i'm momo i was sana's roommate in college. although you probably don't remember i think we only really met like once. sana was always with you around campus and posted you a lot though so i remember you."

you vaguely recall the woman as she chatters away excitedly.

"right... momo... it's nice to meet you. i'm y/n."

momo grins, "have you spoken to sana lately? i don't think i saw you at the wedding, although i may have just been drunk." she chuckles a little at herself, not realising the way your face drops.

"wedding?"

momo looks at you a little in confusion, "yeah. last month? sana got married in sapporo."

your head is spinning with the new information. sana was married?

“woah you feeling okay?” momo’s reaching out for your shoulder, steadying you. you didn’t even realise you had lost your balance.

“i-i- yeah sorry.”

“you sure? are you here with anyone? anyone i can call?”

“no. it’s okay, thank you though.”

“yeah no problem.”

she’s shuffling back again, sucking on her cigarette.

“sana and i haven’t spoken in years. i was just a little surprised is all.” you speak up when you feel a little steadier on your feet.

“oh shit! i’m so sorry y/n i had no idea!”

“it’s okay, it seems no one really does.” you laugh a little bitterly.

momo doesn’t know how to respond to this, flicking her eyes between you and the door.

“it’s fine though. i’m happy for her.” the words taste vile on your tongue. is this what sana felt when she watched you walk down the aisle on your wedding day?

momo softens a little, “she is happy.” she offers you a kind smile, tapping out her cigarette and mumbling a quick thanks before heading back inside.

once you're sure she's gone you let yourself break down. sobs wrack your body as you hold your hands over your mouth trying to quiet them. you can barely see through the tears streaming out of your eyes. this was it. you'd finally lost her. you couldn't cling to the delusion that somewhere out there, some of her still belonged to you, some of her happiness, her memories, her love. you'd lost all of that now.

▂▂⌇

"what was that y/n?"

"what?"

"don't fuck with me right now. that was frank wasn't it? on the phone just then?"

you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, "what do you want me to say sana?"

"that you're keeping your promise. that you're going to return to him, break up with him, and then you're going to come back here to me. and then we can finally start our lives together."

"it's not that easy sana."

she explodes, "what do you mean?! it is that easy y/n! you told me when you came here that you and frank were over. have been for years. and now you can't tell me that same thing?"

"i don't- no sana-"

"what? what y/n? what’s your excuse now? do you have to make sure your job is secure? after you've spent a whole fucking month here you expect me to think you still care about that? do you have a child with him? is that it? is he sick? what other possible excuse is there for 'it's not that easy sana'?!"

"you don't get it! you can't say that to me sana!"

"what?! what don't i get?! tell me y/n, let's sort this shit out right fucking now. tell me why you can't be with me."

"it's not- that's just the way i am sana! i can't-"

"you told me you loved me. was that a lie then?" her eyes are brimming with tears, anger evident and your heart breaks again. you promised, you promised her and you promised yourself that this wouldn't happen again.

you're quick to step in again, trying to stop her from crying the one way you know how, brushing her cheeks with your thumbs and kissing her.

she doesn't let you get away with it this time though. she rips away from you, placing a hand on your chest and pushing you back lightly, keeping you literally at arm's length.

"don't do that." she's chuckling, her laughs mixed in with quiet sobs, "don't think you can just kiss away your problems. that's not how real life works y/n."

"please sana, please just-"

"what? you want me to be okay being your secret again? you want to be able to go around in public with frank only to come home to me? you can't have both y/n! i'm not going to do that again for you!"

you’re both crying now, standing across from each other in sana’s apartment, a place that’s felt more like home to you in a month than your place with frank has felt for you in six years.

your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper when you speak up, “i can’t- i can’t feel like this sana.”

sana’s wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. then she’s turning on her heel and heading into the bedroom.

you follow her, you’d follow her anywhere, but your heart sinks when you realise she’s going around the room picking up your belongings and shoving them into your bag.

“w-wait s-sana, what- what are you doing? stop please-“

you’re almost begging, scrambling after her trying to pull her back but she’s stubborn, she’s able to fill the bag within a minute and then she’s pushing it into you, and out the door.

“please! sana please i can’t lose you again don’t do this please- you’re my best friend sana.”

she’s managed to successfully push you out the front door now, still crying. “but you’re not mine y/n. you were never my best friend. you were always the love of my life. and you can’t be that for me anymore. so leave. please. don’t try and find me again.”

“n-no sana please d-don’t-“

“you’d have to stop the world just to stop what you feel for me y/n. but you don’t realise that. and i’m sick of loving someone who can’t give me all of that love back.”

and then she’s slamming her door shut in your face, the both of you sobbing on opposite sides of the door, hearts shattered a second time, and later, when it happens a third time, it’s only the sound of yours breaking.

[icarusredwings]

I rewatched Deadpool 2 and took notes.

Disclaimer: He's mentally ill and does mentally ill things (GASP, who would have thought?). Also, violence. A lot of violence. It's really long. Like.. really really long.

The very first words he says is "fuck wolverine"

Then blows his own head off with a shit ton of gasoline. Wonder if he had insurance on that appartment.

He started taking worldwide cases

He also admits to knowing "8th grade spanish"

"Passion of the christ. Then me." Says the man whos marvel jesus now.

I wonder how much wade owes cab guy.

Cab guy killed bandu Lmao

"What is it?"

"My IUD"

"A bomb??" Tell me why he was lowkey excited for it to be a bomb?

I love how serious he gets talking about how scared he is to be a dad.

This empire joke traveled from the first movie too.

"Pretty sure it doesn't work that way but we can try" yes.

When making toaster strudles its almost as if he could sense them coming despite it being so silent. This kind of makes me think that Logans not the only one who just jumps up sometimes.

This man really just said "Fuck it" jumped out of a 2 story window, BOLTED after this guy as fast as he could, got hit by a car, rammed another car, and whole ass hugged this guy before jumping in front of a truck with him. I don't want to see anyone try to tell me he's one sandwitch drop away from jumping off a cliff.

Cinatography by Blind Al.

Directed by one of those guys that killed john wicks dog.

God I love Ryan Reynolds because you know it was him.

Wade stop peeing your pants in public.

Weasel "We still have bowie..." Yeah id lie to him too at this point.

"Yeah im fine"

Fucked up

Insecure

Needy and

Emotional. Kübler ross apprently.

"Buck no more speaking lines for you" and he meant that shit.

Al is so humble and sweet. Making tea and giggling. Tries to shoot him and then just hears him collapse on the floor. How many times do you think he collapses on the floor a week? Just to be drimatic?

"Sweetheart can you speak up? Its a little hard to hear you with yhat pity dick in your mouth" Oh so shes his mom. Al is his fucking mom. Hands down. And the best one.

I love how he decided to do an entire bag of cocaine before dying. There was no reason for it and honestly was a waste of cocaine until you realize that these cocaine is wades whiskey. Shots dont work for him really, probably because hes already done it so much, but its the same way how Logan chugs that bottle before wade kidnaps him. Its easier to blame it on a substance then accept those were your actions.

Ness is so cute. The poster behind her has "I love you wade wilson" scratched into it. Its nice to know that his version of heaven is literally just a cozy Saturday morning with his wife.

Colossus just walking in to find wades body parts everywhere and put him in a bag like old dirty clothes lol

"Why cant I fucking die" tone was SO serious.

The fact that theres an x men rule book and its lowkey thicker then a bible. I bet you scott and Logan made 80% of those.

"That asshole was me" oh the tears. Baby boyy.

Wait isnt cable literally scotts son.

Im never going to understand this fucking time line jesus christ

Mutant rehabilitation?? What is he a drug addict? That kid is clearly in pain dipshits.

"X men trainee" is so funny

"Please stop cheating on me"

Daniel the pedophile looking ass

Bro casually signs ryan reynolds on the wolverine cereal box and then destroys his knee caps.

"Those guys hurt you??" It was at that moment, wade went ape shit.

Wade having fun in prison is so him. But come on imagine going to prison just for standing up to an abused child. Not to mention, His face when he immediately realizes how fucked he is and that "oh shit I actually DO have cancer now and it SUCKS"

Is it just me or does Cable reminds you of forge with all his cool fix it abilities. Or is he just futurey.

He didn't say were not friends to make him upset but to draw attention to himself. Him just eye rolling when stabbed in the hand was so funny too because he was like "Ouch. God damn it. Ducking OUCH."

Hes literally pleading with russel to find someone else to peotect him or hes gonna get molested because he cant do anything. His entire power is replacing dead cells WITH new cancer cells. His entire body is dying 24/7 but never fast enough to actually kill him, always regrowing way too quickly. Cancerous is better then dead.

"Get away from me kid" yeah cause he knows hes trouble and he REALLY doesn't wanna watch this kid die.

"Who the hell tries to kill a 14 year old boy"

"Kids give us a chance to be better then we used to be"

Dopinder is so wholesome. I love him so much. No i dont care that he killed a guy. Hes the type of friend you call to take to the movies or the zoo once every year and hes stoked just to be invited.

Peter: I just thought it looked fun :D

Dopinder: FUCK

Peter is that one dad whos kids left the nest and now he needs friends and a hobby so searches for the biggest weirdos he can find.

"Grab the boy- NOT INAPPROPRIATELY >:("

i love his crayon maps/plans

Oh my god weasel im not telling you anything ever again you snitch (same dude, cable is terrifying)

After crying over the love he has for his new team (x force) Wade confirms that he spent 10 years in special forces.

I love how supportive wade is with Peter despite him just being a normal dude only for him to immediately die LMAO

He just cassually lets his impulse win in which he steals a moped.

Oh i just noticed Dominos vitiligo. I always loved vitiligo charaters. Theyre so unique and barley ever given movie roles. Like why not?? Why wouldnt you want someone so beautiful? Im pretty sure she just has make up but it would be cool if not.

Something else is that cable just starts yeeting criminals out onto the street lol

"Theres nothing I cant kill" Let me intorduce you to the man whos on a constant road to dying but can never actually get there.

Im assuming cable wants to kill russel because he unleashes a big bad guy or something.

*cassually snaps neck back into place* Oh god that hurt!

Oh I was right! It was Juggernaut :)

Wade: *gets excited about being PHYSICALLY ripped in half*

"Rub my legs mama 🥺 I got growing pains"

"Oh noo! No no no Dp not again!" We love you Dopinder. Do not ever stop caring. "This shits happened before!?" Yes weasel. Sometimes your friends get ripped in half. Get used to it.

Wade just moves her gun to the right position.

Wade talking about saving russel is so serious that it makes you forget that he has a tiny baby ass rn. I couldn't make a deal with someone woth tiny baby legs... just... no. Not to mention that those baby legs are made of cancer.

"50 years from now you're super fucking dead"

Wade standing outside of the xmen mansion with his phone and a picture of a boom box playing music for Colossus to come outside and help him save russel is something i can see happening to Logan. They have a fight and he storms off to the mansion only for wade to stand outside like that.

"Hi Wade🎀✨️" "Hi Yukio!🥹 you guys make a super cute couple 😊 where was I? 🤨"

"So you wear a helmet so your brother cant read your mind?" "Yeaaahh" average kid conversations.

"Lets fuck some shit up is my legal middle name"

Okay sir edgelord.

Apprently wade has a gluten sensitivity

What is it with wade and metal men??? My man has a type.

"Im just gonna use this brick and maximum effort" Same wade. Same.

Yaayy!! Go yukio! Eveyone loves yukio.

"Thats how we do it in mother russia" What? Shoving an electrical cable up their ass and then put them in a pool? Damn. Ok.

That "I never should have never left you in that prison" with the hug? Man hed be a decent dad I think.

"Dont be ive been trying to make this happen for awhile" okay someone supervise him 24/7. Hes on the active watch list.

Wade: *is dying* Hi Yukio :D

Yukio: Hi wade :)

"R-dog" Oh my god hes too cute.

Them carrying the racist joke all the way til the end made me cringe but that was the point.

His last words being "do you wanna build a snow man?" Is such a deadpool thing.

I was NOT expecting to cry at the end of this stupid ass movie, AGAIN

"Dont fuck colossus" VANESSA KNEW

THE FUCKING COIN

"Is there a knife in my dick?" "There's a knife in your dick."

