#he looks more like their mom who has sharp features

[pinayelf]

it's official i made iefyr all ready to romance bellara next hee-hee <3

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ under your roof ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ your baby daughter really likes uncle wade’s roommate, and logan would be lying if he said he didn’t form a quick attachment to the two of you as well┊2.9k words; prt one (here), prt two, prt three coming soon!!

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: probably occ logan, he’s on his best behavior, mostly fluff with a little side of angst, single mother reader with an unspecified age, this chapter is mainly between logan & your daughter, reader has a bad relationship with the father & he’s an asshole, one joking threat of stabbing

➤ author's note: this was so much fun to write! single mom reader and her daughter are so lovely and i have two more part featuring these two and logan coming up! i hope you guys enjoy

kids don’t like logan. it’s not a profound discovery nor is it a surprise to anyone who learns this fact. he’s intimidating enough to make some full-grown men piss themselves with so much as a glare, much less little babies who start sobbing uncontrollably when they see a giant scary man walking around believing that he would eat them or something even though he’s literally just standing there. whether the little ones have an instinct that signals him out as a mutant or he simply looks like a bad man from one of their fairy tales, he isn’t sure, but it’s not the best feeling either way when he’s trying to settle back into normal life with the constant weight of knowing that he’ll never fit in.

it doesn’t help that, in general, he isn’t good with kids either. he’s generally patient with their immaturity since they don’t know any better, but he finds the crying and whining extremely headache-inducing to his sensitive senses without a clue how to calm them down.

moving in with wade and acquainting himself with his friends was a start, but the missing part of his life to make him finally feel loved and at home was the family of two who lived downstairs. the first time he met you was also the first time he met your daughter when wade told him to dress a little nicer because the two of them were invited to your place for dinner. he explained that the two of you were practically siblings and that it would probably be something he should get used to, reminding him to “turn that frown upside down” because he was about to meet someone who “puts gordon ramsey to shame.”

the last bit sounded great to him, especially because no one in their household knew how to make anything more complicated than noodles without setting it on fire and the cost of outside food was really starting to tally up. still, he just wore some cargo pants and threw on a leather jacket, running his fingers through his hair once which was already a lot more effort than he’s ever put into meeting anyone else before.

wade didn’t even bother knocking, just being himself and picking the lock as he so typically does, kicking the door open and yelling a loud ass “daddy’s home!” which echoed throughout the apartment as well as the hallway they were standing in. the mouth-watering smell of grilled salmon filled the air, making wade hum in excitement, “do you need help with anything? taste testing, perhaps?”

“no, do me a favor and stay away from the kitchen!” your voice rang out loud and clear, sounding much like a mother scolding a teenager for the thousandth time. “i’ll stab you, do me a favor and just hang out in the living room.”

“okie-dokie!” he responded in an annoying sing-song voice, “come on, peanut, take off your shoes.” the said man could already tell how at home his roommate seemed in this place, just as comfortable as he was back home, walking with steps he’s taken many times before and prompting logan to do the same (except he was mainly keeping to himself and being much more mild-mannered in this unfamiliar area).

the place was as spacious as the small area could be and tastefully decorated, but all sharp corners of furniture were taped over to dull the edges and the carpet had multiple kinds of colorful toys littered about. in the center of it all, was a little toddler about two or three years old, playing with a kitchen set and trying to copy what her mom was doing by running back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. she didn’t even notice the two men at first, not until wade called out her name and she dropped the plastic utensils to clap her hands together before waddling over to him.

“hey, baby! how are you doing? did you miss me?” he cooed in the high-pitched voice reserved only for mary puppins, reaching down to pick up the girl by her underarms and kissing her cheek, spinning around with her in his arms as she giggled uncontrollably. “do you wanna meet the big scary wolverine while i go bother your mommy? who am i kidding, of course you do!” he then dropped her onto the couch, making sure that she didn’t bounce up too high on the cushion and hurt herself. “okay, you keep her company while i go see what’s for dessert— bye!”

before logan could say anything, he was already gone, disappearing around the corner into the sound of sizzling foods and the scent of herbs. pursing his lips together and shuffling his feet around for a second, he grunted and braced himself for the child to start sobbing uncontrollably because she was left alone with him. the first time he meets you, whom he’s heard so many good things about, is going to be when you have to kick him out with his tail in between his legs for disturbing the peace of your home.

but the cries never came, and his eyes met her big curious ones as she just stared up at him in silence. it was honestly a tad bit unnerving like she was sizing him up and carefully thinking about her next move. 

and then she started giggling like earlier, kind of a more gurgling noise of playfulness more than anything, standing at his feet and waving around her short outstretched arms to signal that she wanted uppies from him.

“oh no—“ he’s not sure why he even let out a word or protest to begin with when he knew she wouldn’t listen, but it was pure instinct since, once again, he had no idea how to handle children. although she would probably also start crying if he didn’t listen to her, so he reluctantly bent down to pick her up, holding her close to the side of his chest and nervously awaiting her next move.

she was motionless for a minute with a little hand on her chubby cheek and the other trying to clutch onto the thick leather of his jacket, eyes darting around like she was seeing the world from a new perspective for the first time even though he was a hundred percent certain wade held her like his when they are the same height.

“kitty!”

“what?”

she pointed at the top of his head, his hair tuffs specifically, and reached out to pull on one of them curiously.

“no— not a kitty!” he’s never going to escape that fucking nickname, he wouldn’t be surprised if his roommate taught her to say that before she met him in person, able to perfectly envision wade crouching in front of her with a stupid picture of him on his phone and training her to say “kitty” every time she saw his photo by rewarding her with candy or something since there is no way she associated someone who looks like him to a kitten so quickly unironically.

“no kitty?”

“no— logan, lo-gan.”

she tried to pronounce his name a few times before giving up after getting stuck in the second syllable, blowing a raspberry and going back to what she was doing earlier— finding the most fun in tugging on his cowlicks like she was trying to figure out if he naturally woke up like that with the inability to brush them down or styled them with gel every day.

he sat down on the couch, the cushion sinking under his heavyweight, and sat your daughter down on his lap instead, except she didn’t want to sit down. standing on his lap and pressing her little feet into his thighs, she began to climb onto his shoulder like he was a jungle gym, using his arms as stepping stones to reach her destination while he bent over at the waist to allow her to crawl onto his back without falling behind him.

“you’re like a little lemur,” he muttered, still in slight shock that this kid seemed to like him and wasn’t freaking out like he was the big bad wolf. he wouldn’t admit it, but it was a really nice feeling that gave him a sense of normalcy like he was just some guy rather than the killing machine mutant most knew him as. she wouldn’t stop giggling and holding onto him, which made him feel his ice-cold heart melting like snow by spring’s first touch. 

all the while, he could hear you and wade chatting away in the background: something about him needing to step away from the stove, how you needed to trust him because him starting “that fire” was a one-time thing, what was for dessert, and then taking a sharp turn when the conversation suddenly shifted to the topic of the father.

he felt somewhat guilty about listening in, but he knew that deadpool was going to tell him eventually, so there wasn’t really any harm in a bit of eavesdropping (besides, it would have been difficult to ignore considering that your baby was being very well-behaved and his hearing wouldn’t have been able to pick up on anything else.)

“so… any news about her dad?” the solemn tone of a man who was hardly ever serious a day of his life was more terrifying than anything he’d ever witnessed in his long life.

“... he suddenly wants to be a family man, i guess…”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

the sound of a knife chopping vegetables against a wooden surface slowly came to a stop followed by a sigh. “like he wants to have a family… just not with the one he already started… he’s busy planning his wedding with the girl he cheated on me with and told me not to contact him again for any reason.”

“oh my god, what an asshole! fuck that guy!”

“i can’t believe that was the guy i thought i was going to spend the rest of my life with, could you imagine? i don’t even know what i could have done wrong for him to be like this— i asked him so many times and he just said that he’s ‘fallen out of love,’ has ‘moved on,’ and that i would ‘be cruel’ to ask him to stay even if it was for the sake of our child…”

“well if it’s any comfort, he would have been on the next episode of forensic files the second i got a moment alone with him— i mean, the last time we saw him, he literally pushed his own daughter away when she tried to hug him! what kind of sociopath wouldn’t adore such a cutie patootie, especially his own flesh and blood?! ”

“it’s fine,” you hissed, gritting your teeth at the memory. “it’s not like he’s done anything to deserve getting to be called a father to an angel anyway, i’ll take care of her myself— wait… didn’t i also invite your new roommate? did he not come?”

“no, he’s in the living room, he’s been here this entire time,” he informed, taking a bite out of an apple like an asshole from a film.

“and you didn’t tell me?!!!” you quickly ran into the said area, finding logan and your daughter together on the couch. “hi! oh, i’m so sorry i didn’t come to greet you properly— and left my daughter for you to look after too— god, i’m just a terrible host!” you tilted your head, “what’s your name?”

he then realized he was staring which was rather impolite, mouth slightly agape too like a fish out of water which left a few seconds of awkward silence in between. “i-i’m logan,” he managed to sputter, “nice to meet you..”

wade raised a nonexistent eyebrow at his strange mannerisms before a wide, shit-eating grin split his face. 

“aww, baby, why are you bothering this poor old man— come to mommy, it’s dinnertime,” you clapped your hands and held them out fully expecting her to reach out and grab onto you as she usually does, but instead she looked up at you with big pleading eyes and held onto him even more tightly like a koala clinging to a branch. “oh, did you get attached already? you really are my daughter… logan, could you do me a favor and put her in her high chair while i plate everything?”

“yes, of course.”

you turned back into the kitchen, leaving the two men to follow with one holding your baby in his arms. all it took was one look to understand what he was thinking, logan didn’t need to be a telepath to know. 

“if you don’t shut the fuck up—”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“good, keep it that way.”

love at first sight, wade has seen it plenty of times and understands it well, something so unpredictable and powerful, that it could bring the wolverine down on his knees. it’s even more potent when he trips over himself seeing you in your natural environment instead of all dressed up for a first date, slightly sweaty from the heat radiating off the stove, unkempt hair sticking to the sides of your face, no makeup or defenses up— just you as yourself to the core.

“alright, bub, let's get you seated…” it took a few tries to get her in because she refused to align her little legs into the holes of the plastic piece, but she eventually got into it just fine and he pulled up his own chair to watch you place a one of the most decadent plates of pasta with chunks of salmon he’s ever seen in front of him with a word of gratitude. 

“sorry it isn’t anything special, i completely forgot that i arranged this in the first place….”

“oh, no, it’s perfect—”

“you’re damn right ‘it’s perfect!’” wade interjected, “lemme tell you, wolvie, this simple plate of pasta is better than sex, i know damn well you’ve never tasted anything like it in all your two-hundred years!”

“well, now that you say it like that, he’s going to have high expectations and it will taste like ass compared to the actual best pasta dish he’s ever had.”

“he likes ass, don’t worry—”

the said man cleared his throat to steer the conversation back around, feeling the foreign sensation of embarrassment burning his face hit him at full force. “it’s delicious, thank you, truly the best i’ve ever tasted.”

“aw, you don’t have to say that.”

“no, he’s right, i think you really outdid yourself this time!”

the dinner was carried by cheerful conversations and fun stories, and despite just meeting you today, logan almost felt like he knew you for years and this was something a commonplace tradition between loved ones which was something he’s been yearning for for as long as he can remember. as he watches you laugh and feed your adorable baby, he can’t help but wonder about the idiotic man who was willing to throw away something so wonderful— something which would complete his life and fill the void in his heart.

“well, you two can hang around while i clean her up and put her to bed. there’s some wine and beer in—” you watched as deadpool had already opened your fridge and was digging around like a raccoon in trash before fishing out two bottles of beers and closing the door with his hips. “alrighty then, i’ll join you two in a bit.”

he watched as you disappeared into the hallway before diving headfirst into the couch next to the wolverine and handing him his beer, kicking his feet and smiling as if he was a middle-schooler at an all girls’ sleepover. “okay, so she has a solid job as an accountant, has her own place and car, is funny and pretty, but most importantly for you, single. she doesn’t like flowers as gifts, but if you gift her groceries or cleaning supplies—”

“she wouldn’t want an asshole like me,” he grunted, taking a sip from the bottle. “not when she just got free from another one.”

“peanut, i met the other guy, you’re infinitely better than him! as much as i would like to keep you to myself, i have already planned out my speech at your wedding as your best man, so just keep in mind that i’m your wingman, okay? don’t lie to me either, i know you have a little crush, and i think she does too—”

“no, she doesn’t.”

“quit cutting me off, you motherfucker!”

it was easier to try and suppress the sprouting seed of infatuation before it bloomed out of control. he didn’t want to hurt you or himself by chasing something that shouldn’t be in the first place. you deserve better, you and your daughter. you both should have someone who was younger and had the energy to be a good father and husband, not some old mutant who was freeloading off of his roommate and terrified of losing more people he cared about. if you knew about the blood on his hands and the claws embedded in them, you would probably be worried that you allowed him to hold your baby and shun him permanently. 

and yet he was already attached, sitting here imagining domestic life where he could see her grow up through the phases of life and help her navigate its complexities while also waking up next to you in his arms and seeing your beautiful smile everyday. 

maybe he won’t let that glimmer of hope die out and just hold onto it for a little while longer, allowing it to leave a little lingering smile on his weary face.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 12.7k (huhhhhh?) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation, mentions of miscarriage a/n: smidge more angst, delves more into yns internal thoughts & feelings series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“Sa…” you can’t even find it in yourself to finish that sentence, to utter his complete name. As if afraid that when you do, it’ll be like summoning some sort of demon. Only this time, it’s the father of your child—same thing.

He looks as shocked as you, if not more so. His eyes widen and then narrow in a rhythmic movement that makes you scared, anticipating whatever utterance will fall from his pretty lips. If only you could go back in time and deny even the thought of going on this whatever with Mr. Ito. Maybe then you could’ve been spared, at least given some time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing the face of the man who has been practically haunting you for five years. Maybe then, he wouldn’t look so…different. 

“Ms. Y/N?” Mr. Ito’s confused voice snaps you both simultaneously out of the small staring contest you were just in. When Satoru finally acknowledges the other man, you can see a small tick on his eyebrows. Mr. Ito—well he’s not dumb. Every feature of Satoru reminding him of a small, much younger someone who happens to be in his kindergarten class. “O-oh…is this…do you two…know each other?”

What do you even say to that? Yes? No? Maybe so? It’s all so fucking confusing and complicated, but Satoru seems to save you. “And who are you?” he asks, voice flat and calculating. His eyes dart between you and Mr. Ito, like he’s trying to silently gauge what’s going on between you two. His analytical skills always seem to put you off, so you look away. 

“Um…well, I’m Ms. Y/N’s son’s teacher. Nice to meet you.” Mr. Ito slowly explains, putting on a timid smile, outstretching his tan hand towards Satoru.

To no surprise, Satoru doesn’t reciprocate the welcome gesture. He is instead, clenching his fists by his side. You can see his jaw tick from your peripheral, as if he’s doing his damned hardest not to blow the hell up right now. “Are you now?”

Mr. Ito, caught in the middle of something he has no business in, glances around awkwardly. A weird chuckle leaving his mouth, lowering his hand back down to his side. “Um, yes, sir.”

“Funny,” Satoru laughs, though there’s no humor laced in it. He looks back down at you. “Very funny,” Satoru adds, his voice light, almost conversational. His sharp blue eyes flick from Mr. Ito to you, then back again, but there’s a glint in them you recognize all too well—calm, composed, and dangerous.  

Mr. Ito doesn’t seem fazed, meeting Satoru’s gaze with polite confidence. “Yes, we were just discussing some things regarding her son,” he says, his tone smooth and professional. There’s a flicker of curiosity in his expression, though, as he glances between the two of you, clearly piecing things together.  

“Were you now?” Satoru’s lips twitch into a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He then casually pulls out a chair from the table and sits, resting one arm on top of it as if he has all the time in the world. “And what kind of things are we talking about?”  

With every second that passes, you feel yourself grow closer and closer to pissing your pants. You know exactly what he’s doing, it’s the calm before the storm. Satoru is great at saving face, but after knowing him so intimately, you know his true intentions and feelings. But still, you’re too frozen in place to stop it all before it gets out of hand. 

“Well,” Mr. Ito replies, still composed but he spares a look at you before continuing. “Just a few concerns regarding his talkativeness.”  Mr. Ito keeps it vague, still a little on edge by this sudden change of events. 

Satoru lets out a low hum, nodding slightly. “Oh, he talks a lot, does he?” he says, his tone almost too soft, too soothing. His eyes slide to you, lingering just long enough to make you squirm. “And that’s become a problem?”  

Mr. Ito nods. 

Satoru smiles, arms crossing and one leg crossing over the other. “Must be a little troublemaker, he seems to take after his mom.”

The subtle barb stings, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. Mr. Ito, seemingly oblivious, smiles warmly. “Hah, well, I’m not sure who he takes after.”

“Correct.” Satoru simply responds. 

Mr. Ito pauses then continues. “But, She’s an excellent parent,” he says, glancing your way. “We’ve had a few chats during pick-up. It’s always nice to see someone so involved in their child’s education.”  

Satoru’s smile tightens ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he leans forward just a fraction. “It is nice, isn’t it?” he says smoothly, his voice calm but edged with something you can’t quite name. “I mean, a teacher like you must see all kinds of parents. You’ve really taken the time to notice Y/N, haven’t you?”  

Mr. Ito hesitates for the first time, sensing the subtle shift in Satoru’s tone. “Well, I try to be passionate about connecting with all the parents of my students,” he replies, still polite but less certain now.  

Satoru’s smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it widens slightly, though his eyes remain cold. “Of course,” he says, leaning back as if completely at ease. “You’re just doing your job. Going above and beyond, I see.”  

You can feel the tension radiating off Satoru, even if he’s doing his best to appear calm. It’s in the way his fingers tap against the table in a measured rhythm, the way his gaze sharpens with every word.  

“Satoru,” you interject quickly, trying to defuse the situation before it escalates. “Can we ta—”  

“Oh, just a second,” he holds up a long finger, regarding you with such simplicity in a way that makes you feel inferior. Eyes not moving from Mr. Ito’s. “I mean, I should probably be involved in this conversation too, no? Considering I’m the—what do you call it?—Oh, right, father.” 

You gulp hard. Mr. Ito once again shifts his position, hands awkwardly clasping together. 

“Anywho,” Satoru switches back to the subject at hand. “Passion’s a good thing. As long as it’s directed where it belongs, of course.”  

The remark hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Mr. Ito moves uncomfortably but keeps his polite demeanor, clearing his throat. “Well, I should probably get back home, I have some things to grade,” he says, glancing at his watch. “It was nice meeting you, Mr.…”  

“Gojo,” Satoru finishes for him, his smile razor-sharp. “The pleasure’s all mine.”  

Mr. Ito nods, grabbing his jacket he put on the back of his chair. “Goodbye, Ms. Y/N. I'll see you on Monday.” He still has the audacity to give you a warm smile before leaving the cafe, the bell dinging following his departure. 

After a second or two, Satoru’s calm facade finally cracks, his jaw clenching as he exhales slowly through his nose. You brace yourself, knowing that the real conversation is about to begin. The way his eyes scan you up and down in an analytical way makes you feel naked. “And look at you,” he huffs, head tilting in a patronizing way. “Silent and jittery like a little mouse. If I didn’t have other things to say, I’d say you look quite pathetic.”

Blow number 1, there he goes already. Though, you can’t find it in you to rebuttal that. Scared to say anything, honestly. There’s a pause as Satoru picks apart every little thing about you inside his head. You might have felt better hearing it out loud instead of being stuck on the silent end of the stick. Eventually, you find your small amount of courage. “Satoru…”

“Oh, look. You do my name. Thought you would have forgotten it after all the sneaky shit you seem to have been doing these past few years.”

“Can we please talk?” You ask, voice laced with desperation. 

“Hm?” His eyebrow raises. “We’re talking right now, right? Why don’t you sit down?”

Hell no. You bite your lip, hands trembling by your sides. “Please, somewhere private.”

“What makes you think you deserve anything right now?”

