#genuinely more embarrassed drawing them like this than drawing them doing it on daddy’s desk wtf is wrong with me

[onemagpie]

[dangerdangerhighvoltage]

Night Off (MC x Kojuro x Tsunamoto)

MC and Kojuro are trying to navigate their relationship after finally hooking up, only for Tsunamoto to crash the party with his chaotic ass. it's double daddy duty featuring one of supporting cast's finest. nsfw!

You never were one to concentrate on one thing at a time. 

As you scooped porridge into a bowl, you mentally listed all the letters that were awaiting a response from Kojuro. You carefully laid the soft doughy orb of mochi on top of the porridge while noting you needed to track down that retainer to get his report on how the crops were faring this season. As you attempted to remember the name of some Western book Lord Masamune had requested, the boiling water you meant to pour into the teapot had instead landed on your hand. 

“Ahh!” you hissed. Chastised by your own folly, you finally focused on the task at hand, assembling the tray for Kojuro’s afternoon tea break including an extra tea cup for yourself. It had been a few weeks since the incident, and you were relieved that things were starting to feel normal again, if not a little awkward.

The month before last, the clan embarked on a particularly brutal campaign. Upon their return, an abnormally shaken Kojuro promptly made love to you, after a year of working closely late into the night, nursing each others’ hangovers, confiding in each other different ways to help Lord Masamune not be so hard on himself. Kojuro fucked you on his desk on the heaps and heaps of his letters and notes and then again in his bedding, drawing from you something he had left on the battlefield. You were genuinely surprised Kojuro had made good on the attraction between you, but the next day, you could have sworn you overheard Shigezane distributing to a handful of retainers what sounded like payouts for a bet. 

You and Kojuro decided that while you both enjoyed yourselves that night and were clearly well suited, it was not the best time to pursue something real, not with the Ashina acting up as they were. The others teased Kojuro endlessly about making an honest woman out of you, and for some reason, a part of you believed he actually wanted to. But the thing about Kojuro was he would never be forced to make a decision about you so long as he had that endless pile of work on his desk to hide behind. 

It’s not as if you wanted to be an honest woman anyway.

And so it was as though you started your relationship from scratch, relearning boundaries and reacquainting yourself with some professional distance. The only acknowledgment of your intimacy—other than the fact that he ceased referring to you as his “precious girl”—was the fact that you had started to join him for his afternoon tea every day. And that’s exactly what you were looking forward to doing when you walked back into his office, tray in hand, only to find a brawny, effortlessly disheveled, scar-faced sight sitting in your spot.

“Look what the winds blew in,” Kojuro said to you mischievously.

“Lord Tsunamoto!” you exclaimed, shocked to see the handsome man before you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

Whereas Kojuro was seated rather formally at his desk, Tsunamoto sat back outstretched, his chest peeking through his signature, generously loose robe. You’d always been a bit nervous around the man, his lingering eye contact, and general aversion to modesty. You dismissed him as not your type more as a form of self protection, like a chest of gunpowder dodging a spark. Despite being polar opposites, he and Kojuro were thick as thieves when reunited, Kojuro bringing a calm patience out in Tsunamoto, and Tsunamoto reviving a roguish edge in Kojuro. 

“Surprised to see me?” Tsunamoto declared more than asked. Why did everything about him seem flirtatious?

“Did you send a letter?” you asked, knowing he hadn’t. “I’d have planned a feast if I knew you were visiting!” 

“No need for the fanfare. I’m just passing through for a few days.” 

"Too late, I already have a menu in mind,” you said, picking up the teapot. Tsunamoto’s eye locked on the second cup as you poured the tea. Your face heated up as you watched him realize the second cup wasn’t meant for him, that maybe he was interrupting something. You wondered if from just one mundane piece of ceramic, he deduced everything about your and Kojuro’s past. Tsunamoto cocked his head, and directed an inquisitive smile toward Kojuro who was suddenly couldn’t seem to drink his tea fast enough.

"I suppose there’s no point in trying to stop you,” Tsunamoto relented, graciously accepting the cup you offered.

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” Kojuro quipped.

“Uh huh.” Tsunamoto noted. His gaze flickered to you.

“Let me bring you some oshiruko,” you said with a firm smile and a desperate need to catch your breath. 

“No need,” Kojuro waved away. “Bring him his favorite dessert.”

You cocked your head at him in confusion. The two men looked at each other in a way that made your cheek tingle. 

“Sake,” Kojuro said slyly.

The next morning, you arrived at training, where Tsunamoto had stepped in to lead. After sparring one-on-one with every retainer, he finally approached you. 

“Solid form,” he offered as your wooden swords cracked against one another. You had been on the defense the whole time, allowing him to gain ground or at least think he was. Luckily for you, his strength made him slower, and as his body twisted to strike at you, you quickly maneuvered under his swing, striking him in his side in a full low lunge. He let out a laugh as you smiled shyly to yourself. 

“I’ve taught her well, huh?” Kojuro called out from afar, who had apparently stopped by to observe training.

“Technique was always your strength,” Tsunamoto called back to him. 

You resumed sparring, Tsunamoto hitting a bit stronger and moving much faster than before. With every step you took, he met you there, almost predicting your movements. The confidence you gained now sputtered out as you barely dodged his attacks. Running out of ideas, you tried a new gambit Kojuro taught you but as you spun around, you felt yourself caught in a vise-grip, your back to Tsunamoto’s chest as if he was simply waiting for you to fall into his trap. His arms easily restraining yours, he brought his lips to your ear and lowered his voice, looking directly at Kojuro who was watching the two of you intently.

“See, I know a few of Kojuro’s weaknesses as well,” he said, sending a shiver down your spine.  

“Besides, who do you think taught him?” He let you go and jogged back over to the rest of the retainers as if nothing happened. Straightening out your hakama, you looked over at Kojuro who hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

After a full day of cooking and preparing, you tried to make yourself scarce during that night’s feast. You spent the evening running back and forth between the kitchen and main hall, hauling food and empty dishes until someone, you weren’t sure who, grabbed your hand and pulled you down to sit between Kojuro and Tsunamoto. Despite your initial protests, the two of them finally convinced you to stay and enjoy your own handiwork. You relented, and jovially ate, drank, and chatted with the rest of them, until you remembered something.

“Hells, I never spoke to Shiroishi about the crops today,” you confessed with a grimace. 

“Yeah, I'm not sure Shiroishi is in any state to discuss much of anything,” Tsunamoto said. Across the room, the retainer in question was somewhere between laughing drunk and falling asleep drunk.

“What kind of master am I?” Kojuro bemoaned. “My own page sitting here thinking about work when she should be enjoying herself?”

“She learned from the best,” Tsunamoto joked under his breath. 

“Milord,” you started, “You’re a good ma—”

He turned to you, his face serious. “I want you to forget about all your work. Take the night off and just have a good time, okay?” Since you and Kojuro slept together, “good time” had become something of a loaded term. 

“But Milord,” you teased. “Who will keep your desk clear?” 

“I can keep my own desk clear for one night, thank you very much!” 

“You didn’t even clear it when we—” 

You cut yourself off abruptly and bowed your head in embarrassment, suddenly realizing how much you had drank. Tsunamoto let out a satisfied laugh, and you thought Kojuro would strike you down then and there for your slip up. But he merely smirked at you, amused. It’s not like anyone else had heard outside you three—by now all the retainers were completely intoxicated and Lord Masamune had excused himself long ago.

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time, precious girl,” Kojuro fired back with a small, unbearably winning smile. You were at once delighted and flustered by Kojuro’s familiarity and Tsunamoto's presence. You didn’t know what to make of him playing witness to this charged tête-à-tête. 

Sensing the tension, Tsunamoto spoke up. "That’s our Kojuro, always with the last word.” 

“You see what I have to work with every day?” you fussed, turning to him with a big smile.

"You poor thing,” Tsunamoto said, playing along and touching your cheek. You were surprised by the gesture, but played it off well. You happily sipped your sake, oblivious to the glance Kojuro and Tsunamoto shared, an entire unspoken conversation transpiring above your head.

It was late into the night when the last of the retainers drunkenly shuffled off to their quarters for the night, and Kojuro asked you to bring a jug of sake to his office. When you arrived you were astonished to find the two of them seated across Kojuro’s desk boisterously engaged in a heated match of arm wrestling of all things. Only Tsunamoto could convince Kojuro to engage in such nonsensical activities.

“So these are the brilliant, visionary advisors of the Date clan,” you huffed as they cheerfully welcomed you. You sat down at the edge of the desk and looked back and forth between them before pouring the sake. With great effort, Kojuro finally pressed Tsunamoto’s knuckles into the wood. 

“Damn,” Tsunamoto grumbled. They downed the sake and immediately put their elbows back on the table, ready for another bout. You poured more sake and sipped on your own. "Alright, this is the tiebreaker,” Tsunamoto said, flexing his fingers.

“And what is the prize?” you asked. 

“A kiss from the beautiful page,” Tsunamoto cracked. 

“And smart,” you added.

“Right, a kiss from the beautiful and smart page,” Tsunamoto beamed.

Kojuro looked up at you, concerned. “[Y/n], you don’t have to—”

“Okay,” you said simply. Kojuro was dumbfounded.

“What?” 

“I said okay. I will kiss whoever wins this stupid competition,” you said with a shrug. Did those words just come out of your mouth? The two men looked at each other again, and again you felt that tingle in your cheek.

“You heard her, Kojuro,” Tsunamoto said.

“I suppose I did.”

The two readied themselves on Kojuro’s desk, grasped hands and began, but this round was different. For the first time since Lord Tsunamoto arrived, the two men went silent as they strained to defeat the other. 

“Kojuro, finally putting up a fight. Desperate for a kiss, old man?” Tsunamoto jeered.

"Put as much effort into training as you do into talking shit and you’d have unified Japan yourself by now,” Kojuro taunted back.

Unable to fathom the scene playing out in front of you, you simply took another shot of sake. It was a total deadlock for minutes until suddenly with a loud crack, both men were sent to the floor. Apparently Kojuro’s poor desk gave out from the pressure of the match or perhaps it had simply lost the will to live after years of neglect and misuse. The three of you devolved into a fit of laughter as you pieced together what had occurred.

“A draw!” Kojuro howled. 

“We both lost? How pathetic!” Tsunamoto asked, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and trying not to laugh again, though you sensed he was relieved at the outcome. The two men sat up on either side of the broken desk, looking down in amused pity.

“Or maybe,” you said timidly. “You both won.” 

You couldn’t believe what you had just said. What you had just implied. The two men froze and looked at you, waiting for the catch, for you to burst into laughter and exclaim, “Gotcha!” and tease them endlessly for thinking twice. But you didn’t. 

“[Y/n]?” Kojuro asked softly with a nervous smile. 

With the latest shot of sake taking effect, you leaned over to him and gave him a firm kiss. His body froze before you, and you instantly cursed yourself for being so stupid and so forward. What were you thinking? You expected him to pull back, graciously reiterate the need for professionalism, and dismiss you for the night, but to your surprise, he dug his fingers in your hair and deepened the kiss. His tongue grazed your lips hungrily and bit your lip the same way he did when you first kissed just weeks ago, and you felt the same rush of sensual relief.

The two of you parted with a small, uncertain smile. You took a breath and looked deep into the torrent of Kojuro’s eyes.

“I’m going to kiss him now,” you said. “Is that alright, Milord?”

“Of course,” Kojuro said with a genuine smile. “He earned it just as much as I did.”

Kojuro watched as you leaned over to Tsunamoto. For perhaps the first time ever, Tsunamoto looked thrown off, almost nervous, which exhilarated you. You lips brushed over his. He looked over at Kojuro questioningly, and Kojuro nodded encouragingly. Satisfied with this, Tsunamoto closed his eyes and drew you closer, hungrily lapping at and biting your lips. You expected him to be an aggressive kisser compared to Kojuro, but there was also a sweetness about the way he gently swept his tongue against yours. 

Tsunamoto broke the kiss before you were ready. You hadn’t even noticed that Kojuro had moved the broken table aside and moved closer to you. The two men stood up and pulled you up between them. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Kojuro asked. You looked at the dizzyingly handsome men on either side of you. “Want us?” 

“Yes,” you panted as you kissed Kojuro again, grabbing his collar. You felt Kojuro loosen your obi as Tsunamoto stood behind you and began to kiss your neck, his hands loosening your collar. You reached to grasp at both of their hair as Tsunamoto opened up your kimono, exposing your breasts. 

Kojuro leaned back and took the sight in before leaning down and taking your nipple into his mouth. From behind, Tsunamoto took your other breast into his hand and possessively turned your head to kiss you. 

“Nghgh,” you moaned as both the men worked your breasts. Kojuro finally removed your obi and your body was completely exposed. He licked his fingers and placed them between your legs, where he began stroking you. You were already wet, but you had to admit you missed his touch. Tsunamoto slid the kimono completely off your shoulders, his hands trailed down the sides of your body and he grabbed a handful of your ass. 

“Fuck,” Tsunamoto exhaled. “You have this parading around your office all day?” You caught a glimmer of pride in Kojuro’s eyes as you set to work on Kojuro’s obi, freeing him of his robes. You were pleased to find he was already hard. You grasped him, and looked behind you to find Tsunamoto removing his own robe. 

“Come here,” Tsunamoto said as he lowered himself to the floor and lied down. Kojuro guided you to Tsunamoto’s head and gently pushed you down onto your knees until they flanked Tsunamoto’s ears. You could feel the warmth of Tsunamoto’s breath on your slit. Kojuro stood in front of you, his member in hand. You grabbed it and held it to your lips, teasing his tip with your tongue as Tsunamoto ran his fingers in and out of your folds, spreading them. You finally took Kojuro fully into your mouth just as Tsunamoto pulled you down fully onto his lips and eager tongue. You immediately felt a pulse of pleasure shoot from Tsunamoto’s tongue to your extremities, and you let out a loud moan around Kojuro. 

You started to squirm, but Tsunamoto held you in place like a clamp as he lapped you up. There was clearly no escaping your own pleasure—the only thing you could do, really, was take it out on Kojuro. You furiously swirled your tongue around him. Cursing, Kojuro ran his fingers through your hair and pushed further into your mouth, which in turn, made you grind your hips harder on Tsunamoto’s face, who moaned as he sucked on your clit.

“Ride him,” Kojuro growled and you looked up. “I want to see.” He was wearing the same face he was when he watched you at training earlier that day. Feeling your climax start to build up, you began to ride Tsunamoto’s face harder, thrusting your hips back and forth whimpering, his fingers clenched deep in your hips, his tongue unabating. You started to lose focus and could barely hold onto Kojuro, abandoning his pleasure in search of your own. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, captivated, as you grabbed your own breast and unraveled before him on Tsunamoto’s face with a full-throated sigh. 

You got off Tsunamoto and collapsed as he got on his knees. "God I hope she feels as good as she tastes,” Tsunamoto said, licking the corners of his mouth.

“He would know,” you said boldly staring down Kojuro.

“Find out for yourself,” Kojuro said. The two men looked at you and you nodded.

Tsunamoto pulled you to him. He sat back on his heels and guided you into his lap, wrapping your legs around him as his tip teased your opening before pushing himself in. 

“You feel incredible,” Tsunamoto uttered in amazement. He stretched you out gently.

You surveyed the scar that trailed down Tsunamoto’s brow and onto his regal cheek. Your gaze locked on his other eye and as he began thrusting in earnest, it suddenly became so clear why Tsunamoto carried himself with endless confidence. You watched him roll his hips tantalysingly slow and deep into you, hitting all the right spots.

“How does he feel, precious girl?” Kojuro asked. He was stroking himself at the sight of you. 

“He feels so—uuuunnnh!” Your response was interrupted by a particularly deep plunge Tsunamoto took. 

You looked back at Kojuro and reached for him, but he leaned back just out of reach with a mean grin. “You need to learn to focus on the task at hand,” he said lovingly. He watched as Tsunamoto drove into you harder and faster, his strong arms essentially keeping you floating as he slid in and out of you. Kojuro was completely entranced, savoring the way your eyes glazed over as his oldest friend in the world fucked the woman he loved if only he'd let himself, wondering if the most precious things weren’t meant to be shared. 

Tsunamoto slowed down in an attempt to stave off his own climax. Kojuro kneeled behind you, steadying you as Tsunamoto pulled out of you and you got your bearings.

“Are you alright, precious girl?” You nodded, catching your breath. 

“Good. All fours,” Kojuro directed. You did so, swaying your hips in an attempt to further tempt him. Kojuro sidled up behind you and caressed your back, kissing the dimples on your lower back. Your eyes met Tsunamoto’s as Kojuro positioned his cock between your folds and pressed in. You let out a long, lusty moan that bloomed more for every inch he filled you. He hadn’t taken you from behind before, and you wondered how you’d be able to work alongside him anymore after this.

You lost yourself in Kojuro’s languid thrusts and found yourself again, grinding back against him. He whisked you up on your knees, pressing your back against his chest. 

“Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you,” he professed softly into your ear. “That I haven’t dreamed of feeling you like this again.” He wrapped his arm around your torso to keep you in place as he dove in and out of you. Tsunamoto crawled over to you and bent down, pressing his tongue squarely on your clit.

“Ahhnn!” You cried out as he raked his tongue up and down from your clit to your opening where Kojuro was thrusting into you. 

The sensation was too much too soon, so you grabbed Tsunamoto’s hair, pulled him to your face, and gave him a frantic, sloppy kiss as you took his cock and stroked him. You felt Kojuro lean over your shoulder, and you pulled away.

“She taste as good as she feels?” Kojuro asked as Tsunamoto approached. You watched as the two men took each other by the lips. You joined in, the three of you licking, biting, sucking each other as you pumped Tsunamoto to Kojuro’s rhythm.

Tsunamoto stood up in a frenzy and placed his cock on your lips. You knew he was close, and you took him into your mouth. “You are taking us so well,” Tsunamoto said as you devoured him. As Kojuro devoured you. You whined as you felt the electricity build up in your core. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded. “I’m so close!” 

Kojuro managed to fuck you even faster and harder. He brought his hand between your legs, his fingers fluttering on your clit as Tsunamoto all but fucked your mouth. Kojuro groaned as you screamed in pleasure around Tsunamoto’s cock. 

“I’m coming,” Tsunamoto rasped as he ejected into your mouth. You did your best to take it all as you reached your own climax. You felt feverish, heat tearing through your body and cracking you open. 

“Come for me my precious girl,” Kojuro snarled in your ear. 

You let out a cry as the pleasure rushed through you, leaving you trembling. You tightened unbearably around Kojuro’s cock, and he finally released into you with a curse.

The three of you collapsed on the floor, sprawled in a heap of pleasure and exhaustion and a giggle or two. 