Oh I just didn't even notice she has heterochromancia! <3 Aahh!!

PFFT DOPINDERS SECOND CONFIRMED KILL

"WERE DEFINITELY NAMINF OUR KID CHER"

"Dont scratch!" *shoots himself 8 times* "Love you! Bye."

Wolverine: ???

[fuck-customers]

⭐ I work in a specialty hospital for pets. We take care of cats and dogs with issues like cancer, heart disease, and major injuries, to name a few. We're not a regular vet where you go for checkups. It isn't unusual to see bills costing thousands of dollars. The smallest bill I regularly see is still $200+, while the biggest I've ever seen was more than $20k (that was a single visit, not counting the thousands they spent before getting to that point). All that said, I still hear from clients that we're cheaper than our closest competitor. It's just an expensive business to be in.

As you can probably guess, there's a lot of heartache in this business. While most of our clients can afford the $200 first visit, many can't afford to follow through on their pet's treatment, regardless of how much they love them. Which means they have to make very difficult decisions, or, more realistically, those decisions are made for them based on their financial realities. So while it's painted as a choice, it really isn't.

And that's the worst part. The fact that they're here at all is proof that they deeply love their fur baby and want them to get better. And we're telling them it IS possible, but we need that $$$. And that sucks. That SUCKS.

That all brings us to today. A new client came over to pay his $1,500 bill (which I personally could not do, so he's clearly better off than I am) and starts complaining about the pricing. I don't set the prices, but I understand wanting to complain. But then he said "what happens when someone can't pay?"

And it's like. I mean. It's not some mystery. It's quite easy to figure out on your own. If someone can't pay, then their pet doesn't get treatment. If their pet doesn't get treatment..... well, that depends on the specific issue, but a lot of the time it means they die. Maybe not immediately, but they're on their way, y'know? If they can't pay, they go home.

So I'm trying to tastefully explain that, and he gets more upset and starts yelling that our prices are killing pets. That we could save more pets if we lowered our prices.

GOLLY GEE, WHY DIDN'T WE EVER THINK ABOUT LOWERING THE PRICES? IT MUST BE BECAUSE WE DON'T CARE ABOUT PETS. WE DON'T CARE ABOUT POOR PEOPLE. IT DEFINITELY ISN'T BECAUSE THIS IS THE REALITY UNDER CAPITALISM AND WE'RE DOING OUR BEST. AND OF COURSE OF COURSE OF COURSE, ALL OF THIS IS MY FAULT, SPECIFICALLY. CLEARLY I, AN ENTRY-LEVEL EMPLOYEE, AM THE ONE MAKING THESE DECISIONS, AND IF YOU MAKE ME FEEL BAD ENOUGH, I'LL FIX IT.

Jfc man. Go yell at someone higher up. Go yell at your elected officials and demand universal healthcare for pets. But this shit is already hard enough, and yelling at me while also asking very emotional questions isn't remotely productive. Fuck you. I hope your dog is doing better.

Posted by admin Rodney

[hihhasotherfixations]

John Price headcanons sfw & nsfw P2

Part 1

Here’s some more of my headcanons for this man. They’re a but all over the place, apologies. But enjoy :3

Sfw:

While he himself is not religious, he was brought up in a Christian family.

Speaking of his family, he unfortunately doesn’t have a very big one. He has a father he barely talks to and older sister. His mother passed away from cancer when he was still a lieutenant and because of it, when he got promoted to captain there was no one around - his sister was caught up and stuck with work. It was not a good time for him. Instead of celebrating his accomplishment, he was alone and stricken with memories and grief.

His dad was incredibly strict growing up and Price’s relationship with him is still very strained to this day because of it.

His late mother was very adamant on not swearing and while he tries to uphold that, he’s also been in the military for 19 years. And sometimes (very often) the danger or his men become too much. This has caused him to adopt swearing even though he tries so hard not to. One of his most used swear words however is ‘jesus- fuck’ as it’s become almost a habit to swear with jesus christ, though he always catches himself last moment and tries to divert from swearing with the religious man’s name and says fuck instead.

Price can’t ride a bike. And I don’t mean a motorcycle, he’s fine with those - really good even. But an actual bike? Man can’t do it. Do I say this purely because I find the thought/image of Price on a bicycle cursed? Yes, yes I do.

Price finds it hard to say ‘no’ to the 141 when it comes to small and inconsequential things. Due to this, there was a time where for over a month, the 141 walked into his office, asked him to doodle a cat and then left without a word. And yet he did so every time, confused but content enough whenever they waddled off with their doodle. What he didn’t expect, was to show up on Christmas morning to find a blanket strewn over the couch in the rec room - it’s print being littered with every small cat he had doodled. It is now one of his favourite things.

Not a headcanon but I wanted to let the world know: Price has a tiny birthmark on his nose and it is the most adorable thing in the world. (Thankfully I’m seeing more people bringing attention to it >:3) Because of it, if you repeatedly kiss his nose for that reason? To kiss the birthmark? He’s gonna get really flustered really quickly. Not much will bring this man to a stop mid order-giving, but that would shut him up real quick ;3

He does not like singing but you can often catch him humming when doing something such as cooking or cleaning. He doesn’t really realise he’s doing it so don’t point it out! Otherwise he’s gonna be conscious of it and you won’t hear it for a month or two.

Terrible at golf. Gaz once took him golfing cause he thought that’s something Price enjoyed/was good at. It in fact turned into Price getting frustrated and nearly obliterating the golfbal with how hard he hit it. He gave up after that.

This is more logistics that I keep for myself but Price was in the British army for 4 years before he moved to enlist in the SAS.

Loves, loves, loves playing with your hair if you let him. Sitting/cuddling on the couch? His fingers are touching it in some way. Kissing? His hand is keeping your head near his via the back of your neck and his thumb will be rubbing back and forth over the hair there.

Pretty sure 90% of people share this headcanon but good LORD his sneezes. They are loud and you can hear him from across the field. He then proceeds to shrug it off like they’re nothing.

Man has the sharpest and loudest finger whistle and 100% uses it on his men to get their attention. Both the 141 and the soldiers he reigns over as captain. It’s a noise ingrained into every single person who has served with him and will get them to shoot straight and pay attention instantly.

This is a little more niche. But this man sucks at almost every game except for survival games. FPS? Absolute shit, will get maybe one bullet to hit before dying. Horror? While he doesn’t jump at the jump scares, if he is being chased by a monster or a killer, you can almost guarantee he will die. But survival games?? Give him the forest (kinda) or Subnautica to play and this man will absolutely tear it up. You can leave him for an hour or two and when you come back he’ll have crafted a base and be halfway through the game.

This includes Minecraft. Kinda. Man is an absolute god at building, but do not send him into the mines. You will see a message pop up of him falling into lava or dying by mobs every 5 minutes.

Basically any game where he’s not in constant danger, he’s fine.

Avid peanut butter enjoyer.

If Price were to ever have children, he would try very hard to give them the childhood he never had. He would not deny those kids of anything. They want to go outside in the rain to play in the mud? Alright, let him get the raincoats, he’ll wash the dirty, muddy clothes later (he is 100% out there with his kids, splashing them or letting them push him into puddles).

In the same vein, he would try very hard to separate work and life. Sure he might need to get stern sometimes and tell the rambunctious rascals off, but he tries very hard to do so in his dad voice, not in his captain voice. It would still happen sometimes though and he’d feel absolutely awful. Especially if he makes his kids cry because of it.

One of his favourite songs is Escape by Rupert Holmes (The piña colada song). You can oftentimes hear it and songs like that softly playing in his office while he’s doing paperwork.

Not really a headcanon and don’t ask me why, but this donkey is giving me Price vibes: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJV6o5cB/

While he smokes cigars, he’s not at all a chain smoker. Usually saves them for moments where he feels he earns them (after a mission, completing paperwork he really didn’t want to do etc), high stress, or when he’s really craving one.

In a similar topic, he hates cigarettes. Tried one when he was younger, hated it and instead unfortunately took over the cigar habit from his father (when said man was home). Because of this however, he can’t stand to smoke with Laswell. She tries sometimes - cause while she’s trying to quit, it’s hard - but Price only allows it if she’s upwind from him, blowing her smoke away from him.

He stubs his toe SO often. Don’t get me wrong, when out on the field, every step is calculated and precise and you will never in your life see him slip up. It’s a different matter entirely when he’s on leave or just around base though. His body doesn’t need to be on edge 24/7 anymore. Which means that if you’ve served under him, you’ve heard him curse out a door for daring to stand open in the way it did. When he’s at home with you? Double so. He tends to walk around without shoes at home - logically so. Which means his poor toes meet cupboards, table/chair legs and doors a bit too often. He’ll swear less when at home tho, more… take-a-deep-breath-to-control-the-rage kind of reaction.

For the love of god, call him pretty. It’s just- it does something with him. He’s heard handsome, rugged, manly, weathered, etc. And don’t get me wrong, if you call him any of those? Pride bursts through his chest and he’ll make sure to repay you in kind. But if it’s just you and him on the couch, leaned into each other, the tv softly playing? Just a quiet moment? And you call him pretty? It heals something in him.

Has once overheard soldiers insulting/mocking his facial hair and definitely made them shit themselves when he appeared behind them with his full 6”2 (188cm) buffed up captain stance - arms crossed with the most vicious glare you can even imagine. Also definitely made them run until they dropped and then do it again or gave them toilet duty for a month. It also definitely wasn’t only one time he overheard someone.

He’s an absolute history buff. At one point he seriously considered to become a history teacher but at that point he was too far into his military career. He didn’t feel like he could leave his men. It also felt like he’d have wasted years of his life and going back to school wasn’t really on his ‘want to do’ list at that age. So instead he opted he’d be of better use to the world right where he was.

If you allow him to infodump however? He will absolutely tell you the most random facts. Disturbing ones too. He just wants to tell you cool facts, its a way of showing love :)

Quality time often consists of him sitting beside you while you do whatever. He’s either reading a book or doing a puzzle, if he can he will have one hand on your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing it while his mind is elsewhere (its a bit hard when he does puzzles with one hand, but he makes it work)

In the vein of those puzzles, he absolutely LOVES them. If you come home with a newspaper saying “I got this for you!” and show him the not-yet-made puzzle, he will absolutely fall a little bit more in love with you every time. That’s his form of you coming home with roses for him.

Ridiculously good at crosswords. Very rarely has to look up an answer. He also tends to ask you out loud. Not per se to actually ask you though. It’s more of a way of thinking out loud. “What’s a six letter word for a cloud formation in space? …Nebula, thank you.” And then just moves on without you ever having said a word, not even realising he does it.

He always feels guilty when leaving you for long periods of time due to work. Tries very hard to make up for it, even if you assure him he doesn’t have to.

He does things while on missions that he is not proud of. He does not tell you any of the more inhumane things he’s done because he’s terrified it’ll change your perception of him.

These moments haunt his every moment however. Sleeping and awake. You are his only escape.

He is not proud of a lot of things. But the 141 is one of them.

Kyle is one of the most prominent ones. From when he found him in Piccadilly to the elite soldier he is today, Price is incredibly proud of who he’s become. Though he’s also very worried for the danger he’s put the younger man in by dragging him into this world.

Price also makes sure to look after Ghost. Strangely enough, he feels almost responsible for what happened to Ghost despite him having nothing to do with it. Because of it however, he feels very protective over the man and tries to treat him the best he can.

Soap is someone who he sees a lot of himself in. So he always tries to push the man to be better than he was. Price sees the potential Soap has in furthering his military career and if the moment came to it, he’d recommend the man for a promotion in a heartbeat. Soap is someone he always trusts in.

He has a lot of scars on his body from his years of service. If he feels you run your fingers over the scar and you ask him about them, he’s okay with telling you about how he got it. Even if he spares the details sometimes.

Lastly, if Laswell and her wife ever got a child, Price would 100% be the favourite uncle and regular babysitter whenever he’s off deployment.

That’s it for the regular headcanons again :3 Please respect the banner and onto depravity.

Nsfw:

Whenever he’s making out with you, he LOVES having a hand on your throat. Not to squeeze. Never to squeeze. He does not like the thought of choking you at all, brings bad memories. But he is addicted to the thrum of your heartbeat underneath his fingertips. The submission that comes with it as you let him hold a place so vulnerable while he attacks your lips.