He’s right, really right. You probably deserve shit with the lies and deceitful nature you’ve been harboring these years. But, can’t he have at least a little bit of sympathy for you? He has no idea about the shit you’ve been going through all this time by yourself. And while yes, you do feel guilty, he should be still trying to address the situation in an adult-ish manner. “Satoru…please. We shouldn’t talk here, let’s just…go somewhere more quiet.”

Satoru mulls over your words, a part of him wanting to drag this out even longer and make you more uncomfortable. You deserve it. But, you’re also right. So, he takes in a deep breath, stands up, and motions his head towards the door in a silent command. Without wasting a second, you turn around and walk out of the cafe with him hot on your tail. Intending to lead him to the secluded park that you and Koji frequently visit because there’s not a lot of foot traffic. Although your ideal spot would be indoors, you can’t exactly lead him to your apartment right now—not that you want to, anyway.

It’s only a few minutes of walking, but the entire time feels horrible. He stares at the back of your head, eyes roaming down to your back, legs, and then ass. In that specific order. Satoru’s always saved the best for last, and while checking you out should be the last thing on his mind, staring at your ass will at least somewhat calm him down. You’re not stupid either, it’s like you can feel his eyes shamelessly darting about. However, that’s the least of your worries right now.

You see the familiar bench in the distance, taking a seat. He sits beside you, leaving a considerable distance between your bodies. There’s another silence, this one feeling more suffocating. It suddenly hits you that you’re about to do this—about to have this conversation with him, own up to all your bad deeds. You have to, no more hiding. You gulp down the lump in your throat before speaking, “I know this is all probably…really bad. I know you’re mad at me, you have every right to be.”

Satoru doesn’t respond right away, leaning back on the bench with an air of nonchalance that contrasts starkly with the storm brewing in his eyes. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if giving you the floor—but the weight of his silence feels heavier than any words he could’ve said. “Mad?” he finally repeats, his voice low and deceptively calm. He turns to you, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

You wince, his words cutting deeper than you expected. Your hands grip the edge of the bench, knuckles turning white as you scramble for the right thing to say, the perfect way to explain yourself—but nothing feels sufficient. Nothing ever will. “I know,” you whisper, forcing yourself to look at him even as shame threatens to make you shrink away. “I know I should’ve told you—about Koji, about everything. I was just… scared. I didn’t know how to handle it, and—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his tone sharp enough to slice through your excuses. His gaze pins you in place, icy and unrelenting. “Don’t you dare try to justify it. You made the choice to keep my son from me. For five years.”

The raw anger in his voice makes your chest tighten, guilt clawing at your insides. “I didn’t do it to hurt you,” you plead, voice trembling. “I swear, Satoru, I thought I was doing what was best—”

“For who?” he snaps, his calm facade slipping for a brief moment, revealing the frustration bubbling underneath. “For me? For Koji? Or just for you?”

You flinch at his words, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “For Koji,” you choke out. “I wanted to protect him. There’s—there are reasons why I didn’t…..” your voice trails off, unable to get the remaining part of your excuse out. But it’s true. You had—have—your reasons. And while most people still might not consider it good enough or justifiable, you truly believed what you did was for good. 

Satoru lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair as he looks away, shaking his head. “Reasons?” he mutters, almost to himself. “And what, you think keeping my son a secret all because of ‘reasons’ makes this situation any better? Are you that fucking stupid?”

“No, no, I…know it won’t make anything better,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “I know that. But back then, I just… I just thought that…he wasn’t ready for your world, like I’m not.” By world, you mean quite literally that. Satoru grew up spoiled, his inner elite circle is all he’s ever known. Responsibilities at such a young age, responsibilities no child should face. Expectations, public display, people constantly butting their heads in your business, you have absolutely zero privacy. Satoru would vent to you about that, and you knew—just knew—you couldn’t put your innocent baby boy through that. There’s a class divide between you and Satoru, the main reason as to why you two broke up in the first place. 

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to lash out again—but instead, he exhales sharply, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You didn’t even give me a choice,” he says quietly, his voice laced with hurt. “You decided for both of us. For him.”

The weight of his words crushes you, the reality of your actions settling in your chest like a stone. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears finally spilling over. “I’m so, so sorry, Satoru. I just… I didn’t know how to face you.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his head bowed as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts. When he finally looks up, his gaze is softer, but no less intense. “Do you have any idea what it’s like,” he murmurs, “to find out you have a son—your son—after all this time? To realize you’ve missed everything?”

Your heart breaks at the pain in his voice, and you reach out instinctively, your hand hovering over his before pulling back, unsure if he’ll accept your touch. “I know I can’t fix this,” you say, voice shaking. “But I want to try. I want to make things right. For you. For Koji.”

Satoru studies you for a long moment, his piercing gaze searching your face for something—truth, regret, maybe even hope. “Making things right?” he echoes softly. “You can’t make this right. Because you did something so fucked up, I think I’m starting to hate you.”

“I don’t expect you not to,” you say, sniffling as you wipe your eyes. Now’s the time to be transparent.

“Tell me,” he commands, looking at you with an unrecognizable face. “Tell me every single fucking reason why you thought what you did was okay. Then maybe—only maybe—I’ll decide how we should move forward from this.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I thought I was doing what was best for Koji,” you repeat softly, though the words feel hollow even to your ears. “Your world, Satoru—it’s suffocating. The spotlight, the responsibilities, the pressure... I didn’t want him to grow up with that. I didn’t want him to be molded by something he never asked for. I–I just wanted him to have a normal childhood growing up, something you weren’t able to have…”

He stares at you, unblinking, his expression unreadable but his jaw visibly tightening.

“And then... there was us,” you continue, your voice faltering slightly. “We had just broken up, and I—I didn’t think you’d want to settle down with a kid so soon after everything. I didn’t think you were…ready.”

His eyes narrow, sharp, and cold. “So you assumed I wasn’t ready, just like you assumed it would be better to keep him from me?”

“It wasn’t just that,” you say quickly, the tremor in your voice betraying your desperation. You let out a shaky exhale, willing yourself to continue, even though it’s getting harder to breathe. “After the miscarriage... I couldn’t handle the idea of telling you I was pregnant again. I was terrified, Satoru. Terrified of losing him too, and what that would do to both of us. I thought... if I kept it to myself, maybe I could protect him, protect us from that pain.” The words of your past are extremely hard to get out. You vowed to yourself to never even utter or think of the word miscarriage ever again, though that’s hard to do when you’re explaining yourself. It was hard, so fucking hard for you. No words or exercises can prepare you for the pain of having a child, just like nothing can prepare you for the pain of losing one. It happened two years into your relationship, and although it was completely unexpected and accidental, you felt something in your bones that told you to keep it.

Satoru tried, as hard as he could, though you’re not sure that means a lot. You could see the exhaustion and fatigue in his face, feeling guilter by the day for wanting to keep it. While he never explicitly voiced out getting rid of it, you knew he wouldn’t be upset if you did. That alone was the start of your relationship’s downfall. Maybe it was your own version of stress, anxiety, and whatever else you were going through back then, but you lost it. Your body wasn’t strong enough to house and grow a production of your love, which you hated yourself for. Maybe even a small part of you started hating Satoru, thinking about how happy he must have been behind his soothing words and even more soothing hugs. You thought how ecstatic he must be, lying straight to your face after crying with you. Of course, you never voiced these malicious feelings out either. The memories you’ve locked away for years now come crashing through your defenses, spilling out into the open where they can’t be ignored.

You remembered the nights spent curled up on the bathroom floor. The heavy blood clots, mixed with strong abdominal pain. Sobbing silently so Satoru wouldn’t hear you, your hands pressed to your stomach like you could keep your child safe just by willing it. But it hadn’t been enough. Nothing you did was enough.

The moment you’d lost your first child, a part of you had shattered beyond repair. The guilt was unbearable, the self-loathing even worse. A horrible thing for a twenty-one year old to experience; for any woman to experience. Every reassuring word from Satoru felt like a lie, no matter how sincerely he meant them. It’s almost like you could see the shadow of relief in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking, the slight easing of tension in his shoulders that felt like a betrayal even though you couldn’t blame him for it. 

It had eaten away at you, little by little, until the mere thought of being pregnant again felt like a cruel joke. You’d failed once—what if you failed again? When you saw the test, you didn’t cry out of happiness. You cried out of fear, choking on your sobs as the weight of the decision pressed down on you. Keeping Koji meant risking everything again—your heart, your sanity, your relationship with Satoru, already frayed and stretched thin. Could you go through that pain again? Could he?

You didn’t think you could, and that thought was what finally broke you. Because if you couldn’t handle it, how could you expect Satoru to? You’d already seen the exhaustion in his eyes, the way he’d tried so hard to comfort you when he was barely holding himself together. And the truth that you never said out loud, the truth you could barely admit to yourself, was that you didn’t believe he’d want to try again.

You were terrified he’d ask you to get rid of it this time. Or worse—he’d do what he did last time: try to be there, try to support you, while secretly wishing for a way out. You couldn’t handle the idea of hearing him say it. You couldn’t bear the thought of watching his love for you chip away under the strain of something neither of you was ready for.

So you decided. Alone. After the break-up. That is when you found out, after all; three weeks later.

You told yourself it was for Koji. That keeping him away from Satoru’s world—the world of power, expectations, and relentless spotlight—was what was best for him. You told yourself it was for Satoru, too, because he deserved to live his life without being shackled to a family he might not have wanted. But deep down, you knew it was also about you. About your own cowardice, your fear of rejection, your inability to face the possibility of losing everything again.

Sitting here now, with Satoru’s eyes burning into you, the weight of your decisions feels unbearable. The excuses you clung to for so long sound hollow, even to you. But they were your truths at the time, however twisted and fragile they might have been. “I thought I was protecting all of us,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. The words hang in the air, raw and exposed, as you finally let yourself feel the full weight of the choices you made and the people they hurt.

Satoru feels his world pause when you mention the traumatic event you both went through. His stomach twisting in a disgusting feeling, a hint of bile rising in his throat. Memories, painful memories playing on repeat in his mind. He even feels the familiar tickle at his eyes, blinking rapidly to avoid any pour out.

Then, for a moment, his gaze softens, just a flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face—but it’s gone as quickly as it came. “So…by protecting, you decide to hide it, him, everything from me. You decided I didn’t deserve to know him,” he says bitterly. “That I didn’t deserve to be there for him—or for you. Did you just think that I wouldn’t be the man I was supposed to be towards my children? You didn’t give me a second chance, to—to prove to you we could’ve done this, together. You…You didn’t even give me a chance, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t just about you,” you snap, the frustration bubbling up despite your guilt. “I was scared, Satoru. Scared of rejection, of what your family would think, of how we’d even make it work with everything stacked against us. I didn’t have your money, your power, your family name. I was just... me. And I didn’t think that would ever be enough.”

His brows furrow, and you can see him processing your words, his fists clenching at his sides. “You think I care about any of that?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I’d let a class divide or family politics get in the way of being there for my son?”

“I didn’t know what you’d do,” you admit, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You were so far out of reach, Satoru. And after we lost... after everything we went through, I didn’t think you’d want to try again. I thought it’d be easier for you—easier for both of us—if I just disappeared.”

“Easier?” he repeats, his voice rising slightly, his calm facade threatening to crumble. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve hated myself for the last five years? For losing you? For wondering what could’ve been?”

You blink at him, startled by the crack in his voice, the sheer vulnerability in his words.

“You didn’t,” you whisper. “It wasn’t you, Satoru. It was me. I was scared, and I made the wrong choice. I know that now. I know I can’t fix this, but I want to try. For Koji’s sake. For your sake.”

He leans back slightly, exhaling sharply as he runs a hand through his hair. The silence between you is deafening, the weight of everything you’ve said hanging heavily in the air. “Do you know what I’m feeling right now?” he says finally, his voice quieter but no less intense, “How it feels like to find out you have a son you’ve never even met, to know you missed his first steps, his first words, his entire life so far? And why? Because you took that from me.”

Tears spill down your cheeks, but you don’t wipe them away. “I know,” you whisper. “I know, and I’m sorry. I was selfish. I thought I was protecting him, but I was just protecting myself.” 

Satoru looks at you for a long moment, his piercing gaze searching your face for something—truth, regret, maybe even hope. Finally, he exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. “You’ve done a lot of damage, Y/N,” he says quietly. “And it’s going to take more than an apology to fix it.”

You nod, wiping your tears away. “I’m not asking for forgiveness, Satoru. I’m just asking for…a chance to make things right.” Your head lowers, vision blurry as you focus on your trembling hands in your lap. 

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze shifting to the horizon. “This isn’t about you and me anymore,” he says after a long pause. “It’s about Koji. And I’m not going to let you shut me out of his life again.”

“I wouldn’t,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I–I swear, Satoru. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. For him.”

Satoru lets out a slow breath, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Then let’s start now,” he says, his tone firm. “Take me to him.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the reality of the situation sinking in. This is only the beginning—and there’s no turning back. “H-he’s at home.”

“So take me there.”

You stand, fumbling with your words. “I…I can’t just have you two meet out of nowhere, I have to tell him in advance.”

His lips purse, and downturn into another frown, a look that lets you know he’s this close to stop being lenient with you. However, he concedes. “Tomorrow. Here.” 

“Whe–”

“Ten in the morning, I’ll leave my meeting early.” he glances at the pristine, gold watch on his right wrist. “Give me your number, in case you try to run and lie again.”

A pang of hurt flies through you, though you can’t blame him for being cautious. Even if that cautiousness is riddled with snide remarks and insults. He gives you his phone, to which you go to contacts and place your new number in, marked by your name. Without another word, he pockets his phone. When he looks at you for one last time, it looks like it hurts, like he’s forcing himself to. After a second, he turns around and walks away, leaving you to your own devices. 

Letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, you sit back on the bench, head in your hands and lightly tugging at your strands of hair. Things still don’t feel right. You know you two still have a lot more to say to one another, unspoken words being your enemy. It’s far from over, actually. 

But at least you two have come to a small conclusion, for now. However, you don’t know how tomorrow will go. You can only hope you don’t cry too much, and that Koji and him will get along well.

Still, you can’t help that lingering sense of anxiousness. Is it okay for you to feel this way? To be wary? Or are you stretching your already little luck?

The walk back home feels boneless and empty. Taking your time, going through small detours, and whatnot. You get back home after a few hours, it’s already twelve in the afternoon. Regarding Sana with a muttered greeting and haphazardly giving her her money. When she leaves, you’re left alone. Koji’s surprisingly down for a nap. Usually, you would question why he’s sleeping this early in the day, but you could honestly use the peace and quiet right now. You could use it every day, actually. 

You sit on the small, worn-out couch. Letting your body sink into the thin material, head leaning back against the cushions. You’re in your mind again. It seems like every day is more exhausting than the last. As the saying goes, you learn something new every day. And today, one of the things that surprised you most was how Satoru said he’s been miserable in these past five years. He missed you? He hated himself for losing you? Then why didn’t he fight for you? Why’d he just stand there and take everything? If he really wanted you, he would’ve begged you to stay, he would’ve come up with some solution to your deteriorating relationship. Unless he said all that now just to make you feel even more shitty. You don’t know what’s right anymore.

 The thoughts spiral like a storm in your mind, each one crashing into the next without pause. The quiet apartment, usually your refuge, feels stifling now. The weight of everything Satoru said—and everything he didn’t—presses down on you like a heavy fog. You pull your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as if it could keep the memories and doubts at bay. It doesn’t. His words replay in your mind, over and over.

"You think I’d let a class divide or family politics get in the way of being there for my son?"

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to find out you have a son you’ve never even met?"

It’s not just his anger that haunts you; it’s the pain you saw flickering behind his icy facade. You knew it would be there, but experiencing it firsthand feels nauseating. Satoru Gojo wasn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but in those fleeting moments, his vulnerability was almost unbearable to witness.

Still, you start to wonder. Why didn’t he fight for you? That thought burns the most. It’s a question that’s lingered in the shadows of your mind for years, one you tried to bury under the weight of your choices and responsibilities. The truth is, you don’t have an answer. Maybe you never will.

You glance at the small coffee table, littered with Koji’s coloring books and the half-empty mug of coffee you didn’t finish this morning. It feels like a snapshot of a life you’ve tried so hard to hold together, but now the cracks are impossible to ignore. You think of Koji, sleeping soundly in the other room, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. He’s your anchor, the one thing that’s kept you grounded all these years. But now, with Satoru back in the picture, everything feels uncertain. 

A part of you wants to believe he meant what he said—that he missed you, that he hated himself for losing you. But another part of you wonders if it’s just anger talking, a need to lash out and make you feel as miserable as he does. The exhaustion pulls at you like a tide, and you let your head fall into your hands, groaning softly. You want to scream, cry, or maybe just disappear for a while. But none of that will solve anything. You can’t rewrite the past.

The soft hum of the refrigerator fills the silence, a dull reminder of the life you’ve built here, brick by fragile brick. And now, in just a single morning, Satoru has shaken the foundation of everything you thought you knew.

You sigh heavily, forcing yourself to stand. There’s no use drowning in your thoughts. You glance at the closed door to Koji’s room, then at the kitchen. Maybe you should prepare something for lunch. Maybe you should sit down and write out everything you’ve been feeling, like the therapist you saw briefly after Koji’s birth suggested.

But instead, you just stand there, frozen in place, as the weight of your choices and the uncertainty of what comes next presses down on you. He’s gonna meet his dad. Koji’s finally getting what he’s wanted after so long, after so many curious questions. You think about how happy he might be, a little shy at first, but he’ll grow to become best friends with his dad. Bitterly smiling, you walk to the kitchen, forcing open a locked cabinet. You pour an unknowing amount of small white pills in your palm, dry swallowing them to quell your monstrous cluster migraine. The pills burn slightly as they go down, a sharp reminder of how raw your nerves are. You grip the edge of the sink, your fingers curling into the cold metal. The thought of Koji meeting Satoru feels like a knife with two edges—one gleaming with hope and the other with fear. 

Once Koji wakes up, you’ll need to have a talk with him. Koji’s been asking about his dad for as long as he could form the words. His innocent curiosity, his longing, had always been a reminder of the choices you made, and now…now, you’ll have to confront what those choices mean for him.

He’ll most likely be jumping off the walls, but…you start hoping he doesn’t. You imagine his face lighting up when he sees Satoru—those wide, curious eyes sparkling with excitement and the kind of joy you could never quite give him on your own. That should make you happy, shouldn’t it? He deserves to have both parents in his life. But the thought of him bonding with Satoru, looking up to him, and maybe even loving him more than you…that thought digs into your chest like a splinter. You hate how petty and small it makes you feel. 

You’ve done your best, haven’t you? You’ve given everything you could, sacrificed so much, and tried to shield him from the harshness of the world. But Satoru has something you can’t give—a life free of constant worries, opportunities Koji can only dream of, and a charisma that pulls people in like gravity. It’s stupid, you know it is. But you start worrying that Koji will begin to prefer Satoru over you. That he’ll find more comfort and happiness in a parent he just met than the one who’s done everything she could. 

But that’s the thing. 

Maybe your everything, your all, it just wasn’t enough. It still isn’t enough. Because while you’re giving Koji the bare minimum, you can’t do the littler things. Vacations, buying him toys he loves that he constantly sees on TV, newer clothes and not the thrifted kind, going out to eat dinner. None of that, and more. 

You glance at the clock. Koji will hopefully wake up soon. There’s no more time to wallow in your thoughts. You rinse your hands under the cold water, hoping it’ll steady the tremor in them. "This isn’t about you," you remind yourself firmly, staring at your reflection in the window above the sink. The woman staring back looks older than her years, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and worry. But beneath all of that, there’s still love—a fierce, unrelenting love for the boy who’s about to have his world turned upside down. You can’t control how Koji feels about Satoru, just like you couldn’t control how things fell apart between you and him. But you can control how you navigate this moment, for Koji’s sake.

You take a deep breath, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack your face. When Koji wakes up, you’ll talk to him. You’ll answer his questions, help him prepare, and do your best to hide your own fears. Because this isn’t about you.

"It’s about him," you whisper, as if saying it out loud will make the truth easier to accept.