“If only every trip to Oshu was this fun,” Tsunamoto simpered. You sighed a chuckle in response.

Kojuro reached up for his kiseru. You caressed his back, muscular by training, worn by war. “You know, [y/n],” he panted. “You should take the night off more often.”

You and Tsunamoto shared a knowing look, both helplessly endeared by the precious, precious man. 

[bluefuckboy]

Summer Jasmine ✨

Kiribaku A/B/O (Omegaverse)

Alpha Kirishima and Omega Bakugo

Summary: Bakugo has been a single father for three years, after a one night stand with an unknown Alpha resulted in him becoming pregnant. He has always struggled with being an Omega, but has been successful at hiding his true identity, including now while raising his daughter, Yuki. After an incident at preschool, he is called into a parent teacher conference. But what was supposed to be a simple meeting turns out to be a twist of so called “fate.” Bakugo questions whether the difficult journey he’s endured has led to this Alpha, whose scent is like a peaceful, summer breeze.

I’ll be posting the full fic on AO3 soon. It’s about 10 chapters or so and approximately 15K. The name comes from a song released in 1972 called “Summer Breeze” by Seals & Crofts. I’ll explain more when the full fic is released, but go give it a listen as it’s a good, calming song.

This is the first chapter with a note at the end on how the a/b/o universe is structured for this fic

Trigger Warnings: implications of assault against Omegas (including brief mention of attempted rape), mpreg, mentions of abortion, issues dealing with self-hate and struggles with gender identity in terms of secondary gender of a/b/o, later chapters are nsfw

@slackslumber I’m sorry this turned out to be a light novel

Bakugo glanced up at the plate next to the classroom door.

Kirishima E.

Pre-K

He inhaled and ran a hand through his hair, which he had attempted to tame in vain. It wasn’t his first parent teacher conference. Yuki was an unruly child and was becoming even more so as she got older. This time she had tried to bite the ear of another kid and Bakugo was prepared for another dull lecture from a dull teacher who didn’t know a thing about actually raising kids.

He let the breath he had been holding out and gripped the doorknob, giving it a turn. The room was set up like any normal Pre-K classroom would be. There were little brightly colored chairs in groups, large matts with the letters of the alphabet and numbers adorned the floor and model planets hung from the ceiling.

At the front of the classroom was a large desk at which sat a man with bright red hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail. He was dressed in a nice button up, sans tie, with the top couple buttons undone. Rimmed glasses sat perched atop his nose and he pushed them up with the butt of a pencil as he stared at the stack of papers in front of him.

Bakugo cleared his throat and the man looked up.

“Oh! Sorry,” he got up and went to extend a hand to Bakugo, “I’m Kirishima, you must be Yuki’s dad.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Bakugo replied, shaking the hand offered to him.

Kirishima was tall and Bakugo opted to stare at his feet clad in worn dress shoes instead of trying to meet the amber eyes of the teacher. Kirishima motioned for Bakugo to take a seat at a chair that had been moved in front of the desk.

Bakugo sat down, crossing his arms out of habit. He tended to keep to himself and that extended to his interactions with other people. He didn’t want to draw any extra attention to himself.

Kirishima seemed to be the complete opposite. It was clear he was well suited for the job he was in. Bakugo could see children’s drawings hung on the wall behind Kirishima. Little stick figures with crude faces. There were a couple that had a character with spiky red scribbled on top of its head. They had shaky letters drawn next to the stick figure that read “Mr. K.”

Kirishima moved the stack of papers to the side, and set his glasses atop it. He gave Bakugo a toothy smile and Bakugo noticed the sharpness of his canines. His brow furrowed and he tensed a bit. He didn’t particularly care for Alphas, so he was usually a little wary around them.

But Kirishima’s eyes were soft and warm. There was a small scar by one of his eyebrows and Bakugo noticed he had the makings of crows feet at the corner of his eyes despite his youthful appearance. They were probably from smiling so wide that he looked almost like a shark.

Kirishima picked up the pencil he had earlier and twirled it as he said, “I hate having meetings like this, so I’m sorry if I seem a little bit unprofessional.”

Bakugo didn’t reply and Kirishima continued, “Yuki is wonderful. She’s very bright for her age and does great with her grades. But she seems, hmm, how do I put this.”

He tapped the pencil against his temple in thought, his bottom lip sucked under his top teeth. His expression turned to concern as he spoke again.

“It feels like Yuki is lashing out, so that’s why I wanted to talk with you.”

Bakugo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he said, “I can make her apologize to that boy and his parents. We had a conversation about using our words and stuff.”

Kirishima waved his hand. “No no it’s not that. Well, it is a part of it. But not the main reason I called you here.”

Kirishima sighed and sat back in his chair. “I care a lot about my students. It’s kinda silly but I think of them as my own kids sometimes. So I want them to do well. But not just in school.”

His cheeks tinged red slightly. “I know it’s not my place to butt in on people’s personal lives, so I apologize if I offend you, but I’m just concerned that this might be something for Yuki that is bigger than the classroom.”

He turned to reach behind him, grabbing a picture off the wall that Bakugo hadn’t noticed during his initial glance at the artwork. Kirishima placed it in front of him and Bakugo looked down at it.

It was a picture of a little stick figure girl with a bright pink bow in her hair. She was standing next to a figure of a man who was holding the black line that was the stick figure girl’s hand. The word “Daddy” had been written next to the figure in legible handwriting that must have been from a TA or something.

The background of the photo was scribbled with a blue sky and green grass, with a little house in the distance. But there was an area that was left blank, a white spot on the other side of the girl. Her little stick hand was surrounded by the white, almost as though she was trying to reach for something. “Yuki” was written in large shaky letters at the bottom of the paper.

Bakugo’s heart clenched as Kirishima spoke softly.

“This was from a week ago. We had draw your family as our art project. I don’t want to pry or assume anything, but when I asked Yuki what the white spot was, it seemed to make her upset.”

Bakugo could feel his cheeks getting hot. He wasn’t sure how to reply. It was obvious that he didn’t have a partner, and being a single parent wasn’t unusual. Rather it was the fact that in their society he wouldn’t be considered Yuki’s father.

Bakugo’s silence made Kirishima redden a bit more and he said, “I’m sorry if this is sore subject. I’m just concerned.”

“It’s fine,” Bakugo spat.

The words came out more defensive than he meant them too and Kirishima’s eyebrows knit together closer with concern. Then he asked the question Bakugo always dreaded he’d hear.

“Can I ask you about Yuki’s mother?”

Bakugo swallowed and tried to compose himself before speaking again.

“I’m raising Yuki on my own. Her mother is…”

He trailed off as his heart started beating faster. He was always so cautious and he knew that he should tell Kirishima to mind his own god damn business. But something about the calmness in Kirishima’s voice and his genuine smile made Bakugo feel like this was a safe space.

He tried to push down the ball of anxiety buzzing in his chest as he gripped the sides of the chair and said quietly, “It’s Yuki’s father, not her mother. I… I’m the one who gave birth to her.”

The admonition seemed to hang in the air and Bakugo hung his head. It shouldn’t be something he was ashamed about. Male Omegas were rare and it was even rarer for one to be able to give birth. They called it a “True Omega” and the odds were about one in a nearly half a million. It was a rarity that was often exploited, which was why Bakugo had kept it secret, even from Yuki when she asked why she didn’t have a mommy like the other kids at the playground.

The classroom was deadly quiet and Bakugo’s adrenaline was nearing the fight or flight stage, but then Kirishima spoke again.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone. I care about Yuki a lot, so I promise I won’t make things any more difficult. And if I can help in anyway, I’d be more than happy to.”

The offer caught Bakugo off guard and he finally looked up. Kirishima’s expression was one Bakugo had only seen on the face of characters from the movies he used to watch as a kid. A look that made you feel safe and protected, almost like a knight in shining armor. Kirishima smiled and it felt like a weight had been lifted from Bakugo’s chest. Even the air seemed clearer and he realized his knuckles had turned white from his death grip on the chair.

He let go, but regretted it as his hands started shaking. It felt like he was coming down from a panic attack and he felt the wetness of tears on his cheeks. He flushed from embarrassment and ducked his head into his lap.

It was mortifying, but he couldn’t stop and his whole body trembled as he wrapped his arms round himself. Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks and he wanted to melt into the floor. But suddenly there was an aroma like a summer breeze.

It wrapped around him and as he inhaled shakily his trembling started to stop. His whole body felt like it was being enveloped in a warm embrace from the inside out. It was a comforting, almost faintly familiar scent and he could feel his muscles relax as the tears gradually started to subside.

A tissue appeared in front of him and he realized that Kirishima had come around the desk to kneel beside him. Bakugo reached out a shaky hand to accept the tissue. As he did, the tips of his fingers brushed against Kirishima’s.

It was the briefest of contact, but it felt like little sparks had ignited from where the pads of their fingers had touched. Bakugo looked to see if Kirishima had experienced a similar feeling, but his face was still etched with worry. His hand on the back of the chair did tighten slightly however and Bakugo’s heart rate went up despite not knowing what he was expecting.

But then Kirishima was standing up again, taking the smell of the summer breeze with him. It made Bakugo realize what had happened and he looked at Kirishima with an expression between anger and fear.

“Did you just use pheromones on me?”

.

A/B/O Universe Notes

Alpha/Omega changes occur at puberty

Secondary sex characteristics manifest. Alphas will go through a growth spurt and will eventually grow their “fangs.” Omegas will have their first heat. Both will begin to emit pheromones and part of growing up is being able to control them. However, thanks to modern medicine, blockers makes it much easier.

70% of the population is Beta

Betas are essentially normal humans. They can procreate with each other and don’t experience a rut or a heat.

20% of the population is Alpha

They are considered a superior form of human. Physically they are usually a bit taller, able to gain muscle very easily, and have lots of stamina.

A unique characteristic of the Alpha are their fangs. They manifest during puberty and are attached to glands in the Alphas mouth. During arousal, while in rut, or even a rush of adrenaline can cause an Alpha’s fangs to descend slightly from the gum line and is referred to as “baring.” The canine teeth are connected directly to the glands and are the sharpest and most prominent, but the lateral incisor will also sharpen slightly during puberty. When an Alpha bares their fangs, the canines will become extremely pronounced. When marking, the fangs are used to puncture the skin and can secrete fluid from the glands in order to mark an Omega.

An Alpha will experience a rut occasionally. During this time they will become fixated on mating and can become irrational. Ruts are sporadic and with the help of blockers, most Alphas are able to avoid rut.

10% of the population is Omega

Generally thought of as the “weakest sex” Omegas are usually smaller in frame and it is hard for them to gain muscle. They can become pregnant regardless of gender, but male Omegas are not common. Impregnating a male Omega is also extremely difficult, unless they are a “True Omega” Most male Omegas are recessive.

The Omega experiences an estrus period, or heat, once a month. It will make them want to breed, same as the Alpha’s rut. Unlike a rut, blockers have no effect on the estrus period. During the estrus, an Omega will become wet, secreting what is referred to as slick, making it easier for an Alpha to enter them. For female Omegas it is secreted vaginally, for male Omegas it is secreted anally. However, male Omegas often produce significantly less slick during the estrus period and the chances of pregnancy are very low.

True Omegas are a phenomenon where the body is fully Omega, regardless of gender. The person will be able to be impregnated easily, even if they are male, and their estrus periods are often more intense. The percentage of True Omegas that have been reported is less than 1%.

Copulation:

Between Betas it’s exactly how it works in regular humans.

Between an Alpha and an Omega there are a few more factors. Pheromones play a part in intercourse, both in initiating and during. Slick makes it very easy for an Alpha to enter an Omega. During intercourse the Alpha is able to “knot” an Omega if significantly aroused, or in rut. Knotting lets the Alpha stay connected to the Omega for an extended period of time. Ejaculation is delayed while the Alpha is knotting. Once knotted, an Alpha will ejaculate numerous times into the Omega. Knotting can last for a few seconds, to over an hour. The physical knot is a gland at the base of an Alpha’s penis that will swell in the Omega, causing them to become stuck together until the Alpha finishes ejaculation or is rendered incapacitated.

Pregnancy

For Betas it is around a normal gestational period of 9 months. For Omegas it is shorter, usually around 4 to 5 months. Children of Omegas tend to be on the smaller side, regardless of the parents genders.

Fated Mates/Pairs

This is regarded as a fantastical idea, but has never been proven as fact or fiction. A fated pair consists of an Alpha and Omega who are so compatible, it’s almost like fate has brought them together. Some claim to have experienced almost a supernatural pull to their partner, but scientists have labeled it the evolution of compatibility making it easier for Alphas and Omegas to select the best mate for them.

[curly-bangtan]

#15 with yoongi - fluffy or smutty :D

#15: “you’re so annoying and needy… fine just come over here.”

Warnings: oral (f), lil bit of dry humping cos u know i love that shit teehee

A/N: Wow I love writing Yoongi, might have to bang out all the drabble requests for him while I’m at it… Didn’t mean for this to get smutty but oh well.

.

You let out a whine, high-pitched and exaggerated, and flip the page of your novel. Glancing up, Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice the slight irritation in your tone, or if he does, he doesn’t show it.

Hmph. Why is he like this?

Another sigh leaves your pouting lips. At this point, you’re not even absorbing the words you’re scanning into your head anymore, so you put the book down in defeat. Click click, goes his mouse. Your boyfriend is completely immersed in his music production, his big black headphones caging his ears, isolating him from the rest of the world. The rest of the world being you.

You throw your arms back to stretch like a cat, ruffling the neatly made covers of his bed. It’s a pet peeve of his, the way you never make the bed. You’d always tune him out when he would lecture you about not leaving your room in a mess; just because he’s your daddy doesn’t make him your dad too. But right now, you kind of miss his low monotonous voice droning on and telling you off.

Because even that, or just anything, is better than him not giving you the attention you’re craving.

But it’s also not in your nature to beg. He either notices that you’re lonely or he doesn’t. It’s his duty as your boyfriend to care about you.

“Ow!” You suddenly yelp.

Nothing is hurting, you’re just testing whether he can actually hear you or not.

Yoongi’s neck immediately snaps around, round poker face searching yours. You quickly pretend to rub the imaginary paper cut on your finger. His gaze lingers on your hand, flickers to your face, and to your disappointment, turns back to the screen.

Not even a word. Wow.

Feeling cranky at his apparent lack of concern, you whip your phone out and start scrolling so aggressively that the pad of your thumb feels raw. You can’t even muster enough care for the people on your screen. Cool, Yeji went to Tokyo with her boyfriend. Sure they look cute, sure you wish you and Yoongi were in Japan right now too, but whatever. Who gives a shit. Aggressive scroll.

One of Yoongi’s best qualities is how hard-working he is. One of Yoongi’s worst qualities is how hard-working he is.

Of course you love how he reaps the benefits of his diligence. His newest record got approved by his agency again and is currently being worked on in the studio with a new up-and-coming artist. You genuinely cannot be prouder of him. He does what he loves, and loves he does. That’s really admirable nowadays.

But, but, as his girlfriend, you would really wish for him to pay some attention to you every now and then. You don’t ask for much, just an occasional kiss, or even acknowledgement that you’re in the same room would be nice, thank you very much.

“Yoongi, I’m tired.” Code for: Yoongi, can you come over and spoon me so we can sleep already?

He grunts a response that vaguely resembles ‘go to sleep, I’ll be done a sec…’ which would be inaudible to any ears except your own, because by now you are trained to be able to distinguish his low grumbles and murmurs. You want to throw your book at him. Wait, that’s not even a bad idea. Because that would at least get his attention, piss him off.

Instead, you trud over and switch off the lights. But not before you change out of your clothes into his favourite SG shirt, the beige one since he’s wearing the black, purposely not wearing pants so he can catch a glimpse of your ass when you get up.

Yoongi clears his throat but averts your eye, the blue light of the screen illuminating his face in the new darkness.

You want to strangle him. Stupid sack of rice. What man ignores his girlfriend prancing around in his T-shirt and a sexy red thong?

Slightly too dramatic, maybe, you start pretending to call your friend Jimin. “Hey! What’s up?” You purposely don’t keep your voice down even though you know how much Yoongi appreciates a calm ambiance while working. A ball of satisfaction sinks in as you notice his shoulders perk up in attention. “That’s great! … Nah, I’m not up to much, just really bored and sleepy.” Emphasising volume on really. “Yeah, Yoongi’s good, working again of course. You know how he is. Haha, yeah I saw her post too, she’s in Tokyo with her boyfriend. I want to go so badly with Yoongi but he’s busy all the time ‘coz he’s doing really well with his music and all that… Wait seriously? Let’s actually go together!”

Okay, maybe you’re getting carried away with your narrative. But can anyone blame you?

Yoongi’s chair swivels so abruptly at you that you drop your phone, startled. He rests his headphones on his neck and watches you with that annoyingly blank expression of his.

Swiftly, you pick your phone back up to orchestrate your fake goodbyes with ‘Jimin’, excusing that you’re going to bed soon. You stare back at your boyfriend, awaiting him to finally say something.

He sighs. “Jimin smashed his phone today.”

Oh.

You feel the flames rush to your cheeks, soaking in embarrassment. You don’t even know what to say because what the fuck does one say when one gets caught pretending to be on the phone with someone?

“Is your book boring?” His back is turned from the screen, shadow casted on his face, yet you can tell that he’s frowning lightly.

You still can’t say anything. Mind in a state of malfunction at the humiliation.

“Let me see your paper cut.”

Shit. Caught twice.

“Um. It’s nothing, not even any blood, you won’t be able to see it.” Heat continues to flood your face. His bullshit sensor aas never failed him before, why do you even try to lie to him?

Yoongi exhales in exasperation, clearly fed up. And you feel small, diminished, guilty. “You’re so annoying and needy. I’m working, I said I’ll be done soon.”

“Yeah but you say that every time…” You half whisper half whine. “I just miss you, that’s all…”

For a moment, he just looks at you, expression unreadable as usual. You think he’s going to turn back to resume his work, but then he sighs and says, “Fine, just come over here.”

The smile immediately blooms across your face, it’s the pure and genuine kind of smile that infects all of your facial features. And in the darkness, you spot the slightest smallest quirk upwards of his lips too as you crawl across the bed to plop yourself onto his lap. His hands instinctively run up your bare thighs and rest on your ass as you straddle him. The chair turns from the momentum you induce so your back is facing his computer and his face is once again lit up.

Your arms snake up his chest and around his neck, their permanent place of residence. You bask in every drop of his attention, loving the way he silent studies every inch of your face.

“You called me annoying and needy.” Brows drawing, you pout at him, luring out more of his care.

“That’s synonymous with cute, don’t you know me?”

You giggle, forehead falling onto his. Your legs feel warm on top of him, especially as he begins to feathering up and down them, his fingers tickling your ass more and more each time. Goosebumps.