Doesn’t have to be during sex either. You two can be cuddling on the couch and he’ll gently pull you in by your neck or throat and press his lips into yours. Or push you up against the wall by it when you greet him as he comes home. Just let him hold you and move you like that.

Fingerprint bruises. Oh my god he properly leaves them whenever you two are having an especially… passionate night.

Don’t get him wrong though! He’ll kiss the bruises and apologise after, even if seeing them sends a flutter down his spine. Loves walking up to you and slotting his fingers right over the marks, careful and appreciative as his hands fill up the spots.

Man loves biting and nipping any place of you he can reach. Have I mentioned how much he loves leaving his marks on you? Hickeys and imprints of his teeth e v e r y w h e r e. (Won’t go above the collar if you don’t want him to)

Depending on how okay you are with it, he’ll definitely bite hard. He’s holding you in a mating press, kissing you to hell and back and when his hips start to stutter, when that telltale spark begins to come up, he’ll divert to where your neck meets your shoulder and bite while fucking the last few strokes into you, muffling his groans and noises of pleasure into your skin.

He has once broken skin while doing it, he felt absolutely awful after it. Immediately after coming down from his high and realising what he did, he went to go get the med kit from the bathroom. Naked and sweaty, he waddled away and back, concern and guilt as he disinfected the wound and dressed it, pressing a million apologies to you.

While it is rare to get him to actually fully give the reins to you and be submissive, when he does, call him by his honorifics still. Praise him with them. “You’re doing so good for me, captain” , “Are you feeling good, sir?” Whisper things like that in his ear and he’ll be whining and desperate for you like never before.

Man has a raging breeding kink. Will absolutely fill you up as many times if he can. Just the sight of seeing his cum leaking out of you instantly gets him going for a second round. The possessive side of him comes out thanks to the thought of you walking around with a piece of him inside you.

I don’t know if I mentioned it in p1 of this but he’s an absolute aftercare KING. Literally won’t want you to do anything. He’s cleaning you up with a towel first and foremost, gentle and careful - especially if he was a little rougher that day. After that, if you’ll let him, he’ll run a bath or shower for you and gently wash you himself. Kisses, cuddles and clean sheets are all in his service.

[sugarakis-p2]

Mommy needs me! Final Chapter

You inherited to your Aunts farm after she passed from cancer. But you don’t know also inherited giant Mothman-manchild, who is pissing and jizzing everywhere in your house.

A world full of quirks scares and changes everything for you. Life in a quirk habitat, Shigaraki's old nest, was not easy. You start to learn what it really means to be a mother. To be in love with Shigaraki as he creates a family around you. It is annoying when no one tells you when you will be going home, escaping the grasp of the yakuza, Master, and the cops.

Warning: Yandere Mothman Shigaraki, offensive language, violence, mommy kink, references to knotting, piss and lactation, and drug use

(chapter 5: prev)

Final Chapter:

All mine, Shigaraki thought in pleasure.

Cradling his Mommy close. You are still worn out from too much sleep, the coma leaving you weak. The little grub barley has grown. Shigaraki is nuzzling and loving you. You are carrying his grub. Mommy is pregnant with his child. He will be the man of the hive. He will do better. Gain more power. More power. If he has a son, he will have the power to keep him in line. Preventing the grub from trying to steal you for a viable mate. He grinned maniacally at these sweet thoughts. Finally, one plan was working.

Shigaraki growls and holds you tighter. He will be more powerful than his original Father. That is something he has learned. Power is all that matters. He might not be the strongest, smartest, or nicest. But he is the most powerful and that makes him better than his weak, pathetic, broken Father. His claws run through your hair, and you make sweet whimpers of pain in your sleep, so close to your whimpers of pleasure. Fuck! It was making him hard. His cock grew painfully erect. His seed leaking on your belly and hips. He just wanted a female. Power. It was only natural.

He loves this. Having a female to rut, to scent, to love. A female is power. He has the best Mommy. Therefore, he is already the most powerful. He looks at the camera in the corner. Master, he mentally seethes. He left because he recognized how weak he would be with Master who was trying to replace his original Father. He was grateful for not being "exterminated" like the other test subjects. Especially after he ended his family. As grateful as he is to Master, he will not let him have his Mommy. Your eyes flutter, and he chirps sharply to encourage you to wake up. He is on you when you groan and sit up, licking and nuzzling with coos at your smooth neck.

"Not this morning, Shiggy," you groan. Throwing your arm over your eyes, absently smearing his cum on you. Not that there was a lot of light here, you just wanted get your sex fiend of a baby boy off you for a moment. Shiggy is horny all the time. He's become more demanding since you've woken up. To the point, you want to snap at him like an annoying three-year-old. Worse, a bratty three-year-old, that knew so many ways to kill a person. He could touch and turn you to dust, drop you from the sky, or tear you in half with his claws. In your case, it was fuck you to death. You manage to sit up with him with pawing all over you.

You pull on the white shirt and panties the asshole in charge gave you. So magnanimous, you think sarcastically. Some part of you thinks the "Master" is a giant pervert getting off on watching Shigaraki hump you into oblivion. You feel the light tug and touch of Shiggy's claws. He's been helping you in your weakened state, fussing over you like a child in charge. Finishing with helping you put on clothes by caressing both breasts, tweaking the nipples, and trilling. The way Shiggy sucks at your chest, sometimes you wonder if he's happy your pregnant so he can use you as a food source again. You look towards the well-hidden camera in the corner and flip it off. Shiggy peels hissy laughter. Ignoring him while you stretch, trying to stiffly stand, you lightly smack his hands away. The two of you have had nothing but time on your hands. 

"Mommy is angry this morning. Need more big boy time, make happy. I can make Mommy feel good," He laughed. He chirps and helps you stand on your wobbly legs. The way he stares at you with total devotion for so little praise forces you to be a better person. All you wanted was more of that look of worship. The time you spend together, weak and helpless, you start teaching Shiggy English. It was incredibly frustrating. You had to learn to be patient and teach him things. He was an eager student and proud of his pronunciation. All your spare time not doing essential functions is playing cards. Shigaraki beats you every time. It added to your frustration. 

"I'm starving," you announce to the room, ignoring him. Shiggy growls in displeasure.

"Tests today. Many tests. Only liquid. Father says only liquid diet and water. They have not delivered mail," Shiggy struggles to say. Snorting in self-scolding, short little deep puffs in irritation, fluff from his collar float in the air as he scratches his. You reach out and stop him with a tender touch to the back of his hand. Shiggy wanted to please you.

"Thanks for reminding me. You will be the best, Daddy," you smile. He trills with a ruffle, his entire body shuddering in bliss. He rose like a dominating monolith to loom.

"Sun time. Drink water during the sun time," He demands. Falling into hisses and growls as he scoops you up to carry you to the nest entrance. You can't help it. Your heart pounds like a wild bird caged. When you first woke up confused, Shiggy did everything. He still does everything, not letting you be independent in this habitat. It's not like you could with how weak and how it's set up for someone with wings.

"Eeep!" You cringe and shriek. The look on his face tells you all. A cocky leer splits his face. A mischievous glint in his eye, that smirk dancing at his lips, tells you the tables flipped since he can navigate this world. You must hold onto him as he swings like Tarzan from the habitats nest. You squeeze your eyes shut and pretend you are not plummeting to the earth. Remembering childhood games and mumbling the prayer light as a feather, beseeching he won't drop you each time before he lands with a light jolt. He spreads his wings at the last moment landing softly.

"Soft as a leaf," he laughed. 

"Yes, Little Mommy is light. Light and scared. Needs strong male. Needs me. Look. Mommy is light as a feather. Look. Look. Mommy needs only ten minutes in the sun. Then back to nest," he smirked. He is very proud of himself. He was cute like this, so cute you forgot briefly that you were trapped in a fake world. Living in the largest nest hanging from a tree you have ever seen. When you were young, you wanted a tree house. You can see now how stupid and problematic that was without wings.

The white shirt you wear clings to your curves, your hair has grown, and it cascades down your back in soft waves. Standing in a sun-drenched section of the enclosure, the light streaming through the windows cast a warm glow on your skin. Shiggy watches you anxiously from the edge. He does not like the sun and is careful to protect his sensitive eyes. He trills when he pushes a large glass of water toward you. It sparkles like diamonds in the sunlight.

You hold a tall glass of clear, sparkling water in one hand. Brings it to your lips, sipping it slowly and letting a few drops spill down your chin and onto your chest, Eyes half-closed in a seductive gaze as you savor the refreshing liquid.

Shiggy watches water droplets trickle down your neck and between your breasts, creating a tantalizing sight. The water soaking your shirt creates a peek-a-boo effect that hitches his breath. Your breathing quickens as you take another sip, lips curling into a satisfied smile, tilting your head back, letting the last water slide down your throat before setting the glass aside. You stand there for a moment, basking in the sun's warmth and the moment's pleasure. When you hear a pathetic whine, come from the shadows.

"Mommy, please. I don't know why. I feel hot. My body is out of control. My heart pounds. My skin itch. Want Mommy. It's painful. Mommy, please," he begged. Thick hard cock in hand, he slowly strokes his oozing length panting and drooling. When you walked to him, he fell to his knees, running your fingers through his hair. He looked up at you with a face full of pained desire. You could feel your heart breaking for him.

"Your speech is getting much better. My poor baby, you deserve a reward," you whisper.

Without another word, you knelt in front of him and took his length in your mouth. He tenses in surprise and need, leaning back, claws digging into the ground.

"Good, Mommy," he moans, eyes rolling. You could feel the warmth of his skin as you wrapped your lips around his cock, slowly licking and sucking it. He sighed with pleasure, lightly bucking, hitting the back of your throat. The sensations of gentle teasing were too intense and passionate. The feeling of the warm, wet mouth around his penis was incredible. The feel of your tongue and lips moving up and down is incredibly gratifying. He shuddered when your tongue teased his tip. He drank deep of all the senses you are creating. The warmth, wetness, and movement were exciting and satisfying. Hot precum slid down your throat as you relaxed and took more of him. He was so big you worried you would choke on his cock. You could feel the tension in his body melting away as you pleasured him. His face, in painful rapture, was slowly disappearing in his fluffy collar. Three fingers fist your hair, whimpering little, "Ah, ah, ah."

It's hard to breathe with a throat full of cock. You can feel his pulse against your velvety tongue. His grip tightens as he pulls you away, and jets of hot cum shoot down your throat, constricting on his knot as he pulls you away from his knot. The knot gets to be the size of a grapefruit. You are grateful for that. Not grateful for his very salty heady flavor. But your stomach appreciates the gift. His body thrums and flutters, his head thrown back as he growls his pleasure. When he finally stops cumming, you hold him close, letting him know he isn't alone. He pants and keens. You lay with him in the shade of the enormous trees. Suddenly he bolts up. Hissing and fluttering in a tizzy. His cock glistened with your spit and dripping cum. His red hot knot prevented him from retracting his twitching dick. 

"Spit! Spit! Bad Mommy! Spit it out!" He demanded. Shoving his thumbs in and opening your mouth wide. Irate when you laughed and playfully shoved him.

"Liquid diet. Don't worry! It won't hurt the grub," you giggle. You gently caress his cheek, running a thumb over the scar on his lips. Your eyelids are heavy with adoration, "You are so protective. I didn't appreciate it before. But after all the scars we both carry. I understand you are amazing."

His body trembles under your touch. Your words knit into the fabric of his soul. You have never heard this keening hiss. His eyes are large and watery before he squeezes them tight, scrunching himself in his ruff.

"Mommy can never disappear. I love you. I love Mommy. You are mine. All are mine. My scent spread. Confusing. I should take all females that are mine. More power. I want to be a good big boy. I will only take the ones I know," Shiggy said cryptically.

"What are you talking about? Can you try again with more words?" You ask him patiently. He shakes his head no like he is coming out of a lust fog.

"Time to see, Father. No, argue," he growled. You are not an expert, but you worry when you look down at your stomach. Am I bloated, or is this thing growing fast? You wonder as you touch the bump forming there.

"That's a good idea," you say, letting him pick you up and carry you to the exit. He stands there holding you and growing visibly agitated, and he takes several swipes to scratch around his eyes.