“What I say, baby, I want you to listen well, okay? Can you do that for me?”

The young boy nods and grins. “I can listen, Mama,” he admits proudly. 

You should also probably bring up the issue Mr. Ito expressed to you, but that’s for another time. Also, you feel as if you weren’t getting the full story there. Whatever, that’s for another time. You steel yourself, choosing the correct words to say. “So, you know how Papa is always busy?”

He nods.

“Well,” you continue, taking his much smaller hand into yours, presenting a warm smile. “Papa won’t be busy tomorrow.”

He gasps, already seeing the twinkle form in his eyes, and you feel a tad jealous at how happy he’s already getting. “He is?!”

“Mhm,” you nod back. “Do you want to see Pa—”

“I wanna see Papa!”

He cuts you off, causing your jealousy to momentarily skyrocket. You catch yourself before the feeling twists any further, biting down the sharp edge of jealousy threatening to creep into your tone. This isn’t about you—it’s about Koji. It’s always been about Koji. “That’s great,” you say, forcing your smile to stay steady, even as a part of you aches at how easily he lights up for someone who’s been a ghost in his life until now. “But, Koji, baby, you need to listen to me first, okay? Seeing Papa is a big thing, and we need to talk about what that means.”

He tilts his head, the excitement in his eyes dimming just a little as he picks up on the seriousness in your voice. “Is it gonna be like when we see Uncle Ren?” 

Your heart twists at the innocent comparison. Ren, for all his faults, has been one of the only constants in Koji’s life outside of you. But no—this isn’t like Ren. This is his father. Ren’s the nicer, older man who runs the sweet shop down the corner. He always greets you two with such warmness, even giving Koji a free lollipop most of the time. 

“Not exactly,” you say carefully. “Papa is... someone very important. He’s not like Uncle Ren. He’s your family, Koji. Your real family.”

He blinks, trying to process your words. His little brows knit together in confusion. “So... he’s gonna stay with us?”

You feel your stomach drop at the question. You hadn’t prepared for this. You hadn’t thought about how to explain that Satoru isn’t coming into Koji’s life as a permanent fixture—not yet, at least. How do you tell a child something so complicated when it’s barely something you’ve figured out yourself? “Not right now,” you say gently, squeezing his hand. “But he’s going to start spending time with you. He’s been waiting a long time to meet you, Koji.”

“Really?” His face lights up again, his tiny frame vibrating with excitement.

“Really,” you confirm, though your voice feels thick. You clear your throat, forcing the emotion back down where it belongs. “But when you meet him, you have to be on your best behavior, okay? No running around like crazy or talking over people.”

“I’ll be good!” he promises, practically bouncing in his seat. You hope so. More than anything, you hope this meeting is what Koji dreams it’ll be. That he gets to see the man who is half of him and feel nothing but joy.

But as you watch his wide, excited smile, your stomach churns with doubt. Will Satoru disappoint him? Will Koji’s expectations crash under the weight of Satoru’s complexities? Or worse, will Koji grow to love him so much that he stops looking at you the same way?

You push the thought away, leaning forward to kiss Koji’s forehead. “I’m proud of you, baby,” you murmur, even as the ache in your chest refuses to subside. “And I’m so excited for you to meet Papa.”

Koji giggles, his little arms wrapping around your waist in a hug so pure it threatens to undo you entirely. You hold him close, pressing your cheek to his soft hair, and try to anchor yourself in this moment—this fleeting, fragile peace—before tomorrow comes and changes everything. As Koji pulls back, his eyes are gleaming with uncontainable joy. “Do you think Papa likes dinosaurs?” he asks suddenly, his voice pitched with excitement. “I can show him my dino book! And my drawings too!”

Your lips twitch into a soft smile despite the heaviness sitting in your chest. “I think he’ll love them, Koji,” you say gently. “But remember, it’s okay if Papa doesn’t know everything about dinosaurs. You can teach him, right?”

Koji nods eagerly, his little hands fidgeting as if he’s already planning how he’ll show off his collection. “I can teach him all the big words, like pachy... pachycephalosaurus!” he declares proudly.

Your laugh is small but genuine, breaking through the weight of your thoughts. “That’s a big word, alright,” you say, ruffling his hair. Koji’s excitement is infectious, and for a moment, you let yourself bask in his enthusiasm. It’s easier to pretend that everything will go smoothly, that tomorrow won’t bring possible complications you can’t predict or control. But as he bounds off to his room, presumably to organize his dinosaur books and drawings for tomorrow, the silence that settles over the apartment again feels excruciating. You glance toward the kitchen, where the locked cabinet hides the pills you’ve been relying on far too often these days. For a moment, the thought crosses your mind, unbidden: Would it even matter if I wasn’t enough anymore?

You shake your head sharply, disgusted with yourself for even entertaining it. No. You have to be enough—for Koji, if nothing else.

Sighing, you push yourself off the couch and move toward his room. You lean against the doorframe, watching as he carefully stacks his books into a neat pile, his little hands moving with purpose. “Koji,” you call softly, and he looks up at you, his face lit with the same pure joy it’s always had.

“Yeah, Mama?”

“I just...” You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. I just love you so much. It feels too simple, too heavy all at once. Instead, you force a smile. “I think Papa’s really lucky to have you.”

Koji beams, his smile wide and toothy. “And you, Mama!” he says, matter-of-factly, before returning to his project.

You linger for a moment longer, letting his words wrap around your heart like a fragile thread. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring—if it’ll heal or shatter you further—but for now, you let yourself hold on to the hope in his voice. Because like always, Koji is your guiding light in a world so dark, he’s the hand that pulls you out when you’re sinking too deep. If you begin to question your love for even yourself, your love for him is enough to keep you going. 

Today’s a little more warm than usual, though that doesn’t say a lot considering it’s winter and the air feels crispy; still sunny. You hold your son’s hand, guiding him along the sidewalk and to the inevitable meeting spot between father and son. You left a little early; it being 9:30. It feels slightly calmer within your mind, probably because Satoru isn’t here yet. 

You sit with Koji on the bench, letting him find placement on your lap. Adjusting his red beanie and gloves. “Are you excited, Koji?”

“I’m really excited, Mama. do you think Papa will like me?”

You coo. “Of course he will. Papa already loves you.”

“Really? Even though he’s never seen me?”

“Koji beams at your words, his small hands tugging at the ends of his gloves as if to keep himself busy. “Do you think he’ll play with me? Maybe dinosaurs or tag?” His little backpack is full of things he wishes to show his father, most of them being either dinosaur or car-related. 

You smile softly, stroking his cheek. “I think he’ll play whatever you want. Papa will want to get to know you, Koji. You’re very special to him.”

His grin widens, and he leans into your touch, the warmth of his trust settling heavily on your chest. You wish you could bottle this moment—his innocence, his excitement, his unshakable belief that everything will turn out fine.

The minutes pass as you and Koji wait for Satoru, the latter being more excited than the other. Finally, the sound of footsteps crunching in the frosty grass pulls your attention, and your heart skips. You glance up and see Satoru approaching, his tall frame unmistakable even from a distance. His coat flutters slightly in the breeze, his pace steady yet reluctant, as if he’s as nervous as you are. He’s wearing sunglasses, per usual. A voice in the back of your mind berates him for that fashion choice. “There he is,” you murmur, nudging Koji gently.

Koji hops off your lap, his tiny hand still clutching yours tightly. He squints toward the approaching figure, his expression a mix of curiosity and awe. “Is that Papa?”

You nod, your throat tightening. “That’s him, sweetheart.”

As Satoru comes closer, his steps slow, his gaze fixed on the little boy beside you. His expression is unreadable—somewhere between wonder and hesitation, like he’s trying to process the reality of seeing his son for the first time.

“Koji,” you say softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Say hello.”

Koji looks up at Satoru, his shyness momentarily overtaking his excitement. “Hi, Papa,” he says, his voice small but filled with hope.

Satoru stops a few steps away, his hands shoved in his coat pockets. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. His blue eyes flicker to you briefly before settling on Koji. “Hey there, little buddy,” he says, his voice quiet. He crouches slightly to Koji’s level, offering a tentative smile. “You must be Koji. I’m Satoru.”

Koji nods, gripping your hand tighter. “That’s me. Are you really my Papa?”

Satoru chuckles, though there’s a faint crack in the sound. “Yeah, kid. I am.”

Koji’s face lights up, and he lets go of your hand to take a step toward Satoru. “Mama said you love me already. Is that true?”

For a moment, Satoru seems at a loss for words. His gaze softens, and he nods, his voice rough with emotion. “Yeah, Koji. I do. I’ve always loved you.” The boy beams, closing the remaining distance to hug Satoru’s waist, his little arms barely wrapping around it. Satoru freezes for a second before carefully putting his hand down, his large palm resting gently on Koji’s back.

Your chest tightens at the sight, and you quickly look away, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. This is their moment, you tell yourself. A moment you’ve waited so long for, no matter how bittersweet it feels.

Koji pulls his head back, a wide and toothy smile as he regards his father. His head tilts, staring at his own reflection within the tinted shades of the glasses before Satoru reaches and pulls them over his head. It’s like a mirror, almost uncanny how similar the two look; you seem like an outsider. There’s an unspoken moment as the two continue to look at each other, as if finally saying this is really him. Their eyes are like when you place two mirrors in front of one another.

Satoru’s lips twitch upward into a faint smile as he holds the glasses out, letting Koji’s small fingers curl around the frame. “Here, try them on,” he says, his tone light but carrying a hint of something deeper—an unspoken acknowledgment of their connection.

Koji’s eyes widen with delight, and he eagerly slips the oversized glasses onto his face. They sit crookedly on his nose, far too large for his small frame, but his grin stretches even wider. “Do I look cool, Papa?” He asks as the glasses slide down his nose.

Satoru laughs softly, a sound that feels warmer than you expected. “Cooler than me, for sure. Guess I have to step up my game now.”

The boy giggles, and you watch the interaction with a bittersweet ache in your chest. This is what you’d imagined all those nights when you wondered how the two of them would get along. The way Koji lights up under Satoru’s attention is both heartwarming and a painful reminder of what’s been missing. Koji pulls the glasses off and holds them out to Satoru. “Here, you can have them back. Mama says sharing is nice.”

Satoru takes them, sliding them back over his forehead. His gaze briefly flicks to you, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he looks back at Koji. “Your mama’s right. Sharing is pretty nice.”

You clear your throat, feeling like an intruder in their growing bond. “Koji,” you say softly, “how about we sit down for a bit?”

Koji nods eagerly, pulling Satoru’s hand as he moves toward the bench. Satoru lets him lead, his expression softening as he glances down at the boy. It’s a strange sight—Satoru, who’s always seemed larger than life, brought down to such an intimate moment. As they sit, Koji climbs onto the space beside him which is in between you two, his legs swinging with restless energy. “Papa, do you like dinosaurs? Mama says I know a lot about them!”

Satoru leans back, crossing his arms as he smirks. “Dinosaurs, huh? Bet you’re smarter than me already. You’ll have to teach me everything.”

“I can do that!” Koji declares proudly, bouncing slightly in his seat. Satoru hums, his gaze shifting to you again momentarily. There’s an unspoken question in his eyes, as if silently acknowledging the effort it must have taken to bring this moment to life. It’s gone before you know it. 

You offer a small, shaky smile, unsure if it’s enough. But for now, it seems to be all you can give. Koji digs into his backpack, pulling out his dinosaur drawings and books. Koji’s small hands fumble with the zipper of his backpack, his excitement palpable as he pulls it open and begins rifling through its contents. “Wait, Papa! I gotta show you something!” he exclaims, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

Satoru leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, curiosity piqued. “Oh yeah? What’ve you got in there, buddy?”

Koji triumphantly pulls out a stack of slightly crumpled drawings, held together by a paperclip, and a well-worn dinosaur book with a cracked spine. “These are my favorite! Look!” He spreads the drawings out on Satoru’s lap, pointing at each one with his little finger. “This is a T-Rex—it’s the king of dinosaurs. And this one’s a Triceratops! It has three horns, see?”

Satoru’s gaze moves over the colorful scribbles, a mix of crayons and markers. He chuckles, tapping the corner of a particularly fierce-looking dinosaur. “This T-Rex looks like it’s about to eat someone. You’re a pretty good artist, Koji.”

Koji beams, his chest puffing out with pride. “Mama helped me with some of the colors!”

You can’t help but smile at the way he gives you credit, even as you hover a few inches away. “He did most of it himself,” you say, your voice softer than you intended.

Satoru glances at you, his expression unreadable, before turning back to Koji. “You’re really into dinosaurs, huh? You know, I think I might need some lessons. I don’t know much about them.”

Koji’s eyes widen. “You don’t? Oh, Papa, I know so much! I can tell you all about the Velociraptor! They were super smart and super fast, like this!” He hops off the bench and runs a small circle in front of them, his arms tucked close like claws.

Satoru laughs, leaning back and watching his son’s animated movements. “Fast, huh? Guess I’ve got a lot to catch up on. You think you can teach me everything in one day?”

Koji stops, his hands on his hips as he considers the question. “Maybe two days,” he says with a solemn nod, as though he’s made a grand concession.

“Deal.” Satoru holds out his pinky, and Koji eagerly hooks his smaller one around it.

You watch the scene unfold, a lump forming in your throat. It’s a simple, tender moment—a glimpse of what could have been all these years. The sight of Satoru interacting so effortlessly with Koji stirs something deep within you: a mixture of relief, regret, and longing. For now, though, you let it play out, quietly holding onto the hope that maybe—just maybe—this is the start of something better.

Watching Satoru and his little carbon copy switch from topic to topic so animatedly, laughing practically in the same tone, hopping up from the bench and making their way over to the playground a few feet away where they play tag and other parently things, it’s bittersweet. Their voices overlapping with excitement, is nothing short of surreal. They laugh at the same things, sounding so bright, carefree, and unrestrained. It’s uncanny how similar they are, from the sparkle in their eyes to the animated gestures they make when they’re especially engrossed in a story.

Satoru follows Koji without hesitation. His long legs make exaggerated strides as he pretends to struggle to keep up with Koji’s smaller but determined ones. They dart toward the playground a few feet away, the father pretending to stumble dramatically as Koji tags him with a triumphant giggle. “Gotcha, Papa!” Koji exclaims, hands on his hips in victory.

Satoru clutches his chest, feigning defeat. “Oh no! You’re too fast for me! How am I ever gonna catch you now?” Koji’s laughter fills the air, high-pitched and unbridled, and Satoru’s laughter follows—louder, but just as genuine. They move seamlessly into other "parent-y" things: Satoru helps Koji up onto the monkey bars, playfully pretends to lose at rock-paper-scissors, and even kneels in the dirt to “help” Koji build a small castle from wood chips and fallen leaves.

It’s poignant.

On one hand, this is what you always wanted for Koji: the joy of having his father present, the sense of belonging that comes with it. Seeing them together, it’s clear they’re already forming a bond—one you never doubted they’d have. But on the other hand, it’s a painful reminder of what could have been. Of all the moments you and Koji missed out on, of the milestones, Satoru wasn’t there to witness. It feels like watching a puzzle finally fall into place, except you’re the piece that doesn’t quite fit.

You sit on the edge of the bench, arms crossed tightly over your chest, trying to focus on the joy radiating from Koji rather than the ache in your heart. The past five years feel heavier than ever as you watch them, your mind flipping through memories of bedtime stories, scraped knees, and birthdays spent alone. You did your best, but sitting here now, it feels like it was never adequate.

Satoru glances over his shoulder at one point, catching your eye. There’s something obscure in his expression—maybe it’s a touch of hesitation, or something softer. For a moment, you hold his gaze, unsure of what to say or do. Then, Koji calls his name again, and he’s pulled back into the moment, grinning as he lets the boy climb onto his back for a piggyback ride.

You smile faintly, blinking back the sting in your eyes. This is for Koji, you remind yourself. This is for him. Even if it hurts, even if it feels like you’re standing on the outside looking in, it’s worth it for him. Always for him. Because at the end of the day, no matter what his parents are going through, he needs Satoru just as much as you, and vice versa.

What if he starts needing Satoru more? Fathers and sons always have that special bond that can’t be replicated by mother and son, it’s like how daughters and mothers have a relationship like no other. Fathers and sons, they always seem to share a unique connection, one that feels effortless and almost predestined. The kind of connection you can never quite replicate, no matter how hard you try; and daughters naturally gravitate toward their mothers, a coalition that feels like it was written into their DNA.

But Koji’s all you have.

What if he starts asking for Satoru more? What if this new relationship between them becomes so strong, so unshakable, that you’re left standing on the sidelines? A shadow of the parent you’ve always tried to be. The thought sends a jolt of panic straight through your chest, cold and unrelenting.

What will you do then? No, you think, that can’t happen. It won’t. 

You shake your head, trying to banish the thought as quickly as it came. That can’t happen. It just can’t happen. You’ve been there for every scraped knee, every bedtime story, every nightmare that needed soothing. You’ve carried the weight of being both parents for five long years. There’s no way Satoru can just step in now and take your place, no matter how effortlessly he seems to connect with Koji. But that was because you chose that, a voice in your head reminds you.

Still, is it bad to hold your son this close to you? Fearing that he’ll be ripped away from you before you can even blink? Is that co-dependence? To want to shield him from a world that feels like it’s constantly trying to take him away from you? Is it selfish to want to keep him tethered to you, even as you know he deserves the freedom to explore this new relationship with his father?

You swallow hard, your hands fidgeting in your lap. Maybe it is selfish. Maybe it is in fact co-dependence, this need to keep him as close as possible, as if letting go even a little might mean losing him completely. But how could it not be? He’s been your everything for so long, the only light in a world that’s often felt impossibly dark. You glance at the playground again, watching as Satoru spins Koji around in his arms, both of them laughing like they’ve known each other forever. And maybe they have, in a way. Maybe some part of Koji has always been waiting for this, for his father to finally show up and fill the space you couldn’t. Wait, you know he’s been waiting for this. 

Your chest tightens, and you force yourself to take a steadying breath. This isn’t about you. It never was. Koji deserves this, and you owe it to him to put aside your fears and let him have it.

Even if it feels like it’s breaking you apart in the process.

It’s been a few hours and if possible, it’s like Koji and Satoru are best friends. That’s good, right? Satoru has always been a charming person, one you could easily find comfort in. You’ve lived that. Koji’s sweating by the time he comes over to you. “Drink water,” you gently instruct, handing him his small Spiderman water bottle, and wiping at his sweaty face and neck with the sleeve of your coat.

“Energetic little boy,” Satoru sighs in mild exhaustion as he comes over. He seems to be sweating too, cheeks flushed a nice red, chest heaving up and down. He undoes another button on his casual button-down, giving you a view of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You catch yourself staring too intently and look away before he can say anything. 

He notices.

“Mama, Papa is so fast. I wanna be fast like him.” Koji breathes out, smiling at you, his cheeks red in similarity to his dad. 

With a light chuckle, you take his water bottle back once he’s done. “You’re already fast, Koji. But when you grow up into a bigger boy, you’ll be really fast, maybe even faster than Papa.”

“Hey,” Satoru cuts in, giving you a frown that teeters on the line of a playful pout. “He’s not there yet, let’s cross that bridge when we get there.” 

The word let’s makes your stomach twist a bit. A reminder that he does want this, he does want Koji, he does want to be a father. You entertain the idea of him wanting you, before quickly shuffling that away. 

“Papa, are you coming home with us?” Koji innocently asks, unaware of the way his two parents simultaneously stiffen. The question hangs in the air like a weight, heavy and unrelenting. Koji’s wide-eyed innocence is almost cruel in its purity, completely unaware of the way his words have sliced through the fragile peace you and Satoru have been clinging to.

Satoru’s eyes dart to yours, his expression unreadable, though the slight twitch of his jaw betrays his tension. You can feel his gaze searching for some kind of answer, some indication of how you want him to handle this. But how could you possibly guide him when you don’t even know what to say yourself?

You force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace, and gently brush Koji’s hair back under his red beanie. “Papa has his own home, sweetheart,” you say carefully, your voice soft but firm. “He’s not coming home with us today.”