“You can’t walk around with no pants like that, baby girl.” You feel a sudden pulse on your clit at his name for you. His pinky is fiddling with the lace of your thong now, and habitually you press your crotch onto his. “You’re so impatient.” His other hand reaches for your face, touch trailing down your jaw so soft it feels like a ghost. “So demanding.” He squeezes your ass.

Nose brushing, Yoongi glimpses up at you through his lashes and you know you’ve won. He has succumbed to you.

His kisses taste like midnight coffee. Slow, lethargic, but no less passionate. He removes the headphones from around his neck without breaking the seal between your lips, hauling you further up his lap until you feel his semi-hard member jab at your core. And when you dare grind your clothed slit over him lasciviously, you both shudder at the friction, his own hips buckling up to meet you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your bottom, guiding your idle rhythm.

“It’s ‘coz I want you.” You whisper into his mouth. “I always want you.”

The throaty groan he releases is enough to gather a rich dampness between your legs. You wonder if he can feel how wet you are as you rub yourself over him.

“Well, if you had waited a little longer,” he pauses to nibble the skin of your neck, “you would have found out that I was planning on eating you out tonight as soon as I’m done with this track.”

Your breath snags in your throat, almost as if he had bitten into your jugular. Hands traveling up his shirt, you cosset his soft milky skin, he himself mirroring your action.

“And… are you done with this track?”

“No. But priorities.”

Yoongi lifts you off his lap onto the desk, his mouse gliding away at the contact with your side. And slowly, head burrowing under your shirt, he sucks purple petals onto your breasts, teasing your nipple between his teeth. Then comes the languid trail of kisses from your sternum down to navel, tongue marking a wet path to your cunt.

As he tugs your panties off, he peaks out from under your shirt, gives that lazy lopsided smirk of his that made you fall in love with him in the first place, then disappears underneath again. Kissing your thighs nearer and nearer to you slick, he props your legs over his shoulders and you can’t help but pull him closer with your ankles.

Fuck, you’re already a goner.

When his warm mouth meets your clit, you jerk up, narrowly avoiding slamming your palm onto his keyboard. If making music is what Yoongi is best at, then devouring your pussy is what he’s second best at.

Your moan is unsuppressed. Each time his tongue flickers around your clit, you feel a pulse of desire ripple through you. He doesn’t stop, showing no mercy because this is what you had ask for, so this is what you shall receive. You want him? You have him. And when he inserts two fingers while he sucks on your swollen bud, teeth scraping at your folds, you call out his name like he’s your religion.

He makes you come thrice that night. All times on his desk.

.

05/11/19

© Copyright 2019

[starshinehemmo]

The One in Which Your Child Plays Cupid (Professor!Luke)

(mobile) masterlist

word count: 3,7k+

summary: in the end, it’s only thanks to your child that you manage to snatch up your charming professor.

+++

“What's a ‘derogation rule’?” asked a small voice. Everybody's attention diverted to the front of the class, where your little girl sat at the massive teacher's desk, colouring in her book. The professor smiled, turning to her to direct his answer.

“Well, little girl,” he began, “First of all, what do we do before we speak?”

Your daughter's eyes widened, as she blushed. “Oops,” she said. “We raise our hand.”

“That's correct. Another point for the princess!” His eyes twinkled almost as bright as hers as he added another star to her name in the list. Professor Hemmings had taught her how to write her name, so she could scribble it down in his list in order to have her own spot, and whenever she got something right, he'd add to the stars which already continued on to the next page. “Students,” he then said, turning back to the rest of his class, “You should really keep up. Adelaide here is way ahead of you!” The class chuckled while Adelaide looked smug at the professor's comment.

He faced her again. “And now to answer your question, Addy, a ‘derogation rule’ is a norm in which an annulment or invalidation regarding another law is described. Make any sense?”

Adelaide's face scrunched up as she ran his sentence in her mind over again, trying to break it into words and interpret them. After a while, during which no one interrupted her thought process, she nodded her head. “Yeah, I guess so.” For a four-year-old, your little girl already had a massive vocabulary stored in her brain, thanks to her frequently sitting in during your lectures. Her favourite was, of course, Professor Hemmings' one.

He smiled. “Great. Moving on.” He clapped his hands once, getting right back to where he left off, as Adelaide returned her focus to her colouring book.

And this was how it went most of his classes. The professor—well, he was actually just a teacher’s assistant—lectured, and every now and then, Adelaide would raise her hand—or like today, just blurt her question out loud. You'd been a stay-at-home mom for almost two years of her life, but then decided to come back to study as your daughter had grown old enough to either stay at day care or like today, visit your lectures.

///

“Hey, you,” said a voice, pulling you out of your slumber. Instantly, your eyes widened and you shot right up in your seat...and knocked your head into said person's chin. He groaned in pain, mumbling, “Fucking hell.” Professor Hemmings released another string of profanities. “How can a person as small as you hurt so much?”

“I'm—Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry!” you exclaimed, blood rushing into your cheeks. The top of your head throbbed and it took everything in you to keep from rubbing at it. You were embarrassed enough. You couldn't believe you had fallen asleep in the middle of a lecture. 

The professor chuckled. “Don't worry about it,” he said, raising his arm. Probably to rub at his chin, which must hurt much more than your head. 

Still, you couldn't raise your eyes to look at him. “I apologise for falling asleep,” you said quietly and in a rush, as you began to gather up all your papers and books and stuffing them into your bag as quickly as possible. “I know that was very disrespectful of me, and it won't happen again. Again, I am very sorry!” you blurted, standing on wobbly legs. Finally, you somehow managed to meet his gaze, though you were sure your face was as red as a tomato. 

Surprisingly, Hemmings wasn't looking at you in a pissed off kind of way. His eyes more held amusement as his mouth twitched. Clearing his throat, he let his fist fall from his chin. “Are you alright?” he asked, the amusement fading. 

“Uh...” He cocked an eyebrow. “Well, my head hurts obviously. Your chin isn't that soft either, you know.” With that being said, you couldn't help but raise your hand and softly rub at the throbbing area of your head. There will most definitely be a noticeable bump tomorrow. “I—Uh, are you alright?”

“Yeah, that?” he asked, pointing towards his chin and then making a swiping motion with his hand. “That's nothing.” You could tell from the angry redness that it was not nothing. Guilt coloured your already red cheeks even redder, all the way to the tips of your ears. 

“I'm so sorry,” you said again, holding your hand out as if in peace offering. 

Hemmings smiled at you again, his eyes flickering towards your hand before returning back to your eyes. “What's got you sleeping in my lecture anyway?” There was mischief hidden in his voice. So much blood was rushing towards your face that you were beginning to slightly worry about the rest of your body. 

“That's not appropriate, I think, Professor.” 

He shrugged. “Only, if you make it inappropriate. Which would be all by your own doing. Me? I'm simply demanding an explanation as to what was so interesting the night before that it got you this tired at a one p.m. lecture that the only way to surpass said tiredness, was to sleep it off.”

Raising a hand to your cheek in embarrassment, you couldn't help but blush even harder due to how hot it was. “Stop,” you mumbled softly, half a smile, half a cringe resting on your face. “It's not what you think,” you said. “I'm a single mother.” Gripping the handles of your bag tightly, you dared to raise your eyes. 

He wasn't looking at you like you had expected him to. With pity maybe—people tend to look at you like that, thinking you were stuck with a tiny person you didn't want, when in fact you loved her more than life itself. Or with newfound disdain—people tend to look at you like that as well, because of your young age. Professor Hemmings on the other hand was looking at you with ... happiness and there was this glimmer in his eyes. “You have a kid?” he asked, smiling widely. 

“Uh, yeah. She's almost two.”

When Hemmings made a move to put down the seat in front of you, you raised your eyebrows. “What?” he asked, “Why stand when we can sit?”

So you unfolded your seat as well and sat down again. He leaned forward in his seat which forced you to back up a little. He didn't seem to notice. “So if she's almost two, how come you're so tired? Don't toddlers sleep through the night?” There was a genuine interest in his voice, another aspect about this conversation that positively surprised you.

“Well, yeah,” you began. “But sometimes I have to take the night shift when a co-worker cancels last minute, so there's that.”

Hemmings leaned back again. “Hmm,” he hummed. “How about, next time you get called in, you stay home the next day—”

“That's not—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted your interruption, laughing. “The professors here are all very understanding when it comes to children. Especially single parents. If you ask them, they'll forward you anything they touched on during the lecture you missed.”

“Really? I didn't know that.” You honestly had not. 

“Of course. And you know,” he said, raising from his seat again. “You can bring her to lectures as well. To mine that is. Other's too, but I think they'd like a heads up prior to it. I'd really love to meet your little one.” And with a final smile he went back to the front of the class and began gathering up his own stuff. 

///

“That's it for today,” Professor Hemmings said as knocks erupted around the room. You quickly stuffed everything back into your bag and walked to your daughter in the front.

“Momma, look at this picture I drew for you!” she shouted, scrambling to get off the high chair to show you her artwork.

“Aw, baby, that's so pretty,” you congratulated her, while taking in the scenery (it was a flower field) with the three stick figures in the front, though you had to do a double take as you saw she had drawn her father into the picture as well—something she hadn't ever done before. “You drew daddy?” you asked quietly, failing to keep the enthusiasm in your voice.

“No, silly momma. I drew Lukey!” she exclaimed excitedly, holding the picture even higher up as she grinned at you.

“Oh?” came your surprise, as you turned to look at Luke with slightly widened eyes. His matched yours. There was also a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks, as he—like the Luke you, and maybe only you from all of your classmates, knew—began fumbling with his hands. He always did this when he was nervous. Though, you could see a grin trying to fight its way on his lips.

“You like it, momma?”

Redirecting your stare from Luke to your daughter, you crouched down in front of her, grabbing her waist and squeezing. “I love it so much, baby girl. You did a very nice job,” you told her, tapping her little nose.

She grinned, a smug look settling on her face. “Thank you, momma.”

“You're very welcome, sunshine.” Looking up, you smiled at a still flustered Luke and then back at your daughter. “Come on, let's finish packing you up and then we can go out to have our ice cream with fries.”

“Yay!” she squealed instantly. Adelaide thrusted her drawing into your chest, suggesting you should take it, before she scrambled up on the big chair and began collecting all of her supplies.

Above you, Luke cleared his throat. Patting his messenger bag, he said, “Good night. I'll see you guys next week,” and with a polite smile turned on his feet.

Quickly, you jumped up from your crouch, calling after him. There was a rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins and it was fuelling a very irrational part of your brain. “Now come on. That's no way for family to act, is it?” Your heart thudded so loudly, you feared he could hear it.

Facing you again, Luke stared at you, his lips slightly apart. “Excuse me?”

Taking a breath, you grinned, adjusting the strap of your bag. “According to my daughter, you're part of our little family. So, daddy—” he choked into a cough, causing your grin to turn into a rather mischievous one “—what do you say to ice cream and fries?”

His eyes fell on Adelaide for a second, who looked up at him in her sweet Adelaide-way. It made your heart swell—seeing both of them looking at each other like that. Though you'd never really paid attention to it, today you noticed just how much love Luke's gaze held when he looked at your daughter. And as him, Adelaide looked at him with so much wonder and amazement. It made you secretly wish that Luke really was her father. You knew, he'd have made a good one.

“Addy, sunshine—” There your heart went again, as he used the same nickname for your daughter. “—you okay with me joining your weekly ice cream date?”

She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up. “Yeah!” she said, and you couldn't help but notice how he said weekly, as in, he'd come with you every week? You were more than fine with that and chose to ignore the other possibility of him referring to the past weekly dates.

“Well,” Luke said, looking at you again. “I guess then it's settled.”

“I guess so,” you answered, grabbing for Adelaide's hand and pulling her off his chair. Together you left the auditorium, Luke walking on the other side of your daughter—her tiny hand clasped in his giant one, swinging.

///

The diner you went to was fairly in the middle of your route home. It had always been there but you hadn't actually walked in until you were pregnant with Adelaide and had major cravings for ice cream and fries. So basically, this tradition began even before she was born, making it that much more special.

Like every week, you walked. Adelaide tended to skip along the streets, drinking in every new thing she discovered with each step she took. You absolutely adored watching your daughter getting to know the world, loved the innocent questions she shot you with her big pure eyes that held an entire universe in them. It reminded you of your own childhood, as your mother loved telling you about what a smart child you had been. And your parents were the greatest tutors in your life, making sure to never leave a question unanswered. So you also paid attention to also give her an answer for whatever question she had, even if sometimes you didn't have the perfect one but rather only a weak "I don't know, baby”. Oftentimes she'd nod, run off and find the answer herself. And every time she shared it with you, amazement engulfed you, because how could such a little girl always manage to find an answer that satisfied her enough? Not even you had the pleasure to always find the right answer.

“Lukey, have you ever broken the law?” Adelaide asked, looking up at your professor, whose hand was still clasped around hers, contrary to yours, which was dangling lonely against your side. Somewhere along the walk she had let go and tugged Luke forward to show him her favourite flowers from a flower shop. With every other person, you would've been offended and maybe just a tiny bit hurt, but surprisingly, not with Luke. It was rather the opposite, as a giant smile had erupted on your face, watching them talk about their favourite animals and why they didn't like going to the zoo. (It was because they didn't like seeing them so sad and caged in.)

“Hm,” Luke said. “Let me think for a second.” After he'd decided on the most appropriate answer for a four-year-old, he said, “I've driven past the speed limit a couple of times before.” Adelaide gasped. “But nothing serious. I've never put anyone in danger by it,” he assured, watching her carefully, to see if she was satisfied with his answer.

“But Lukey, you're a teacher of the law!” Adelaide spoke, her eyes widened and clear horror written on her face. She stopped mid-stride, pushing their intertwined hands against his hips. “You should do better, Lukey.”

Both you and Luke snorted as you couldn't keep your laughter in. Glancing at each other, you saw the amusement in this situation. Your toddler kid was seriously scolding an almost uni-professor. Only your child would have the courage to do such a thing.

Adelaide's eyebrows scrunched up in annoyance at your laughing. “This isn't funny, mommy and Lukey. This is serious.” But upon seeing her adorable little face, you couldn't help but laugh even more, much to her anger. “Mommy! Don't laugh at me! Laws are here for a reason. You should all be ashamed of yourself,” she finished her speech, then freed her hand out of Luke's grasp, turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. Quickly, you silenced your laughter, even though you still found this moment to be quite funny, but didn't want your daughter to feel anymore ridiculed.

Looking at Luke, you saw that he held the same regretful expression. Shrugging, he exclaimed, “Yeah, don't laugh at Addy, mommy!” in a mock voice. You swallowed back a sound of surprise, as your heart forgot a beat in its rhythm.

But Adelaide only said, “You laughed, too, Lukey.”

Clearing his throat, he crouched down behind Adelaide—awkwardly, long limbs bent uncomfortably—and said, “We're sorry we laughed, Addy, sunshine.” But she simply took another step away from him. And you could've sworn, you saw Luke's shoulders drop a tiny bit as he witnessed her rejection to his apology—like he was seriously hurt by the distance she put between them. Tentatively, he reached his hand forward and sweetly swiped his forefinger across the back of her neck and then tickled her back, which, of course, caused her to giggle and pull away. “Don't be mad, little girl. We are very sorry and you're right. We should pay more attention to the laws since they were put in place for a reason. I promise I won't speed anymore. And your mommy. . .Well, I actually don't know what laws she likes to break, so mommy—” he looked up at you, the same clouded look in his eyes that he had before, when he had called you mommy “—what laws do you like breaking, huh?”

Glaring and blushing at him at the same time, you said, “Sometimes I walk even when it's still red. But like Luke promised, I will also try to never walk when it's red, because that is against the law,” before crouching down beside Luke to wait for your daughter's reaction.

With that being said, Adelaide spun back around, the biggest grin plastered on her face as she threw herself into you two and latched her arms around your necks. Both of you laughed, hugging her back and in result, each other. You must've looked funny to bystanders, crouched there in a heap—a triangular hug. Though as the seconds ticked by, all your mind seemed to focus on, was how much of a family you must've looked like as well.

Luke's arm was wound tightly around your waist, and the second he removed it, your skin tingled from the loss of contact.

“Now,” he said. “I think two very pretty girls promised me ice cream with fries, no?” He reached for your daughter’s hand again, smiling in content.

///

“Addy, sunshine, look at your face,” you exclaimed, giggling. “It’s full of ice cream.” Grabbing a napkin, you reached across the table to wipe it off, but were beat to it by Luke.

“I got it,” he said, taking the napkin from you and gently wiping Adelaide’s mouth. When he finished, Addy turned her head and grinned at him. This sight truly warmed your heart. Unsurprisingly, your daughter had chosen to sit next to Luke, leaving you all by yourself on the other side. It gave you a perfect view to watch them interact, though, and seeing them together made you forget all about the fact that Adelaide had chosen somebody else over you. The fact made you even strangely happy.

It reminded you of a father-daughter relationship.

///

Adelaide yawned. “I’m tired, momma.”

“We’re going home now. In just a few minutes you can go to sleep, all right?” you said, pulling her to her feet.

“But I don’t think I can make it home, momma.” She pouted. And for good measurement, she swayed a little, her eyes widening in innocence.

Biting your lip, you knew exactly what she was trying to achieve here. “Addy, you’re such a big girl now. Momma doesn’t have the strength to carry you.”

She grinned, the tired face she’d perfected slipping for a tiny moment, as she said “But Lukey can!”, before she went back to swaying.

“Oh no, baby, he can’t,” you told her, blushing. “That’s not—”

“Sure, I can,” Luke’s voice interrupted you.

You shot Adelaide an scolding look, before regarding Luke with an apologetic one. “You really don’t have to. She’s just being lazy, and if she really can’t carry on, I’ll carry her. Really, it’s no problem. Least of all yours.”

Luke solemnly shook his head, grinning. “I got this. Relax, momma bear.”

Dang, what the hell was up with this man today? If he kept calling you any more of these things, your heart might just jump straight out of your chest.

///

“It was a really nice day today. With you,” said Luke from behind you, as you fumbled with your keys to fit in the lock of your apartment.

Grinning to yourself, you threw him a smile across your shoulder. “I enjoyed your company as well, Professor.” Finally, the key disappeared into the lock and with a satisfying click, you nudged the door open.

Turning around, you could see Luke rolling his eyes at you. “I really don’t want to think of myself as your teacher.”

For a second, fear froze your body. But then you saw the blush in his cheeks and how his teeth were buried in his bottom lip. “And why’s that?” Slowly, your tongue ran across your own lip. “Professor?”