"Hey! We know you see us. Open up. We have an appointment!" You shout at the door. A crackle of the speaker before the nasty old doctor tickles in.

"We are in the middle of a discussion. You can wait," Ujiko snarked.

"No, we can't. I am about to pee myself," you shot back. The doors immediately open to your shock, "Oh, I should have threatened with that before."

Squirming out of Shiggy's grip, you squealed and ran at Tanaka into a bear hug. She feels too thin to you. Tanaka grunts when you squeeze her too tight, stiffing in shock.

"Oh, we're doing this. We hug now. We're huggers?" Tanaka asks in her monotone. Shigaraki nuzzled Tanaka's hand.

"Absolutely, you bitch. Anyone who saves my life gets a hug," you laugh. A bubble of emotions turns that laugh into blubbering. Tanaka blushes and hugs you back. A low, ominous growl came from Shiggy. Tanaka pushes you away with her hands raised and shakes her head at him while you wipe away tears with the back of your hand.

"Calm down. It's not like that. What title do I get after this? If I die because my title is 'Father,' then I don't want it," Tanaka said, pointing at your belly.

"Is nature to protect mate, to protect Mommy, against everything. I will be a good boy, Father," Shiggy hissed. His claws dug into the floor, not wanting to be scorned by you or Father over scratching his flesh. Mommy likes a full ruff, he reminded himself.   

"I really do need to pee. I can feel my teeth swimming," you announce, crossing your legs. The pressure on my bladder mounts when you feel movement. Making you squeal in surprise and need.

"Don't go in here. I will never hear the end of it. The bathroom is-ah," Tanaka yelped.

"Show me!" you yelled when you yanked her in the direction she was looking at. Shiggy on your heels, "No! You stay here. Only ladies!" Giving his chest a rough shove to step back. You run to the toilet, sighing in relief. You didn't bother to shut the door.

"I don't thi-hey, whoa," Tanaka said, turning her back and blushing more furiously when she caught a glimpse of you pulling your panties down, "I don't think that would work to keep him out if he really wanted to come in. What is with this ladies-only nonsense? This isn't a gentrified bathroom?" You roll your eyes at her.

"Obvi. He doesn't know that, and he will do what I say. I just wanted to have a conversation with you without cameras. I swear I had an out-of-body experience. I think I forced a guy on the wall to change his attention to other people. I know that sounds insane. I can't explain it," you say in a rush. Tanaka is mumbling to herself over what you said.

"Did you experience while you were in the induced coma?" Tanaka asked, biting her lip in concern. Drying your hands, you consider it. Little glimpses between the darkness. Mostly the horrible stench of Shigaraki's musk and his whimpering. You tell Tanaka this and shift from foot to foot. More mumbling to herself as you roll your eyes again.

"Are you going to tell me the plan?" You ask. Crossing your arms. Staring at yourself in the mirror. The woman looking back looks like a stranger. You look shallow and too thin also.

"The plan is for you to let Shigaraki and myself care for you. Stay out of trouble. Do whatever they want and keep your head down. You need a lot of tests. A lot of monitoring. You are still in critical care. You don't have to be a doctor to see that baby is growing too quickly," Tanaka says sternly. She turns on the hot water. Steaming the mirror where she writes mic. Hide in rooms next-door, before lunch, for four days. She erases and writes your quirk. Do not tell anyone. She quickly wipes the mirror clean of any traces of the message. You turn and lift your shirt enough to see the carvings in your flesh have healed. But you still have a reminder of hell. You let your shirt drop. You have no idea how you will get to those rooms.

"I understand. Thank you for saving me. I didn't think it would turn out this way," you say, melancholy. Your fingers twisting the hem of your shirt. You have never felt so useless in all your life. Now it's Tanaka's turn to roll her eyes.

"My god, woman. It's what we do for family. And as much as I despise saying this. You guys have been more like family to me than anyone. I always go along with animals better. But you two keep me on my toes enough to always keep my interest," Tanaka said. She was surprisingly humble. You think as you both leave to have tests run. You hate the little shit Doctor Ujiko. You are so happy that Shiggy stays by your side. It keeps the doctor from touching you. That was thoroughly explained to you about How grateful you should be locked up in an experiment cage. They would have kept you in a filthy cage or killed you if Shiggy didn't threaten to escape and Tanaka seduced with data. If Shigaraki didn't threaten to destroy everything he saw if something happened to his grub. If Shiggy had left your side, they would have kept you in a coma until after you birthed.

While they say these things to you, you grit your teeth and feel on edge. A painful need for relief eats at you. All you can think of is the drugs. These monsters want to cage you only after risking your life in an induced coma wouldn't keep their favorite slave compliant. You hated them. You hated the Yakuza, and you hated Master and his disgusting people. You hated them for how they treated your Shiggy. You hated them for how they treated you. You hated how they made Tanaka interested in them. With no drugs, by the way! Unable to enjoy sex! They dumped me in a nest and left me in pain and hungry! Your brain screamed. It was so loud in the lab. Your nails digging into your palms, nerves on fire, as you swallow their shit to survive. When you were questioned by Ujiko, you acted like a broken doll. You feel shattered. Saying things you don't believe or care about, to live one more day in pain.

"Thank you so much!" you beamed. The whole while, your mind screamed for your happy hour. That Chronos is worth it for your six-pack. Finally, that voice has quieted down as your rage grows.

"Well, one good thing to come out of this shit is that I learned enough about quirks. I might be able to deliver this unknown entity," Tanaka said, holding a scanning wand.

"Call it a baby, please," you said.

“A grub,” Shigaraki hissed.

"A grub indeed," Tanaka said with wide eyes showing Doctor Ujiko the ultrasound.

"That's normal. She is developing at a normal rate for Tomura's kind. Remarkable. You must undergo several injections to make up for the vitamin deficiencies. Still, this little parasite is coming along well. What a giving mother," Ujiko laughed.

"Grub," Shigaraki corrected with a low hiss. Tanaka injected you with vitamins and other medications. Drawing blood. All the while arguing with the Ujiko.

"I told you I am a veterinarian. Not a virologist," Tanaka growled.

"This will be interesting. The quirk virus is spreading rapidly. It will be interesting to see how it affects the grub. We are almost guaranteed a variant or another decay quirk since Tomura's genes appear dominant. Look at the pronounced spinal column. That will become an exoskeleton when he's older," Ujiko said.

"Wait, how does quirk work then? There needs to be more literature on it. Clearly, you've been genetically manipulating Shigaraki…um…Tomura,” Tanaka asked.

"Excuse me!" you interrupted, "I'm having a boy?" Shiggy was trilling and keening with joy at your belly. Jerking in shock when the baby writhes in response. Your teeth are clenched, knuckles white as your nails dig into the sable leather of the table.

"Oh yeah, it's a boy. Ujiko, will he have external genitals, unlike Daddy over there?" Tanaka was asking when you felt something mentally snap in you.

"Can I see?" you ground out. Close to biting Ujiko's throat open. You love Tanaka. Ujiko saw you as a thing to use and made it obvious. Tanaka's eyes darted as she pivoted the ultrasound to you. Tanaka turned bright red as she pointed to parts."

"This has a penis…..see," She points, looking away from you with a red face from the significant dangly bits of the baby. Your eyes widen. How is that supposed to be inside your baby? There is no room in your baby to hold that thing! Shiggy was fiercely proud. 

"Just like Daddy. He will grow with," Shiggy chuckled. 

You mentally smack yourself when you realize Shiggy manages just fine. Once you get past the huge cock and balls, his ball, you correct. With a skull, fingers, and scrunched-up legs. It is your baby. Yours. Your hands shake this time not from need, by from the redirect to kill all threats to this precious thing. Tanaka was sucking on a vape pen. Ujiko had stepped back from striking distance. Your hands are shaking as you stare at your ultrasound. They could not deny you this. He is yours. He is not entirely human looking, and you crave destruction or relief. But this is yours. This is your new addiction.

You didn't know you moved to grip the screen. To burn your son's distorted image in your memory for all time. He was not human. This must be how the first mother of a quirk baby felt. Sad your son will never be normal. But that didn't matter because it was your job to make him always feel loved. Technology has advanced enough that you see details no mother before could understand. The stubby outline of sprouting wings. The sharp pronounced spine and shoulders, stubby fat arms and legs. Their sharp edges are wholly inhuman. The eyes are too large for even Shiggy. Small leaf-shaped feelers pulled back on his large head. What you saw was a god growing in you. The outside world will never understand how special he is and how you are for being blessed with him.

"Shin," you breathe. Everyone freezes. Shigaraki chirps and nuzzles.

"Shin it is. I like. Shinnnnn," Shigaraki purred to your bump. His claws prickle at your flesh as he rubs tenderly with three fingers.

"Most of Tomura's genetic makeup was selected and picked from the test subjects. Quirks are inherited from the parents. Tomura was a variant. His grandmother had wings, and her subsequent children became more insect heteromorph. As we continued to breed that line, we added more little tweaks to his quirk. Shame about his family," Ujiko said.

"What happened to his family?" You asked. Shigaraki loomed, yanking you away from the table with a nasty hiss.

"Enough! Time to eat and rest. Take tube bag out, now," He growled, pointing at the IV.

"No. I am feeling better. Let me visit with Dr. Tanaka," you begged.

He gave in. It is concerning that he knows he could control your life this much. He did not look well. He was fidgeting and twitching like his skin was crawling with ants. Tanaka wasn't looking great, either. But once she was vaping and talking about all the exciting things, she learned about quirks. Now that you have one, you need to understand it, and it's irritating Shiggy won't be patient. Shiggy twitched in mounting boredom. He spent his time hissing anytime Dr. Ujiko came close. The more Tanaka talked and vaped, the healthier she appeared and livelier. Something was endearing and unsettling about it. You have had conversations with her in the past, whole nights sometimes, about the most ordinary things. One time it was about the best kind of chocolate chip cookie. The debate over crispy versus chewy was intense. You preferred chewy, which is the correct answer, but Tanaka took a hard stance.

"Your opinion is mute when considering whether it is chewy or crispy. You would still use milk!" She shouted. You had to laugh because you have never seen her so worked up, "In fact. Real facts! A crispy cookie is drier and therefore absorbs milk faster."

The argument stopped when you felt like you would die laughing. Shiggy snorted between you two, unable to fully understand since his position was all cookies are good. Females are insane and would like cookies and bourbon now. Pleasant memories as Shiggy brings you to the present, ripping the needle from your arm as he carries you back to the horrid habitat. You wanted to rage at him. He was pacing. His mumbles sounded dark. How do you go about this in a way that will be the least harmful to everyone?

"Shiggy, I am unhappy," you sigh, mentally and physically. Instantly he is by your side.

"Mommy needs food? Yes? Make them give us food," he growled. You gripped his wrist. He froze like your hand was a dangerous weapon, looking at you in confusion with a layer of obsession that made your heart beat faster. Loyal and loving. That was different in survival and the business world. But here he is, raised like a caged animal, doing something you struggle with.

"Shiggy. I have not seen Tanaka in a long time. I was looking forward to seeing her. You knew this, and yet you took me away. It was unkind to us both. Tell me why?" you asked at your limit with him. His eyes widened, and he twitched, eyes narrowing while his feelers dropped before his expression relaxed into unpleasant acceptance.

"Females are precious. Females are power. A chance to live on. I wanted my sister. Father thought I was stupid. Not able to care for a female. When sister told I was seducing. He punished me. This time I thought to death. I used quirk for the first time. Killed everyone. I regret the females and the others. Not Father. I was happy to kill him. He taught valuable lessons," Shiggy nodded solemnly in contemplation. Your knee-jerk reaction was not your best moment.

"I am sorry for what you went through. But you are not killing our son," you snarled at him. Wrapping your arms around your belly and glaring at him. He chirped. A beautiful shudder cascaded over his body, his muscles popping out, before he pounced quickly, pressing you down. Panting with heavy lids. You are confused why he is suddenly aroused.

"Such (pant) a good mommy (pant) mine! Want to be in you! Mommy, please. Fuck. I want to feel sweet, Mommy. Big boy time," he begged. You gripped his hair and antennae, making him snarl, shivering in desire and pain.