Koji’s face falls just slightly, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks back at Satoru, his small hands clutching the hem of his sweater. “Can I see Papa again?”

Satoru crouches down to Koji’s level, his long fingers lightly ruffling the boy’s hair. “Of course, you can,” he says, his voice warm and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere, buddy. You’ll see me again real soon.”

The promise is sincere, and it makes something in your chest ache. For Koji’s sake, you want to believe him. You want to believe that Satoru will keep his word, that he won’t somehow put his work over his own son. But a small, bitter part of you—the part that remembers how he let you go so easily all those years ago—can’t quite let go of its doubts.

Koji seems satisfied with the answer, his smile returning as he hugs Satoru tightly. “Okay! I’ll see you soon, Papa!”

As Satoru hugs him back, his eyes flicker to you over Koji’s shoulder. There’s something there, something unspoken but heavy. Guilt? Hope? Regret? You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to. When they finally pull apart, Satoru stands, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looks down at you. “I’ll walk you both back,” he offers.

You hesitate, your first instinct to decline, but Koji’s excited cheer cuts you off. “Yes! Papa can come with us!”

And just like that, you’re outnumbered. You force another tight smile, nodding as you gather Koji’s things. “Alright,” you say quietly.

The three of you set off together, Koji happily chatting away as he skips in front of you, completely unaware of the tension simmering just beneath the surface. Satoru walks close enough that his shoulder occasionally brushes against yours, each touch sending an unwelcome jolt through you. 

It’s a painfully wistful image, the three of you walking together like some semblance of a family. But deep down, you know it’s just that—an image. A fleeting moment in time that doesn’t change the years of distance and pain that still stretch between you and Satoru. And yet, for Koji’s sake, you try to hold onto it just a little longer. Even if it hurts.

The closer you get to your apartment, the more the houses look a little run down. Trash on the streets, beat-up cars, the way the number of people slowly dwindles down as if they know not to cross an unspoken line of the city. You suddenly feel extremely self-conscious; you know Satoru is having internal questions. 

You live here?

Is this even a safe neighborhood?

You’re raising my son in some place like this?

He stays quiet, but you know he wants to say something. He has to want to. Because Satoru was given everything growing up, all in pristine condition. He’s never had to worry about whether those were fireworks or not, he’s used to the kind of neighborhood where your neighbors are mowing their lawns at seven in the morning, greeting everyone in a happy way. 

The tension is stifling, stretched thin by the unspoken judgment you feel radiating off Satoru. You don’t dare look at him, your eyes fixed on Koji’s little form skipping ahead, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering behind him. Your cheeks burn with shame, and you hate yourself for it. This is your reality, your life. You’ve done everything you could to provide for Koji, and while it may not be perfect—or anywhere close—you’ve kept him safe, fed, and loved. But under Satoru’s unspoken scrutiny, it suddenly feels like none of that is enough.

He’s used to opulence, to security, to the kind of life where struggle is nothing more than an abstract concept. What could he possibly know about living paycheck to paycheck, about stretching every dollar, about the fear of your son asking for something you just can’t afford?

Still, his silence grates on your nerves, each step you take toward your apartment building making the tension in your chest tighten like a vice. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, measured—but you can hear the edge in it, the careful restraint. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

You stop walking, Koji a few feet ahead now as he fiddles with a crack in the sidewalk. Turning to Satoru, you feel your stomach churn at the unreadable look on his face. His hands are still stuffed in his pockets, his posture casual, but his piercing blue eyes burn with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Yes,” you answer, lifting your chin slightly as if that could shield you from the vulnerability creeping up your spine.

“And this is where you’ve been raising Koji?” There it is. The question you knew was coming, coated in a thin veil of curiosity but laced with something deeper—concern, maybe even disappointment.

“Yes,” you say again, your voice firmer this time. “This is where we’ve been.”

Satoru lets out a slow breath, his gaze sweeping over the street, the cracked pavement, and the graffiti-stained walls. “It’s not exactly... ideal,” he says carefully, though the criticism in his tone is unmistakable.

Your fists clench at your sides, a rush of defensiveness coursing through you. “I know it’s not ideal,” you snap, your voice low but sharp. “But it’s what I could afford. It’s where we’ve made a life, and Koji is happy here. Isn’t that what matters?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he looks at Koji, who’s now crouched down and inspecting a dandelion sprouting from a crack in the sidewalk, blithely unaware of the storm brewing between his parents. Satoru then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying you haven’t done your best,” he says, his voice softer now. “But...he deserves better than this.”

The words hit you like a slap, and you take an involuntary step back, your heart sinking into your stomach. “You think I don’t know that?” you hiss, your voice trembling. “You think I don’t hate myself every single day for not being able to give him more? I’m doing everything I can, Satoru. Everything. And if that’s not good enough for you, then maybe you should’ve been here sooner.”

“Then maybe you should’ve told me sooner,” he’s quick to quip back. 

The silence that follows is deafening, and for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the weight of years of pain and resentment hanging heavy between you. 

Koji’s voice breaks the tension, cheerful and oblivious. “Mama, look! A flower!”

You force a smile, blinking back the sting of tears as you walk over to crouch down to Koji’s level. “It’s beautiful, honey,” you say, brushing a hand over his soft hair. “Just like you.”

Behind you, Satoru says nothing, but you can feel his eyes on you, heavy with something you can’t quite name. And as you take Koji’s hand and lead him toward your building, you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, and what this moment means for the three of you.

You three finally get to the poor excuse of an apartment lobby, making your way to the elevator that always makes questionable sounds. Once inside, you press the 3 button, and you’re off. The doors creak shut and the small, dingy light above flickers during the ascent. During this time, you wish Koji would mask the awkwardness with his childish nature. Too bad he’s pretty tired from playing til his heart’s content, leaning his cheek against your arm. 

The elevator hums and groans as it ascends, the sound filling the uncomfortable silence that hangs between you and Satoru. Koji’s small, warm weight against your side is a comfort, but it’s not enough to dispel the tension. You steal a glance at Satoru, who stands a step away, his hands shoved into his pockets as he leans against the elevator wall. His expression is unreadable, his blue eyes fixed on the faintly glowing numbers above the doors.

You wonder what he’s thinking. Does he regret coming? Is he silently judging everything—the elevator, the building, you? You hate how self-conscious you feel, how his presence has peeled back layers of armor you didn’t even realize you had put on. Koji shifts against you, mumbling something incoherent. You brush a hand over his head, smoothing down his messy hair, and whisper, “Almost home, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, there’s a sound of a ding. Followed by another. And then another. And then another. Confused, you glance over at Satoru who subtly pulls his phone out to glance at his home screen, a frown pulling at his lips. You can’t see who’s texting, but it looks and sounds like a lot. You know you have no right asking, but you can’t help but speculate about who’s blowing up his phone, and why he looks so annoyed by it. And why he also looks like he’s trying to hide the phone from your view. 

The elevator jerks slightly as it reaches the third floor, and Koji stirs, blinking up at you sleepily. “We’re here?”

“We’re here,” you confirm with a small smile, gently nudging him upright.

Satoru stuffs his phone away again as the doors creak open, revealing the dimly lit hallway beyond. The carpet is worn and the walls are scuffed. You promptly feel another intense wave of embarrassment. You’ve grown used to this place, its imperfections blending into the background of your daily life, but seeing it through Satoru’s eyes makes you painfully aware of every flaw. “This way,” you say, your voice tight as you step out, leading them down the hall.

Koji perks up a little, his steps are more energetic as he tugs on your hand. “Papa, wait till you see my room! I have dinosaurs everywhere!”

“I can’t wait,” Satoru replies, his tone light and easy, but there’s something in his eyes as he glances around. He’s taking it all in—the peeling paint, the faint smell of dampness, the creak of the floorboards under his expensive shoes. You stop in front of your door, fishing your keys out of your pocket. The chipped paint and tarnished doorknob seem to scream your insecurities aloud.

“This is it,” you say quietly, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

Koji rushes inside, his earlier fatigue forgotten as he kicks off his shoes and heads straight for his room. “Wait here, Papa! I’ll show you my dinos!”

Satoru lingers in the doorway for a moment before stepping in, his gaze sweeping over the small living room. It’s cluttered but clean, with Koji’s toys and drawings scattered here and there. The couch is worn, the coffee table scratched, and the kitchen in the corner is cramped and outdated.

“It’s... cozy,” Satoru says after a moment, his tone careful.

You bristle instinctively, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s what I can afford.”

“I didn’t mean—” He stops, exhaling softly. “You’ve done a good job, really. Koji’s happy. That’s what matters.”

You study his face, searching for any trace of condescension or pity, but all you see is sincerity. It catches you off guard, and you look away, busying yourself with tidying up. Satoru takes a few steps further into the room, his gaze lingering on one of Koji’s drawings taped to the wall. It’s a crayon depiction of you and Koji holding hands under a smiling sun. Next to you, there’s an empty space, as if waiting for someone to be added.

He doesn’t say anything, but the slight tightening of his jaw tells you he’s noticed.

Koji rushes out with his toy dinosaurs, holding them up for his father to take. The two move to the couch, the weight of Satoru causing it to creak weirdly. Once more, Koji is giving his father a lesson about dinosaurs, their names, and what they were like—even what sounds they made.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask, looking over to the kitchen. “I have water and some juice.”

He looks up momentarily. But just as he’s about to answer, his phone rings, this time a call. The three of you look down at his phone, Koji tilting his head in confusion before focusing on making his dinosaurs fight again. However, you’re a little more focused. Seeing a name, a woman’s name, accompanied with a picture of your ex kissing a woman you’ve never seen before.

You feel your muscles stiffen, a tug at your heartstrings. As if he notices your behavior from his peripheral, he locks his phone and lets it ring, putting it back in his pocket. “Sorry.” is all he mutters before looking at Koji. “Hey, buddy.”

Koji looks up at him. “Mhm?”

“Papa has to go home now, I have work to do,” Satoru responds slowly.

“You work today? But Mama doesn’t.”

The older of the two nods. “I know, but it’s special work.”

“Special?!”

“Special.”

“Okay!” Kojis nods, grin widening. “When will you come again, Papa?”

Satoru hesitates for a moment, his eyes moving to you, then back to Koji. You notice the brief pause, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He doesn’t look at you directly, but you can feel the shift in the space between you both. “I’ll come back soon, buddy,” he says finally, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I’ll see you again. We’ll play more, alright?”

Koji’s eyes light up, and he nods vigorously. “Okay! We’ll play dinosaurs again!” His excitement bubbles over, as if nothing has changed, as if the uncertainty of the last few minutes never existed.

Satoru smiles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “You’re the best, Koji.” He stands, looking over to you now. There’s an awkwardness that lingers, like the space between you two is suddenly filled with things unsaid.

“Thanks for letting me come by and meet him,” he adds quietly, the words sincere but tinged with something you can’t quite place. His gaze flickers down to his phone again, but it’s almost as if he’s avoiding it now, like he knows the reminder of what’s going on in his life is right there.

You nod stiffly. “Of course. Thanks for spending time with him.” Your words feel distant.

Satoru turns towards the door, his steps slow. “I’ll text you about when I can come back,” he says, his voice a little more subdued than before. He opens the door, then stops, his hand resting on the handle. “Take care of him. And yourself.”

You can’t tell if the last part is meant to be comforting or a reminder, but you nod anyway, your own thoughts swirling. With that, Satoru steps out, and the door closes behind him. You hear the faint click of his shoes as he walks down the hall, and then everything goes quiet.

Koji is already back to his dinosaurs, chattering to himself, completely unaware of the complexities unfolding in the space between his parents. You stand in the living room, your gaze lingering on the spot where Satoru had been, a thousand different emotions crashing inside you. The woman’s name on his phone, the kiss, the way he shut down the moment you noticed—it all gnaws at you, but you don’t know how to confront it. How do you even begin to ask? And what would it change, anyway? Why do you even care in the first place?

You take a deep breath and walk over to where Koji is playing, forcing a smile for his sake, trying to push everything else to the back of your mind. For now, it’s just you and him, and that has to be enough.

a/n: can you guys tell i love ominous endings? ^--^

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins @sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited @duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee @devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping @chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus @ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve @eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 3

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

A/N: Steve Rogers is older than Bucky here.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You arrived at the new apartment, feeling a small sense of relief for finally being under a different roof than Caroline’s. The thought of enduring the same torture as before made your skin crawl.

As you settled in, you broke the silence. “Your mom offered the attorney to us.” You remembered how you had insisted the divorce attorney make it as quick and painless as possible. “Why didn’t you finalize it?”

Bucky’s gaze remained steady. “Not once did I think you were actually going to leave me.”

“There’s no marriage between us,” you shot back, your voice sharp. “If you’d finalized it, you could’ve easily married a woman your mother approved of.”

Flashback Start

You recalled every time Caroline mentioned another woman’s name as if they were more suited for Bucky. “You know, Rachel just graduated summa cum laude from Harvard in social politics,” she had said at the rehearsal dinner.

Then, on your wedding day, as you and Bucky sat together, trying to enjoy the celebration, Caroline approached, holding hands with a stunning woman. “Bucky, look who’s here? Katherine just arrived from London.”

Caroline’s voice dripped with approval. “Both of them went to the same law school.”

You clenched the fork in your hand so hard you thought it might snap.

Why the hell was she introducing another woman to you on your wedding night?

Did she expect you and Bucky to have a threesome with Katherine?

From that moment, you knew your place—an outsider who didn’t come from the pedigree Caroline so desperately wanted for her son.

When you finally left the house, you remembered her raising her champagne glass with a smirk. “I always knew you weren’t the one.”

Flashback End

“They need someone with a spotless record,” Bucky said, breaking you from your thoughts.

You stood there, your emotions a mix of anger and disbelief.

“I’m not making excuses for you. I know the old me wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t be the man you could rely on,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret.

He looked at you with a desperation that caught you off guard. “You could poison my drink, stab me in my sleep. I wouldn’t fight it. I’d let you.”

His eyes, usually so confident and composed, were now filled with a deep, pained sincerity. The weight of his guilt seemed to crush him, and the shadows of remorse darkened his features. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. How could he say that so casually? What kind of twisted love was this?

“That’s how much I need you,” he confessed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re using me,” you accused, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and sadness.

Bucky didn’t deny it. “Like I said, it’s a business relationship. But I’ve trusted you from the beginning. Put my faith in you.”

He reached out, taking your hands in his, holding them together like a prayer. “And I hope we can work together. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to work in the White House.””

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The following day, you met Steve, the future Presidential candidate. He greeted you warmly, his genuine smile easing some of the tension you felt. You’d met Steve and his wife, Peggy, a few times before—honest people who never treated you like you didn’t belong. Steve had even defended you whenever Caroline or others looked down on you for not being in the same league as them.

"I’m so glad you’re here," Steve said, clasping your hand. "When did you arrive?"

You chuckled softly. "Well, when three Secret Service agents showed up at my door, who was I to say no?"

Steve chuckled too, though there was a hint of awkwardness in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly. "Let’s talk."

You walked together, the air thick with unspoken words. "I know it’s difficult for you to be here. I owe you big time," Steve began sincerely. He had witnessed your marriage crumble, and despite his and Peggy’s best efforts to support you and Bucky, things had fallen apart.

You sighed. "What confuses me is, why me? He could’ve chosen another woman, someone way more qualified."

Steve leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To be honest, I think you’re the best option. He probably won’t show it, but Bucky was happy when he heard you were coming."

You scoffed, glancing over at Bucky, who was watching the two of you from a distance. "Impossible."

As you scanned the room, you spotted someone familiar—your brother, Tim. Excusing yourself from Steve, you made your way over to him.

"I’m glad you’re here," Tim said, his voice filled with warmth, though his eyes carried a weight of their own.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I can’t believe you. You knew what I went through, and yet you’re working with him? You sucked up to him."

"Look at me," Tim said firmly.

You glanced down at him, seeing the determination in his gaze.

"Who’s going to hire a disabled person like me?" Tim who seated on his wheelchair, his voice wavered slightly as he spoke. He had been born with both legs, but when bone cancer struck his left leg, the doctors recommended amputation to stop it from spreading. That surgery had shattered his dreams of becoming a professional tennis player.

"It was James who offered me a job," he emphasized, "with a high salary."

Tim continued, "You can keep your anger, but face it, Y/N—they won’t pay the bills. For people like me, I need more money to survive in this world."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky appeared beside you.

"Hi, Tim."

"Hey," Tim replied.

"I'm going to steal your sister for a bit." Bucky turned to you. "Our next schedule is couple’s therapy," he said, his voice calm but authoritative, cutting the conversation short.

You hated this part. The thought of attending therapy with Bucky made your stomach twist with unease. You shot Tim one last look, a mixture of concern and frustration in your eyes, before following Bucky out of the room.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As you and Bucky sat across from Aiden, the therapist, the atmosphere was thick with unresolved tension. The room was simple yet comfortable, with soft, neutral tones that were supposed to be calming but did little to ease the storm of emotions swirling within you. You could feel the weight of Bucky's presence beside you, a familiar heaviness that both comforted and suffocated you.

Aiden leaned forward, his expression neutral but attentive. "So, what are you feeling right now?"

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice laced with frustration and exhaustion. "I don’t think I have the courage to live another day in his family. His mother is the devil spawn. Even seeing her shadow triggers me." The words spilled out of you, raw and unfiltered, a reflection of the years of pain and resentment you'd kept bottled up.

Aiden nodded, his gaze shifting to Bucky. "And what about you, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on a spot on the floor, his voice steady but lacking its usual conviction. "I didn’t think that way. As long as we stick together, we can get through everything." There was a hint of desperation in his tone, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You turned to look at him, disbelief and anger simmering beneath your calm facade. "From the beginning, we should’ve never gotten married. You only focus on yourself, never bothering to look behind you. Me, trying my best to fit into your circles."

Your voice wavered, the painful truth of your words cutting through the silence like a knife. You had always known you were out of his league—young and innocent, believing that love could conquer all.

But you had been wrong, and the reality of that mistake was too much to bear.

His mother’s voice echoed in your mind, the countless times she’d told you that you weren’t good enough, that you didn’t deserve him.

"Your mother was right. I don’t deserve you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s expression tightened, his guilt etched into every line of his face. "I’m sorry. I really am sorry." His voice cracked, the weight of his regret finally breaking through.

He had never wanted this—to see you hurt, to see you broken because of him and his family. But the damage was done, and the guilt gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving.

Aiden observed the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. "I see that you’re the victim here, ma’am. And your former mother-in-law is the main reason why." He glanced at Bucky, his voice firm. "Mr. Barnes, your mother hurt her deeply, and now you must do everything in your power to make amends."

Bucky nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "I will. I'll do anything to erase the hurt you’ve received from her." The sincerity in his voice was palpable, but it was clear that the guilt weighed heavily on him. He had failed to protect you, to shield you from his mother’s venom, and that failure haunted him.

Aiden’s voice softened, but there was a steely resolve in his words. "Use this pain, both of you. Let it fuel you to confront Caroline, to reclaim your strength. Don’t let her win. Turn this pain into power."

As you sat there, the enormity of the situation began to sink in. You had been through so much, and the path ahead was uncertain. You had expected to loathe the couple’s therapy, but surprisingly, it turned out to be a beneficial experience.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After the couple's therapy, the silence between you and Bucky was palpable, each of you grappling with the raw emotions that had surfaced.

The therapy had stripped away your filters, leaving you both exposed—your anger and frustration flowing freely. Bucky remained stoic, absorbing your harsh words with an almost resigned patience.

Returning to the Barnes household, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The room was filled with Bucky’s family: his parents, Julius and Caroline; his brother, Shawn, who struggled with cocaine and felt diminished by his inability to meet Caroline’s lofty expectations; and Hazel, Bucky’s sister and Nate’s mother.

Hazel, having felt overshadowed as the spare child, had chosen a career in fashion to escape the constant comparison to Bucky, who was seen as the golden child.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Shawn and Hazel, both of whom shared your misery under Caroline’s disdain. But that sympathy was tempered by their enjoyment of watching you suffer, thanks to their mother’s contempt.

Greg, a family friend, was the bearer of the news that the whole family would attend the upcoming convention event.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said firmly, your tone clipped.