With your sleeping daughter in his arms, he took a tentative step closer to you. “Well,” he said, gaze wandering to his feet. “I don’t know about you, but I rather think a teacher-student-relationship is unethical. Don’t you agree?” His eyes met yours.

Slowly, you reached out to brush through Adelaide’s soft hair. “Who said anything about a relationship?” you tease, keeping your voice serious.

“I—I thought—” Luke began to stutter, his cheeks flaming red, but you wanted to toy with him just a little longer, just because he looked so darn adorable. “Okay, this is kind of awkward. . .” he said, as he tried to look anywhere, but at you. “I’m so sorry—”

His agony caused you agony as well and suddenly you couldn’t bear to see him this uncomfortable anymore. In a swift move, you placed your hands on either side of his face to pull him down to you and pressed your lips to his.

Luke stumbled into you, but quickly regained his balance so he wouldn’t smash Adelaide between your bodies. “Wha—” came his surprised voice, but you only kissed him harder. Luke relaxed, kissing you like he had all the time in the world and like he was in a rush all at once. His feet came closer to yours, pushing you back into your apartment.

Once you were all inside, he leaned back, whispering, “I really wish I had my hands free for this,” against your cheek, laughing quietly.

Pulling back, you took Adelaide from his arms and solemnly stood there, staring at him sheepishly. “Did this just seriously happen?” you asked, blushing.

Luke shook out his arms and then placed his hands in his pockets. He shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, I hope it did.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to sound like a creeper or anything,” he said, “but I’ve been dreaming of this. With you.” He blushed.

“You only sound like a creep a little tiny bit,” you assured him, laughing. “Let me just put her down, and then we can have a cup of coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee, but sure,” Luke called after you, as you were already walking towards Adelaide’s room.

Turning around, you said, “Tea then. Just stay for a second, please?”

He grinned again, giving you a thumbs up. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll stay.”

And that was more than enough.

+++

a/n i wrote this ages ago. seriously, i remember first writing this when i started uni, so 4 years ago almost? i hope it somehow brightened your quarantine :)

[animeniacss]

6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Chapter 21 - What Have you Been Saying?

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy) 

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 5.3k words 

Disclaimer: This chapter contains subjects of violence, such as physical and verbal abuse. Please do not read this chapter of the story if these topics are triggering to you. Stay safe and healthy, and know that I and many others are here for you!

Chapter 21 - What Have you Been Saying? 

           The walk through the halls wasn’t long, but it sure felt it with how silent everyone was on the walk. A few students were seen straggling in the halls, only for Mrs. Song to encourage them to hurry and head home. As the walk finally came to an end, Mrs. Song turned to you.

           “Right in here, please.” She said happily, opening the door. Weong-Bin was quick to slide over, holding the door open for her. Mrs. Song offered a kind smile, and a thank you, while you simply turned up your nose and walked inside. It looked like a teacher’s office, sectioned off for more than one teacher to occupy at a time. There only seemed to be a few other teachers’ inside at the moment, scattered through the room and doing some various forms of paperwork. Mrs. Song led you to what seemed to be her spot, where three chairs were awaiting you. As the three of you sat, Mrs. Song let out a deep sigh. “Well, let me just start by saying Min Ja is an absolute joy in class. She’s very, very helpful and incredibly smart.”

           “Thank you.” You said softly.

           “I don’t want any of you to get the wrong idea, I didn’t call you in here because I wanted to discuss negative behavior. Min Ja is one of our better-behaved students. I wanted to bring you in because I’m starting to get concerned with some things.”

           “…Such as?”

           “Well…” she sighed. “Min Ja seems to be struggling with making connections with the other kids in class. She’s sociable, and she gets along with most of the kids, but there are a lot of elements that cause her to withdraw from her peers.” When she saw both you and Weong-Bin share a glance, she hummed. “Min Ja is the only child in class whose parents are divorced.” She said simply. “All the other students live with both of their parents. We only have one student whose father passed away, but his mother remarried when the child was barely one, so he identifies that man as his father. Min Ja is the only one who is in a familial situation such as yours.” She saw your face flush, eyes quickly cast down onto your lap in embarrassment, even slight shame. Mrs. Song quickly noticed. “I’m not trying to judge you for what has happened, I don’t know the whole story and I’m merely trying to share statistics with you. Please, forgive me.”

           “Don’t worry about it.” Weong-Bin said simply. Mrs. Song sighed.

           “Anyway, I have tried to do different things in class to teach about different family lives, and maybe allow Min Ja to share her stories with the class. I thought that might help her talk out her own anxieties as well and start to help her. She wouldn’t participate in any of them, she just kept her head down. I talked about single-parent homes and San-Ha actually, bless her soul, called out that Min Ja only lived with her Mom, but saw her Dad a few days a week. When I asked her to share, she burst into tears.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “When I asked her why, she said she couldn’t talk about it to me, because she needed her Dad to trust her.” Your heart began to race.

           “I…see…” you said softly.

           “As you know, I try to encourage the kids to share their emotions and feelings through drawings, especially because they’re still learning how to write and they can express their emotions clearer when they draw it out, they’ve been drawing since they could hold stuff.” Reaching over, she grabbed a small stack of papers from her desk. “When I see children acting unusually anxious, or scared, or sad, or any other negative emotion and they can’t or won’t verbally share it, I try and ask them to draw it out for me.” She handed you and Weong-Bin about 3 papers. You rolled them open and took a look at them. As you skim through, the pictures were concerning. There was a copy of the family portrait she had done for a homework assignment. Another was of what looked like Min Ja, standing with scribbles all around her. There was almost no color in this picture, just black. The only color came from her attempt at coloring her school uniform in with a blue crayon.            

“Did she tell you what this one was?” you asked curiously, pointing to it.

“She drew that one yesterday. I had noticed she wasn’t playing with any of the other kids so during one of the breaks I asked her what was wrong. She drew this and said, and I quote, ‘Daddy is making my head spin. But I can’t tell you why.’” Your eyes darted to Weong-Bin, who ran a hand through his hair. He looked a bit worried by this, but you couldn’t tell if he was putting on the act of a concerned parent, or if he was genuinely worried. “At first I wasn’t sure what she might be talking about, then I saw this-.” She moved the picture over to expose the second to the last one. It was a picture of a house, a big house, with tons of rooms. Everyone seemed to have a room, her, Hyo Bin, you, Weong-Bin, and Hoseok. Everyone was smiling, and despite the bright colors and cute little rainbow and flowers, the picture emitted an air of desperation. “I pulled it out of her portfolio of drawings. When I asked her about it, she said that she wanted to try and build a house that everyone could live in together and be happy. When I asked why, she said that in the house she lived in now, she could only live with Mr. Hobi or her Dad.”

“Oh my God…” all of it began to make sense. Min Ja’s drawings were telling you what Weong-Bin would not, they were telling you how much she was really hurting and how anxious she was. They were telling you why Min Ja had that absolute break down when she thought Hoseok was going to move in.

“Then, I saw her doodling this one during our lunch period.” She pulled out the last picture. The one on the bottom was of two stick figures, both with slanted eyes and frowns on their faces. There were scribbles all around them, possibly indicating yelling. The one stick figure in a pink dress, most likely you, had blue crayon marks near her eyes. There was also a big red ‘X’ over the picture. You blinked, glancing at Weong-Bin, who seemed to have no reaction this time. “When I asked her what she was drawing, she almost yelled at me and said she wasn’t finished, then hid it away.”

“I’m so sorry about that.” You sighed. She shook her head and offered a smile.

“When she finished the picture, she brought it to me.” She flipped the picture to show the backside, where Min Ja had put another drawing. It was of two stick figures, but instead of arguing, they were hugging. The male stick figure seemed to have hints of blonde in its hair, and you quickly recognized that it was meant to be Hoseok. “I asked her what this meant, and she wouldn’t really say. But I kind of got an idea. So, I asked her if this was you both at home.” She pointed to the first picture with the arguing. “And that this was Mr. Hobi and you.” She pointed to the second picture. “But then, she said that she added the ‘X’ because you both don’t fight anymore. That her Daddy had fixed his mistakes.” You blinked, gripping the picture tightly as you tried your best not to start crying. All you could do was nod, running a hand through your hair.

“I can’t believe this…she told you all this through pictures. How long has this been going on?”

“I started noticing the withdrawal about a week and a half ago. The first picture she made was this two-sided one. That was when I tried to get more out of her, leading to the rest of the pictures. That, on top of the inability to relate with her peers when it comes to family relationships, started to worry me.”

“What do you mean ‘inability to relate to peers about family relationships?’” Weong-Bin asked, and you could hear the irritation in his voice. Mrs. Song blinked.

“Like I said, Min Ja is the only girl in class who lives with divorced parents. When we talk about family, she can’t relate when the other students talk about what they did with both of their parents. She doesn’t participate in those conversations. When I call on her to give me an answer, if she doesn’t force herself to give me an answer, she’ll become flustered and burst into tears. I’m simply trying to show the relationship between that behavior and her drawings, there’s a connection here.”

“So, what are you trying to say here? I don’t love my kids? This is painting me in a bad light. I love my girls to death, how dare you-.”

“I’m not saying that, Mr. Cho-.”

“Weong-Bin!” You said quickly, looking at him. “How dare you, she only is trying to help us.” Weong-Bin looked away, grabbing the pictures and standing up.

“I’m not going to sit here and be railroaded about my parenting.” He said, storming out of the room. He slammed the door, alerting the attention of the teachers in the room. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You were amazed that Weong-Bin, who was always sure to keep up appearances, had shouted and left the room like a child. Was he finally cracking? Was this what would send him over the edge?

“I’m so sorry.” You said softly. “He’s normally not like that in situations like this.” Mrs. Song gave you a sympathetic look, reaching out and putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I apologize, I must have said too much.”

“No, of course not.” You said. “I appreciate your help. I didn’t even know she was feeling this. I’ve noticed she’s been upset and anxious but every time that I tried to talk to her about it, she would freak out and avoid it. She had a meltdown the other day when she overheard my boyfriend and I talking about moving in together. This must be why…” you sighed. “I had him talk to her about this, I didn’t know he was the one making this so bad.”

“Your boyfriend, how does he get along with Min Ja, if I may ask.” She asked curiously.

“They have a great relationship. But ever since this whole thing started, she’s seemed a bit more distant from him. She doesn’t seem her usual lively self when he’s around anymore. What do you suggest that I do?”

“I’m not a therapist, only a teacher. But I assure you that I will help you in any way I can to make sure that Min Ja’s anxiety will lessen while she is in school.”

“Thank you so much. We’ll be in touch.” You shook her hand and stood up, fixing your bag. Mrs. Song smiled, reaching over to her desk and grabbing one more picture. She offered it to you.

“I meant to show this to you as well to show that Min Ja isn’t only just drawing depressing pictures.” When you took the picture, you opened it to see a brightly scribbled picture of what looked to be a zoo. There were four stick figures, three in dresses and one in pants with black hair and a heart mouth. There were red pandas, alpacas, bears, and other animals you couldn’t really identify based on her little kid scribbles, but you knew exactly what you were looking at and it made your heart soar. “It’s one of the first pictures she drew for me this year. I know things are probably getting a bit hectic, but I think your daughter is very fond of your boyfriend.”

“Heh, thanks.” You offered a nod of your head. “Have a good day, Mrs. Song.” She got up and bowed a bit as well, waving you off as you exited the room, closing the door behind you.

You found Weong-Bin outside the school, pacing and grumbling under his breath. You approached him and crossed your arms.

“What are you, six years old? How could you walk out on that conversation?”

“She was judging my parenting. She was all ‘Dad this, Dad that.’ She didn’t say anything about your shortcoming once!”

“My short-.” You sighed. “Weong-Bin this isn’t the time to put yourself on an ego boost. This is about Min Ja, what have you been telling her that’s making her so anxious?”

“Me!? What do you mean me?”

“Well, you said you talked to her and ever since then she’s been worse than before. What did you say to her?!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.” He hissed under his breath, putting his face close to yours. You stepped back, crossing your arms. “I won’t continue yelling outside the school.”

“I agree.” You said softly, nodding your head. Both of you were silent for a moment, and you sighed softly. “Can you…stop by after I get Min Ja to dance?” Weong-Bin nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure too.” He said. You could feel your heartbeat begin to speed up, and you quickly attempted to collect yourself.

“Then I’ll go then.” You said simply. Weong-Bin nodded, grumbling under his breath as he walked down the street and to his car. You watched him for a moment, sighing as you headed to the playground down the street. As the playground came into view, you saw Hoseok pushing Hyo Bin on one of the swings, and you could hear she cheered in delight as she flew through the air. Hoseok was smiling as he pushed her, looking over to Min Ja, who was trying to keep herself flying all on her own. He was encouraging her to pump her legs, and occasionally walking over to give her a big push as well. It helped slow your heart rate to see your girls, and you hurried over to the swing set, catching their attention.

“Oh, look who it is.” Hoseok said, motioning in your direction. Min Ja looked up, and nerves washed over her like the biggest and most powerful wave at the beach. She jumped off the swing and ran into the playground structure, hiding underneath one of the bridges. You blinked, glancing at Hoseok, who looked just as confused by the child’s sudden bolt, but he couldn’t help but smile.

“How did it go?” he asked curiously.

“It went alright. Min Ja’s teacher told us a bunch of stuff…put a lot of things into perspective.”

“How did Weong-Bin take it?”

“Not well. He’s meeting up at my house after I take the girls to dance so we can talk…” Hoseok looked a bit worried, rightfully so at the idea of you and Weong-Bin being alone, and you noticed that. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Remember how he grabbed your face? And that was when the girls were in the house. What do you think will happen if it’s only the two of you?” You sighed softly, running your hands through your hair. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I…” you sighed. “You’re right.” You admitted. “But I already told him to meet me at my house. He’ll be angrier if I don’t show up.” Hoseok still didn’t look convinced. “…Don’t look at me that way…” you said softly.

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m a bit uncomfortable with you being home alone talking to your ex-husband who just happens to put his hands on you when he isn’t happy.” You could see that he was now getting a bit frustrated, and you bit your lip. Hoseok stopped the swing that Hyo Bin was on and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you said. “Don’t apologize, you have every right to be upset with me.” You said simply. “I just…I was trying to trust him with this. I know he loves those girls, I never thought he would do anything to hurt them. But her teacher said that a lot of what Min Ja is getting anxious over is based on what Weong-Bin has said to her.” Hoseok nodded. “And I think I knew that deep down but I was in such denial that he would go so far as to manipulating Min Ja-.” your voice cracked, emotions overwhelming you as those words left your mouth. “I need to know why; I need to hear him tell me what the hell is going through his mind right now.” Hoseok nodded. “So, I’ll be dropping Min Ja off, and hopefully is So-Hee is there, she’ll hold onto Hyo Bin for me. I don’t want either of them there.”

“Okay.” He said, finally lifting Hyo Bin from the swing. “Then let’s head home and get ready.” You nodded, turning around to see Min Ja walking over to you from her hiding place.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” She asked softly.

“No, sweetie.” You assured, taking her hands. “Let’s go home and get ready for dance class, okay?” Min Ja nodded and smiled a bit.

When you had gotten the girls home, Hoseok left early to prepare for his classes. You had gotten the girls ready, putting Min Ja in her cute little ballet outfit and tutu, and put Hyo Bin in a little casual tee shirt and pants that were not covered in playground woodchips. You kept thinking about how upset Hoseok was at the idea that you and Weong-Bin would be alone, and you knew he was right.

Why do I always give him second chances? You thought to yourself as you stood in front of the microwave, heating up some leftovers for the girls to eat quickly. I feel like I know exactly what is going to happen tonight, and yet I’m still doing it. I’m so stupid.

The sound of the microwave beeping pulled you from your thoughts and made you get back on track to get your children to dance on time. You dropped Min Ja off in her class, and after staying to talk to So-Hee and a few of the other mother’s you had begun to befriend, you checked the time. Weong-Bin would be arriving at your house soon, and you needed to hurry up getting home. Luckily, So-Hee offered to hold Hyo Bin for the duration of the lesson, but in return, you had to call her when the conversation was over. Before you headed out, you stopped in Hoseok’s studio. Peeking in, you saw he was training up a group of teenagers, the faint sound of hip-hop and shoes squeaking against the tiles coming from behind the closed door. You didn’t want to interrupt him, by the grin on his face as he led the group, he was busy and he was having fun. So, you fixed your bag and headed out of the studio.

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

When you got home, Weong-Bin was waiting by the door. He was on the phone with someone, pacing back and forth in front of your door as he waited for you. When he saw you, his pacing came to a stop.

“I’ll call you back.” He said to whoever he was talking to, before hanging up and stuffing his phone in his pocket. “I’ve been here for like 10 minutes waiting for you.”

“Well sorry, but I had to walk here from the dance studio that, shockingly, is a 10-minute walk.” You walked past him, unlocking the door to the apartment. Before stepping in, you turned to him. “Here’s the deal.” You said quickly. “I just want to talk. If you try to start anything or get too crazy, I will scream at the top of my lungs.” Weong-Bin chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever.” He said. You hesitated for a moment, and Weong-Bin frowned. “Open the fucking door and let’s get this over with!” He said. Instinctively, you flung the door open and stepped inside, Weong-Bin following behind you. “Now…” he closed the door behind him and took off his shoes. “Let’s talk.” You walked into the living room, taking a deep breath.

“What have you been telling Min Ja?” you asked curiously, turning to him. “And don’t lie to me. Those pictures prove that you told her something that is making her anxious, and is making her distant from Hoseok.”

“I’m not telling her anything that isn’t true.” He said simply.

“Then why do all these pictures tell a different story? Why does Mrs. Song say anytime she talks about her feelings it’s about you?”

“Oh please, that lady is a total crackpot liar.” He scoffed. “She’s either exaggerating or flat out lying, and I won’t stand for it.”

“Oh please, don’t try and play the victim to me. Now, what the hell have you been telling Min Ja?” Weong-Bin didn’t answer. “Weong-Bin!”

“Do not raise your voice at me!” He snapped angrily. “Do you understand?!” You stepped back, and Weong-Bin stopped. “…All I told her was that I missed her and wanted to see her every day. She said she wanted the same thing. I wasn’t lying.”

“…Why the fuck would you tell her that?!” You shouted. “What, did you think that if Min Ja wanted you to move back in I would just drop everything and do it? Are you out of your mind!? You’re manipulating a five-year-old girl into an anxiety disorder so you can get what you want?!”

“I’m not manipulating anyone.” He said simply. “She wants me to move back in. She wants us to be a family again. But I told her if Hoseok is here, then I can’t. Tell me where the lie is, there’s no lie. It’s just facts. Maybe she’s upset because she rather has me living here than Hoseok.” You blinked, staring at him for a moment in total surprise. “What? You asked me to talk to her about it, and I did. I told her if she wanted me to move in, then Hoseok couldn’t live with you.”