"No! You promise me you will not kill our grubs or have sex with them. No bad boy touches on our grubs. Promise me, and you can have big boy time," you demanded. His cock grinds on your hip as the panties easily tear away. He chirped, licking your wrist, his long tongue grazing your lips. His red eyes burn into yours.  

"I promise. No need to. I have Mommy. I will not hurt grub. Big boy time, now. I will make it good," he begged sweetly. You hesitantly released his ruff. Already questioning his wording.

"Ok. That is an unbreakable promise," you gasped. He thrusted himself deep and hard into you. He was unbelievably quick. Vibrating and shuddering as hot cum leaks from you. He carefully ensured he had not knotted as he slumped over you, gasping for air.

"Better than mine. Better Mommy than mine," his hot breath fanned over your neck. You held him close before you answered.

"Wasn't she also your dad's sister or mother?" You asked. You can feel him tense, "You don't have to do that. Our grub will have options. There is a world full of women." He pulls away aggressively. Refusing to look at you.

"What options? Look at me. Look at the outside world. I will no argue. I will be better. Already have a female chosen for Shin," he rasped.

"What? Who?" You bolted upright at this horrible news. Your heart slammed in fear and shock. Shiggy jumped out of the nest with ease. Leaving you to wonder. 

"I get food," he hissed over his shoulder. Shiggy mulled over your words. What kind of options will his boy have? He sought Father's wisdom. Shigaraki did not like Mommy's smell. It was sad. He hated Tanaka's smell. It was growing again, and he pleaded with her to stop smoking.

"Don't give me that look. I already have it. Might as well. What difference does it make now?" Tanaka vaped, rolling her eyes.

"Mommy is questioning," he growled. Scratching his ruff, fluff flying in the air.

"Well, we will cross that bridge when we have to. Avoid the subject in the meantime. We have bigger things to worry about. Just be sure to do your part and ensure she is safe," Tanaka sighed. Shigaraki shrugs, waiting for the food and for Tanaka to finish the vitamin supplement injection.

"None will understand. You are not hearing me," he growled, scratching himself with both hands in irritation at Father's calm. Tanaka put the injection on the tray. Shaking her head.

"You're right. None of us will understand what you went through or what life was like. My mother was a real bitch. But when she died, I cried. The point is your experiences and interpretation of those experiences are the only individualism that exists, so cherish and grow from them," She turns to Shigaraki, "Your new Mommy did not reject you or your grub even after you confessed to killing your family. Go forward, one step at a time. We will learn and grow together. We will all be a happy family. A happy family. Give me four days and our family will be good. "

Shigaraki jabbed his Mommy in the ass with the needle. He can come and go as he pleases. Master can not keep him here. He chooses to stay for his grub. Happy family was code. Code that Tanaka knew everything she needed to keep Mommy and the grub healthy. Growing together meant it was time to leave. The pressure of change has been molding him into something else. He wrapped his arms around you. The first solid food you had in weeks, and you can't enjoy it. The sandwich rolls in your mouth like a pasty lump in a cement truck.

"Do you love me? Are you going to create some kind of harem? Am I Mommy because I was convenient? I just... I just don't know what I'm doing anymore. What am I really? Am I just your mommy replacement? Is that all I am to you?" you asked, tossing the sandwich back on the tray. Shiggy chirps and nuzzles the side of your head.

"Just? Just? Mommy is most important. I love you. I chose because you are kind. Filled with love, grief, and sadness. We dwell in the same house in all things. I saw a scared woman who looked at me with wonder and care. I do not know what I would be without you. I do not need more than you," he inhales your scent deeply. You reach up and touch the scars around his eyes. He leans into your touch, and tears drip from you freely.

"You're speaking so well," You mumble around tears.

"I have the best mommy," he purred.

"You're right. We make our own family. We have each other, and everything else can go fuck themselves. My Aunt said, "Please take care of him. He needs you" I feel she left the rest unsaid for me to figure out. I needed you. I love you. I'm sorry I brought this mess down on us," You wept. Shiggy's wings fold over you.

"Family takes care of family. You no sorry to me," he moaned. Nuzzling and kissing your neck, "Your neck is so smooth and exposed." His kisses turn into lustful whimpers. The ache of drugs fades as you push him down and climb over him. Straddling him between your thighs.

"Lay back like a good boy," you direct him. He nodded, laying back. Closing his eyes, trilling when you wrap your fingers around his leaking cock. Slowly lowering on his length, filling you to the brim. Shiggy trilled, his muscles rippling as he arched up into you, pressing against your cervix. The room was filled with the sound of passionate moans and rumbling purrs. You moved your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, hands pressed against his chest, vibrating down to his center. Increasing the intensity of your movements. Shiggy's eyes were blissfully closed as he felt your body move against his, his feelers drooping and shivering. His length gliding and grinding all your sweet spots.

The heat between you was palpable, and you felt your desire rising with each thrust. Shiggy could feel his arousal growing, his cock growing swelling and growing hotter. It only made you more revived. Moving faster, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. Suddenly he gripped your waist, making you yelp in surprise.

"It's ok. I can control my quirk. I would never hurt Mommy," He moaned. Careful to never touch you with all five fingers, even with his new control. Helping you roll your hips, his claws dug a little too deep, painfully close to breaking skin. You gasp for air as your body bounces on his huge cock. Your pleasure builds into hot bliss. He let out a loud snarl as he reached his climax, his knot expanding. Your hips stutter as you cum and clamp down on his knot. Filling so completely as the heat in your core spreads tingles over your body.

Smiling down in satisfaction as his body shudders beneath yours. He chirped, his crimson eyes drinking in your ecstasy, his knot getting bigger. Too big. You squeaked pathetically as the pressure on your bladder became too great. Squirting piss on his lap. Covering your face in embarrassment, stuttering apologies. Screaming in more surprise when you feel his thumb viciously rub your clit. The small circles make your pussy clench and milk him.

"You're dirty!" You pant.

"Say! Say I am good boy," he pants in your ear with a sharp tone, "Say now!"

"Good boy! Mommy's good boy! I love you. You are the best good boy!" You screamed. Shiggy smirks, biting his lip as he continues his relentless pursuit until you racked your nails down his chest and wept in pleasure. He pulled you close and smiled contentedly as you lay in his arms, the grub kicking. You had never felt so alive and so connected to him before. The speaker crackled before the voice interrupted your peace.

"Tomura. When you are done, we would like to talk," Master said. In the background, you can hear Dr. Ujiko screaming about piss and making the Nomu clean the mess. Shiggy wiped down your legs and let you sleep. Grinning, watching you as you snored so loud the nest shook. Shiggy kisses you and goes to see Master. A bucket was splashed over his groan the moment he entered. Marking is forbidden when you reach a certain age. It is bothersome.

"Kai is coming. It is time. Gather your forces. We will utilize the Nomu to return them to their habitats after they capture the new subjects. You have made progress. Your argument for capturing the Yakuza rather than eliminating them was eloquent. Dr. Tanaka is a tremendous boon. I have always known you were special. I am pleased you have proven me correct. Once things are settled, I would like you to take over the project. For that, you will take my power," Master grinned. Tomura Shigaraki trilled. An old form of respect and agreement.

"Will I have access to all the females I desire for my grubs?" Tomura asked, scratching at his ruff. Taking the Master's power was always a thing. At a time, it would have tempted him. That is why he left. He foolishly wanted to prove he had the might to handle Master's power, growing angrier by the second that it was not given to him. His rage went out of control and destroyed the facility. He would come back after he gained more power and control. Only it never happened. The closer he had grown to your Aunt, the less he cared about Master's power and the more he let his instincts take over.  

"Naturally. You can create any breeding program you like when you are in charge," Master encouraged.

"I need Eerie. The child is mine. My scent. I want the females to get used to the nest. She will be a good mate for my son," He insisted, with sharp anxious clicks of his teeth.

"Oh, Tomura. I welcome the practice of grooming subjects young. However, we already agreed that Eerie is patient zero. She is your false child. Your DNA in her was manufactured. Her compatibility must be tested before we can give her to your offspring," Master beamed as if teaching a new lesson. Tomura became more agitated.

"My nature does not recognize a false child. My nature senses my child with my scent. It screams my female. Eri's child is mine. We should at least create visit. Get little female used to Mothmen and our ways. Master, do we not agree that legacy is power? Is power, not all that matters?" He asked. Master steepled his fingers.

"I think we can arrange a weekly visit," Master said casually.

"Quit marking in the habitat," Dr. Ujiko huffed.

"Mate is pregnant. If a nest was made for her lower, there would be fewer accidents," Tomura growled.

"We talked about knotting. If you didn't put so much pressure on her bladder, she would have more control," Dr. Ujiko barked.

"Asking not to breathe," Tomura Mumbled.

"If you want healthy grubs, sanitation is key," Ujiko lectured. Tomura Shigaraki. A name that he will accept as his own because he does love Master in his own way, but he is tired of the little mind games. He prefers you. His stupid sweet Mommy never played games like this. He agreed mentally to get back to you quicker, cleansing himself of the dirty deals his Master desperately made, only to be stopped in the hallway by a vaping Tanaka.

"Ujiko won't let me smoke around the equipment. I know I am vaping more but li-Whoa, hello, what are we doing?" Tanaka asked as he sniffed her more deeply. His feelers tickled over her face as he dangerously gripped her too tight and snuffled at her chest. Tanaka stood there stiffly.

"You are sniffing at the wrong tits, kid. Even if I had some kind of interest in whatever this is. There are no tits, just scars, and despair," Tanaka said with strained composure. He narrowed his eyes and released her.

"The sickness is less. Father smells like me. Smell is weaker than child. More you smoke, less I smell sickness," he chittered, confused. Tanaka's mouth fell open before it snapped shut. The vape back at her lips.

"You are saying I have a cancer quirk. That makes sense. I do feel better after I vape. I was around the kid the most other than Overhaul. I can easily test it. I do not like this quirk. We need Overhaul's research to reverse. Cancer quirk. The most fucked up part is I wonder what it says about me? I wonder if I'm dying quicker?" Tanaka started to hyperventilate as she slumped to the floor. Shigaraki was not used to seeing Father doubt herself. Even when Tanaka was afraid, she took action. Shigaraki shifts on all fours to drop to her level. On impulse, he nudged his large head under her limp hand. He trills while she pets him absently, inhaling deeply of the poisonous vapor.

"Not going quickly. We will heal," Shiggy reassured.

"We have to secure Erie at all costs. She is the vector. With her maybe, m-m-m-maybe-" Tanaka was sputtering. This gave him a moment while her brain seemed to process the error. An epiphany. He reached out and caressed her with his feeler, bringing her eyes to him.

"You take the child. Take the child and run far. Do not worry about us. I will take care of Mommy. Mommy is my risibility. How else will I be the Father?" Shiggy chuckled.

"What the hell are you saying?" She asked his retreating form. In the dark hall, she could understand how he could strike fear in those unfamiliar to him. Insects are terrifying. 

His eyes glowed ominously as he rasped over his shoulder, "You are no longer Father. Take child and run." He slipped into the darkness, leaving her there sucking on her vape.

He crawled into bed with you, wrapping his limbs and wings around you in warmth and comfort.

"Mommy?" he asks with a low, breathy hitch.

"Yes?" you questioned back, half asleep.

"Do you trust me?" He asked. You didn't have to think about it in your exhaustion.

"You scare me sometimes. Fear is never a hundred percent trust. Sometimes I don't trust you to make the safe decision. Sometimes I don't trust you to respect me. I flat out don't trust you, other people, and especially not men," You snapped at him. He growls and tries to move away. You tsk him and pull him closer. He doesn't resist as you continue, "I can trust you to be brutal and heartwarming. I can trust you to have my back. I can trust you will not hurt me like your family because I can trust your word. You forget I'm new to the relationship stuff. I am very sorry about my reaction to the news about your family. You deserved more trust and understanding. I am sorry for how I reacted. Come on, baby. Let's sleep. I'm tired."

Mommy gives him too much to chew on, he thinks. It gnawed at his mind. He snuggled in close and planned. If he had known what he knows now, he would have started sooner with you. 

Two days later, Tanaka's hands are shaking. She can't focus on her microscope. She did not want to ask Ujiko for his help, but it was just them, and she was feeling weaker.