“Why… why?” Greg asked, confused.

Caroline rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Here we go.”

Bucky tried to interject, “Don’t…”

You cut him off with a steely gaze. “After that consultation, you still want to continue this?”

Caroline's eyes narrowed. “I knew we couldn’t trust her.”

Shawn chuckled, and Hazel remained indifferent.

“Quiet,” Julius commanded, his voice brooking no argument. The room fell silent.

With a sense of finality, you approached Caroline. “You’re so jealous of me,” you said, your voice dripping with disdain.

Caroline’s eyes widened, a mixture of anger and shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Because you know I’m going to get what you can’t have,” you smirked, savoring the moment. “Being the wife of the Vice President.”

“You bitch,” Caroline spat, something snapped inside her. Deep down, you were right—she was jealous of you. You were younger, smarter, and luckier. It was her dream to be in your position, but now it seemed like she had paved the way for you instead. What’s worse, you didn’t fit her criteria at all. She felt you didn’t deserve this.

Without warning, Caroline lunged at you, grabbing your hair. The two of you were soon locked in a fierce struggle, yanking each other’s hair and grappling with a fury that left no room for remorse. The physical confrontation was liberating, an outlet for all the anger you had been holding back.

You felt no fear and no guilt towards the seventy-year-old woman. At last, you could release all the anger you had been holding in.

Waiting for karma takes too long, and you can’t expect God to do all the work. So you took this chance to give her a lesson she won’t forget.

“Stop! STOP!” Bucky and Julius’s voices cut through the chaos as they tried to separate you. Shawn and Hazel, their faces a mix of curiosity and apathy, slowly backed away from the scene.

It was a struggle to pry you apart; Caroline, in her rage, was more unruly and disheveled compared to your own controlled fury.

“Hufft,” you adjusted your disheveled dress and hair, glaring at Caroline with a fierce, triumphant look. “You know what? I hope your son wins, so I can rub my new position right in your face.”

Caroline’s expression was one of shock and fury, her face a portrait of someone who had been dealt a blow she wasn’t prepared for. Her eyes were wild with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“You’re absolutely right,” you looked at Bucky, your voice steady. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to live in the White House.”

Caroline’s gritted her teeth.

“If the world wants to see us as a happily married couple,” you said with a cold smile, “I’ll give them the most blissful marriage they’ve ever seen. It’ll be the kind of marriage everyone talks about when they mention a perfect union.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise at your cold declaration. For a moment, he was stunned, but as he processed your words, admiration and pride flickered across his face. He straightened, a hint of a smile forming, clearly impressed by your bold resolve and newfound strength.

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[skzdarlings]

chill | the threesome series ; skz ; hyunjin/reader/jeongin

masterlist.

threesome series part 4/4. long awaited finale lol.

summary: when a lie about a fake boyfriend spirals out of control, your friends take it upon themselves to help.

pairing: hyunjin/reader/jeongin content info: friends to lovers romcom. fake relationship trope. sharing a bed trope. lots of teasing and bickering and indignant exclamations. some bossy dom!hyunjin and sweet jeongin. reader is described with a bigger chest. kissing w people watching. sex toys, dacryphilia, no mention of protection, threesome, explicit sexual content word count: 8440 words.

enjoy <3

-

Your bottom lip is already wobbling when you click call.   You sprawl on your belly, front-down in a frilly pink bed in your childhood bedroom.  You are visiting your parents in the countryside, miles away from your apartment in the city and miles away from your best friends. 

You are calling them now, desperate for their friendly faces.  Your boys are the first ones you call in any crisis.  You don’t know what you would do without them.  Just the thought has you sniffling despondently. 

After a few more rings, Jeongin and Hyunjin answer one right after the other.  Your phone is filled with three little squares of faces, theirs smiling and yours utterly miserable.      

You look at those smiles and promptly burst into tears. 

“Ahh!” Hyunjin wails. 

“Ohh, whoa, what!” Jeongin says.

Both of them look concerned, all scrunched up brows and frowning faces.  At least you think so.  It is hard to see through your tears. 

“Baby, baby,” Hyunjin says.  At the same time, Jeongin asks, “What’s wrong?”

You cry a few more weepy sobs, then you grab the closest teddy bear and wipe your eyes on it.  You sniffle and pout. 

Even though you want their comfort, you can’t bring yourself to look at your friends when you admit, “I’ve been lying to my parents for months.” 

“What?” Hyunjin asks. 

“Huh?”  Jeongin says.

You blink away your tears and look at them properly.  They are the very picture of concern.  They have such striking faces so their emotions are always so plain, their features sharp, with thick dark brows and sloping cheeks and full lips.  Jeongin dyed his hair a fairer auburn a while ago, but Hyunjin is dark, both of them so handsome it makes you hiccup on a caught breath.  

These thoughts make you feel even more pathetic.  Here you are, gawking at your best friends while everything falls apart around you. 

You drop your face and cry some more.  They watch helplessly through their screens, saying your name and trying to calm you down. 

“What happened?” Hyunjin asks when your tears have slowed. 

“Remember a few months ago, when I went out with that guy who works at the coffee shop?”

“Yes, I hated him,” Jeongin says in a clipped tone while Hyunjin scoffs. 

“Me too,” Hyunjin says.  Their sour faces speak volumes. 

“What!”  This distracts you from yours tears for a moment.  “You guys told me you liked him!”

“Yeah, only because you did,” Jeongin says.  He is in his bedroom and he flops back on his bed, his mop of hair forming a charming halo around his head.  He grins that dimpled, mischievous grin at you.  “But now you don’t like him, so we hate him.”

“I always hated him,” Hyunjin says.  He is sitting at his desk, lit so prettily by lamplight that it looks like a dreamy filter.  He props his face in his hand and pouts dramatically.  “You didn’t need him anyway, baby,” he says.  “You’ve always got us.” 

At the same time Hyunjin says this, Jeongin tucks a hand under his head.  He is wearing a sleeveless top and his bicep flexes where his bare arm curves.  Between Hyunjin’s pretty face and prettier words, and Jeongin looking like that, it is no wonder how quickly heat rushes to your face. 

You bury your face in the blankets and shriek, frustrated with everything in your ridiculous life.  They are still looking at you with concern when you surface. 

“Sorry,” you say.  “The point is, my mom would ask about him.  You know what my parents are like and how much they want me to be in a relationship.” 

You love your family, you do.  You do not regret using visiting your parents.  The dinners and tea times and game nights have been a delight.  You have been proud to catch them up on your life in the city.  You are happy with your life, your education and your job and your friends.  Your parents are proud of you. 

They just cannot help but poke that one little detail, snagging like a loose thread on a nail and unravelling your careful composition with their obvious judgement. 

You are not in a relationship.  You have never been in a relationship.

Oh, sure, there have been dates scattered here and there, but nothing serious.  You are fine with this but your parents consider this cause for catastrophic levels of concern. 

You try to show grace.  Your family is only nosy out of misplaced worries, convinced that if you do not have a boyfriend then you must sobbing yourself to sleep every night.  Which is not true.  Well, sometimes it’s true, especially because your two best friends are the ones making your heart race, but most of the time you just eat cheese toast in bed. 

To assuage the worst of their concerns, you maybe exaggerated the truth a teensy tiny bit. 

“Well,” you say, “They were so happy that I went on more than one date, so it got them off my case for a while.  After we went our separate ways, I sort of just… kept telling them… I was still seeing him…”

“Uh oh,” Jeongin says.  Hyunjin grimaces.  Yeah, your friends know you well.  They have never met your family but they know the stories and they can guess where this is going. 

“Yeah, uh oh is right,” you say.  “My mom invited me out here for their summer party.  They throw one every year to start the season.  They invite the whole family and all their friends and their friends’ kids.  It’s huge.  I wasn’t even thinking when I said I would come because I always do.  Only when I agreed did my mom tell me to bring my boyfriend for everyone to meet… at which point I remembered…”

“That you don’t actually have a boyfriend?”  Jeongin asks with a quirked eyebrow.  Hyunjin laughs, covering his mouth with a quick slap of his hand to hide it. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” you say with a miserable whine.  “It’s not funny.  I messed up and now I don’t know what to tell them!”

“What did you tell them so far?” Jeongin asks while Hyunjin tries to get his face under control. 

“I was going to tell them the truth when I got here,” you say.  “But then they were so disappointed that my boyfriend wasn’t with me.  I couldn’t disappoint them even more by saying he didn’t exist at all in the first place!” 

“So you told a bigger lie instead,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head questioningly.  “What did you say exactly?” 

“I just said he was busy with work,” you say.  “And they were really upset about it so I tried to cheer them up.  I said he was going to try and make it to the party at least.” 

“But he’s not real,” Jeongin says. 

“Yes, Jeongin!” you squeal.  “That’s the problem!  And also—”  A flood of tears return, blurring your vision again.  “I know it’s so stupid.  We’re all grown-ups now.  But I was the youngest out of all the kids growing up, so I was always the dumb little tag-along.  My mom has told everyone I have a boyfriend coming and if I make up an excuse tomorrow, they’re all gonna see through it.  They’ll be nice to my face because we aren’t kids anymore but I already know they’re gonna talk about me and how pathetic I am.”  You start crying again, looking around at the bedroom you grew up in, still filled with the books and clothes and toys you left behind after moving.  It makes you feel like that little girl again.  It only worsens your angst.  “Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life,” you say. 

“Aw, no, no, it won’t,” Jeongin says. 

“Hey, baby, don’t cry,” Hyunjin also says.  They both speak in the sweetest tones imaginable, gazing so lovingly into their cameras it makes you melt. 

“You know you’re better than that,” Jeongin says.    

“Yeah, who cares what they think?” Hyunjin adds. 

“I care,” you say in a small voice, looking away again because you feel so embarrassed.  “At least a little bit.  I know it’s silly.” 

“It’s not,” Hyunjin says.  At the same Jeongin says, “It is but it’s fine.”  They both scowl at the camera as if frowning at each other.  It makes you laugh through your tears.  You wipe your eyes on the teddy bear again. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” you say.  “I just have to face it.  It’s my own fault.  Maybe if I could just get a boyfriend for real, if I didn’t suck so much—”

“You’re perfect,” they say in unison.  It seems to make all three of you look flustered at once. 

“Seriously,” Hyunjin says while Jeongin clears his throat.  “You’re our girl.”

“Yeah, everyone is else is just stupid,” Jeongin says. 

“You only need to listen to us,” Hyunjin says. 

“Listen to me, not him,” Jeongin teases.  “He’s kinda stupid too.”

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says in a perfectly catty voice.  Jeongin sticks his tongue out. 

Their antics make you laugh.  You rest your cheek on the teddy bear and kick your legs behind you, smiling into your screen. 

“Okay,” you say.  “In that case, just distract me until I go to bed.  It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.” 

They both smile at you.  They waste no time obliging, launching into stories and playful bickering, making you forget about everyone and everything else.  They are your boys.  They are all you need. 

You go to bed with a smile on your face.

-

That smile is gone the next day.  You are a bundle of raw nerves all morning.  Despite the food being prepared, you cannot imagine eating, so sick to your stomach with anxiety.  Your parents ask about your boyfriend and you answer in vague replies and half-promises.  You claim he is still working but you are optimistic.  You cry your make-up off only once, which is ten times less than you thought you would. 

At least you look pretty.  You bought a new dress for the occasion, a pretty floral piece that sweeps the floor with a delicate swish.  If you are going to suffer, at least you will suffer beautifully. 

You are standing in front of the mirror, practicing lines and excuses and grimacing at all of them.  You are interrupted when your mother calls you downstairs, the first of the guests arriving.

Here goes nothing, you think. 

You take a deep gulp of air and descend the stairs, plastering a big fake smile on your face as you greet the party guests. 

They come in waves.  Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbours, friends.  You greet everyone pleasantly.  There are so many people and so many conversations that you manage to sink into the background of every discussion, batting queries about your own private life with questions for someone else. 

You start to wonder if you worried for nothing, then someone directly asks about your boyfriend.  Not just someone, but one of the girls in your age group. 

“Your mother didn’t know much, she said you were quite evasive about it!” she says.  She is not being unkind because she currently has no reason to believe you are lying.  It will be later, when everyone realizes this mystery man is not manifesting, then everyone will start to gossip and draw conclusions.  This is just the beginning of a long, agonizing party.  “Is he going to be here?” she asks.  “I can’t wait to meet him!  He’s your first boyfriend, right?” 

You love your mom, but she really is such a blabbermouth. 

You laugh awkwardly, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. 

“Ha-ha, yeah, I was, um, just waiting for the, uh, right person, you know,” you say. 

Someone else opens their mouth to ask more when the doorbell rings.  

“Oh, I better get that!” you say and leap out of your seat.  You give no one a chance to protest, scampering around bodies to get out of the backyard and into the house.  You run past your father who is ambling to the door, telling him you got it.  You want to let the guest inside then stand in the front yard to catch your breath.  Hopefully, by the time you go back, the conversation will have moved on. 

You swing open the door, a polite greeting on your lips.  It catches when you see who is standing there.

“Jeongin!” you exclaim. 

Your best friend is standing on your porch, grinning that big cheshire cat smile. He is an absurdly sexy vision.  Jeongin is a tech guy but he takes modelling gigs on the side, fashion a personal hobby to him.  His auburn hair is neatly styled around his face, a slash of colour in an otherwise all-black look.  It makes him look long and fit, loose pants and a dress shirt over a sleeveless top, topped with a leather jacket.  A silver chain sparkles around his neck. 

He swoops in and kisses your cheek, giggling to himself. 

“I heard someone needed a boyfriend,” he says. 

You laugh a little hysterically, all the joy returning to your body in a rush.  You slap your hands on your hot cheeks and look him up-and-down. 

“Oh, wow,” you say.  “You shouldn’t have.  But you look really good.”

Your eyes are on the tip of his black boots.  He is looking at you too, his eyebrows lifted as his gaze travels down your body. 

“Yeah,” he says on a breath.  “You too.”

Flustered, you cover yourself then swat at him.  It makes him grin again, cheek dimpled. 

“Stop that,” you say.  “You’re not allowed to say things like that to me.  And I’ve been sweating like a stuck pig under here.  I feel like I should do the grown-up thing and come clean and send you away, but I’m not gonna do that. Come on.”  You loop your arm with his elbow and drag him through the house to the back yard. 

Seconds before joining the party, he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Then as your boyfriend, I’m allowed to tell you that you looking really fucking good.  Okay?” 

You very literally fall into the yard.  Fortunately, Jeongin keeps his balance and yanks you upright.  You stumble into his open arms, your back plastered to his chest.  He is probably smiling that big grin at everyone as he keeps his arms around you.

“Hi,” he finally says and offers a little wave. 

“Ahhh!” your mother screams more gleefully than a clown horn.  She immediately starts hollering for your father. 

“He’s inside getting some food ready, mom,” you say, covering your face in embarrassment as she scuttles up to you. 

“My goodness, my goodness,” your mother says, all but throwing you to the side to get to Jeongin.  “Oh, I’ve heard so much.  No, actually, that’s not true, I haven’t heard anything.  Tsk, crazy girl.  Always with her secrets.  But look at you, oh my, you’re so handsome!  Look at those dimples.”

“Mom!” you wail.  “Stop pinching his cheeks!” 

Someone sitting nearby tugs your skirt.  It is the girl from before and she is grinning.  He’s hot, she mouths very blatantly, winking at you.  You smile an awkward, too-wide grin, still more embarrassed than not.  Everyone is chattering, looking at you and Jeongin.  A couple others smile and give you a thumbs up.  You pretend to be very preoccupied with a speck on your dress, focussed on scratching it off so you do not have to meet any eyes. 

In the midst of all the madness, the doorbell rings again.  You hear your father inside, shouting that he will get it.

“Oh, hurry up!” your mother shouts.  “You have to meet—oh goodness, what is your name?” she asks, even while she has a hand in his hair. 

“Ha, ah, Jeongin,” he says, managing to politely extricate himself.  He takes her hand and pats it affectionately.  “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, then winks at you.  Your mother looks at you with a delighted smile.  You refrain from smacking your forehead. 

At least things can’t get worse, you think, right before things get worse. 

Your father steps into the yard, smiling a big smile. 

“Ah, my little girl!” he says, waving at you.  “Your boyfriend is here!  Everybody, this is Hyunjin.” 

Your heart was racing with adrenaline a moment ago.  Now, it freezes solid.  It feels like a cement block dropping right into your gut.  You are not sure if the entire party actually goes quiet or if your ears just give up to protect you. 

You are helpless, standing stock still as your other best friend steps onto the deck behind your father.  Coincidentally and preposterously, he is dressed almost identical to Jeongin, all in black with a black leather jacket.  He is wearing sunglasses, though, which he pushes onto the top of his head when he sees Jeongin. 

Jeongin stares back at him, then he looks at you.  Hyunjin looks at you.  Your mother looks at you.  Everyone looks at you.

“Um,” you squeak.  

Wow, that speck on your dress really is so very interesting.  And why is it so hard to swallow?  Where is your tongue again?  Oh, why did you ever have to tell such a stupid lie, just for a few moments of convenience.

You clear your throat and look up.  Your voice comes in a croak when you say, “Hi, Hyunjin.” 

“Hyunjin,” your mother says, looking at him.  He blinks at her.  Jeongin is handsome but Hyunjin is the definitive pretty boy, an artist behind the camera but just as suited to a life in the spotlight.  His artistic soul really shines through in every capacity.  Even his smile is a work of art, delicate and sweet as he looks at your mother.  He would have made a perfect fake boyfriend if you didn’t already have one. 

Somehow you went from no boyfriends to two.  No, not even, because they are fake.  You went from no boyfriends to negative-two boyfriends.  That must be a feat. 

“Ohhhh,” your mother suddenly interrupts the silence.  She starts giggling as she tip-toes to Hyunjin like a panther about to pounce.  “I see what’s happening,” she says, looking slyly between the three of you.  Then she grabs Hyunjin by the cheeks as well, shaking him around like a baby rattle.  “My little girl has TWO handsome boyfriends!” she cries out ecstatically.  “Oh, that’s just like her too.  You know, she was a late bloomer in every respect, but always caught up and surpassed everyone after the fact.  Struggled at school when she was little, then grew up and got herself on the dean’s list at university.  You know she didn’t even grow breasts until she was eighteen then ballooned right up, the biggest you’ve seen!”

“Mom!”

Jeongin and Hyunjin look at your chest at the same time.  You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, making them both clear their throat and look away. 

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother says, finally freeing Hyunjin.  He and Jeongin stand together, rubbing their cheeks.  They watch as your mother takes your hand.  “I understand now why you were to hesitant to give us any details.  But it’s a brave new world.  There’s all sorts of different loves out there.  I’ve been reading books!” 

“Exactly,” your father says, joining you in the middle of the party.  “We would never judge you for who you love.”

“That’s great,” you say.  This conversation would be really sweet if it wasn’t about your negative-two boyfriends and happening in front of fifty people.  “Thanks,” you say. 

Your father is holding barbeque tongs.  He claps them in the air and smiles.

“Great!” he says.  “Who’s hungry!”

-

It isn’t until much later that you get a second alone with Hyunjin and Jeongin.  It is well after dinner when the sun is starting to set and the party has dispersed to different corners of the yard.  Your parents are with some friends, seated around a fire, so you drag your fake boyfriends into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. 

You slam the door shut.   

“Seriously!” you shriek.  “You didn’t think to tell each other you were going to show up to be my fake boyfriend?!” 

They both look chagrined, Jeongin with his arms crossed and Hyunjin rocking on the balls of his feet.  They look at each other with a grimace, then try to smile at you.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, then groan, leaning against your closed door.  You cover your face with your hands.  “This is insane.  My life is a joke.  Hwang Hyunjin, don’t even think about touching anything.”  You point to Hyunjin even though your eyes are covered.  You don’t need to see him to know he is reaching for something, always sticking his gossipy nose in places it doesn’t belong.  When you drop your hands, you catch him hovering near your head table.  He smiles nervously.  “Sit down,” you say, unamused.   