“I did not ask you to talk to her about having to choose between you or Hoseok!” you said simply.

“Well, you did. So congrats, you fucked your daughter up.”

“Me?!” You snapped. “How dare you! I’ve been trying endlessly to make her feel comfortable, to make her happy and calm and try to help her however I could! I thought I could trust you to be on my side for this. I know you don’t like Hoseok, and quite frankly I don’t care, but how could you pull your daughter into this for your own selfish gain? What did you want to get out of this?!”

“I said stop yelling at me.” He said simply, putting his hands in his pockets.

“No! The one time I try to work on this together, for the betterment of our daughter and you feed her lies! How could you ever make her pick between the two of you? She cares about Hoseok and you so much, she didn’t have any problems with him….” You felt your eyes water. “But just because you couldn’t get what you wanted you had to hurt her so bad…And I thought you loved those girls.”

“I do!” He snapped, storming up to you and closing any distance between you. “Don’t you ever say I don’t love those girls. I love them more than anything on this planet.”

“Then why couldn’t you just accept that Hoseok makes them happy and move on?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“Because he’s not their father, I am. I’m the one who is supposed to be in their lives, not him. If he wants his own family, he can go ahead and find his own, he doesn’t need to take what’s mine away from me.”

“We aren’t yours! We are not your property! You need to stop telling yourself that we are! Besides, I divorced you long before I even knew Hoseok was coming back into the area, and I knew even then I had no intention of ever getting back together with you!” Weong-Bin finally stepped back, and you could see the anger behind his eyes. “…I can’t believe I tried to trust you. I can’t believe that I told myself you would never do anything to hurt your kids.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said simply. “…This is all your fault, you know.”

“M-my fault?” you asked softly. “What do you mean?” Weong-Bin couldn’t help but scoff.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean.” He said. “If you had not-.” he stopped, covering his mouth as he tried to think of what to say. “If you hadn’t fucked up…when Min Ja was little when we were trying to-.” He stopped again. “If you didn’t fuck up then, this never would have happened.” It took you a moment to think about what he was saying, what memory he could possibly be thinking about. Then, you realized. It was the moment that pinpointed exactly when the marriage began to fell apart. And you couldn’t believe he even brought it up.

“…That…that wasn’t my fault.” You choked out. “That wasn’t my fault, and you know it!”

“Well, it wasn’t mine! I wasn’t the one that was pregnant!” You covered your mouth. “Everything changed because you fucked up!”

“Oh my god, how could blame me? Do you think I wanted things to turn out this way?!”

“I said…” he turned back to you. “To stop shouting at me.” You took a deep breath and he scoffed. “What? Are you going to scream?”

“Only if you keep threatening me.” You said simply, wiping your eyes. “Please, just stop. We’re not talking about anything except for what you said to Min Ja. How you made you think that my relationship was bad and that you should move back in. She had a meltdown when she overheard me and Hoseok talking about moving in together.”

“Well, maybe she doesn’t want that to happen.” He said simply. “She’s a smart girl.”

“She is…” You said softly. “She’s so smart, even smarter than me. That’s why it kills me that she’s still a little five-year-old, who loves her father enough to the point that she trusts him wholeheartedly.” You turned your body away from him and shook your head. “I hope when she gets older, she views you for the monster you truly are.” Weong-Bin frowned, walking over to you. She walked over, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around to face him. Right as your eyes fell onto him, the blurry vision of something lifted up, and the next thing you knew, your cheek was throbbing. You stumbled back a bit, holding your cheek as you looked up at him, seeing his hand raised in his air, and somewhat shaking. The anger in his eyes had returned, and he was furious. “Weong-Bin, please-.”

“I’m sick and tired of your shit.” He hissed. “This is what you get when you piss me the fuck off.”  You stepped back some more, but he pulled you close to him again, and he reached his hand up to tug at your hair. “You’re conspiring against me, aren’t you? If anyone is manipulating Min Ja here, it’s you. Telling her all these awful things about me, making me look like the criminal when all I wanted to do was be a good father!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have anything to say if you didn’t do stuff like this!” You shouted. “Let go of me! You’re hurting me!”

“I’m hurting you? You’re hurting me! It kills me every time I have to sit and see that…that prick with my daughters, with my wife! It kills me, and you don’t even care because you’re selfish!” Once again, he slapped you, before slamming you up against the wall. You felt your body bounce off the wall, shaking as you sank down to the floor, looking up at Weong-Bin. In the entirety of your marriage, Weong-Bin’s abuse was emotional. He would worm his way into your head, feeding you lies and false information to get you thinking in a way that would only benefit him. It was a tactic that left no visible scars. Everyone always told you he could escalate to physical abuse, but you refused to believe them. When it finally did, you refused to acknowledge it. You angrily defended him for as long as you could, even after the divorce, even after you witnessed his escalation yourself.

“You need to leave!” You snapped. “Now, or I’ll call the police!”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me!” Your cheeks were still throbbing. “I can’t believe I still try to trust you enough. I only do it because you’re the girl’s father, or else I would never want to talk to you again!”

“No, you do it because you’re still head over heels in love with me, you little slut.”

“What?!”

“That’s right! You want me back so badly, it kills you! But you’ll never admit it because you like seeing boys fight over you.”

“You’re absolutely insane!” You said.

“Shut up!” He snapped, grabbing a little plant on the coffee table and flinging it against the wall, just barely missing you and shattering at your side. One of the pieces of glass grazes your leg, and you felt the sting wash over you. “Just shut up, you bitch!” As you quickly got to your feet, Weong-Bin was quick to slam you back into the wall to stop you from moving. “Don’t fucking move!” He ordered.

“You need to leave, now!” Your ears were ringing, and you were almost positive that someone had called the police due to all the noise, and if they did, you were hoping they would be at the house soon because you didn’t know if Weong-Bin was going to continue, or take your advice and leave. Finally, Weong-Bin scoffed. He walked over to where you, and yanked you up to your feet. Just as you tried to get your balance, he slammed his hand against the wall.  “Stop.” You said quickly.

“Why? You’re not doing anything to stop me. Have you finally come to realize that you’re absolutely nothing without me? Are you going to apologize for what you’ve done to our daughter?”

“Please, stop.” You begged again.

“You know how much I hated this. I’m just as upset as you. But you need to finally fucking learn what happens when you talk to me that way when you try with all your might to destroy my family.” You were silent for a moment, and he slammed his hands against the wall again, making you shriek and shake in shock. “Well?! Answer me!”

“Someone’s going to call the cops.”

“So what? You’re not going to say anything. You never do~.” He smirked a devilish smirk that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll see you tomorrow night to pick up the girls~.” He cooed. You blinked, watching him walk out the door. He slammed it shut, the sound making you flinch.

The apartment was now silent, and you finally walked back out into the living room. Looking around, you saw the flower pot that Weong-Bin had shattered against the wall. A hand raised and touched your cheek, and you felt your body was shaking. As you walked to the couch, your body collapsed onto it and you rolled over on your side, hiding your cheek that was still throbbing as you covered your face.

Hopefully, when you woke up, this would all just be a bad dream. Or at least, that your body would finally stop hurting.

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[krreader]

sweet dream.

pairing: kim namjoon x kim taehyung x reader fandom: bts warnings: threesome (duh) ; sex ; oral sex ; anal sex ; spanking ; hair pulling ; degradation ; dirty talk ; daddy kink ; choking ; language genre: smut

a/n: I realize I haven’t posted a super smutty imagine in a while, so I need to change that asap. at first I wanted this to be a scenario, but then I figured that if you want all the goodies with kinks and stuff I should just focus on two members, so HERE IT IS

ask box | masterlists | faq | twitter | ko-fi | REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

Neither Namjoon, nor Taehyung would usually do something like this. None of BTS would, they were too careful for that, had too much on the line to lose.. But this was a foreign country, they haven't been with someone sexually for a long time – thank you Bang PD for all the tours – and you looked.. well..

“I think she's doing this on purpose,” Taehyung muttered under his breath as he watched you get out of the water, the sun reflecting on your wet skin like there were a million of diamonds shining through it.

If either of them had to describe a goddess in that moment, they would have just pointed at you.

“Definitely.”

You were staying in the same hotel they were staying in, had met them as you had arrived the same day they had and had waited to get your key card at the same time as them.

That's when they first noticed you. All of them. But it was Taehyung and Namjoon that had stood right next to you in that moment.

“Are you guys on a family vacation?” you had chuckled, looking at all the people surrounding them. It wasn't just the boys, it was the team as well.

Because as much as they would have liked coming here for pleasure, it was partly for work too. It always was.

“No,” Namjoon had laughed, being the first to get out of his trance.

“A.. college friends vacation?” you had continued to guess.

“Most of them didn't even go to college, so no, not that one either.”

“Work,” Taehyung had grinned, leaning casually against the front desk and clearly trying to impress you. And even if he looked a little ridiculous when trying so hard, his smile had made up for it.

“Wow.. wish I could say I come to places like this for work.”

That's when the three receptionists that took care of Bangtan had returned and had given out the key cards they all required for their hotel rooms.

Namjoon and Taehyung's eyes were still on you when they had passed you and had said their goodbye's. Those of the other boys as well, but you only focused on them. Not that the others weren't handsome, it was just that the combination of these two was.. fascinating you.

“You two should share a room,” Yoongi had said once the elevator doors were closed, “Then you can jerk each other off when thinking about her.”

The entire elevator filled with BTS and staff members had laughed, but they actually did end up getting a room together. Through drawing straws.

Call it destiny.

And then when they had walked over to their room, they had found you stopping at the door next to theirs to insert your key card.

And then it was definitely destiny.

“I know we shouldn't, but..-” Taehyung began, his eyes still on your wet body.

“Stop it,” Namjoon scolded, shifting a little because certain parts were slowly but surely becoming uncomfortable to deal with, “We can't risk it.”

“Look at her, hyung,” he bit his lower lip and cocked his head to the side, “Just.. imagine it in your head and tell me you don't want her as much as I do.”

Because that's what Taehyung was doing right now. He was imagining it that you were this wet not from the pool, but because of how much you sweated under him. How hard and long he fucked you and that's the reason why you looked like that.. god. It drove him insane.

“It doesn't matter what I want, we can't..-” but just when he wanted to finish his sentence, you spotted them and walked over to them with a confident smile and no hesitation. One that had Namjoon pull the towel over his legs higher to hide what an effect you had on him.

“So.. are you two busy tonight?”

“No,” both of the boys said in unison.

So much for not risking it.

“Do you guys want to grab a drink or something? Just.. hang out?”

Namjoon tried to tell himself that this was a good idea because this didn't necessarily mean anything sexual per say. This just meant a friendly night out with a person that might become a good friend.

Taehyung, however, answered before Namjoon finished his thought process.

Because he stopped giving a fuck the second he saw you in that bikini.

He wanted you.

Period.

“Sure! We'll come and get you, okay?”

“Awesome,” and with that and another smile, you turned back around and walked back inside the hotel, quickly pulling a summer dress over your head and swaying your hips just enough to have both of the boys exhale slowly.

“This isn't about drinks though, right?” Taehyung whispered, hope laced in his voice.

“No.. definitely not,” Namjoon replied, but then turned around to look at Tae for a final confirmation and said: “Are you sure about this?”

It was usually the other way around, but today it was Namjoon who needed the last push.

And Taehyung was willing to give it to him with a smile and wiggling eyebrows.

“It'll be the best night we've had in a long time, hyung. I know it!”

And so later that night, they knocked at your hotel room looking like rich daddies with their expensive watches and their nice shirts, smelling and looking like they just bathed with a bunch of Greek gods.

And so now it was you that let out a shaky breath when you opened the door and found them looking like this.

You had genuinely wanted to grab drinks first and then see where it would lead, but your legs were trembling just from looking at them. Your entire body was itching to touch them, to feel them and to be devoured by them.

And your look must have given it away from how they were smirking at you.

These bastards knew how good-looking they were..

“You want to uh.. come in?” you cleared your throat and stepped aside, both boys doing so right away.

But once that door was closed and once your eyes met again as you were now standing in front of your bed, the sexual tension just.. exploded.

Taehyung was a lot more eager than Namjoon was. He had wanted this from the second he had laid his eyes on you, so he took a large step towards you and cupped your face with his big hands, kissing you like he needed it to breathe, but simultaneously, taking your breath away from how good only a kiss from him felt. His tongue was moving against yours with no real aim, but he didn’t need one. Feeling him was enough.. every part of him.

Your eyes were closed, your focus was on Taehyung, but when you felt two hands on your waist from behind, you remembered that it wasn't just him..

..and you wanted Namjoon just as much as you wanted Tae.

So you shifted your attention, gently pushed Taehyung's hands away to turn around in Namjoon's arms and kissed him just as passionately.

Whereas Taehyung was eager and sloppy, Namjoon was an expert. He knew where to bite and where to put pressure on for your core to begin dripping. He knew what you wanted, or more importantly, what you needed.

And while you enjoyed that fully and let yourself become immersed in the kiss, Taehyung got down on his knees behind you and pushed up your dress until it was above your ass. He started kissing the back of your thighs, started biting and sucking on it so much that you knew he would leave marks.

But you loved that.

Because that meant that you would have something to remember this night by for the rest of the week.

And it seemed like it wasn't just marks from his mouth he wanted to leave, because you suddenly yelped when he had gotten back up and brought his hand down on your ass.

He hadn't been sure at first if you were into it, but then you let your head fall back against his shoulder and closed your eyes with pleasure, moaning out louder when he did it again.

“I knew you would like it,” he grinned wickedly, biting your ear lobe and beginning to massage one of your boobs with his right hand while Namjoon unbuttoned his shirt.

And the second it was exposed, your hands seemed to wander on their own. They wanted to touch and feel every inch of it and just doing so made you let out another moan.

“Tell us what you want,” he whispered, cupping your cheek with one hand and looking directly into your eyes.

He had been so unsure about all of this before, but now it felt so fucking right.

“You.. both of you,” you whined, arching your back when Taehyung had pushed your bra aside and was now fully massaging your naked boob.

“No, baby girl. I want you to tell us exactly what you want.”

So that's how he wanted this to go, huh?

Well, you wouldn't be embarrassed by it, certainly not right now when Taehyung was making you feel this way and Namjoon was looking at you like whatever you'd say, he'd comply with.

“I want.. I want you to be on top of me and..-”

“And?”

It was increasingly getting harder for you to think, Taehyung's other hand now wandering from your ass to your front, beginning to rub over your clothed clit with just the right amount of pressure for you to push your ass back against his boner.

“To fuck me. Hard.”

“And what about Taehyung? What do you want him to do?”

“I want to suck his dick.”

That was most certainly music in his ears.

Once that was out of the way, you all began undressing each other. Well, the boys undressed you first and then eyed you like you were a three course meal as you were lying on bed and both of them were standing in front of the bed.

The stares made you blush, but you weren’t exactly embarrassed. Just.. really, really exposed.

“I want to taste you,” Namjoon has always been one for oral, especially when it came down to giving it. And you looked so fucking good right now, your legs spread apart for them and your pussy clearly being wet from all the teasing and dirty talk. So he wasted no time kneeling down in front of the bed and pulling you closer by your legs, eating you out like no man has ever done before.

His teeth took your clit between his teeth, gently biting down on it and making you moan out his name so loudly that you were sure the people in the room next to you have heard it.

And while you could barely keep your eyes open and were already pulling on his hair and begging him to give you more, Taehyung opened up his pants and gave himself a few strokes as he was watching the scene play out in front.

He would have been content with that, but again, you weren't here for just one, but two of them.

And so when Namjoon gave you three seconds to breathe, you used them to reach out and grab Taehyung's dick, replacing his hand with yours and beginning to jerk him off.

Hard.

“Fuck,” he moaned, watching your hand glide up and down and then focusing on your face, “You're so good..”

“She tastes even better,” Namjoon grinned, inserting first one, then two fingers into your pussy, before he curled them inside of you – which made you almost scream – and then pull them out to let Taehyung suck them off, “Don’t you think?”

“So sweet,” he nodded, now grinning as well and licking over his teeth, “Jackpot.”

“If you two are done talking,” you began, trying to breathe normally again, your chest heaving heavily, which only made you look ten times more attractive, “I'd appreciate it if one of you fucked me properly now.”

“If I were anyone else,” Namjoon began, pushing his pants down and stepping out of them, giving himself a few pumps like Taehyung had and then pulling the condom over his dick, before positioning himself at your entrance, still standing in front of the bed, “I'd marry you.”

“Not looking for a husband, Namjoon,” you pushed yourself up on your elbows, just enough so you could take Taehyung's dick into your mouth, letting your tongue glide around his tip for a second, before releasing it again with a plop and having Taehyung swear loudly, “Or two..”

“Is that so?” and so without teasing your entrance, he pushed into you without mercy, giving you a few moments to adjust to it, but only so he could tease you with his words without interruption, “You're a little slut, aren't you?”

“Can't you tell?” Taehyung moaned once you got up on your elbows again and began sucking him off for real this time, “Look at her.. look how her spit is running down her chin, because of how desperate she is for our dicks.. look how she’s taking your dick, hyung.. she wants this so much..”

“Yeah, you like this, don't you?” Namjoon grabbed one of your legs and pushed it up a little higher so that he could get a better angle. And when he pulled out of you again and pushed into you just as hard as the first time, he realized just how much you liked it, “Count your orgasms tonight, baby girl. And then remember us for the rest of your lives..”

You didn't know what to expect, a lot of men bragged before sex about how good they were, but fuck.. Namjoon? Namjoon knew what he was doing.

He knew the pressure and the speed that made you see stars. He found your g-spot within the first ten minutes. Ten. That's when the first orgasm hit you. And he didn’t even have to touch your clit..

At least they let you come down from the first one, but only because they wanted to switch positions.

Because suddenly you were turned around and pulled down from the bed and without even realizing it, Namjoon was replaced by Taehyung and it was now his dick inside of you.

He was longer than Namjoon’s, but not as thick as his. It was a different feeling that made the sensation feel brand new again, but he felt just as good buried inside of you as Namjoon had.

“Is it good?” Taehyung whispered as he pulled your head back by your hair, his other hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing just enough to enhance the pleasure you and him were feeling.

In the meantime, Namjoon pushed himself in front of you, only to sit down where you had just laid and had been fucked by him.

And then Taehyung pushed you down again, letting go of your hair and throat. Yet you still couldn't breathe. This time, because your mouth was filled with Namjoon's dick. And because of how hard Taehyung was fucking you from behind, you were taking Namjoon’s dick deeper into your throat. Deeper than you could usually handle.

You gagged a lot, but forced yourself to focus on your breathing.