"Ujiko, can you take a look at this?" She asked. Ujiko glimpsed into the microscope.

"Cancer cells. Are they yours?" He asked, eyeing her. She rubbed her eyes, trying not to cry, and reached into her coat for her vape.

"Not in here," Ujiko gruffed.

"Come on, man? I've had a rough week," She opened her eyes to see ancient yen shoved in her face.

"Go to that disgusting machine with the old expired vending snacks. Get some air. I'll have the Nomu take you," Ujiko said. Tanaka took the money.

"Thanks, man. Do you want anything?"

"God, no. Those snacks are older than me."

The best part about the old vending machine was that it had a broken lock case that perfectly fit a cell phone. Casually reaching her hand up to lean on the machine. To the cameras, it looked like she was deciding what she wanted. The Nomu are experiments, and these low-end ones carry out menial tasks. The one helping her has no way to snitch on her. Turning on the phone near the number pad, what popped on her screen made her heart stop and drop into her gut. She quickly pockets the phone, pulls out the money, and the machine eats the cash. She vaped, instantly feeling better. Wondering what did cancer quirk say about her? Munching on the powdery shrimp chips, she returns to the lab without Nomu's help.

"Feeling better?" Ujiko asked with a slight lilt of concern. Prepping a tray to draw Tanaka's blood. She sits down causally and holds out her arm and the bag of chips for him. She slid her hand into her pocket and pressed a button on the phone.

"Yeah, wants some. Not too bad," Tanaka offered him some chips.

"God no," he said, prepping her arm. Ignoring the needle's sting, she tipped the bag to her mouth, "I have been thinking it would be a waste to lose that mind. I can turn you into a Nomu and preserve that brain."

Dr. Ujiko practically vibrated with excitement at the offer. Tanaka knew animals best, and Ujiko was another animal. A complex one, but Ujiko was an animal nonetheless. She looked at the nasty creature he loved the most. He loved Tanaka in his own way.

"Uh….no thanks. I rather not be a reanimated corpse," she stated in her monotone. Ujiko's face twisted in hurt for a moment. She could see he debated arguing, but what would be the point. Once she is dead, he will take her body anyway. Tanaka could see it dance on his features, settling into an evil grin. She thinks of you and how you used sex to get what you want from Shigaraki. She was not good at manipulation, but now is not the time to be a coward, "How is Erie doing? I haven't seen her in a while."

"She is fine. Nomu and Maser are taking the best care of her. I don't understand why everyone is so worried about the brat. They are easy to keep alive," He snarked, examining her blood.

"Who else is concerned for her?" She asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"Tomura has it in his head that Erie is his property because she smells like him," Ujiko gripped.

"Doctor, I find that fascinating. My last five books were on the social structure of animals. I would like to observe Tomura's interaction with what is essentially a coco bird. She is a baby placed in his nest, and he is caring for it. Can I take Erie to see him? I think she will be more relaxed around me, and I can take notes," Tanaka discussed. She watched Ujiko consider it. Tanaka was inspired enough to throw the pity cherry on top of the gooey word sundae she made.

"Can I take her now? Who knows how long I have?" She asked, with the saddest sickly look she could manage. Ujiko chewed his mustache.

"I really enjoyed your book on feral dogs of the underground train. Why not. Life is short," He said. Tanaka hops up to make a beeline for Erie.

"You are going to do it now?" He shouted after her.

"You said, why not? Life is short! Earth is beautiful tonight with popcorn!" She shouted back to him. Let him believe there is a later, she thought, huffing down the hall. Snatching the kid and running to the habitat you stay in, the girl squirms in her arms as she pants and squeezes her tighter.

Shigaraki heard the buzz of the door. It was too early. Groaning when you clung to him, refusing to let him go.

"Ignore it," you whined.

"Could be food," he graveled in his sleepy state. You immediately released and shoved him.

"Go check," you mumble, rolling over. He should be annoyed with you. He knows he can't complain. He wanted it this way. You are entirely dependent on him and treat him like a big boy. Dropping to the ground without having to carry you was lovely. But when he wanted to sleep, he regretted bringing you here. Not that he had a choice. Pregnant and injured, Father demanded, insisting he had no choice. He was shocked to see Father in front of him, briefly wondering if he was dreaming. What are the odds of thinking of someone and having them standing before you?

"We have to go now. The Chisaki gathered themselves quicker than expected. They are on their way here. The cops are hot on their heels. We need to go now. I have the data," Father wheezes. She is carrying the whimpering child, suddenly scared when she hears Chisaki. Something in him made him reach out and brush the hair from her horn.

"Father will keep safe," He trilled. The little girl looked at him with large desperate eyes. He pushed his ex-father back from the door. Father looked taken aback by the action. He points to the camera, "What are you doing here? Go! Waste time telling me. The eye is always watching."

"I am not cancer. A family looks out for each other. I thought I had at least taught you that!" Tanaka burst at him. Before he can answer, the earth trembles. Shit! Why can't one thing go the way it should? This is two days early! He screams mentally. The back rooms are a quick escape, but at this point, they will empty right into a battlefield or trap, "If you run now, you still might make it!"

Shiggy shoved her harder and slammed the door racing to you. There's a good chance no one knows. A tremor in Japan was nothing new. He had to think. How was he going to get you out? He could decay a door. But that would weaken this part of the facility and warn Master. He didn't hold animosity towards Master. He simply cared more about what he made for himself without Master. He shakes you awake, shoving a jug of water in your face.

"Drink!" He snarled.

"Whaaa? No. I'm not thirsty. It's too early for this. Let me sleep," you whined, rolling over.

"Doctor say need more water. Drink," he ordered. When you ignored him, his eyes narrowed, and he drank the entire jug. He knows one thing you have been having a hard time resisting. He leans close, his rough lips brushing against your earlobe. Pressing to your back as you lay on your side away from him.

"Want to do other things?" He asked suggestively.

You felt a thrill of anticipation as look you're your shoulder and watched him, his eyes dark with desire. His hands moved up your legs, caressing your skin as he went, his claws tickling. You shivered in pleasure, breath coming in short gasps. He paused at your hips, a knee forcing your legs to part, his fingers tracing your navel before going and circling around your clit. A warmth spreads through your body, closing your eyes, savoring the sensation. Gasping in hitches as he touched more sensitive spots, his wicked claws grazing your dripping hole. His fingers teased and tantalized you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He moved closer to you, pressing hard against your ass. You could feel his hardness against your thighs and moaned in anticipation.

"I thought we couldn't anymore because we make a mess," you say. Shiggy pulled his hand away, and you instantly felt regret and loss. I should have kept my mouth shut, you thought. His thumb hooked into your panties.

"We can work around that. Other holes can be fucked," Shigaraki rasped next to your ear. You felt a thrill of excitement when he lathed his velvety tongue up your neck. He spits on his hand, stroking and wetting it before pressing it against your puckering hole.

"Whaa?" you asked in surprise as he entered you. He moved slowly at first, stretching your asshole, his thrusts gentle and teasing. He spits another wade of saliva between you. You squeal in shock. His dick is huge. It stings. Not working up to this kind of stretch is evil. You growl at him as tears prickle your eyes.

"This different. Sucking me in. Gripping the base. Still warm and wet. I am going to cum soon," he groaned. His movements became more urgent, and you felt yourself being taken over by the intensity of the moment instead of the sting. He moved faster and faster, pushing you to the brink of pleasure with each thrust, like the waves on a beach. Your body is trembling with pleasure as he drives into you again and again. Oh god, you are drooling as tingles follow each deep painful stroke.

"Oh god, stop that. I'm about to cum. It hurts," you whimpered, clawing at the nest. Finally, with one final thrust, you both reached climax together. A wave of pleasure crashes over your body. Shiggy had the decency not to knot, but you still ached with bliss and a tinge of disappointment, wanting to be stretched and filled with that knot. His war heat spreads and fills inside as you both lay there panting in exhaustion. He didn't pull out. You are about to roll over and kiss him when he wraps both arms around you and presses you hard up against his knot.  

"You are having that water one way or another," Shiggy hissed. Before processing what he said, you feel a torrent of hot liquid invade your intestines. N the crest of your first orgasm, you had another wash over you as Shiggy filled you to the brim.

"Son of a bitch! Bad boy! Very bad boy! Do not piss in me! Oh god," You screamed, gasping from the second orgasm. It oddly felt good until it hit your gut. It roiled, and you could hear Ujiko screaming over the speakers as Shiggy lifted you and rushed you to the front entrance.

"Open it unless you want her to make a mess," he snarled to the camera. The doors instantly parted, and Shigaraki rushed you to the bathroom. But not to the nearby bathroom. You don't know how long to hold it, so this was a horrible surprise. He was moving so fast the wind was whipping your hair.

"Where are we going? What's happening?" you panic with a high pitch squeal when he roughly sets you down on a dingy toilet on the far side of the facility.

"Mommy, safe here. My ally Spinner takes to shelter. Do not leave this spot. I was here when built. Is safe. Stay!" He growled. Stalking away to the lab when a tremor turned into a ground-shaking explosion. Ujiko came over the speakers in a panic.

"The cops and the Yakuza clashed. They are coming for Master. Where is the vector?" Shiggy could hear him huffing and panting to release nomu.

"I know. I signaled my people. I killed child and female doctor. Hid, my mate. I am coming to destroy the lab. Less evidence," Shigaraki growls. Speeding his way to the lab. He had to erase any trace of you, his grubs, Father, and himself. In the chaos, you will slip away. He will eliminate as much of their presence as possible.

"No, not that mind," Ujiko breathed.

"You have less than a minute, then I destroy," He grinned.

After you had emptied your bowels in what you hope you will never remember. You hid in the corner. Jolting in terror every time dust fell from the ceiling and the ground quaked. The woman crouched in the bathroom corner, your heart pounding in your chest. Hearing the faint sounds of shouting and crashing trickling in from outside the door. You didn't know what was happening but knew it was dangerous. Hugging your knees to her chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Terrified, stay quiet and still when a whimper escapes you from the most brutal shake. Forcing yourself not to cough from the dust in the air. If you made any noise, whoever was out there might find you. Your baby kicked, and your mind flooded with bright red rage.

How fucking dare everyone. How dare your Aunt for dumping her crimes on you. Making you an accomplice. Your Aunt knew more than you, yet you still found out he was….was…Oh my god, you thought. No wonder they don't trust you with anything. They think you're a moron. It just occurred to you that your Aunt didn't commit a crime. There was no one safe your Aunt could have given Shigaraki to. Ok, your Aunt is a Saint, but how dare Dr. Tanaka and Shigaraki think your too stupid to tell you what the fuck is going on? You were in a coma after being tortured. They could have told you there would be a fight, and it would be ok. This felt like they are winging it. Where was Tanaka? You would love some of those drugs about now.  

You crave to be anywhere but here. You felt it. A river of thoughts riptides your body, pulling you away into the darkness of voices. There was a horrid monster shrieking with many voices. You learned to cup your hands over your ears and let the flow carry you. You can search better by keeping the flood of foreign thoughts out of your head. You see the torrent of thoughts and a giant shape fighting that green boy rookie. Shigaraki is arguing when you hear it. A sad whisper that you could feel more than hear. You swim towards it to see Tanaka doing a shit job of comforting the child as Tanaka is gasping on the ground.

"I'm sorry, kid. I wanted to find your new Mommy. Family doesn't leave family behind. If I wasn't so weak and we had just left. We might have made it in time. I have no idea where she is," Tanaka wheezed.

"You're not my mommy?" Erie asked with a sniffle.

"Trust me, kid. You don't want me as a mommy. Your new Mommy is beautiful inside and out. Your new Daddy, well. You will have a good mommy," Tanaka said drolly.

"I'm in the bathroom, not that far!" You screamed. Tanaka wrinkles her brow and looks toward where you are, "Oh my god! I can do this! That way!"