Jeongin and Hyunjin plop onto the bed at the same time.  They look rather ridiculous in the black and leather, contrasted to all the pink and white lace of your old bedroom.  Ridiculous, yes, and definitely not stupidly sexy.  The contrast between two sexy bad boys and your floral cuteness is absolutely not a turn-on.  It’s not.  No.  No.  You refuse. 

“Sorry,” Jeongin finally says.  “We should have checked first.  With you, at least.”

“Yeah, baby, seriously,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head.  “I feel really embarrassed.  You know we would never want to hurt you, right?”

“You were just crying so much,” Jeongin says. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Hyunjin says.

They keep speaking in their defense.  You start to pout, feeling guilty, because they are so sincere in their apology.  It is very obvious they did not do this to embarrass you.  The complete opposite.  Your friends love you so much and it is obvious in everything they do.  From the day you met them, Jeongin and Hyunjin have happily dropped everything to help you with anything.  No task has ever been too big or too small.  If it’s for you, they will do it.  You are the exception to every rule and the first call every time.  

They are your boys.  You are their girl.   

“I’m sorry too,” you say.  “In fact, I’m even more sorry.  This whole thing is my fault, after all.  I should have never lied in the first place.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, we all do stupid things,” Hyunjin says. 

“It’s not like you knew it would get this bad,” Jeongin adds. 

“I definitely don’t think she predicted this,” Hyunjin quips, looking at him.  It makes Jeongin snort and Hyunjin grins. 

It makes you laugh as well, though you cover your mouth to hide it. 

It’s no good.  Once the first giggle escape, they are relentless.  The three of you laugh until there are tears in your eyes, doubled over as the silly situation washes over you.  When the laughter has somewhat subdued, Hyunjin holds out a hand in offering. 

“Come here,” he says. 

You take his hand and he tugs you towards them.  You find yourself squished between them, framed between their bodies like a little flower.  Jeongin puts a hand on your lower back and Hyunjin brushes his knuckles over your cheek.  Both touches are innocent but the combination has your face heating.

Not just your face.  Heat rushes everywhere, cascading down your chest, swooping in your belly and lower.  Your toes even curl. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hyunjin says.  He smiles while holding your gaze. “You know we’ll help you no matter what, okay?” 

Jeongin kisses your shoulder and you cannot hide your shiver.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.    

There is a moment of tense silence after this.  You look between them and they look at you.

You all jump when there is a knock at your door.  Hyunjin falls right off the bed, sprawling in an ungainly clatter of long limbs on the floor.  Jeongin scoots to the side, less dramatic but still surprised.  You sit straighter.  Hyunjin groans and rubs his head. 

The door opens and your mother pokes her head inside, smiling. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says.  “But sweetie, there will be time to be alone with your boyfriends later, since I assume they’re spending the night.  But right now we have company.  Come spend time with the guests.  Some of the others are using the hot tub and pool.  Do you boys need swim trunks? Yes? I’ll go find some, give me a second.”

No one gets an opportunity to even answer.  She closes the door and disappears as quickly as she came. 

There is another beat of silence, then Jeongin says, “We’re spending the night, I guess?” 

“Ow,” Hyunjin says.  “I think I bruised my elbow.”

“Oh my god,” you say.

-

You putter around the poolside until the sun fully sets.  When it gets dark, the pool lights start to flicker in rainbow patterns so the others gravitate there, splashing through the luminescence.   

You and the boys wander to the hot tub while it is empty.  Jeongin sinks right in like he does not even feel the heat while Hyunjin has to make a dramatic show about every inch of skin that touches it.  You and Jeongin look at each other with matching quirked eyebrows.  You smile affectionately. 

“What? It’s hot,” Hyunjin says, finally sitting. 

“That is how they work,” Jeongin replies.    

You giggle but also drop your gaze.  Your mother managed to find swim clothes that would mostly fit the boys.  Jeongin is shirtless in swim trunks, his wet hair slicked back, that handsome face and all those lean muscles on display.  When did he get so damn fit?  He was always athletic in a subtle, svelte way, but his arms and back ripple with definition now. 

Hyunjin is in a wet suit, one that stops at the knee and elbow.  He is more covered but the solid black swimsuit makes him look so long and lean.  His hair is also damp.  You watch as he rakes his fingers through it, tucking it behind his ears.  He really is absurdly good looking. 

You blame the heat under your skin on the jets. 

“Psst,” Jeongin suddenly whispers.  His foot nudges yours under the water.  “Is that them?” he whispers. 

You try to be subtle, turning your head to see who is there.  A few younger people are sitting in some pool chairs under a torch, chatting and occasionally glancing in your direction.  It is a few of the people you grew up with, the ones you told the boys about. 

You nod at Jeongin, smiling shyly.  You look down at your legs through the rippled distortion of water.  You are wearing a simple one-piece, just as pink and floral as your dress, still a contrast to your boys. 

You look at them in time to catch a mutual nod.  You were spread around the hot tub, a reach of space between your bodies, but they slide until they are pressed up on either side of you.  You look between them, curling your hands in nervous fists on your chest. 

“What is it?” you whisper. 

“We’re your boyfriends,” Hyunjin whispers with a smile.  “Shouldn’t we sit close to you?” 

“Oh,” you squeak.  “I suppose that’s true.”  You swallow, looking at him then at Jeongin.  Your heart is pounding against your hands.  The combination of heat and desire is making you more than a little dizzy.  “Wh-what else should we be doing?” you ask before thinking twice.  Vocalizing your internal thought only intensifies your fantasies, your mind supplying plenty of mental images of what you would be doing in this hot tub if they were really your boyfriends. 

Oh, you are definitely getting dizzy, but it is not just the jets. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin look at each other, both of them surprised by your forward question.  Jeongin laughs because that is his instinct, that dimple never shy.  Hyunjin has more of a smirk than a smile.  He pokes his tongue into his cheek and lifts his eyebrows when you look at him.  It is a teasing expression.  It makes you dissolve into nervous giggles, sinking lower into the water. 

He grabs you before you can disappear under the surface.  And it is a grab.  Between Hyunjin and Jeongin, you always suspected Hyunjin would be a gentle lover.  He is so gushy and romantic while Jeongin tends be more frank about things.  But it is Jeongin who gently strokes a hand down your arm, who laces his fingers with yours and squeezes. 

Hyunjin reaches right under the water, stopping your descent with a hand on the back of your neck.  Your eyes widen as he yanks you up, not choking but certainly in control.  Your mouth falls open with surprise.  Much to your embarrassment, you moan before he even kisses you, the sound escaping of its own volition as he tilts his head and leans in. 

Oh, his mouth is gentle even if he is not.  His hand is on your jaw, firm, holding your face where he wants it, but his lips are so soft and warm.  He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and sighing against your lips.  You steal a breath as well, your mouth open against his.  That breath catches when Jeongin kisses the nape of your neck, then your shoulder. 

They both have big hands, long fingers, slender but strong.  You melt between them, all heat and need. 

You turn to Jeongin, breathless with desire.  His eyes are dark, lids heavy.  You have never seen such intensity on his usually smiling face. 

You are ready to kiss him when some playful shouts erupt from the audience you forgot about.  “Get it girl!” someone shouts. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  Distracted, you reach behind you, grasping for nothing in particular when you find something, indeed.  Jeongin is rock hard in his swim trunks and your hand brushes the very decent length of him. 

You snap your hand back to yourself, jaw dropping.

“Why are you hard?” you whisper harshly.

“What do you mean, why am I hard?” he whispers back, just as argumentatively.  “We’re all making out in a hot tub.  Of course I’m hard.” 

“Hyunjin’s not hard!” you hiss. 

You look over your shoulder.  Hyunjin is staring up into the air at nothing, looking a little too inconspicuous.

“Hyunjin!” you cry. 

“What?” he returns, also whispering sharply.  “Are you saying you’re not turned on?” 

“I—hmmph—you—no!”

“No?” he asks with a sharp tilt of his head. 

“So,” Jeongin says, drawing your narrowed gaze back to him.  He just smiles at you.  “If we put our hands somewhere here,” his fingers skim your upper thigh and you jump, “we wouldn’t find…?” 

You sputter helplessly but it does no good; you have no retaliation whatsoever.  You look at Hyunjin but he’s no help, just smirking at you.  He wiggles his fingers in a little wave and you feel flushed again. 

“I’m leaving now,” you say and finally sink under the water while they laugh. 

-

You step into your bedroom at the end of a very long day.  The guests have all gone home.  Your parents, for reasons your mother strangely explained, are staying at the neighbour’s house tonight.   You are very aware of the privacy it offers, the air rife with possibility. 

Your boys are in your bed, wearing boxers and sleeveless shirts and bickering about the size of the quilt.  They stop yanking on the blankets when you appear. 

You did not bring much sleepwear.  You figured you would wear the old shirts left behind in this room.  You have outgrown most of them, but that wasn’t a problem with you were sleeping alone.  Now you are wearing old gym shorts that sit very high up your thighs, a little shirt pulled taut across your ample chest, and your friends are staring at you, their previous conversation completely forgotten. 

You cross your arms and stomp to the bed, feigning indifference.  You crawl over a startled Hyunjin to get to the middle, flopping into the little column of space they left for you.

“Good night,” you say. 

Hyunjin turns off the bedside light.  The three of you are laying on top of the covers, on your backs, stiff as boards.  Your arms are still crossed over your chest in a totally unnatural position.  You refuse to look around, counting every little popcorn freckle in the ceiling design. 

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says, his voice so loud in the silence. 

You feel Hyunjin look over, hear the turn of his head on the pillow.  You cast your eyes to either side but do not turn your head.  There is already a skip in your heartbeat and you cannot encourage it. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says.  You feel him roll onto his side, facing you.  “You didn’t kiss me.���

You brace yourself then turn your head, looking at him with every intention of telling him that you did it in the heat of the moment.  But he is gazing you, his head propped up on his arm, that god-forsaken bicep flexed again. 

You shake your head and look at the ceiling.

“Yes, I did,” you say.  “What should we do about it?”

“Kiss him,” Hyunjin says.  You look at him.  He is also propped up, leaning back on his elbow. He looks at you with an expression that offers a challenge, asking, Well? What are you waiting for?      

“Fine,” you say, then slowly turn to Jeongin.  “Only because that’s fair.” 

Jeongin does not hesitate.  He is not as firm Hyunjin but he does not need to be.  Long, steady fingers slide across your shoulder and cup the back of your head.  He draws you into him, kissing your cheek before your lips. 

You quickly lose yourself.  Your eyes close and it feels like taking flight, or maybe falling.  Yes, falling helplessly head over heels.  You have been for a long time. 

You cannot help but make a few wanting sounds.  Jeongin’s body is so different to yours, all hard planes and firm muscle against your softer spots.  His hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, kissing you long and slow like he is pacing himself, like he plans to kiss you for hours. 

That hand wanders from your waist, sliding lower until he is cupping your ass.  Your breath catches and the kiss breaks.  He is quick to dive back in, kissing you deeper the second time, his tongue touching yours. 

You grab his arm, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. When he leans in again, Hyunjin reaches out and shoves his shoulder.  Jeongin blinks up at him, surprised. 

“That was two kisses,” Hyunjin says.  “My turn.” 

Hyunjin grabs your shoulder and pulls you onto your back.  You land with a soft thump, still intoxicated from kissing Jeongin. 

You blink up at Hyunjin, your chest heaving with breath as his eyes roam down your body.  His fingers follow the same trail, knuckles at your chin then the curve of your chest.  You arch your back instinctively.  Everything seems to throb when his fingers brush the front of your shorts.  It is a momentary touch, then he is cupping your cheek and turning your face and kissing you. 

Just last night, you were in this bed alone, fantasizing this very thing.  You ended the phone call but you were wide awake, so you put on some music and grabbed your vibrator and lost yourself to the impossible fantasy now entering reality. 

In your fantasies, one or both of them was on top of you.  But Hyunjin surprises you with the opposite, taking hold of your hips and tugging.  You follow his direction clumsily until you are straddling his lap.  He is hard between your legs, holding you there against him while he cups the back of your head and kisses you. 

You can’t believe you thought Hyunjin was a romantic little angel.  He is an absolute demon, rolling his hips under you with the same unhurried pace Jeongin used.  You are so wet and turned-on, so delirious with need, for a second it feels like there is nothing between you, just the hard shape of him against your softness.  But no, there are thin layers of fabric between you, stretched so tight it is like they are not there. 

Jeongin curves his hand over the shape of your ass.  Your shorts are riding up from your position.  He could get an eye-ful at the right angle. 

“You’re so…” he says, but his breath catches like there is no word to do you justice.  It makes you look at him, your eyes locking in intensity. 

It ends when Hyunjin rolls, laying you onto your back again.  Then he sits back, leaving you there in a breathless pant. 

“What do you think about?” he asks.

You make a noise back at him.  It is supposed to be a question but it comes out garbled.  You shake your head, then manage to ask, “Huh?  Think about?”

He sits up and reaches into your bedside drawer.  You come to coherency when he takes out your vibrator. 

“Hyunjin!”  You cannot help but scold him.  “I told you to stay out of there!” 

“You know I like to investigate,” he argues.  “I can’t help it.” 

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping your forehead.  “I swear to god, it’s like being friends with a crow.”

Jeongin sits up too, laughing so much he has to cover his face.  He shakes his head as he comes up for a breath, pushing his hair out of his face. 

“Stop laughing,” you say, even while a few giggles escape. 

Jeongin just grins at you, then he reaches out and touches traces his thumb across your smile. 

“Are you going to answer?” Hyunjin asks. 

You look at him and snatch the vibrator back, clutching it possessively to your chest. 

“That’s none of your business,” you say.

“It could be,” he says, expression getting darker by the second, a playful smile turning to a dirty smirk.  He runs his teeth across his bottom lip then bats his eyelashes.  “If you think about us,” he finishes. 

“I—no—you—”

“It’s fine,” he says.  “It’s normal.  I think about you.” 

“Hyunjin,” you gasp.  You go to whack him with the vibrator then remember what it is.  You hold it against your chest again, embarrassed.  Hot in the face and everywhere else, you sputter more indignantly than you feel, “There’s nothing to think about with me.”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you are serious, his eyes dropping down your body then back up.  He laughs, covering a hand over his mouth. 

“Last night I thought plenty,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I wondered if you could come so hard it would make you cry.  I bet you’d look pretty.” 

You swallow hard.  Your hands are getting clammy, clutching the toy.  You cannot even fake any indignance, so turned on it is making your head spin. 

“That’s rude,” you say in a rasping voice, “I was crying and you were—”

“I waited to touch myself, thank you,” he teases. 

“Jeongin wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking back at him.  He is staring up at the ceiling, blinking too quickly and too innocently.  “Jeongin!” you exclaim. 

Hyunjin laughs some more, a gleeful little cackle behind his hand.  You huff dramatically, trying and failing to frown at them. 

“My friends are perverts,” you say. 

Hyunjin is reclining in an insouciant slouch.  Jeongin is sitting upright behind you.  You look between them as they look at each other, seemingly conversing through nothing but a series of blinks.  Jeongin smiles first, winking at you when you meet his eye.  He is holding your gaze when Hyunjin moves, smooth and quick.  They crowd you, one on either side, each with a hand on your thigh. 

You make a noise, a surprised little whimper as you spill onto your back.  You clutch the toy for dear life as Jeongin strokes your inner thigh and Hyunjin’s long fingers trace your waistband.  You gasp when Hyunjin slides right in, under your shorts but over your underwear.  You are so turned on that there is no hiding it, the fabric wet under his searching fingers.

“Takes one to know one,” he says with a smile.  “Maybe that’s why we’re friends.” 

“I don’t think we’re just friends,” Jeongin says while sliding the toy out of your hands.  He turns it on and your clit pulses under Hyunjin’s fingers, trained to react to the noise. 

Hyunjin laughs, his breath on your neck.  He moves his hand while Jeongin presses the toy between your legs, over your shorts and panties but nonetheless immediately effective.  You squirm a little.  The onslaught of sensation has your thighs twitching to close. 

The boys shuffle quickly.  You find yourself sitting between Jeongin’s legs, your back against his chest.  Hyunjin kneels in front of you, holding your legs open so you cannot escape the toy’s blissful torture.  You can feel an orgasm winding up ridiculously fast.  You have not had a proper relationship but you have fooled around, but it was never like this.  Even by yourself with a toy, an orgasm would take time.  You have a breath to realize you are going to come, hard, legs spread for your boys.

It hits you quickly but deeply, rolling vibrations of pleasure that have you rearing up.  You start to cry out and Jeongin covers your mouth even though you are alone, catching the sound in his palm.   He holds the toy with his other hand, keeping it in place while Hyunjin holds your legs so you feel every tingling second of aftershocks. 

When you whine into his palm, Jeongin lets you go and turns off the toy. 

The room feels very quiet when the toy stops.  You come to reality, remembering you are in your parents’ house in your old bedroom.  Your parents might not be home but it still seems wrong to get down and dirty with your old teddy bear staring at you.

Hyunjin follows your line of sight.  He grabs the bear and turns it around.

Okay. It’s fine now. 

You twist around and grab Jeongin, kissing him roughly.  He holds you as desperately, kissing back with the same fervour.  Hyunjin gets his hands on your shorts and tugs them down.  They are only off one leg, dangling around your knee, when he dives in and starts kissing your pussy through your underwear. 

You are still sensitive from your orgasm, moaning into Jeongin’s mouth while Hyunjin torments you with his.  When he moves the material out of the way, your legs start shaking again.  Jeongin reaches down to touch you too, his fingers brushing Hyunjin’s lips.  Hyunjin sucks the taste of you off his fingertips then dives back in. 

You are caught by surprise when you come again.  Jeongin catches your cry, covering your mouth again as you shake in his arms.  A tear spills loose just from the sheer sensation of such rapid orgasms.  Your body feels like a live wire, all lightning and electric energy. 

Hyunjin kneels upright, looking at the tear running down your face.  You whimper into Jeongin’s hand when Hyunjin licks it off your cheek. 

“Knew you’d be pretty like that, baby,” he says. 

You pry Jeongin’s hand off your mouth.  It goes easily.  In the end, they follow your lead.  You know your boys.  They would do anything for you.  They would start.  They would stop.  

You do not want them to stop. 

“Fuck me,” you say, so quietly it does not even penetrate the silence.   Even so, Hyunjin slides his hand between your legs and slides two fingers right inside you, so easily because you are so wet.  Jeongin squeezes your breasts in his hands, over your shirt then tugging the fabric up and over to get his hands on your bare skin. 

“What was that?” Hyunjin asks.  He brings those wet fingers to his lips and licks your wetness off them. 

“F-fuck me,” you say, still a whisper but clearer.  “Please.” 

“Well,” Jeongin says, kissing your temple.  He smiles at Hyunjin.  “Since you asked so nicely.” 

You all tumble over, laying on your sides.  Jeongin is nestled behind you, Hyunjin in front of you.  Jeongin lifts your shirt over your head while Hyunjin finally removes everything below your waist.  You slip your hand between your thighs while they whip off their shirts and boxers.

Then it feels like their hands are everywhere.  Yours too, reaching forward for Hyunjin, reaching back for Jeongin.  You hold his hip while he rocks against you, his cock gliding along your backside. 

“I’ll go first,” Hyunjin says, manhandling you onto your back then getting up between your legs. 

“You kissed her first,” Jeongin argues, shoving him.  Hyunjin shoves him back. 

“You’re bigger,” Hyunjin says, nodding to his dick.  “I’ll get her ready.” 

You did not actually get a good look at Hyunjin’s dick before he put it inside you.  If Jeongin is bigger, you are almost worried, because Hyunjin is bigger than anything you have had down there.  You make a keening, high-pitched noise, mouth open as he presses inside you. 

Jeongin lays beside you, reaching down to rub that still-tingling bundle of nerves.  It helps, your eyes closing and head falling back.  Jeongin kisses the exposed line of your throat while Hyunjin starts moving inside you. 

“Ohh—” you say, your hands moving all over his chest.  You clutch one shoulder and reach for Jeongin with your other hand.  He guides it to his dick, helping you find a rhythm, stroking his length while Hyunjin fucks you.