Especially because the older member was moaning so fucking loudly and was clearly enjoying it so much.

“You’re doing so well, baby girl,” he moaned, his hand holding your hair back to watch you suck him off, “And you look even better..”

And once Taehyung began to spank you again and again, your body decided that it was time for orgasm number two, your walls clenching around Taehyung and making him moan harder, stopping for a second after he was sure that your height was over and enjoying the tightness and warmth of it for a second, before he pulled you up again and pushed you onto Namjoon.

You didn't even have to ask, you just grabbed his dick and positioned it until you could easily slide down.

“Fuck,” you both moaned out in unison.

You weren't as fast as the boys were, but were gradually riding him, really enjoying the feeling of it and trying to get the maximum amount of pleasure possible.

And because of how your clit was now being stimulated, the third orgasm happened within five minutes, your head falling back and wanting to moan again, but Taehyung wrapped his hand around your throat once again and shoved his tongue inside of your mouth, the kiss muffling your third orgasm.

However, Namjoon didn't have enough.

He waited for Taehyung to let go of you, before he laid on his back and grabbed your waist, holding you tight as he began pushing up into you. So hard that you fell forward, your hair all over his face and moaning into his ear.

“You feel so good, daddy.”

“Daddy,” Taehyung chuckled, brushing your hair back and lying down next to you, “God, we knew you were a slut.”

“You want daddy to go harder, baby girl?” Namjoon asked into your ear, his hands wandering to your ass and beginning to kneed it, “You want him to fuck you until you cry and beg him to stop?”

“Yes, please.”

He did so for a moment, Taehyung only watching as he continued to jerk himself off.

But then he became bored of his own hand eventually. Why jerk himself off when you had more to offer?

So he asked: “(Y/N)? Have you ever tried anal?”

You were so far gone, were moaning so loudly, that you couldn't answer him properly. Instead, you felt around for Taehyung's hand and tried to pull him off the bed and behind you.

That seemed to be answer enough.

But Taehyung wasn't stupid. He prepared you for it first. He did everything he needed for you to be ready to take him.

And he knew it would be easier for him to fuck your ass than for Namjoon because of the thickness of his hyung’s dick.

And while you had already reached your fourth climax, Taehyung stood between Namjoon's legs and carefully buried himself inside of you, inch by inch, until he couldn’t see his dick anymore.

And then it was over for all three of you.

It seemed as if your walls were only becoming tighter and wetter from this extra satisfaction and Namjoon could feel it all. He had been close before but now he knew he wouldn't last much longer.

Taehyung enjoyed himself thoroughly either way, anal always having been something he had liked doing.

And you?

Well, you were currently being fucked by two guys that were the hottest men you have ever been with, both of them knowing exactly what they were doing to make you scream and..

..they were right.

You would not forget them. Ever.

You had been the first to reach your final orgasm, the pleasure just being so overwhelming that you couldn't take it anymore. And from the clenching of your walls, Namjoon was next, spilling himself inside the condom he was wearing.

And then finally it was Tae, after his fingers dug so hard into your skin that you thought you might start to bleed where he pushed into.

By the end you three were all lying in your bed covered in sweat and other.. things, you in the middle of the boys, your head on Namjoon's chest, while your leg was tangled with Taehyung's.

And because of how exhausted you were, you fell asleep within minutes.

The boys wouldn't spend the night, couldn’t, but they did enjoy a few more minutes with you.

“I know I said she wouldn't forget this, but..-” Taehyung grinned when he turned his head to look at his hyung, “I won't forget her either.”

“Same,” Namjoon chuckled, brushing his hand through his damp hair, “Never.”

[nympsycho-ao3]

I've been sick for the past week and I really just want daddy kak to come take care of me

I wrote a little something for you, anon. :)

AO3 Link

You sniffle and whimper, curling up into the blankets like they’re your salvation. You instantly regret it though, the bone-aching chill that previously wracked your body instead making way for a feverish flush of your core. You gripe, frustrated, rolling your eyes back as you search for the answer to your body’s confusing demands.

It’s then that you hear the front door open and close. Your gut sinks, your eyes flashing to the clock on the wall; shit, was it already six o’clock? And you hadn’t made dinner or tidied up the house, leaving it cold and barren. And he was already home… the one time he finishes up work early… and...

You prepare your apologies as the bedroom door creaks open, a rush of fresh air sending another chill through your body. Familiar footsteps, heavy from the heel of his brogue work shoes, approach you with a steady coolness that you hadn’t realized you’d missed.

Before you can speak, you feel a stony palm cup the roundness of your forehead. You inch away, ashamed by your unwashed, untidy hair, but the cool hand follows you, brushing a strand of it behind your ear. Your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the refreshing coolness, the words you’d scripted suddenly falling short to the flutter in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage, your voice groggy and stuffy.

He hums, his thumb rubbing your cheek. 

“Don’t be silly,” his suave voice insists, bringing you back down to Earth. You dare to lock eyes with him, his kind, violet irises poignant even in the dusky dimness of your bedroom. “I picked something up for you.”

You wonder how he knew to do such a thing. It doesn’t matter, though, as he reveals a paper bag that he’d held by his side. Through your stuffy nose, you smell a hint of thyme and schmaltz, though you can’t be sure.

He pulls up a desk chair to the bedside, straddling the back of it. You smile lazily, matching his expression, as he takes a moment to roll up his sleeves. You watch as thin, deft fingers work at the cufflinks on his wrists before folding the hems up towards his elbows. He’s always been a tad lanky, but he’s never been without the bulk of muscle. The shadows catch on the musculature and veins of his arms as he reaches into the bag, still donning his tie; you think about how unusual that is, considering his tie is usually the first thing he looks forward to ripping off as soon as he gets home.

He retrieves a packaged bowl, obviously prepared by someone other than himself. You haven’t had an appetite all day, but now with something being offered to you so kindly, you start to feel your mouth wetten with saliva.

“I’d make something for you, but we know how well that ended up last time,” he jokes, his sprig of ginger hair bouncing with his smile. You return the gesture, giggling to yourself, remembering the sight of him in oven mits, panicked, gripping a sheet pan containing what might as well have been hockey pucks.

He opens the lid, steam and succulence brimming into the air with a puff. You sniff, your sinuses not quite happy with your decision, and hum happily with the promise of chicken soup. You move to free yourself from the cocoon of blankets you’ve entrapped yourself within, only for the freezing air to quickly change your plans.

“Shh…” he murmurs, cupping your cheek. He settles you back into bed, fluffing your pillow, tucking you back in. You shiver, embarrassed, though you’re not sure if your blush is from the fever or the ridiculous scenario you’ve gotten yourself into.

Kakyoin, always so strong and wise for you, stirs the soup with a plastic spoon. Your eyes feel heavy from puffiness and exhaustion, but you can’t take them off of the movement, watching his forearms tense and relax with the motion.

He offers you a spoonful only after he blows on it gently, making sure it isn’t too hot. You wonder if he’s kidding, feeding you like a baby; it’s only after he touches the tip of the spoon to your bottom lip that you realize he’s serious. You smile weakly as you part your lips to accept it, enjoying the warmth and flavor of something other than ginger ale.

He smiles, wordless, as he continues to feed you one slow spoonful at a time. You stop shivering sometime between the moment you realize he’s staring at you and the filling of your belly, satisfied and comfortable.

He’s always so attuned to your needs, picking up on the most minute of signals that you don’t even know you express. He sets the soup on the bedside table and drags his thumb across your bottom lip to clear it; if you weren’t so sick, you’d have died from embarrassment.

“Have you taken any medicine?” he asks quietly, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you with his voice.

You shake your head, pouting your lip against his thumb.

He tsks, though it isn’t genuine. You watch him retrieve another item from the paper bag, a carefully selected syrup from the pharmacy down the street. The thought of artificial cherry flavor nauseates you, but watching him dutifully read the label and precisely measure the medicine in the cup humbles you into acceptance.

He only has to tilt his chin for you to part your lips again, wincing as the syrup coats your tongue. You force yourself to swallow, eyes clenched shut, curling into yourself with disgust. 

When you open them again, you find that he’s offering you the mysterious contents of a lidded paper cup. You blink, smelling the familiar floral bouquet of your favorite tea from the coffee shop downtown. Before you can question him, he holds the cup to your lips, and you’re too thankful for something warm and sweet to wash away the taste of medicine from your mouth.

While you take a moment to collect yourself, Kakyoin rises. You follow him with your eyes as he sets the chair back into its rightful place.

“Thank… thank you,” you mutter, finally warm enough to venture from your blanket burrito to sit up and grasp the cup of tea with shaky hands.

“Why didn’t you call me? I’d have been home sooner,” Kakyoin asks, crossing the room to study the shelf cluttered with all sorts of odds and ends that you’ve collected.

You don’t have an answer that you’re willing to share. You didn’t want to worry him, or worse, disappoint him.

He doesn’t pry you for an answer, instead bringing you a well-loved book, pages dogeared and paper cover worn. You smile, taking the book only to settle it into your lap. You’ve been meaning to finish it, too busy with work and keeping a home to do so.

“How did you know?” you question, thumbing through the pages to keep from idling. 

Kakyoin shrugs animatedly as he approaches you once more, flipping his tie over his shoulder. He leans in close to you, nuzzling your nose with his, a wordless profession of his love that you’ve come to know intimately. He kisses your lips gently, hesitating when you don’t reciprocate.

“I’ll get you sick,” you murmur, watching his eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes.

“Hm…” he responds, obviously disregarding your concern amicably as he leans in for another kiss. This time, you humor him, his lips impossibly smooth against yours, chapped from dehydration. You hope he doesn’t notice, but he does.

He just doesn’t care.

He settles you back into bed with an insistent press of your lips, deepening the kiss as the pillow cradles your head. You notice that he’s avoiding the question, but you’d have to wait for his lips to loosen to get your answer.

“Get some rest, my dear,” he whispers, kissing your cheek with finality.

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You’d been napping on and off all day, but coughs and sniffles kept you from dreaming. For the first time all day, you feel relaxed enough to try and get some quality rest. The idea of reading the book falls to the wayside with the promise of some sleep. You set it on the bedside table instead.

Kakyoin tries to leave seamlessly, but you don’t let that happen.

“Nori?” you peep, just before Kakyoin was to close the door. He leaves it ajar, stilled by your voice.

“Can you stay with me?” 

He can’t deny you, especially not when you ask so sweetly. He makes his way back into the room, kicking off his shoes and unfurling his tie. You make room for him on his side of the bed as he tosses it aside, unpopping the first few buttons on his shirt.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, obviously concerned about the quality of your rest should he be there to disturb it.

“If you’re willing to spoil me just a bit more,” you jeer, curling up next to him with a drape of your arm. You settle into the crook of his chest, his scent filling your sore sinuses, much to your relief.

The idea appeals to him, apparently. You settle into the blankets that he holds up for you, the weight of his presence more comforting than even the plushest quilt. He cradles you, kissing the top of your head, feeling your chest rise and fall into subdued regularity. He whispers your name to check if you’re awake, pleased to find that indeed, you’d drifted off to sleep.

His focus shifts to Hierophant, glittering into reality with a soft, green illumination. He reveals the tendrils that encircle your bedroom, keeping a curious eye on you while he’s away at work. A wordless thanks to his Stand is all it took for him to settle into the almost uncomfortable heat of your body, giving you a little squeeze before letting his eyes drift shut.

One of Hierophant’s tendrils draws the curtains, closing off the sunset’s fluorescent light and making way for peaceful dark. 

[tiny-cloud-dragon]

Random Bits: FF7 03

I’m actually not sure I’ve already posted this here or not, so I’ going to post it (possibly again)

[Setting - Cloud finally finds out what gets under Zack’s skin.]

[Location - the streets of Midgar Edge - noon.]

A disembodied Angeal Head floated across the velvety black screen of Cloud's memory, bouncing slowly in random directions like the ghost of an old Windows Logo screensaver. 

"Go take a walk!" it commanded with each ricochet.

It was joined by a Zack Head, which also began bouncing randomly around and repeating "No, don't eat him!"

Cloud scowled to himself as the memory flickered unbidden across the backs of his eyelids.

*woowoowooscenetransitionwoowoowoo*

1st Class SOLDIER Timothy Titsworth burst into the conference room with the force of an angry soccer mom who has just found out her little angel was allowed to watch a PG-13 movie. Known as "Tiddy" (because there was no joining an army without acquiring some kind of weird, cool, humorous, or downright embarrassing nickname that you either loved or hated), Timothy showed great promise as a SOLDIER, but he was overly ambitious, and more than a bit egotistical.  

"What the hell, Tiddy!" Angeal barked, rising from his seat at the conference table, where he had been discussing plans for the upcoming Games with Zack, Cloud, and President Rufus Shinra.

"What the hell, indeed, Sir!" Titsworth snarled, saluting as an afterthought. "I want to be assigned to a higher level training mission-!"

"No." Cloud said firmly as Angeal apologized to Rufus for the interruption. "I already told you that you aren't ready. Get out, now. I am in the middle of a meeting, and you are out of line, Private Tiddy." he continued, deliberately stressing Titsworth's rank as an unspoken reminder of who he was speaking to, and unintentionally making a pun that caused Zack to make a very un-General like snorting sound.

Titsworth looked at Zack like a miffed child hoping that Daddy might say 'yes', even though Mommy  had already said 'no'. 

"General Fair, I-!"

The room was suddenly full of angry dragon. Papers scattered, people made exclamations of surprise, chairs tipped, and someone laughed as Cloud Shifted into his ELIETE form and, with mouth gaping, lunged across the desk at Titsworth. 

Zack jumped on Cloud's long neck, landing just behind his head, and managed to grab the long, whisker/tendril/moustache/feeler thingies trailing from the sides of his snout and hauled on them like reins while shouting "No, don't eat him!"

Massive jaws with long fangs snapped shut inches from Titsworth's face and Cloud goose-honked in pained surprise, pulling his head up and back, twisting it from side to side while backing up as he tried to relieve the sharp pulling on his face feelers.  He Shifted back to his normal shape, leaving Zack sitting in mid-air for the length of an eye blink before gravity caught up with reality and he crashed to the floor.

Zack immediately bounced up and grabbed Cloud by the arm before he could lunge at Titsworth again.

"Go take a walk, "Angeal snapped at Cloud, who was all scowls and hisses. 

"But what about-!" Titsworth began from where he had fetched up against the wall. Like a terrier with a rat, he was not about to let the argument go, out of either a poor sense of self-preservation, or out-right stupidity.

"Shut up, before I tell General Fair to let him go, and we end up having to send your mother an 'In Sympathy for Your Loss' card!" Angeal snapped with that tight-lipped, angry-eyed expression that most teens didn't even have to see to know it was being made. It was an expression that had its own sound. 

Titsworth huffed, but closed his mouth. He remained on the floor, sitting very still as Cloud stormed out of the room. Dragons were like cats. They would go after anything that moved, so it was best not to draw their attention.

*woowoowooscenetransitionwoowoowoo* Cloud shook his head at the memory, causing the Heads to bounce violently around and collide with each other with a double "ouch!" before they faded away. He was only mildly annoyed by now, having walked several blocks, but he couldn't help but feel unjustly put-upon. It wasn't like he'd chosen his ELITE form, and he couldn't help that it would sometimes take over.  It wasn't his fault that dragons had a very simple idea of what constituted 'conflict resolution', and that it mostly involved eating whomever caused the conflict. 

Go take a walk...

Cloud would have rather gone out for a nice long flight. It was much more fun, and relaxing, but it did tend to stir up the city's inhabitants. There was just something about a black winged shadow passing overhead that would send people screaming in panic. Old instincts died hard, and deep in most the primitive part of their brains, people were still just small, soft-bodied squeaky creatures hiding under leaves and flinching at shadows.

He turned a corner and continued walking briskly along the shop lined street, noticing that other pedestrians were trying to avoid him without looking like they were avoiding him. It might have worked, if it had been one or two individuals. There is just nothing subtle about an entire crowd suddenly crossing to the other side of the street.  

Cloud found himself completely alone on the sidewalk. That was fine with him. At least he didn't have to feel like he was in the middle of a school of salmon during their running season. 

The ponderous growl of a heavy engine pulled Cloud from his musings. He paused and turned just in time to watch one of the army's humvees pull up to the curb beside him.

Zack, grinning from ear to ear, leaned toward the open passenger side window and said, in his best Creepy Witch Voice, "Need a ride little girl?"

Cloud hissed at him and resumed walking, forcing Zack to drive slowly along beside him.

"Come on, Spiky! I'm sorry I pulled your face feelers!"

Cloud pointedly ignored him.

"Don't be salty,"

Cloud kept walking.

"Don't be like that-!" Zack steered around a parked car and rolled back along side Cloud. "I'll let you work my stick-shift!"

The offer was met with an icy side eye and frigid silence.

"I'll pay you," Zack venture playfully, with a cheeky grin.

"You can't afford me." Cloud replied curtly.

Zack's grin froze, then shattered into an open mouthed gape as the comment hit him like a cast-iron lightning bolt. The hairs on the back of his neck rose at the feeling that a white-hot icicle had just been fired through his brain.

"I...did...did you...just...?" he stammered, the humvee stalling as he briefly forgot how to drive. Well, I'll be dipped in shit! Now I know how Dr. Hyansen felt! Zack thought after he recovered enough from the unexpected sarcasm that he was able to get the vehicle restarted.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Zack called as he caught up to Cloud and parked. "Just get in, okay? Look," he said, holding up a brown paper bag, "I brought shrimp yum yum sitcks!"

Cloud's eyes were instantly glued to the bag. The scent of shrimp and vegetables in a crispy wrapper covered in toasted sesame seeds hit him straight in the olfactory receptors. He struggled with himself, pushing for Caution, while the dragon part of him drooled all over Common Sense. 

It's obviously a bribe, Cloud warned the dragon.

Shrimp yum yum sticks!

No, he's using food to-!

Shrimp yum yum sticks!

But, listen, he-!

NO! SHRIMP YUM YUM STICKS!

Cloud's stomach growled, and he gave in. As he climbed into the passenger's seat, he had to laugh at himself. Hey little boy, I've got some candy in my van, he thought with a wry snort.

"What are you laughing at?" Zack asked.

"Nothing." Cloud said slightly irritated at how he would do almost anything for those stupid sticks. It was a good thing Zack hadn't brought canned cat food... Cloud snatched the bag from Zack and took a big bite out of one of the sticks while the dragon part of him happily chanted Shrimp, shrimp, shrimp, shrimp, shrimp!

"You can still work my stick-shift if you want," Zack offered jokingly, patting the shift handle. He completely missed the slight tightening around Cloud's eyes, and the tiniest of upward curving at the corners of his mouth. 