Tanaka grabs the little girl's hand and starts running with her. The ground shakes, and you toss into a wall. Your body slams in real life, Slamming back to your body. You squeaked at the horrible jolt of pain in every joint. Your craving for the warm hug of Kronos drugs makes your joints ache worse. Is this part of it? One of the things Tanaka jabbered about this. All quirks have a negative effect or weakness. No power comes without a cost. All your joints scream in throbbing pain that matches your heartbeat. Your skin itches and crawls. Your track marks feel too hot. How dare they turn you into a junkie. Bracing against the wall, you use it to reach the toilet, where you hopefully peed for the last damn time. Staggering to the door on wobbly knees, you pull it open with a swirl of dust and shout for Tanaka. Her hand comes out of the shadows and falling ceiling to clasp over your mouth.

"Shhhh! I'm here. Take the kid," She gasped. You pull the little girl to you and run to the most reinforced corner. Locking the door, Tanaka collapses next to you and huddles, her lab coat over all of you.

"Hi, sweetie. We are going to leave here. We are going to leave here and live an average life," You soothed the girl, "What's your name? I'm." She cut you off with the most pitiful expression you have ever seen.

"Are you my new mommy?" She asked with a wobble in her voice. You would have run for the hills if it had been a year ago. Terrified and wondering if you are cut out for this job. But the moment you saw her in Tanaka's arms in that hellhole. A strange swelling of your heart made it hard to breathe. You wanted to protect her. You knew she was yours. It was almost the same feeling as Shigaraki. You held her close. She jumped in surprise when she felt Shin kick her. For a brief moment, you saw the look of wonder. She didn't look like she would go comatose in fear. You understand completely. That look is a deeper reflection of your own.

"Yes, baby. I'm your new Mommy. I was at the compound too. We will take care of each other. What's your name?"

"Eri," she sniffled. Staring at your stomach, trembling in your arms

"Eri. What a pretty name. Do you want to listen to the baby? I'm told he makes cute sounds, and I can promise you'll feel him kick," You encouraged Eri. She was hesitant initially, but then Eri melted against your stomach to the light vibrations. You covered her ear because you didn't want her to hear what you had to say.

"What the hell is going on, Tanaka?" You hiss at her.

"Well. Looks like we're going to die. Just wanted to say I loved you. I know I can't do anything about it. Even if we lived, I couldn't do anything about it. Platonic love," Tanaka mumbled in her monotoned way. Something broke in you. You snapped and saw bright red.

"Oh wow. That does not answer my question. That's ok. I know you think I'm dumb. Clearly, you think I'm dumb. Well, I want you to know I am not dumb. I was on track to be CEO of a multimillion-dollar corporation because I am amazing at flow charts. If we had ever discussed the projection numbers of sugar cane transport, I would have shined. I love you too, Dr. High and Mighty," you growled. Tanaka's brow furrows in confusion, and a chuckle escapes her.

"I'm sorry. The Dr. High and Mighty was very cute. I was not expecting that reaction at all. Makes me wish I had my recorder," She said seriously. You gently pull Eri from you. Standing, you walk over to the paper towel dispenser and shove paper down your pants, "Can we discuss what you're doing?"

"Nope. You never bother to tell me anything. I'm getting us out of here," you tell her. Panting, you work yourself up into a need for escape and fear. A sour taste floods your mouth. Eri whimpers in terror, "I'm going to direct people away from us. When I do this, sometimes, I pee myself. I have no idea what I look like when this happens, but don't be scared. I think I did it for weeks and turned out fine."

"What?" Tanka asked. It was the last thing you heard as you clutched at them and used your quirk.

Shigaraki felt you before he heard you. His face was covered in sweat and dirt, slumped over a lab bench. He is wearing a tattered lab coat stained with blood and grime. His hands shook as he concentrated and touched the ground towards the pests entering the lab. That rabbit bitch killed half the Nomu and stole the doctor. He didn't recognize her from the forest or Yazuka, so the doctor was safe. He will be locked up for a few years at most, Shigaraki guessed. The damage to his arm cracked his skin. Blood dripped from his rough hands. His eyes are sunken, and his skin is pale as if he has not slept in days. Just when his wings healed, they were ragged and torn again. Master was fighting his own fight with the cops. He can already smell his defeat.

Shigaraki looks up at the remains of the ceiling, his expression one of exhaustion and destructive elation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly stands up, his body trembling from the effort. He takes a few steps forward and collapses onto the floor, his body too weak to continue. A shout in the distance he could not understand, a tug and prickle at the back of his neck forcing him to turn in another direction. He lays there for a few moments before slowly getting back up and continuing his work. Mommy is right. Mommy is always right. To protect the nest, he needs to be sure Kai is out of the way. Mommy left. He could no longer feel you as he headed toward Kai. That plain green rookie brat was struggling. He wasn't going to be able to bring him down alone.

The man had morphed into an absolute monster. The damn kid was jumping around uncontrollably. Without precise strikes, the dumb kid will die, making bringing down Kai more challenging. The green brat is strong but lacks real skill. Shigaraki hates the sun. He is practically blind in it. But it's predictable where the child will reach his leap's peak. Like a lightning strike, he builds up speed until he is a blur. The wind whipped his hair, stinging his already burning eyes and face. Using his antennae to scent and guide his trajectory. Shigaraki's stomach provides a base to jump from, and the kid's shoes tear at his flesh as Deku flings him back from Kia's swing.

Kia was directly hit. Shigaraki reached out and clung to the massive hand. His claws digging in had no effect. He could still feel the fight in him. The dumb kid was falling again. They needed to end this before the cops decided to go after him next. He lets loose and decays the arm. In an awe-inspiring sight, he spreads his wings wide and dives down from the sky in swirls of dust. His wings create a powerful gust of wind as he plummets toward the ground. Catching the boy who had broken his arm. As they get closer to the ground, his wings spread again to pull them up sharply, creating a powerful lift that propels them back into the sky.

"Who are you?" The kid asked. Screaming over the rush of wind.

"No one. You never saw me. Put the monster down," Shigaraki gaveled to the boy. The boy shuts his gaping mouth and gives him a determined look of a warrior.

"Got it. Drop me from above!" Deku shouted. This child has a blood lust in him that Shigaraki doesn't want to smell near his nest. They circle around, gaining more altitude. He can feel the child's labored breath as the air thinned before he dives again, rolling to the side as Kai heals his arm and sends it swinging at them. It's a thrilling experience to watch and a testament to the strength of human flight. Duke used him as a springboard. This time he went all out and beat Kai down. Their broken bodies lay beside each other. The others are still busy. He lands and looks toward where his Master is. Losing the fight. Master might have learned to use people but never learned how to work with them. That is his downfall, Shigaraki thinks as he searches for the smell on Kai. It smells like Eri, and he will flat-out kill this bastard if he touches his grub. Instead, it came from a tin with blue and red injectors. No better time than the present to test them. He injected Kai with the red one. His mass disappeared as Kai went back to his original form with three men appearing beside him. Kai is barely conscious when he injects him with the blue one. Nothing seemed to happen.

"I think I understand. Red erases quirks, and blue activates them. How useful. I will keep it. I hated your arrogance the most. Your quirk will be a waste to lose. I will leave it. Maybe one day I can take Master's power and make it my own," He graveled when he ripped off Kai's arms and turned them into dust. Kai whimpered, but there wasn't much he could do. He looked at the boy staring back at him with burning anger, his body a broken mess as he panted and heaved. Perhaps the green kid just realized who created all this destruction. Murdering many of his friends and his own people. He is the king of this forest. Maybe it would be better to kill the brat now.

"I never saw you," Deku said suddenly. Shigaraki smirked darkly.

"That is good. Be well. The next time I see. I will kill you," Shigaraki rasped. Turning to find you, he doesn't sense you in the forest. If one thing goes right, that means you are heading toward home. Shigaraki makes a beeline for the darkest deeper part of the woods. He needed a bit of a rest. He should feel something betraying most of the denizens of the former facility, but he doesn't. He latches onto a tree, blending with the shadows and the bark. When he closes his eyes, he hears a sigh of relief that is not his own. He needs just a moment to rest his eyes and his tattered wings.

"He's ok!" You gasped, awake in a new location. The rush of pain is like electricity sizzling your nerve endings. You had astral projected and subtly directed the war in your favor. Making sure Spinner found you and then took you to La Brava and Gentle when Tanaka told you who to locate.

"About damn time. You're in full-blown labor! Push!" Tanaka shouted.

"Whaa?" You questioned, realizing you were in your Aunt's living room. La Brava and Gentle running around. Tanaka looks pale and thin as her hands are in a place you did not think they would ever be.

"I said to push, for fucks sake. If I was ever horny, this killed it. So push. Don't let my sacrifice be in vain.

"We need Shiggy here!" You shout, bolting upright, while a scaled hand pushes you back down. The lizard man blushes and looks away when your eyes land on him.

"I'm Spinner. He would want his mate and grub to be alive and healthy so I will take care of you," He sputtered.

"Please stay here, Mommy. Your quirk hurts you," the little voice of Eri drifted through the pain. You took a deep breath and pushed. It went on like this until you were cussing and cursing Shiggy. May he die for doing this to you. The searing pain radiating from your center. You grit your scream. Feeling like you are being split in two. Pulling out a screeching squirming mass. Drained of all your energy, you slumped against the bed. A bed that is completely ruined, and you will burn it.

"Holy shit! We! Did! It! Blanket. Tie. We have to cut the umbilical cord," Tanaka laughed. A pale figure steps into the room and bites the cord. Tanaka swaddles the baby after checking his airway and wiping him off.

"Here you go, proud daddy," She says, handing Shin over to Shigaraki. He nuzzled the wriggling bundle that hissed at him viciously. Shigaraki smirks at his grub.

"I like title. Daddy. We keep title, elder Tanaka," he growled.

"You made it," you panted in relief. Shigaraki holds you and your grub with a sweet Trill. Quickly passing out. He used the rest of his energy to get here. He trusted these people would watch over him and his kin.

"Our Mommy. I love you," he purred.

"Both of you look like shit," Tanaka said bluntly as her eyes darted between you.

"I am never giving birth," La Brava whispers to Gentle.

Two years later…

"Mine!" Shin screeched repeatedly. Shin knew three words, and he screamed them all day. Waking up from your conversation with La Brava, there was the usual pain and the elation of good news, getting ruined as the screeching reached higher pitches.

 "We can share, little brother," Eri says. You sit up in bed, about to shout how sharing is caring when you hear Shigaraki.

"Yes. It is important to care for your future mate, little Mommy," He rasped. You already feel the throbbing of a migraine.

"Shiggy!" You scream. Stomping into the living room. Groaning when your swollen feet howled at you to stop that. Panting in utter rage, you stand in front of him. He stared up and ate a cookie, "Family meeting!"

"Holy fuck. What did you do now?" Tanaka growled, putting on a nicotine patch. Shigaraki shrugged, giving Eri another cookie while Shin was distracted. He sniffed Tanaka and trilled she needed to add another patch. Dabi, Toga, and Spinner trickled in. These guys! You fed them once, and they never left. They did help La Brava and you, but still. You don't know why they are here, and you don't care. You get very cranky after projecting. 

"First off. Shiggy, we discussed this. Telling Eri that Shin is her mate is grooming. I will not stand for it. No brainwashing. Eri, honey, you can grow up and be with whoever you want. Your Daddy has lost his damn mind. Clearly, he never wants big boy time ever again," You barked at him.

"What's big boy time?" Eri asked.

"It's fucking," Tanaka says before you can answer. You're mouth drops open as the other three giggled. Shin is babbling and drooling on a cookie. 

"What's fucking?" Eri asked.

"It's when-" Tanaka started.

"Tanaka!"

"What? You said you didn't want her brainwashed. I'm giving her straight facts. Subject B is easily flustered with adult topics," Tanaka stated into her recorder to a chorus of laughter. This bitch, you think. The worst part is you know she is actually serious and will write this down in some fucked up paper or book.

"The three of us will do it together. Later. Not right now," You hissed at Tanaka. You rub your temples and plaster on a smile, "I have good news I want to share."

"You're pregnant," Shigaraki said.

"I am not!" You spat at him. But when your eyes connect with him, you see he is not lying.

"Ummmm… how? Haven't you been taking your monthly pill?" Tanaka asked you.

"Bad candy? I ate and replaced with better candy," Shigaraki says while bouncing Shin on his knee.

"We're having a baby!" Toga squealed.

"I'm not giving up my room," Dabi mumbled. You feel like you are going insane.