It goes on for a time, then Jeongin curses, squeezing your hand around him.  He nods to Hyunjin.

“Move,” he says.  “My turn.” 

Hyunjin, panting, pushes some hair off his sweaty forehead.  He moves backwards down the bed, stepping right off.  You yelp with surprise when he grabs your legs and yanks you down the bed.  He grabs your hips and flips you over, then gestures to Jeongin. 

“Your turn,” he confirms.  They switch places, Jeongin kneeling behind you while Hyunjin kneels in front of you.  You get up on your elbows, lifting your hips while Jeongin thrusts in.  He wastes no time, evidently already on the brink from your ministrations.  It means your gentle lover is suddenly pounding into you, your fingers forming fists in the bedsheets, yanking the covers everywhere as you pant and moan. 

“Sooo pretty,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face in both hands.  You know what he wants without asking, opening your mouth eagerly.  You doubt it is the best head ever, especially considering half your attention is on Jeongin, your body moving where he wills it.  But you manage, savouring the moment and already imagining every variation of position for the future. 

You look up at Hyunjin, kissing the tip of his dick then saying in a rough voice, “I want both of you one day.”

“Fuck,” Jeongin says and immediately comes, grinding deep inside you.  Hyunjin grabs you by the neck and puts you back on his dick, murmuring a string of expletives just as colourful until he comes. 

You think it is over when Jeongin pulls out.  Cum is dribbling out of your mouth when Hyunjin sits back.  He wipes his thumb over your lips, pushing them closed. 

“You can swallow,” he says.  His touch is a suggestion, not forceful, so you could ignore it.  But you gaze up at him and swallow.

And while you are doing that, Jeongin grabs the toy and puts it back between your legs.  You almost scream, bucking when it comes to life on your dripping pussy.  Hyunjin cups your face in his hands again, stroking your cheeks while you ride the pulsing vibrations.   Another couple tears spill and he wipes them away with his thumbs, cooing sweet nothings at you the entire time. 

They wring three more orgasms out of you before you basically collapse, exerted and sweating and panting. 

“God,” you rasp, laying on your side, still breathing hard.  “I’m gonna need to get in shape for this.  Two boyfriends is no joke.” 

The three of you laugh, then you get to enjoy the spoiled princess treatment that is having one boy to cuddle while the other fetches water and a towel.  When you finally get to sleep, it is nestled safely between your boys, murmuring sweet words at each other in sleepy tones until you fall asleep. 

-

Your parents return at lunch the next day.  While Jeongin helps your father grill and Hyunjin sets the table, you help your mother prepare a side dish.  She is practically beaming at you. 

“Do I want to know why you slept at the neighbour’s last night?” you ask. 

“Oh, my sweet girl,” your mother says.  She kisses your forehead.  “I heard you on the phone the other night.  I know you lied about having a boyfriend.”

“What?!”  You look at her with alarm and surprise.  “But – but you didn’t say anything!  You acted like Jeongin was my boyfriend the second he arrived!”

“Of course!” your mother says.  “Look my dear, anyone can find a boyfriend.  Walk onto the street and throw a rock, there’s one with his head out the car window like a dog.  Easy.  Not everyone can find a man who shows up to a party and pretends to be her lover, expecting nothing in return, and doing it just because he loves her.  And you found two.” 

Your mother wraps you in her arms.  You are still surprised but you hug her back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel so pressured,” she says.  “I just worried about you all alone in the city, but now I see you’re not alone.  But, you know, I am a mother, and I saw how those boys looked at you, so I figured… well…”

“Mom!” you cry, a little mortified she intentionally set you up. 

“Did it work?” she asks with an eyebrow wiggle. 

You are laughing helplessly, shaking your head, which only makes her laugh. 

“I knew it,” she says.  “Sometimes fate just needs a hand.  Maybe two.” 

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” you say, walking away. 

“You are glowing this morning.  Maybe I should get another man too.”

“Mom, please!”  

[bogleech]

ALSO ON STORENVY HERE

ONCE UPON A DARK TIME IN THE TERROR AGES SOME MORON SCARED THE WORLD TO DEATH (GEE THANKS PAL!!!!!!!) BY WRITING A STORY CALLED "THE DAY OF ALL THE BLOOD." THE STORY WAS SO DARK AND GROSS THAT ANYONE WHO READ IT GOT SCARED IN REAL LIFE ALSO.

NOW MANY CENTURIES LATER THE SAME TWISTEFIED AUTHOR IS PUTTING THE STORY IN REAL PAPER YOU CAN TOUCH ALTHOUGH THE STORY IS STILL FAKE (………OR IS IT…………..) ALONG WITH SEVERAL OF THE ORIGINAL RELATED STORIES AND A BUNCH OF BRAND NEW ONES TOO SCARY TO PUT ON THE INTERNET!! ALSo the new stories aren't entirely in caps lock anymore because that got old if they were LOUDER you would get scared so hard you would quite possibly die to death for all time. This small thin paperback prints and ships in time to ruin thanksgiving or maybe christmas!!!!!!!

BRAND NEW STORIES INCLUDE:

THE MOST MURDERED GIRL IN THE WORLD: One day a girl did not listen to her mother, and got murdered by all the murderers in the world at once. The power of almost 100 murders at once transformed her forever…but into what!? The clue is in the title, but you'll never guess. heh heh heh.

THE TRUEST CRIME: one day there was a crime so terrible you will not be able to read what the bad guy did without throwing up your guts at how evil it was. Let's just say it sends 100 MILLION BABIES to prison…and that's only the beginning………

THE BODYLESS DOG: what happens when a dog gets its body cut off and doesn't die!? Well he isn't happy about it I can tell you that much.

VAMPIRE HANDS: this story is about YOU and the time your hands turned into the hands of a vampire. Maybe you think having to keep your hands in tiny coffins all day long doesn't sound so bad but that is only one of the more than one things you have to do when you have vampire hands!!!!!!

THE INVISIBLEST KNIFE: in this story you accidentally kill everyone and everything you care about and even ruin a hot dog completely. Don't worry! There's no such thing as the invisiblest knife! I am looking around right now and I don't see it anywhere. Do you??

WHEN ALL THE STEEL TURNED INTO WORMS (and it was not my fault!!!) this is one of the LONGEST stories (more than two pages!) in the book and is about when one day all the steel in the world became worms that were scared of humans so if you even looked at a car it would fall apart from all the worms running away into the dirt. Again these are descriptions and not the whole stories so this is just one of the things that happens!

THE DAY IT RAINED THE HEADS FROM SPACE: what happens when a really sharp human space probe meets a planet where everyone is the same exact height and always stands in a line on a perfectly flat plane?!?!?!?!?!!?!!?? Well they aren't happy about it I can tell you that much.

THE DOG THAT WAS TOO LONG: you like dogs, do you??? Well sometimes wishes come true but sometimes…sometimes wishes suck and were stupid to make actually. Fool.

THE WEIRD GUY: don't worry, there's no such thing as a weird guy, and if there was, it would not turn out to have been you all along! Pretend you didn't read this massive spoiler.

THE GHOST'S GHOSTS: everyone knows a ghost is twice as scary as a regular person, but what about a ghost's ghost? Obviously that would be twice as scary as a regular ghost. A twisted tale of how the human race is exterminated several hundred times in a row.

DARKNESS MOM: the worst most awful most disgusting scariest monster in the WORLD!! You will TERRIFIED to read about this mom who is TOO TALL and has a GROSS TOO LONG TONGUE and SHARP MONSTER HANDS and if she GETS YOU she will make you be IN TROUBLE all the time for like NO reason!!! NOOOO!!!!!!

THE THINGS THAT DID THE WRONG THINGS: you better not read this secret government list of things that do the wrong stuff!! The secret guys will catch you and you'll have to go to secret jail so you don't go telling everyone about anomanolies such as THE WORST TURTLE (three words, FOOL: spikes on it) or THE CLOCK THAT TELLS TIM (tim is alright though this is not his fault)

THE HALF MURDERER: what if a normal person and a murderer had a baby? It's more likely than you think! Or shall we say…half more likely…mwa ha ha ha

THE REVENGE OF THE DAY OF ALL THE BLOOD: THE LONG FEARED SEQUEL (WARNING: this one is in capitol letters again, it is PULLING NO PUNCHES!)

…………AND MAYBE SOME MORE IF I FEEL LIKE IT! *actually some more are already in it I just might add a couple more than that even

[neominthe]

Practicing character design with some novel's MCs. Here are my headcanons:

Cheong Myeong

Bulky and beefy body. Big arms and hands, which can't be seen as his robes are too big on him

Tanned skin as he trains in the sun a lot, but only on the hands, face and neck since they aren't covered by his Mount Hua robes

I headcanon him as short since he started exercising from an early age in unhealthy amounts, stunting his growth

Super curly hair which Cheong Myeong keeps constantly in a ponytail. At one point in time he will pull in a bun to keep it from tangling

Sharp eyes with extremely long eyelashes

Han Yoojin

I'm a sucker for gaining weight representing character is in a safe and happy place for them

His nose is like a button, a feature he shares with Yoohyun

Yoojin has curlier hair than Yoohyun, though does not care for it. As a result, it's constantly messy and tangled, adding to the 'single mother who has two jobs' look

In the novel (I can't remember which chapter) it is mentioned that Yoojin gained a bit of skin color, making him look healthier. I followed the webtoon skin color (which was like white paper) and darkened it a bit, to look healthier but still very light

Yoojin has pieces of Sung Hyunjae's wardrobe on him. The guy has a lot of money, surely he won't be missing his 100k dollar suit right? (Hyunjae allows it since it is Yoojin stealing and it kinda "marks his territory". You know, like a dog)

Park Moondae

After receiving Idol Inc' sweather, he always wears it as Moondae is too lazy to go buy his own clothes (and to save money)

He got the shoes from Seon Ahyeon, which were one size bigger than his. Moondae doesn't bother telling Ahyeon he got the wrong size, so wearing it causes blisters

Moondae has "dead fish eyes" and a small mouth, making him look like the emoji '-' Fans find it adorable, though

He got a soft jawline and a thin face, as well as a pointy nose

It's possible to determine Moondae's emotion by the glint of his eyes, but only his close friends can do it precisely

Kim Dokja

I didn't intend to make him look like a corpse, but as I kept drawing it felt more and more right for him to be that way. He was an office worker and only had one happiness: a webnovel

Dokja spends most of his time indoors, so he is very pale and lacking of vitamin D. As he became a constellation and Demon King, his complexity worsened and looked inhumane, turning grey ash

He is able to retract his wings, but not his horns. They are constantly out and a burdensome, since Dokja often forgets they are there, making him hit the doorframe several times

Dokja's hair covers a part of his face (an ode to the damn censorship Bihyung added) and is choppy because he cuts his own hair. If cared and brushed almost every day, it would be like his mom's: flowy and soft

He has long eyelashes, especially on the lower lid, and downturned eyes, which makes him look gloomy and teary-faced

I imagine Dokja having a bit of a hunchback from all the time he spends in his phone and working in a computer

Dokja also has long legs, which he keeps hidden under his tattered coat

Cale Henituse

The man has a thin and tall body, to the point he seems both elegant and fragile at the same time

Cale has light skin due to his time spent indoors or under every shade he can find whenever he has to go out

Cale's features are mostly pointy, with sharp angles and straight lines running down. His nose is upturned, has arched eyebrows and sharp eyes

The straight hair was inherited from Deruth's parents, Cale's gradparents and red obviously from Jour

[luvvixu]

satoru's little contentment

content: husband!gojo, reader has a son with him along with megs and miki, the beef between megs and toru is real you can't argue with me, teeth-rotten ig?, i'm having a baby fever for a while now huhu, blaming my gf cuz she keeps on showing me baby vids on tiktok—now i want one... not proofread, too lazy, maybe later lmaoaoa

nothing makes gojo satoru content other than seeing his own family here with him.

like at this moment, his family were just hanging around in the gojo estate garden where it used to be boring but now there's a life into it after marrying you. and you, who has a deep love for gardening stuff, you decided to give the house a makeover.

"these are the water lilies that mama planted when she was pregnant with you." with your son in your embrace, you pointed the different types of plants you personally plant.

satsuri was amazed by the colorful plants while you watched the carbon copy of your husband's blue eyes glisten in awe. your heart melts when you see your son tries to communicate with you with his babbles and hand gestures.

planting a kiss on his fluffy cheeks, you couldn't help but to let out a laugh on how adorable your son is. "ooh. i can't wait for the two of us to plant together! we could fill this whole estate with plants and even flowers!" you squeal.

your son tries to wiggle himself free as he would like to be down for a moment and play with nature, or should you say.

satsuri ran around while satoru, who was casually sitting under the tree, watched his loving wife and his adorable son grab some stones using his small tiny hands and give them to his mother, seemingly asking if he could eat them.

"baby, we cannot eat those." your giggly voice echoes in his ears pleasingly. your baby sensed something that was against his will as his lips formed into a pout and was about to cry when you immediately picked him up to console your poor baby.

"these are rocks." you grabbed the stone on his hand, gently tapping his skin using it. "see? these are hard and sharp too. one stone could hurt you, it could hurt you more if you eat it." you tried to explain it to your son well. sadly, he still didn't buy it.

satsuri let out a wail, tears are also now streaming alongside his face. being a protective mom you are, you immediately console your son while walking towards your husband to also ask for some assistance.

"oh no, my little tough guy is crying. did mama fight you? don't worry, your amazing dad will avenge you." satoru takes his son into his hold, cradling him while giving you a meaningful look.

"hush your trap, why would i even fight my own baby?" you snarl at your husband who was just laughing at your expression. satoru knows you hate it when you're making your child cry. although it is something that you should get used to in order for your child to grow morally, not spoiled.

satoru then looked down at satsuri who was now calm after being cradled in his father's embrace. everytime he would look into his son, he would always say in his mind that they were right — you were right, satsuri is really a carbon copy of him.

the only feature that his son inherited from you is a streak portion of your hair color on the side of satsuri's hair. then the rest, it resembles him.

on the contrary, satoru wished satsuri wouldn't inherit his ignorant, nuisance, troublemaker, and hard headed personality when he was way back younger. the man specifically doesn't want his son to experience the things he does inside the jujutsu world.

basically, all he could have wished and asked for is that satsuri must have inherited your soft, kind, and loving personality. those every trait of yours that made him fall in love with you. and now, that got him staring at his son for too long, hoping that satsuri would grow just like you.

hell, if he could only forbid his son to avoid being a sorcerer, then he would! but he knows in the end that satsuri would be the one who will decide his faith.

"oh, it's three in the afternoon. it's my turn to pick up gumi and miki." suddenly, you wake him up from his daydreaming session. with a hump, you stand up along with satoru.

"let's pick them up together. it would be nice to see satsuri pick up his siblings too." satoru suggested and you liked the idea. without any further, you two head to your car and drive away. you are the driver right now, of course.

"mom!"

as soon as you exit the car, you see tsumiki waving and smiling at you as you watch her skip her way towards you with megumi trailing behind her.

you kneel down to greet them in your arms. "hi, my babies! how's school?" you asked them, still giving the two your big warm hugs.

"it was fine. my friends and i gossip a lot during our break time and i can't wait to share it with you." you are tsumiki's number two gossip buddy (satoru is the first one, definitely) since both of you are female. most likely, there were times where only the two of you would understand since it's a girls thing.

"how about you, gumi?"

"just a normal one." your other baby boy answered, megumi is still wrapping his arms around your body as you sensed the fatigue in his voice.

"come on, let's head back to the car." you're about to stand up but megumi still refuses to let go. smiling to yourself, you know what he wants so you picked him up and carried him in your arms.

immediately, megumi planted his face on the crook of your neck while tsumiki volunteered to carry his bag — what a sweet girl.

"my sweet gumi must be very tired. do you want me to set up a futon in the backseat?" you cooed.

"yes please." megumi snuggles like a kitten in your embrace, making you smile and giggles at his cute tactics.

tsumiki giggles too at his brother's behavior. both of you know megumi was more fond of you among all. ever since satoru bought them home, megumi finds himself getting more attached to you and sees you as his mother figure.

the three of you proceed to the car. as tsumiki opened the door, she was greeted by a man and baby's voice who seemed to be laughing.

"tsuri! you're here!" tsumiki's face instantly grew brighter at the sight of her little brother. while megumi, his head instantly shot up from your shoulder at the sound of his other brother's name mentioned.

"hello satsuri." despite the sleepiness in his voice, there's still a hint of excitement in his voice.

"hey! i was here too!" the other baby — i mean, satoru pouted when his two children didn't even bother to greet him the way they greet satsuri.

megumi instantly snarls at satoru while tsumiki was kind enough to greet him with the same energy. your husband raises his eyebrows when he realizes that megumi was literally clinging on to you, again.

satoru doesn't have a problem with that, but there's a time when megumi would literally steal your attention away from him when it's just both of you. he just feels that megumi was doing it on purpose. behind his back, he knew megumi would smirk at him or even stick his tongue in his face.

"megs, i'm going to bring you down for a moment. i'll just set up the futon for you and tsumiki." when you get approval from your son, you bring him down and start to do your thing with the help of your husband, of course

you saw your three children playing with each other near the car. you told them not to go far away or they'll get into an accident.

"say, i'm not really in the mood to cook. should we take the kids outside for dinner?" you suggest as you flatten out the sheets of the futon. while satoru was busy double checking the safety of the bed.

"sure, it would be nice too since you've done a lot for us everyday. rest is also very important too, hm? don't forget that, my little wifey." you rolled your eyes but still smiled at his cheesy tease, but you knew satoru was just concerned for you, especially.

"okay, let's go home. it's still early and the kids need to do their assignments." you called out for your three kids who are excited to lay down on the set up futon.

your kids instantly find their spot inside as satoru starts the car. it was him driving this time since satsuri wants to be fed from you.

"sweethearts, did you wear the safety belts?" your two babies nodded. whenever you guys would set up the futon, satoru modified the space with safety belts just in case any accidents would happen, the kids would not be harmed.

looking at your children again, you saw megumi was already fast asleep as soon as he lay down. while tsumiki was watching some miraculous ladybug on her ipad. satsuri was unfortunately not with them since he's still a baby and it's very dangerous to let him sit without any supervision of grownups.

"ouch! don't bite too hard on mama, satsuri." you winced when your son bit your nipple a bit harder than the usual sucking, making satoru look at you in worry.

satsuri was now growing his teeth, so it's a double challenge to endure his sucks. thankfully, satoru was there to remind his baby to suck properly even though satsuri could barely register a word.

"satsuri, milkies are supposed to be suck carefully. want me to demonstrate it to you?" your husband is a bastard as he playfully mumbles the last statement, making you glare at him instantly.

"satoru!" if only he's not driving, you would've smacked the hell out of him. satoru just managed to let out a laugh while keeping his eyes on the road.

thank god, megumi was fast asleep and tsumiki was too engaged on her show, while satsuri is still a baby. but that is not an excuse to behave in such a way in front of your children.

"oopsie daisy! i'm so sorry, my wife. didn't mean to be very voluntary." satoru laughed at his own joke. you just snarled at him and just focused on your baby who was getting drowsy at any minute.

the rest of the ride was fine. just satoru humming a pop tune that he heard over the radio, tsumiki is still busy on her show, megumi was snoring lightly, satsuri is now fast asleep too, while you stay as you.

"baby, can we get some cakes? i am craving for some."

"no. you have to wait after dinner." you deadpanned. seems like his sweet tooth is kicking again. it makes you reminisce when you're still pregnant with your youngest. satoru was craving food more than you do and it somehow confused you.

"but baby—"

"the kids would not properly eat their dinner if they proceed to dessert first. you have to wait, satoru."

"okay." the only available choice for satoru is no choice. that's why his pout is longer than usual, good thing you're getting a bit immune to that. but that doesn't mean you're always enduring his puppy eyes.

sooner than later, the whole family was now home. satoru was carrying the sleepy satsuri while you're carrying the sleepy megumi and tsumiki was walking on her while carrying the bags.

satoru refuses to leave his eyes on you as you walk inside the house. he made a comment on how clingy megumi is and you shouldn't be carrying him because the little boy's now growing.

you replied to him that it's fine and you want to carry him while you still can. like he said, megumi was now growing and you want to cherish those moments to its fullest. satoru was softened by your words. but that doesn't mean his concern about you lessened, so he suggests that he would be the one who's going to carry megumi.

however, your middle child refuses to be held by your husband, that's why both of you ain't got no choice again but to let megumi be carried by you.