"I'll pass," Cloud replied, the words coming out slightly distorted as he shoved another yum yum stick into his mouth. "Your knob is too small."

"Wha-!" Zack all but yelped, a full body cringe slamming down his spine as his body tried to physically force the word 'knob' back out through his ears. 

"The knob," Cloud repeated as Zack cringed again, "It's, too small so it makes your hand hurt on long drives."

Zack shot him a suspicious look, but it merely ricocheted harmlessly off the look of genuine sincerity and yum yum stick crumbs on Cloud's face.

"Maybe I should put in a request for bigger knobs..." Cloud suggested, "Bigger knobs would fit more comfortably in your hand and make them easier to manipulate for longer periods of time, right?"

Zack flinched and Cloud could almost see his brain shudder as it tried to use its own stem to tear out his eardrums.

"Stop it!" Zack snapped.

"Stop what?"

"Saying...'knob',"

"What's wrong with the word 'knob'?" Cloud asked, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion while Zack cringed.

"You saying it. It's just...wrong,"

"I'm saying 'knob' wrong?"

"NO! Just stop saying it!"

"There's nothing wrong with knobs," Cloud chided. "Lot's of things have knobs," he continued while Zack cringed  and flinched along. 

"Like radios. Radios have knobs. And tv's have knobs. Dressers have knobs. Oh, and cabinets have knobs. Beds have knobs, and you can put a knob of butter on your toast. Trees have knobs too, and hands can get knobby, and even people have knobs! My mom had knobs and she said that when I annoyed her I was 'twisting her knobs'...or was that 'pushing her buttons? I forget-!"

"Stop saying 'knob'! Zack wailed, hands clamped protectively over his ears.

"Why are you getting so bent out of shape over the word 'knob'?

Zack bristled at the word, his hair lifting like the hackles of an angry wolf. It was then that he noticed the slight crinkling around Cloud's eyes.

"You dick!" Zack snarled, annoyed. "Play Backwater Dummy with me, will you?" He leaned in close, and with a malicious grin, started wiggling his eyebrows.

Cloud recoiled, Shifting into his half-form and hissing shrimp yum yum stick all over Zack's face as memories of a certain Inspector's rather mobile eyebrows rose up to haunt him like a greasy meal at 3am after six beers. 

Unperturbed by the macerated mist, Zack continued wiggling his eyebrows, laughing evilly, "How do you like that huh? Say 'knob' again, you little turd!" He reached out to playfully poke Cloud. 

Out of pure reflex Cloud bit the offending appendage.

Zack yelped more out of surprise than pain, and snatched his hand away, retreating back to the driver's seat to inspect the damage.

"Not cool, man, you gave me a noodle hand!" He said with a pout, illustrating his grievance by flapping his now numb hand around on the end of his wrist.

"I didn't mean to,"

Zack started using his left hand to rapidly and repetitively smack his right arm against his thigh. 

"You want a rag...or... something?"

Zack paused, eyeing Cloud suspiciously. Almost afraid of the answer, he risked asking "For what?"

"So you won't be walking around the rest of the day wearing that  shrimp facial."

"Oh. Yeah." Zack replied, realizing that the remnants of shrimp yum yum sticks were quietly getting crusty on his skin. He took the napkins Cloud fished out of the crumpled bag  on the floor boards and awkwardly used his left hand to wipe his face.

"How's your hand?" Cloud inquired, a note of guilt hovering in his voice.

"Hanging in there," Zack replied with a lopsided grin.

Cloud signed into his hands in mild irritation at Zack's penchant for making jokes out of everything.He felt Zack patting him on the shoulder. There was something awkward about the gesture that had nothing to do with the current atmosphere. 

Looking up, Cloud saw Zack using his left hand to hold his numb arm up by the elbow and slap the appendage down on his shoulder. He imagined that this was exactly how it felt to be patted by a zombie. Cloud snorted in reluctant amusement and shoved the dead arm off his shoulder. The limp limb bounced off the back of the seat and slithered down the armrest to swing loosely at Zack's side.

Both men stared at the arm mutely until it stopped swinging like a slowly winding down clock pendulum before looking at each other.

Zack arched an eyebrow and said, "What? You like the angle of the dangle?"

Cloud rolled his eyes so hard he almost became the first person to find out what the backs of his own eye sockets looked like.

Zack laughed and started the vehicle.

"What are you doing?" Cloud asked in alarm, "You can't drive like that!"

"Sure I can. I'll drive, and you can work my stick!"

"Move, I'm driving."

"Fine. Killjoy.Want me to shift your stick?" Zack asked as Cloud settled into the driver's seat.

"No thanks, I can do it myself."

"Riiiight!" Zack drawled, doing a single finger gun.

"Do you want two noodle arms? Because that's how you get two noodle arms."

"Okay, okay. It's gone, see?" Zack pretended to chuck the offensive appendage armament behind him. 

"You know, it's a good thing we aren't too far from Base." Cloud said as he pulled out into traffic. 

"Why?"

"My hand won't have time to cramp up because of the--!"

"Don't say it--!"

"Knob."

Zack's distressed cry of "Stop saying 'knob'!" rang in the air before dopplering into silence as they drove away.

End.

[lostlastsforever756]

The Rise of Stella Gibson: Part 1

Section 1

Section 2

Section 3

Author’s Note: The Stella Gibson backstory that no one asked for!!! The idea of the story was to show the events of Stella’s life that made her into the woman she is today, obviously starting with the death of her father. So, the story line goes from that point in time, up until she decides to be a police officer.

Rating: M (mentions of suicide, and death)

It’s an open casket wake, followed by a burial. Stella isn’t sure who made that decision, exactly, but as she gazes upon her dead father’s beautiful face, she can’t help thinking it was a mistake. Her mother managed to find some time in her schedule between work and her active social life to attend, standing regally in the corner as silent tears stream down her cheeks. Her father’s coworkers and her own family take turns giving their condolences, but not one of them says a word to stony-faced Stella, who only has eyes for her father. It’s just as well, though, because Stella probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a voice and a gunshot. Since she found out, the world seems to have faded into a dream.

Suicide. The doctor’s note on his desk confirming the brain tumor to be inoperable.

In his note, he only addressed Stella. He said he was sorry, but somehow his apology wasn’t enough. No matter how many time he could have written it, it didn’t change that he was leaving for good.

Stella and her mother take their place in the procession out of the church, behind the casket and just before the rest of the guests. Her mother holds her head up high, showing off her tears, her hands on Stella’s shoulders. Stella keeps her eyes in front of her, trained on the flowers placed so carefully on top of the casket.

“Stella for Star!”

He pops his head around the corner and gives her a small smile. She returns it, but barely.

“Hi, Daddy,” she says.

“Why so melancholy, Little Star?” he says, stepping into the doorway.

“What does melancholy mean?”

“It’s a posh word for ‘sad’.”

She makes a slightly dramatic sigh. “I’m sick, Daddy. I don’t feel good.”

“I’ve got just what you need,” he says, smiling.

He pulls his hands out from behind his back, and in them he holds a bouquet of flowers. He places them gently on her night stand, and moves a few stems about, almost as if he’s fluffing up the bouquet like a pillow.

“They are pretty, but, Daddy, how are flowers supposed to help me with this flu?” she asks, squinting a bit, and coughing.

“You know flowers make oxygen, right?”

Stella nods.

“Fresh air will make you feel better, Star, no better medicine than nature,” he says, and pats her head, “Plus, a little color in this room couldn’t hurt.”

The car door slams shut just as Stella pulls her feet in. She can feel her mother sitting next to her, fixing her make-up, apathy for the situation rolling off her mother and towards Stella in waves. Her first set of feelings come to her for the first time in days, a dull ache in her chest, manifesting into something she can’t quite put her finger on. She shakes slightly as the tears finally come to her, a sob escaping with them.

Her mother rolls her eyes. “Oh, please stop, Stella, it’s really not attractive when you do that.”

She continues to stare at her reflection in her compact mirror as Stella looks at her incredulously.

“My crying...is unattractive?”

She rolls her eyes again as she dabs at her lips. “You’re not the only one who is sad, Stella, he was my husband. Stop drawing attention to yourself.”

Stella bites her cheek and shakes her head, staring out the window. She digs her nails into the palms of her hands, biting back many spiteful comments germinating in her mind. How could this woman have the nerve to tell her she can’t cry because it’s unattractive, let alone call this man her husband as if she owns him? She’s the one who is never around, was never there to love him the way he deserved, running off to distant countries to do God knows who. The audacity in her small mind to think and genuinely believe that she is the only one who lost him, the only person who was ever in his life, the only one to be betrayed by his departure, sends Stella’s head spinning. He was her father, for fuck’s sake, and the only parent that ever cared. Stella had much more to lose than her flighty mother.

“How is crying in the back of a town car ‘drawing attention to myself’?”

“Drop the attitude, Stella, you just want everyone to feel sorry for you,” she spits, “like always.”

“Do you really think what you did back there in that funeral home was not ‘drawing attention to yourself’? You’re mad,” Stella shoots back.

“I’m the widow, I’m allowed to grieve. I loved him.”

The way she responds is with a heavy dose of arrogance, wrapped in a layer of righteousness. Stella’s stomach churns.

“No, actually, I loved him,” she retorts.

Her mother scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You don’t understand, stupid girl.”

“I loved him more than you ever did--”

“Oh, please--”

“And he deserved much more than to die associated--”

“Shut up--”

“--with fucking rubbish, like you.”

Stella feels the sting of her knuckles against her face before she even sees it coming. Blood rushes to the skin where she was stricken, and to her cheeks in embarrassment and anger.

“I told you to shut up, and you will listen to me,” she said, her teeth gritted.

Stella resists every urge to touch her face and to make sure she isn’t bleeding, trying not to show how affected she is by the sudden violence.

“You need to brush up on your manners because I will not have you speak to me in that tone ever again, do you understand me?”

Avoiding eye contact, Stella nods.

“If you ever speak to me like that again, I will not hesitate to ship you to the nearest orphanage, am I making myself clear?”

Stella nods again.

“Good.”

In the commotion, neither passenger realized that the car had come to a stop at it’s destination. Stella’s mother readjusts herself to look presentable, even though nothing had changed about her appearance in the last five minutes, and pushes open the door, stamping out onto the pavement before slamming the door shut. Once she’s gone, Stella lays her face in her hands, breathing deeply, checking for any possible bleeding. Her heart is racing and her eyes are burning with unshed tears, but she holds them in anyway, along with her breath. The door opens beside her just as she starts to go numb, the feeling in her fingers gone and her emotions back to neutral.

“Are you okay, miss?” the driver asks.

She looks up into his kind, grandfatherly face, etched with concern. Stella doesn’t miss out on the irony of a stranger caring more about her than her own mother. She gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and she knows it.

“Yes, I’m alright, sir,” she says, stepping out of the car, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Clearly, he heard every word to the conversation, and that fact satisfies Stella, somehow. At least now someone else knows what a monster her mother truly is, no matter how much she pretends not to be. A random stranger now knows the truth.

She makes her way up the hill toward the crowd of people, and finds her seat in the front. Despite her position front and center, no one looks at her, as if she is the one who is dead and gone.

She almost believes it’s true because, as her father is lowered into the ground, she doesn’t shed a single tear.

next section ---->

[theroseandcrown]

The Rose & Crown: Chapter Twenty-Three (Part Two)

Rating: M Chapters: 23/24

Summary: With the fate of the universe resting in his hands, will the Doctor have what it takes to shatter the paradox once and for all?

Read this story on another platform: Archive of Our Own Fan Fiction WattPad

Justice Delta

Missy stood quietly at the security console, her focus drawn towards the sensors as they continued to scan each auto beacon one by one. A tedious yet necessary task whenever the deflection barrier became lowered in the off-chance an unsuspecting threat managed to slip its way past the planet’s defences. As highly unlikely as it was for anyone to enter the system without being detected, one could never be too careful. To her satisfaction, everything seemed to be functioning as normal. After a few moments, the sound of footsteps could be heard approaching the open chamber door from the hallway. A smile peeled over her lips as a familiar presence entered the room and came to a stop behind her.

“Commander Quynn, I hope you’ve come bearing gifts,” she addressed the visitor without bothering to lift her gaze.

“Perhaps not the one you were hoping for, but a gift nonetheless,” Quynn’s distorted voice replied as more footsteps were heard approaching from the hall. Standing aside, she waited patiently as two of her soldiers entered dragging a familiar prisoner between them.

“Let go! Get your hands off me!” Clara demanded angrily, fighting the soldiers hold on her as they brought her to the middle of the room.

Missy turned around at the sound of the female’s voice to observe the situation unfolding in front of her. “My my, what have you brought to my doorstep?” she sneered, slowly making her approach like a cat on the prowl. “I send you to collect a child and you bring back the family pet,” she added, taking notice of the girl’s slender form. “An empty one at that.”

“Forgive me, mother. I have no one to blame but myself for my mistakes,” she spoke solemnly, lowering her head in shame. “The child was within my grasp. And yet, I fear I had become blinded by my desire to fulfil a greater sense of purpose. A decision I have painfully regretted ever since. I can only hope that I am able to redeem myself in your eyes by offering you an alternative in exchange for my failure. He will come for her,” she assured her.

Missy’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she studied what little she could see beyond her daughter’s shaded disguise. “And how, may I ask, were you able to procure her?” she inquired, attempting to fill the holes of Quynn’s excuses with her own theories.

Quynn silently shifted her gaze towards a satchel fastened to her belt. Lifting the clasp, she reached inside and removed a small object from within. She approached her mother, setting the object on the desk beside her.

Missy eyed the mysterious gift before picking it up to examine it further. To the naked eye, it appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary chess piece. But as she looked closer, its real hidden wonders began to reveal itself. “A long-range teleporter? How clever of you,” she remarked, twirling the pawn in her hand. There were very few species she could name that had access to such technology. And even fewer who possessed the knowledge to achieve something as advanced as vortex manipulation without help. Such devices were incredibly difficult to come by. Unless, of course, you happened to gain the trust someone stupid enough to offer it willingly.

“I told you he was a fool, Mother,” Quynn remarked, sensing her mother’s approval.

“I’m quite impressed. Perhaps I’ve misjudged just how significant my training has been to you after all these years,” she commended her, returning the game piece to the surface of the desk. Turning to Clara, she approached her side and tapped her finger to her lips as if deep in thought. “Now, what to do with you?” she asked rhetorically. “I wonder how long it will take him to realize you’ve gone missing? If his timing is as bad as his judgment of character, we could be here a very, very long time. Just the two of us. Imagine all the fun we could have together.”

“What makes you so sure he will come for me at all?” she bit back.

“Oh, he’ll come,” she began, leaning in closer. “And when he does, you might want to consider being on your very best behaviour.”

“I could stay if you’d like. I’ve known this one to be rather… unpredictable at times,” Quynn suggested, turning her head towards Clara to stare her down from behind the darkness of her mask.

“That won’t be necessary. I can handle babysitting on my own,” she replied with a smirk before turning her attention towards Quynn. “Prepare your forces. I want to be ready when he arrives. You never know what that man will have hidden up his sleeve.”

“As you wish, mother,” she complied, bowing respectively.

“You won’t win, Missy. The Doctor will never give her up,” Clara claimed as she defiantly stood her ground against the Time Lady.

“Is that what he told you?” Missy laughed, circling her captive like prey. “All that time knocking about and you still have no idea who he is, do you? The question was never about if he was going to give her up, it was when,” she replied as Quynn and her soldiers removed themselves from the room leaving the two of them alone together.

“You’re wrong about him. He’s stronger than you will ever be. He will do whatever it takes to protect her. Even if it means you have to kill me.”

“Oh Clara, Clara, Clara. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already,” she declared with a malicious grin as she came around to face her.

“So why haven’t you?”

Missy sighed and rolled her eyes at the question. “There you go again, always thinking everything’s about you. You really are perfect for each other.”

“We’re going to get out of this. And when we do, I hope I finally have the chance to slap that smug smile off your face,” Clara threatened as their hatred for each other intensified the space all around them.

“Why wait?” she offered, stepping towards her until they were standing face to face. The anticipation between them grew by the second as they squared off against each other for dominance. After a few moments, the tension in the air was suddenly disrupted by the sound of an alarm ringing from the console’s interface. Her crude smile widened as the noise beckoned her attention. “Now, I wonder who that could be,” she remarked facetiously and turned towards the sound. Conceding their stand-off, she approached the console and tapped her fingers along the controls until a holographic view-screen was projected above her. The screen flickered for a few seconds before displaying a live image of the Doctor’s frowny face from inside the TARDIS control room. “Doctor!” she began as if surprised by his presence. “So good to see you again! I had no idea you were making house calls. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” he answered sternly.

“Do I?” she asked, genuinely determined to get as far under his skin as possible. “Let me guess. Is it your pride? A sense of humour? Well, it certainly isn’t your bubbling personality.”

“We made a deal, Missy,” he fumed, his eyes fierce as he glared at the madwoman through the screen.

“I haven’t harmed a single hair on her pretty little head,” she assured him, then turned towards Clara. “Well? Go on, tell him.”

Clara glowered at her spitefully and stepped into view. “I’m alright, Doctor.”

Returning to the screen, Missy pressed her hands atop the console and leaned herself upon its surface. “As you can see, I’ve kept up my end of the bargain. You, on the other hand, have yet to come through on yours,” she noted, doing everything in her power to provoke him.

“Don’t do it, Doctor!” Clara insisted, doing what little she could to take control of the conversation. “Just forget about me. Take our daughter somewhere she’ll never be able to find her.”

He drew his attention towards his companion and looked to her compassionately. “You know I can’t do that.”

“You see, Clara? Predictable as always,” Missy replied, her lips curling venomously. “Well, Doctor. It appears as though your time is finally up. And I’ve grown tired of waiting. Will you admit defeat? Or would you prefer I kill her now and spare you the embarrassment?”

“Don’t you dare,” he commanded harshly. A moment of silence lingered in the air as he contemplated the severity of the situation. Taking a deep breath, he hung his head and sighed. “Alright, Missy. You win,” he conceded, returning his steely glance towards her direction. “Lower the deflection barrier. I’m coming in.”

“Doctor, NO!” Clara shouted in protest.

“Hurry my stallion!” Missy exclaimed whimsically. Switching off the screen, she began typing several commands into the console’s interface to pave the way for the Time Lord’s arrival. “Best stand out of the way, dear,” she spoke over her shoulder. “There’s no telling what sort of spankings will be in order when daddy comes home to find you’ve been squished.”

Doing as she was told, Clara stepped away from her position to stand beside the woman as a light breeze began to form all around them. The familiar sound of grinding and whirring was heard as the TARDIS materialized in and out of time on the spot she had been standing. After a moment, the ship finally landed in the centre of the room like the pillar of hope it had always been known for. Once settled, the door opened and the Doctor stepped out to observe his surroundings before closing the door behind him. “Doctor!” she called to him.