"Secondly. With over seventy percent of the human population and thirty percent of other mammals showing signs of quirks. Having a quirk is no longer illegal. You guys can wander freely, and our kids don't have to marry each other. No grooming necessary. We can even send Eri to public school with other kids her age. Eri, you can grow up and be whoever you want!" You delivered impatiently. There was a commotion as everyone talked at once.

"Even a criminal?" Dabi asked. The room falls silent to this. Your mind is now settling. You're pregnant and not about to live in hiding anymore. Why is Dabi shitting on this moment? You look to see if Shigaraki would intervene. He gives you the same cold stare.

"I will support my kid in whatever they want to do," you grit out.

"Ok then," Dabi said cheerfully. You were even swept up at the moment. Eri smiled and asked questions enthusiastically. You hugged Tanaka for the first time in two years. She had become paranoid that her quirk might hurt us.

"Tanaka. You can see real professionals and peers. You can be saved," you whispered to her. A strange look crossed her face as she twirled a tin in her robe.

"I can do long-distance research. I don't need to leave that often. The day-to-day stuff can be done in a lab here or over the internet. I can teach the grubs and be by your side forever," Tanaka grins sadly.

The only one who was not interested in the good news was Shigaraki, who gathered up Shin and took him to the nest to nap. He talked to his son in his hissing chittering language, staring at him with the same bright red eyes as Shin drank in his wisdom. It was unusual for one so young to have red eyes at birth. It was another worry.

"Females are fickle. Females are power. In the past, it could only be one male in the female's lives. I learned that you do not have to be the only male. The male that holds their attention is the one that ends up with all the power. Make Eri only look at you. Normally I would encourage you to imprint on your sister. But your mother will not stand for it. Focus on Eri," Shigaraki rasped. Tanaka stood in the doorway. 

"Ewy mine," Shin yawned and chirped. His antenna flicks as he curls into Shigaraki's ruff.

"Yes, good boy. Eventually, she will take pity on you and start to love you little by little. Then she will belong to you. The females of this world are soft-hearted and do not understand our nature. They do not understand how our love destroys. We love so much that we kill and destroy to keep our claws dug in. Strangely, our hunger for love makes us want to devour our mate completely. I will suckle at your mother's love until she dies. Even then, she can't escape me. I will follow her," Shigaraki grinned.

"You want Master's power still?" She asked, twirling the tin in her pocket.

He lays Shin down in his nest. When Shigaraki first saw him, he had to stop his instincts from wanting to lay down all five fingers. You wanted to see and hold Shin before him. It drove him insane. He is better than his Father. You do not understand how far he would go for you. You don't know how far an imprint drives the men in his family. He was only allowed to live because Master wanted it and offered his Father compensation with more females. But his Father hated the attention he received from the females. He often beat him for it.

"Yes. We will need it. I am the king of forest. I need to stay king. War is coming. Where is Mommy?" He asked. 

"She's talking to Eri about school supplies and clothes," She answered. Tanaka smelled nervous when she stepped forward. Lowering her voice and showing him the tin he took from Kai," We have these as a contingency. We don't need Eri." Shigaraki smiled drily at Elder.

"Do you want me to kill Shin? I will not let Mommy go. Do you want Mommy to be sad?" He asked. Tanaka paled and nodded. 

"We'll call Eri's ability plan B," She mumbled as she left. Tanaka will not get in his way. She understands. Shin will imprint on Eri instead of you. That will keep Shin alive. If Shin imprinted on you or your new daughter, he would kill Shin in a heartbeat. He reaches into the nest, brushing his son's pudgy cheek with the back of two fingers, and feels something. Not strong as he has for you. It weakly pulses in him. He hopes it will grow stronger.

"Shiggy?"

He turns to see your sweet face twisted in concern for him, and his heart beats faster, his pulse rushing straight to his cheeks and cock. You reach, come over and wrap yourself around him. He twists around your little finger. You tug him back to the nest you now share, pulling him on top of you where he melts.

"What's wrong, baby?" Your doe eyes burning into his soul. He sighs, seeking comfort in your warm embrace before he answers.

"Nothing changes. Do not know about before. Was war. Master has shown me. It will be brutal. There will be blood and dust. War is always the same. New quirk war. Not safe for family. Still must hide," Shigaraki whispered.

"If you are worried about Eri going to school, I already have La Brava creating all of us fake IDs," you say. Snuggling his chest, planting little kisses.

"I no leave. Only new babies will have heteromorph traits. I stay. Mommy and grubs need to stay with me. Stay safe. Eri needs to stay safe. We keep here. Have the Elder teach," He rasped. You bite your lip in worry.

"Eri is a little girl with a lot of trauma. I will not leave you. Eri and the grubs will not go to school unless it's safe. But I feel we should enroll her for the sake of Eri's mental health. The moment we hear about war, we pull her out," you tried to reason with him. Shigaraki growls and you become flustered. In the years you've spent together, he has stopped being a sweet little boy and turned into an aggressive man. That intense, serious gaze makes you wet and flustered.

"Horn. She will be tested. Discovered." He parts your lips and dips his long tongue in your flavor. Becoming more aroused by your whimpers. You try to pull away from him, but he is not ready to continue this frustrating conversation. But somehow, you escaped him.

"Then let's hire her professional kid psychiatrist. Someone Tanaka chooses. Doctors are not allowed to share anything. Please?" You beg him sweetly. Your hand grips his thick hot cock, stroking him, slicking him with his own precum. It wasn't long before you were swept up in the heat of the moment. He knows your body so well. It's not long before you squirt on him, nails digging into his bunching muscles.

"Yes, Mommy. Yes, Mommy. We'll do what Mommy wants," Shigaraki panted. Sucking at your chest. He will never let you dry out. He sucks your milk down his throat while he fills you with his knot and cum.

"I'm so happy. Thank you. I love you. You are my good boy," You purr to him. He rubs clit with his thumb. Eyes hooded with reverence.

"This one will be a little girl. Let's name her Tsuyu. We made her during the plum rains," he rasped.

"That's perfect. I love you, my sweet Daddy."

He shudders. He loves how obedient you became with the new title. He wonders if he should have 'groomed' you sooner, and none of this would have happened. Your Aunt wouldn't let him, though. He got milk, whiskey, and rabbits if he swore to leave you alone. You are so silly. Never questioning why. Why didn't he kill you for being in his territory? Why were claw marks around your guest bedroom deeper and older than the others? Why were there no pictures of you in the house? Why did your Aunt stop inviting you over when your breasts started showing? Because he wanted you, and Aunt tried to curb his instincts while keeping you safe from him. He saw you first. Sneaking onto the farm to poach livestock. A beautiful female close to his age. Your Aunt caught him because he was stalking you in the shadows, lurking for days to capture you, his nest built for two. Had you come closer to the edge of the forest? Oh, what he would have done to your body would have been a crime. He left you alone because your Aunt convinced him to let you grow. She was right. Your Mommy training was needed. To mature and ripen. He needed the time as well to grow with you. He will do the same for Eri and Shin. When the time is right, he will kill the mind doctor and destroy any trace of the building or anyone else threatening his family. He and Elder Tanaka have already come to an agreement. They will keep you, his sweet dumb Mommy, happy for the rest of your life.

"Daddy. I'm thirsty," you mumbled. He smiled, and with a sharp chirp, he got up to get you water.

"I love you, Mommy." You will always be his. Mommy will always need him.

[Writers notes! I hope you were entertained. If you like it I wouldn't mind the love. Here it the first part of the Mommy series.]

[morganbritton132]

Idk why this popped into my brain but it occurred to me that Eddie was probably on those celebrity editions of game shows. Celebrity Jeopardy, Celebrity Who Wants to be a Millionaire, etc…

And it just made me laugh so hard. The idea of Eddie Munson with Regis. Of calling Steve as a phone a friend for a basketball question and Steve being like Eddie I don’t know everything about basketball. But the answer is Larry Bird.

Just TikTok finding clips of Eddie yelling “suck it, Dan Cortese!” after obliterating them all at final jeopardy.

This fills me with so much joy! I love it so much.

Eddie does not go on Celebrity Who Wants to be a Millionaire by choice. He pissed off the band’s manager just enough that they signed him up for it without his knowledge, and he’s not doing it. He got the letter in the mail and it’s not happening.

Eddie ‘Six Years of High School’ Munson is not going on national television and making himself look like an idiot when he doesn’t even get to be in on the joke. No way.

“Dick move, man,” Gareth shrugs after Eddie put his foot down. “Even if you fuck the first question, they’re still gonna donate to your charity of choice. And like, maybe this is just the amount of money needed to cure cancer. Or epilepsy.”

“…You fucking suck, Gareth.”

“Yeah, I do!”

Eddie begrudgingly shows up and goes through the whole rigmarole to get mic’ed up, just ready to make a fool out of himself and call it a day. It turns out that he knows a lot more than he thought he did because he breezes through the first round of questions.

He knows enough about history, music, and the arts just from planning his D&D campaigns and reading about things he likes. He’s surprised by how much surface knowledge he’s gained from listening to the kids logic their way through their science and math homework, but sports are a bust.

He gets lucky on a few questions, but ends up using his Phone a Friend to call his partner, Steve. Steve and Eddie spend the first fifteen seconds arguing about how Eddie shouldn’t have wasted his phone a friend on Steve because he doesn’t know anything. And then once he hears the question, he’s like, “Larry Bird” and hangs up.

Eddie doesn’t win a millionaire dollars for his charity, but he wins quite a bit.

Afterwards when he’s still so hyped up about not being dumb, Steve’s just like ???? “Ed, you were never dumb. You just had trouble taking tests and none of your teachers accommodated your very obvious ADHD. You’ve always been brilliant.”

“Now everybody knows it.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, they do.”

Eddie signs up for Celebrity Jeopardy himself.

One of the first things that Steve and Wayne bonded over was a love for Jeopardy. Wayne has watched Jeopardy before he left for work for as long as Eddie has known him, and Steve was more than happy to sit with him when it was on. They both continued to watched even after Steve and Eddie moved to Chicago and sometimes they’d call each other if Final Jeopardy was “crazy.”

The band wasn’t touring as much as they used too and they’re all pretty much working on their own projects at this point. Steve’s finishing up his master’s degree while teaching full time and doesn’t really have a lot of time for him. Eddie is in between projects and creatively tapped out, and worst of all, he’s bored.

So when his manager passively mentions Celebrity Jeopardy, Eddie tells him to sign him up for it. When they accept his application, the only people he tells about it are Dustin and Nancy.

He only tells them because he wants their help studying for it because he wants to win this time. So, they study and it sucks. If Eddie ever sees another world famous Nancy Wheeler flashcard again, he’ll tear off his arm. He hates every second of their study sessions.

Eddie makes it through the quarterfinals and then he makes it to the semi-finals (knocking out Dan Cortese). He doesn’t win the tournament because he bets big on a Daily Double and gets it wrong, but he’s fairly close to the lead after Final Jeopardy.

It’s not bad for a guy that failed his senior year three times.

The fun part comes when it airs. He painstakingly sets up their camcorder so Steve won’t notice it before the show starts. The video he gets has a good five minutes of Steve fussing with a blanket up until they say ‘Eddie Munson.’

Steve looks up and then looks at Eddie, and then back at the tv, “Wha- what? Is that – that’s you! You’re on Jeopardy! Eddie, you’re on – oh my god, we’ve got to call Wayne.”

Before Steve can even do that, their phone is ringing and Steve answers it like, “HE DIDN’T TELL ME EITHER!” while Eddie is laughing his ass off.

When Eddie posts a TikTok about it like, ‘LOL remember when I was on Jeopardy?’ it includes this moment. It also includes footage from the semi-finales where Steve is just pacing the living room and repeatedly telling Eddie to just tell him if he won or not. Steve cheers like he’s at a football game when Eddie wins.

It’s just as tense when the video cuts to Steve watching the finale. Steve knows the answer to the daily double that Eddie gets wrong and is like, ‘This is why they should do Jeopardy Couples, we’d win so hard.’ Steve’s not even disappointed that Eddie lost, keeping the same enthusiasm through the show and then is like, “I’m married to a Jeopardy contestant. I’m so telling Janet about this at the staff meeting tomorrow.”