“Clara!” he called back as she started to rush to him.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Missy stopped her, snaking her arm around Clara’s torso to hold her tightly against her from behind. Clara gasped from under her breath as Missy quickly pulled a dagger from her blouse and held it to her throat. The Doctor froze in fear at the sight of it. “Patience, poppet. Wouldn’t want to spoil the moment by getting yourself killed too early now, would we?” she asked, drawing her attention towards the old man. “I hope you haven’t come all this way empty-handed. Where’s the child?”

“She’s safe inside. And that’s where she will remain until I’m certain no harm will come to Clara,” he threatened, attempting to maintain composure over his companion’s captivity.

“You stupid, daft old man,” Clara declared angrily, attempting to remain still in Missy’s grasp. “Why? Why did you come back for me?”

Despite her outrage and his concern for her life being threatened under Missy’s blade, he couldn’t help the endearing expression that formed on his face at the question. “I have a duty of care,” he told her, knowing there was more truth to that statement than he would ever dare to admit in the presence of his enemies.

“Well, isn’t that just precious,” Missy chimed in, severing the brief moment of privacy between them. “If you could see the look in your eyes right now, Doctor. Such love and affection for your human. One might say it could almost pass for the real thing,” she declared maliciously.

“Missy,” he warned, flashing her a heated glance from beneath his furrowed brows. “Don’t.”

“What do you mean the real thing?” Clara interjected, directing her attention towards him. “Doctor, what is she talking about?”

“You mean you haven’t told her?” the Time Lady replied with a laugh.

“It hasn’t exactly come up in conversation, no,” he confessed, hoping there was some part of her that wouldn’t press the issue any further, yet knew she wasn’t the type of person who would allow such advantageous generosity.

“My my, and here I thought I was the cruel one,” she added, smirking to herself.

Clara studied his expression carefully expecting to discover an answer, only to be met with the look of shame spreading across his face. “What haven’t you told me, Doctor?”

“Should I tell her, or would you like to do the honours?” Missy offered, amused by the sour turn of conversation.

“Well someone better tell me what the hell is going on!” Clara snapped back.

“I will,” he reluctantly volunteered, stepping forward to address her as personally as he could given the circumstances. His mind struggled to find the words, though none would be able to redeem him of the lie he had been keeping from her all this time. He hadn’t planned for this moment. And now that it was upon him, there was nothing he could do to prevent the damage he was about to inflict upon his companion. He looked to her and sighed with heavy regret in his hearts. “Clara, you’re ill. We both are. There’s an irreversible virus infecting our minds that have been there from the very start. It has been controlling us, forcing us together. It’s the reason we continue to be drawn to each other no matter how hard we may try to fight it. There’s no stopping it.”

She found herself staring at him in a bewildered state of confusion as she worked to process his unexpected confession. “I don’t understand,” she admitted as the thought of his betrayal began to set in.

“Of course you do, dear,” Missy intruded softly, leaning towards Clara’s ear. She loosened her grip around the girl and allowed her fingers to slide down the front of her as she spoke. “You can feel it, can’t you? The fire growing within your belly? The incessant longing to fill the new vacancy?” She felt Clara’s body tense beneath her grasp as she moved farther down her abdomen and stopped over the small curve hiding between the young woman’s hips. “Ooo, or perhaps you already have,” she implied with a mischievous grin. “Oh Doctor, you do work quickly.”

Alarmed by her claim, his attention quickly shot towards his companion. “Clara?” he questioned her urgently.

Clara’s eyes widened in fear as they connected with the Doctor’s own. She swallowed the panic rising within her and attempted to maintain herself in Missy’s grasp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.

“Don’t you?” Missy inquired. Sensing the girl’s sudden distress, she turned towards the Doctor to study his shocked expression in every pleasing detail. “Oh, you poor man. She didn’t tell you, did she? How terribly awkward,” she remarked as the tension in the air thickened between the two. Releasing her grip, she lowered the dagger and removed herself from behind her prisoner. “Well, since we’re on the topic of spilling secrets, it seems only fair that I share one of my own,” she began, coming around her side to address the pair out in the open. “My Persuaders. They’re exceptional creatures, aren’t they? So useful, and yet so deadly at the same time. The perfect weapon. When it comes to mind control, I’ve found their capabilities to be quite limitless. As long as they are slaved to me, I could win any war, command any army. Even the mightiest of heroes would lay down their weapons and surrender in defeat. Then again, why go to all the trouble when I can admire my work from afar, watching as my enemies are slowly tortured to death by their lust for each other?” she paused, savouring every second it took the couple to fully understand just how far she had gone to deceive them. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. How terribly Shakespearean of me. Though, he doesn’t deserve all the credit. Every good writer needs his muse, after all,” she added, fluffing her hair at her own recognition. Turning to Clara, she pouted playfully at the painful expression forming on the young woman’s face. “My dear girl. You didn’t actually believe he was in love with you, did you?”

“You’re lying,” she accused her harshly.

“Am I? Why don’t you ask the man himself?” Missy suggested, turning her attention towards the other last of the Time Lords.

“Doctor,” Clara called to him tearfully. “It’s not true, is it? Please tell me it’s not true.” She watched in utter disbelief as he lowered his head towards the floor and shielded his eyes from her. A short breath escaped her as her tears made their way down her face. “I see. So it’s all been a lie then. You’ve been lying to me this entire time. Was any of it real?” The silence between them became increasingly unbearable as she awaited his answer.

“No,” he whispered, unable to look her in the eyes as his humiliation and disappointment in himself consumed him.

“Oh, Doctor. The look on your face,” Missy smiled wickedly. “It must be my birthday.” Pleased with herself, she exhaled a long melodic sigh that seemed to resonate off the walls all around them. “Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, shall we get back to business?” She lifted her dagger and pointed it towards his companion’s throat once more. “What will it be, Doctor? Clara or the baby? Think of it as a two for one deal.”

“Don’t give her what she wants,” Clara pleaded. “Do what you’re good at and fly away from here. Just let me go.”

“No,” he refused, lifting his head to glare at Missy in a sudden fit of anger. “I’ve already lost one child today.” Glancing towards his companion, his eyes lowered towards her middle for a brief moment before returning to hers. “I will not lose another.” The thought alone of her possible pregnancy was reason enough to do whatever it was going to take to protect her. Having made up his mind, he turned from them and headed for the doors of the TARDIS.

“No Doctor, please! Don’t do it! Don’t give in to her!” Clara cried, watching as he stopped only once to peer over his shoulder at her before proceeding inside and shutting the door behind him. “Doctor!”

“You see that, Clara?” Missy spoke softly, sparing no time in her attempt to destroy whatever was still left of their relationship. “That’s who he really is. When it comes to his precious companions, the Doctor never fails to disappoint. Such a pity, I was hoping today would be the day I finally killed you.” After a few moments, the door opened and he reappeared holding a wicker carrier covered with quilted linens in his grasp. He shut the door behind him and reluctantly made his way towards the desk, setting the carrier atop its surface. Missy eyed the man and brought her dagger closer to Clara’s throat. “No tricks,” she warned.

Glaring at her, he peeled back the linens draped over the top to reveal the baby resting peacefully inside. He stepped away and allowed her to observe for herself that he had come through on his part of the deal. “Now release her,” he demanded.

Missy stared at him suspiciously as if expecting to discover a hint of ill-intent in his eyes. Once certain the child was the genuine article, she obligingly lowered the dagger to her side and turned to Clara. “Well? Go on then, off you pop,” she instructed, gesturing for her to leave her presence. She watched as the young woman cautiously stepped away from her towards safety. “There’s a good girl.”

Clara stopped shortly and glanced in the direction of the carrier, taking a moment to offer a disheartening goodbye to her baby from afar. Fighting her sorrow and heartbreak, she averted her eyes from the old man and headed as quickly as she could for the TARDIS.

“Clara,” he whispered as she strode towards him.

“Don’t,” she silenced him harshly as she passed him by and proceeded to the doors. Placing her hand upon the frame, she turned to look upon them with anger and devastation in her eyes.

“Ta ta, call me sometime,” Missy toyed, holding her hand up like a receiver.

The Doctor waited patiently for Clara to make it safely inside before returning his attention to the woman standing in front of him. “So, here we are,” he announced, gesturing to the space around them. “What happens now? Where do we go from here?”

“Well,” she began, gracefully leaning herself against the desk next to the carrier. “As much as it pleases me to watch as you brood in your failure, I’m afraid this is where you and I part ways. So much work to be done. You understand, of course.”

“Where are you sending her?” he prodded.

“Ah, now that would be telling. Nice try though.”

Exhaling a frustrated sigh, he glanced around the room in an attempt to maintain his composure. “Seeing as you’ve won, let’s have this out. You and me, once and for all. Why are you doing this? What’s the point?”

“You really are thick, aren’t you? I thought it was rather obvious,” she started as she removed herself from the desk and slowly paced around him. “Very well. If you must know, the only way I was going to bring you down from the inside was to appeal to your bleeding hearts. And who better to pave the way than your companion? I knew exactly what I was doing by putting the two of you together. All that was missing was a little... motivation. One to bring out the monster in you and another to release it on a path of destruction. All those years trying to convince you of what you really are when all I had to do was widen the target. And voilà, an army is born. But not just any army, no. An army composed of the very people you failed to save. And for that, they will never stop hunting you. You see, it wasn’t enough to cripple your good nature. I wanted the entire universe to be turned against you until there was nowhere left for you to go. You’ve made your whole life out of running away from pain and suffering. I always wondered what would happen when you finally ran out of road,” she confessed, running her fingers along his shoulder as she came around him.

“That’s what this is all about? Some extravagant plot to force my hand into murder like a cornered animal?” he eyed her, trying to keep his infuriated demeanour under control.

“If that’s the part you’re so determined to play,” she countered.

“And what about Quynn? Where does she fit inside this cyclical version of hell of yours?” he asked, attempting to set their rivalry aside.

“You and I both know how this was always going to end, Doctor. I’m afraid there’s only room for one psychopath in this reality. Once she is finally out of the picture, I’ll have an entire army at my disposal. Just imagine what I could do with that.”

“You raised her as your own. She trusted you. Have you any love for her at all?” he persisted.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the man. “Is love what you felt when you took my own daughter away from me? Can you still hear her screams beyond the countless others you murdered that day?”

Halted by her abrasiveness, he took a moment to carefully consider his answer. He recalled the conversation held in the battle-room the night the truth first began to unravel itself. I don’t expect she’s ever really forgiven me for what happened to her, for what I did, for what I had to do. The words tore through his memory so clearly, it was as if they were spoken only yesterday. “You know I had no choice,” he answered contentedly.

“Choice?” she nearly laughed. “Is that what you tell yourself to hide the pain? To be able to live with yourself? Is that how you justify the difference between us, Doctor?” Turning her back on him, she made her way towards the carrier once more. “You’ve had a choice all along. You could have ended this any time you wanted. You chose love.”

“And I always will,” he replied as sincerely as he knew how to be.

“And that’s exactly why you’re here, defeated and powerless to stop me. It’s pathetic, really. I expected so much more from you.” She peered into the carrier at the sleeping baby as the gears in her head began to spin. A malicious smile peeled over her lips as she observed the small girl sleeping before her. “Tell me, Doctor. How far would you be willing to go for love? Have you ever really thought about it?” Without warning, she raised her dagger and hovered it above the child, allowing the blade to swing from side to side like a pendulum.

“Missy,” he whispered nervously. “What are you doing?”

“Let’s play a little game, shall we?” she insisted, grinning towards him. “If it’s a choice you want, I can offer you one. One that you never gave me. Should you decide this child’s fate, would you allow her to live to repeat her atrocities on this universe for all of eternity? Or would you have her die, shattering this reality and sacrificing everything you’ve become because of it? The choice is yours, so I suggest you choose wisely.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal. Clara for the baby, that was the agreement,” he persisted fiercely.

“How typical. You never were willing to get your hands dirty, were you? It’s no wonder you keep companions around to make the hard decisions you never could,” she declared condescendingly. “Luckily for you, I’m feeling rather generous today. So I’ll give you one last chance to decide. Will you run away like a coward? Flee to the farthest stretches of the universe while everything around you becomes consumed by darkness? I’m offering you the chance to choose your fate. You could end this all right now. Go back to the way things were before - forever policing the universe, defending every pathetic excuse for a planet you bump into, saving life after life and never asking for anything in return. On the other hand, you could spend the rest of your days living in early retirement. You could hide away for as long as you like while you’re slowly forgotten throughout time and space. You can finally settle down with the woman you love and the child she carries. The life of pure domestic bliss. Tempting, isn’t it?”

The Doctor glared at her from beneath his furrowed brows as he thought about his answer. “So, this is what it all comes down to. The impossible choice. The greatest risk at the cost of everything. It has always come down to me. My decision. We’ve remained trapped here all this time because of what I decide to do right here, right now. You’ve known from the beginning what I’d choose, what I’d always choose.”

“If you’re so sure of yourself, then make your choice.”

“What makes you so sure I won’t choose to end this?” he asked.

“Because you would have done it already. You could have killed the child any time you wanted. The power has been within your grasp all this time. But instead, you brought her to me. Which can only mean one thing. So, what will it be? Is this the day we finally discover what the Doctor is made of?” she instigated to the best of her ability.

“You know,” he began as he tucked his hands into his pockets and slowly paced about the room. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about the answer to that question. What are any of us made of? Are we born evil or just raised that way? Do we choose our own path or is the path chosen for us? But more importantly, what are we truly capable of? I’ve spent so many years convincing myself that I didn’t want to know the answer. That it was all just part of some great big mystery keeping me from going too far. I’ve been lost in the answer to that question for so long, I sometimes can’t remember why I chose this title. I realized that when you stop questioning the difference between good and evil, you start to forget what you used to stand for,” he paused, turning to face her once more. “That is until you’re forced to make a choice that would ultimately define who you are for the rest of your life. In that case, I’d have to ask myself, ‘What would the Doctor do?’ Would he kill the child and break the cycle? Or let her live, dooming her for all of eternity? All those people and planets, gone forever because of her. Because of what she was trained to do. Her entire life, shaped and moulded into everything you wanted her to be all so that you could use her as a weapon. And for what, exactly? Here we are at the end of the line. Tell me, what do you gain from this?”

The malicious grin on her face widened at the question. “Why, front row seats to the greatest show in the universe, of course! The one where I watch day after day as everything you’ve ever stolen from me is taken away from you. Have you seen it? I’m told it’s quite the standing ovation.”

The Doctor scoffed at her answer. “That’s what you want, endless entertainment? Is that what all of this has been to you, just one big game? Moving us around like pieces on the board because you hold all the cards. You should know better. Anyone who can put all of this together should know better.” Turning his back on her, he attempted to bring his emotions under control before he lost himself in a fit of rage. After a moment, he felt his furious expression melt away as he realized that this was the moment he had been waiting for. This was his chance to finally bring her down once and for all. It was now or never. Shifting character, he quickly spun around to face her once more. A wide grin spread over his face as his eyes met with hers. He raised his arms with wild deliberation and paced in front of her with a slight energetic bounce to his step. “Now, games I can do. I’m brilliant at games. They make for great conversation starters, don’t you think? So, choices then. You want to know what the Doctor would do. Of course you do. Although, the answer is quite obvious, isn’t it?” he paused, allowing the anticipation in the air to settle itself. “He’d choose neither,” he revealed, his smile widening as their eyes made a deep connection to each other. “Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

Before the Time Lady had a chance to respond, the double doors to the TARDIS flung themselves open causing her to shift her attention towards the unanticipated spectacle. Standing just beyond the threshold of the time-machine, the real Doctor appeared from the doorway and stepped out of the TARDIS for his grand entrance. Her jaw dropped in shock at the sight of it.

The man entered the room, his hands clapping in rhythm as he approached his identical self. “Wow, that was very impressive. Bravo. A truly inspiring performance. Even I was convinced you were the real me. We should consider going into business together, start our own magic act.” The pair of them laughed in unison as Missy looked on, utterly confounded by the events unfolding.

“Should we tell her?” the first of the two Doctors asked.

“Why not?” the real Doctor replied with a grin.

Missy watched in horror as the first of the two raised their hand towards their lapel and removed a small device fastened behind it. The perception filter used to disguise themselves flickered for a brief moment before disengaging to reveal Quynn’s natural form hidden beneath it. She observed the woman’s long fiery hair as it settled past her shoulders and down the back of a formal one-piece dress suit she had never seen before. Her eyes passed back and forth between the two other people in the room as her mind tried to process exactly what was happening. “How?” she asked the Doctor as Quynn removed a small adhesive voice patch attached to the side of her neck.

“Well,” the Doctor began, smiling towards his daughter. “I sort of had to backtrack there a bit. It gets a little complicated towards the end.” He then returned his attention to his old friend. “Perhaps it would be easier if I just showed you.” Before Missy could question him any further, the sound of haunted shrieking was heard emanating from beyond the open doors of the TARDIS. Their howls resonated from every corner of the room so fiercely, the walls seemed to shake at the force of it. “I brought some friends with me. I believe you may already be acquainted,” he added. As the voices drew closer, Quynn and the Doctor seized their opportunity to retrieve a pair of glasses from their pockets and place them on their face. Quynn reached into her other pocket and removed the Comasphere, holding it on display in front of her.

“No!” Missy gasped as she quickly rushed around the desk hoping to retrieve her own pair of glasses, only to discover the small wooden box she kept them in was nowhere to be found. It was then that she finally realized how far her daughter had gone to deceive her. A small cynical laugh escaped her as she braced herself against the desk and lifted her head to glare at the woman who had forsaken her trust. “All those years I sacrificed raising and protecting you. And this is how I am to be rewarded? With your betrayal?” she asked as her hatred began to electrify the space all around them.

Quynn swallowed the pain forming in her throat as she gazed upon the woman who had fallen so far from everything she once portrayed herself to be. As hard as it was to witness her mother’s downfall, deep down she knew that all things must eventually come to an end. “What can I say? I learned from the very best,” she replied disheartenedly before activating the Comasphere in her grasp.

Missy instinctively raised her arms to shield herself from the blinding light engulfing every inch of the room before ultimately succumbing to the effects of the sphere. Her limp form collapsed into the chair behind her as the light began to dissipate. From inside the TARDIS, the Persuaders’ bellowing moans filled the air once more. Their ashy, ghost-like forms manifested themselves from the walls of the ship and encircled their victim like prey. A shrieking cry of victory was heard before finally infiltrating the woman’s body. Her mind now entirely under the Persuaders’ control, she was forced to watch the events leading up to her downfall play out as if she were merely a bystander in someone else’s life.