"you should've just left him sleeping on the pathway." satoru mumbles. you just shoot him a knowing look because another war would break out if megumi found out that satoru talked about him behind his back. thank goodness, megumi was a heavy sleeper.

"you agree with me, right, satsuri? that your older brother should've just sleep outside?" satoru whispers to his son. it was audible to you, so you're not sure if it was intentional for you to hear him say or not.

somehow, it brings a small smile to your lips despite his silliness, you know he didn't mean that at all. stroking megumi's hair just to make sure he's comfy in your embrace, you decided to counter his words.

"and you'll be sleeping outside too if you keep on teaching my son bad behavior and talking crap to my other son too."

part 2?

©luvvixu2023

[sacredtime]

I think we all think David looks like his dad and is so if that’s canon or not but what if he actually looks like a male version of his mom?

Many people that I’ve seen draw him with sharp features to make him more gruff but what if he had softer features? Features meant to show kindness and happiness rather than the irritation and anger that usually grace his expression?

David with freckles like his mother’s? A mole on his face in the same place or on the other side of his face? A birthmark on like his arm that now as an adult is almost the same as his mothers?

Despite all the scars, wrinkles and stress lines he has this youth about him that never goes away much like his mother’s, hair that refuses to gray until his late 60s, everytime he scowls even as alpha, no matter how hard he tries it borders on a pout instead.

David who grew his hair out once as a kid and made his grandparents on his mother’s side cry because he looked like their daughter. David who died his hair black to his honey blonde hair. He’s also built like a larger version of his mother. Despite working out regularly and eating well there’s stubborn areas of fat that make him look like a scary teddy bear and cuddly and welcoming for not particular reason.

[pascalispimp]

Through the Ashes

Pairing: Joel miller x reader

Summary: In a world ravaged by loss and survival, Joel Miller has long believed that love is a luxury he can no longer afford. Haunted by his past and driven by the need to protect those he cares about, his heart is as guarded as the walls around the small community of Jackson. But when Birdie, a former Firefly with a mysterious connection to Ellie, arrives in Jackson, Joel’s world is turned upside down.

Warnings for series: some angst with happy ending. Mutual pining. Eventual smut. Unspecified age gap. Takes places after TLOU season 1. Not canon to game ending. Joel will get his happy ending. Jealous!Joel. Protective!Joel. Canon typical violence.

Word count: 3k

** Masterlist **

Hi guys, this is my first fic in a very long time so please be kind. I’m posting the first chapter and if you guy’s enjoy it, let me know and I’ll post more. Would love to hear everyone’s thoughts on it!! Character doesn’t have a name but everyone calls her Birdie because of the Mockingbird tattoo on her arm.

Chapter 1- The First Meeting

The snow fell steadily outside the cabin, the wind howling through the gaps in the wooden walls. Joel was in the middle of cleaning his rifle, the rhythmic scrape of the brush against the metal barrel soothing in its familiarity. Jackson was quiet today—too quiet, for Joel’s taste—but then again, it was the dead of winter. The few settlers who ventured out for patrols returned with little to report, just the bitter cold biting at their heels.

A knock at the door broke his concentration, sharp and unexpected. Joel frowned, setting the rifle down carefully on the table. Not many people came to his cabin unannounced, especially in weather like this.

“Who is it?” Joel called out, his voice rough, as he crossed the small room to the door.

“It’s me, Tommy,” came the muffled reply from the other side.

Joel unlocked the door and pulled it open, the cold air rushing in as he did. Tommy stood on the porch, bundled up in his thick coat, but it wasn’t Tommy who drew Joel’s attention. It was the woman standing next to him.

“Joel, I’d like you to meet someone,” Tommy said, stepping aside slightly. “This is” Tommy said, your name escaping his lips. “But I call her Birdie”

Her name struck a chord in Joel’s memory, and he realized why as soon as he looked into her eyes. Those eyes—so familiar, so much like Ellie’s, but older, more weathered by the world.

She stepped forward, pulling the scarf away from her face. Her features were sharp, angular, with a stubborn chin and eyes that had seen too much. Her long hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. There was something fierce about her, a hardness that reminded Joel of the survivors he’d met on the road, but there was also a sadness that softened her.

Joel repeated her name, his voice carefully neutral.

“She’s Ellie’s aunt,” Tommy said, glancing between them. “Her mom’s younger sister.”

Birdie gave a small, curt nod. “I’ve been looking for her—for years. Since Boston.”

Joel’s mind raced, trying to piece together what he knew of Anna, Ellie’s mother, and what she might have told him about family. But there had been little to go on. Anna had been a Firefly, just like Birdie apparently was—or had been.

“You’re a Firefly,” Joel said, the words coming out like an accusation.

Birdie’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I was. Not anymore. That was… a long time ago.”

Tommy cleared his throat, sensing the tension between them. “Birdie’s been on the road for a while. Just got back here yesterday, actually after travelling back to Boston”

Joel nodded slowly, though his eyes never left Birdie’s. He could see the exhaustion in her, the weight of whatever she had endured in her search for Ellie. There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken questions. Why now? Why here?

“Ellie doesn’t know yet,” Birdie said quietly, as if reading his mind. “I haven’t figured out how to tell her. I needed to see her first… to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s fine,” Joel said, a bit too quickly, the protective edge in his voice undeniable. “She doesn’t need—”

“I’m not here to take her from you,” Birdie interrupted, her tone sharp, but not unkind. “I’m here because she’s all I have left.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Joel found himself softening, just slightly. He knew what it was like to lose everything, to have only one thing left in the world to hold onto. It was a pain that twisted and festered, driving people to do impossible things.

Tommy shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two. “Well, I’ll let you two talk. I need to check on Maria. Birdie, your place should be ready for you whenever you’re ready. Hasn’t been touched since you left.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Birdie said, her eyes flicking to him before returning to Joel. “I appreciate it.”

Tommy gave them both a nod and then stepped off the porch, disappearing into the falling snow, leaving Joel and Birdie alone.

Joel stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. “You might as well get out of the cold.”

Birdie hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside. The warmth of the cabin hit her, and she could feel the chill starting to seep out of her bones. She unwound the scarf from her neck and shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door. As she did, Joel couldn’t help but notice how thin she looked, how worn.

“Sit,” Joel said gruffly, motioning to the chair by the fire. “I’ll get you something warm.”

Birdie moved toward the chair, her eyes taking in the cabin as she did—a small, simple space, but well-kept, with everything in its place. She sat down slowly, the firelight casting flickering shadows across her face.

Joel busied himself with the kettle, filling it with water and setting it over the fire. His hands worked automatically, but his mind was racing. This woman—Ellie’s aunt—what was her angle? What did she want?

“I’m not here to make things difficult,” Birdie said suddenly, as if sensing his doubts. “I know what you did for Ellie. Tommy told me… some of it.”

Joel turned, his expression guarded. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Maybe not,” Birdie admitted. “But I know enough to be grateful. Ellie’s lucky to have you.”

Joel said nothing, his eyes searching her face for any sign of deception. But all he saw was sincerity, mixed with a weariness that matched his own. She wasn’t here to cause trouble; she was here because she had nowhere else to go.

The kettle began to whistle, and Joel turned back to pour the water into two mugs. He handed one to Birdie, who accepted it with a nod of thanks.

“So,” Joel said, settling into the chair opposite her, “what’s your plan?”

Birdie took a sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through her chest. She looked at him, her gaze steady. “I don’t have one. I just want to be a part of Ellie’s life, if she’ll have me. And if you’ll let me.”

Joel studied her for a long moment, the fire crackling between them. Finally, he nodded, a silent truce forming between them.

“We’ll see,” he said, his voice low. “But know this—if you hurt her, if you bring any trouble here…”

“I won’t,” Birdie cut him off, her voice firm. “I swear it.”

Another silence fell between them, this one less heavy, more accepting. They were two people with jagged pasts, brought together by the same person they loved more than anything in this broken world.

And though neither of them could have known it then, that moment—born of mutual understanding and a shared need for connection—was the first step toward something neither of them had dared to hope for.

Something like love.

—-

The mid-afternoon sun bathed Jackson in a soft, golden light as Ellie stood on the porch of Joel’s cabin, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. She glanced over at Joel, who was leaning against the wooden railing, his expression unreadable. He had been unusually quiet that day, and Ellie could sense the tension rolling off him in waves. Something was up, and it was putting her on edge.

“So… what’s this all about?” Ellie asked, her voice filled with cautious curiosity. She wasn’t used to Joel acting so cagey, and it made her uneasy.

Joel sighed, pushing himself off the railing and turning to face her. “There’s someone I want you to meet,” he said slowly, his eyes searching hers for a reaction. “Someone from your past.”

Ellie frowned, confused. She had already met everyone in Jackson who might have known her from before. Who could Joel be talking about? But before she could ask, the cabin door creaked open, and a woman stepped out onto the porch.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of the woman standing before her. She was tall, with her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her eyes—her eyes were so familiar. Ellie couldn’t place why at first, but something about them tugged at the edges of her memory.

“Ellie,” Joel said, his voice gentle but firm, “this is Birdie. She’s your mom’s younger sister.”

Ellie’s heart skipped a beat as the realization hit her. *My aunt.* She had never known her mother’s family—Joel had only told her bits and pieces about Anna, but never anything about anyone else. The idea that she had an aunt, someone who had been out there looking for her, was overwhelming.

Birdie took a tentative step forward, her eyes filled with emotion. “Ellie,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

Ellie stiffened, the mix of emotions swirling inside her too complicated to untangle. Part of her wanted to run, to push this stranger away, to keep her distance as she had learned to do with everyone except Joel. But another part of her—a part she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time—wanted to reach out, to grab hold of this connection to her mother that she had thought she’d lost forever.

“I… I don’t remember you,” Ellie admitted, her voice shaky, her eyes darting to Joel for reassurance.

She smiled sadly, a soft, understanding look in her eyes. “You were just a baby the last time I saw you,” she said. “We were separated in Boston when the Fireflies took you after Anna, after she passed. I tried to find you, but by the time I got back… you were gone.”

Ellie swallowed hard, trying to process the flood of information. She had always wondered about her past, about the people she had lost, but she had never expected this—never expected to have someone from that past suddenly standing in front of her, claiming to have been searching for her all these years.

“I know this is a lot,” Birdie continued, her voice soft and patient. “And I don’t expect you to remember me, but I brought something that might help.”

She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a small, worn photo album. It was old, the edges frayed, but it had clearly been well cared for. Birdie opened it carefully, flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. She held it out to Ellie, her hands trembling slightly.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, glancing up at Joel again. He nodded encouragingly, though she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It wasn’t like Joel to be so tense around new people—especially not someone he had invited into their lives. But there was something in his eyes that told her this was important, that this was something she needed to do.

Ellie took the album from her, her fingers brushing against the worn leather cover. She looked down at the picture on the page, her breath catching in her throat. It was a photograph of a woman holding a small child—a baby with big, curious eyes and a tuft of dark hair. The woman was smiling, a bright, loving smile, and Ellie felt a pang of recognition deep in her chest.

“That’s you, and me. Not long before you were taken.” She said softly, pointing to the baby in the picture. “And that’s your mom, not long before you were born.”

Ellie’s fingers traced the edges of the photograph, her heart pounding. She had seen pictures of her mother before, but never like this—never with her. There was something so achingly familiar about the woman in the picture, something that made Ellie’s chest tighten with emotion.

“I… I remember this,” Ellie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I remember you holding me like this.”

Birdie smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. “You were so small, but you were already so strong. Just like your mom.”

Ellie’s throat tightened as she looked at the other photos in the album—pictures of her as a baby, pictures of her mother and Birdie together, smiling and laughing, snapshots of a life she had lost and never thought she’d find again. The memories were faint, like trying to grasp at wisps of smoke, but they were there, and as she looked at each picture, they became clearer, more vivid.

Joel watched them from the side, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He was happy for Ellie—truly, he was. Seeing her reconnect with a piece of her past, a piece of her mother, was something he had always wished for her. But at the same time, a pang of jealousy twisted in his gut, mingling with the protectiveness that had always been there, simmering just below the surface.

Birdie was Ellie’s blood, a living connection to her mother, and Joel knew that was something he could never be. He had tried his best to fill the role of father, of protector, but deep down, there was a fear—a fear that now that Ellie had someone else, someone from her past, she might need him less. The thought terrified him more than he could admit.

As Ellie continued to flip through the album, her eyes bright with a mix of wonder and sadness, Joel forced himself to push the jealousy aside, focusing instead on the way her face lit up with each new memory that surfaced. This was a good thing. He had to remind himself of that. She was here for Ellie, and that was what mattered.

“I can’t believe you kept these,” Ellie said, her voice trembling as she looked up at her, tears brimming in her eyes.

Birdie smiled, her own eyes wet. “I kept them for you. I knew that one day, I’d find you, and I wanted you to have something to remember her by.”

Ellie bit her lip, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Birdie reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently placing her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “I’m so glad I found you, Ellie. I’ve missed you so much.”

Ellie looked up at her, the walls she had built around herself slowly crumbling. She could see the truth in her eyes—the love, the longing, the pain of having been separated for so long. It was the same pain Ellie had carried with her for years, the same sense of loss that had haunted her. But now, for the first time, it felt like that loss was being filled, piece by piece.

“I’ve missed you too,” Ellie admitted, her voice small, but filled with a deep, raw honesty. “Even if I didn’t remember, I missed you.”

Birdie’s face broke into a tearful smile, and she pulled Ellie into a gentle hug, holding her close as if she was afraid to let go. Ellie stiffened for a moment, unaccustomed to the sudden show of affection, but then she relaxed into the embrace, allowing herself to feel the warmth of it, the connection she had been missing for so long.

Joel watched them, his chest tight with a mix of emotions. He was happy—so damn happy—to see Ellie finding this connection, but the pang of jealousy was still there, sharp and insistent. He knew it was irrational, knew that Ellie’s love for her didn’t diminish what they had, but it was hard to shake the fear that had taken root in his heart.

Ellie finally pulled back from the hug, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked at Birdie, really looked at her, and for the first time, she saw the family resemblance—saw the way Birdie’s eyes mirrored her own, saw the way her smile reminded her of her mother.

“I want to know more,” Ellie said, her voice steadier now. “About her. About you.”

Birdie smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made Ellie feel like she was finally home. “I’ll tell you everything,” she promised. “Anything you want to know.”

Joel stepped forward, unable to stay on the sidelines any longer. He placed a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You two have a lot to catch up on,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, though the tension in his body betrayed him.

Ellie looked up at him, her expression softening. “You’re okay with this, right?” she asked, searching his face.

Joel nodded, forcing a smile. “Of course, kiddo. This is good. It’s what you need.”

Ellie studied him for a moment longer, sensing that something was off, but not quite able to place it. She reached up and covered his hand with hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re still my family, Joel. That’s never going to change.”

Joel’s heart swelled at her words, the jealousy easing just a little. He nodded, his throat too tight to speak, and gave her a small, grateful smile.

Birdie watched the exchange, understanding the depth of the bond between Joel and Ellie. She knew that Joel was protective of Ellie, that he had been her rock through everything, and she didn’t want to come between them. But she also knew that this was something Ellie needed, something that would help her heal.

“Joel,” She said gently, “thank you. For everything you’ve done for her. I can see how much she means to you.”

Joel met her gaze, and for a moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them—an acknowledgment of the roles they both played in Ellie’s life. Joel nodded, the tension in his chest easing just a bit more.

“She means everything to me,” Joel said quietly, his voice full of emotion.

Birdie smiled, her eyes soft with gratitude. “And now, she’s got both of us,” she said, her voice filled with hope.

Ellie looked between them, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had a real family—one that stretched back to her past and carried her into the future. And as she stood there, between Joel and Birdie, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she could finally start to heal.

[thebelugawhalefriend]

Many Loving Kisses - Yan!Royal Harem x Reader

PART TWO

CW: Yandere themes, Fem reader, Homophobia, Polyamory, FxF and MxF, Slight mentions of religion

Note: This is based on a dream I had a while back that actually opened up the idea of polyamory being healthy to me. While the dream involved an emperor from Japan and his harem, I'm very worried about writing for a culture I'm not completely learned up on. So! I've written it to fit a Medieval setting ^^

"The King has requested your daughter's hand in marriage." A messenger read from his scroll upon a white stallion, your parents looking on in shock. "His Majesty? But... Why our daughter?" Your mother starts, but her partner puts her hand on your mother's shoulder. "Do you dare ask why our gracious King would bestow upon you a dowry for your daughter? After he pardoned the unholy sanctity of your union?" It's then your other mother, "Auntie", steps in with venom in her tone. "Now you listen here, you brute... My wife didn't dare insult the king! She simply asked why he would want to take our only child away from us. Disgracing our union is unnecessary!"

To this, the messenger seethes. Withdrawing from his horse, the towering brute of a man steps closer to your mothers. "He did request that anyone unwilling to hand over the bride to be shall be taken to be executed. Would you prefer I end your lives? I'll be more than happy to-"

"Stop!" You immediately waved your arms up, trying to get in the middle of the dispute, "I'll go- please! Just don't hurt my mom and auntie...!" It was now their turn to look upon you with shock. "Baby..." Your mother lifts her hands to hold your face. "You don't have to do this. We'll do anything to keep you safe-" "Mama, it's not worth sacrificing your lives over something like a marriage. I love you both too much to see someone take your lives..."

Sundown's pink hues darken the skies as you wave your final goodbyes to your moms. To ensure you wouldn't change your mind, some of the men who had tagged along with the messenger tied you tight and carried you upon horseback. While your parents were paid a great sum for your hand, you couldn't help but worry about what the king's wife would think. How would this work? Would she be okay with the king having you as a second wife? Of course, his first wife will still be Queen... But what will you be?

Nightfall approaches as soon as the men who carried you in tow arrive at the gates. The king, in all his glory, looks upon the arriving carrivan with great disdain. The messenger leads on with pride in his chest and eyes. "My King, we've brought your bride to be as you requested!" "And you tied her like an animal to a slaughter?!" The king's sharp tone immediately deflated the messenger's ego. "I- uhm- It wasn't I who requested she be bound like that! Men, what have you done to our lady? At least treat the maiden with class!" The crew hastily undoes your ties as the messenger puffs out his chest yet again. Though, the king seems unimpressed.

"I've had quite enough trouble with the likes of you, Stephen. You treat your job as if I bestowed upon you a knight's status... One more misuse of your power and I'll have you imprisoned for the rest of your days." His golden eyes now fall upon you, gaze softening upon seeing your figure. "As for her, let her come and follow me. She's to be acquainted with my wife before any plans are set in motion."

Now, it's hard to not fall for a king so handsome. Stunning muscular features, a chiseled face as if a sculptor carved him from marble, and long curls of red hair pulled onto a loose ponytail. Freckles mark his face and skin like stars and constellations, with multitudes of scars connecting them. You start to wonder if God personally painted him to look like a galaxy... "I do apologize for how my men have treated you. It's difficult to find men as honorable as my own knights, dearest (Y/N)."

"You... Know my name, Your Highness...?"

"Why wouldn't I? You've been all my wife has been talking about for the past few weeks! It took me the longest time to come around to the idea but... One look of who she spoke of and I couldn't agree faster."

"King Fl-"

"Please, you may call me Rose." His smile is so warm, it brought your face to a rosy red. The tenderness of his words... That spark in his eye... It's hard to believe that this would be yours to even have, not to mention have his wife willing to share!

Once you both happen upon an ornate willow door, Rose gives it a gentle knock. "Darling?" A soft voice calls from inside the room. "Is that you?" "Yes, my dearest wife! I have brought someone you'd most adore to meet..." "Oh! But Rose, I'm just about indecent! Visitors can't gaze upon me right now..." The red haired man rolls his eyes with a bright smile, "Oh, alright, I suppose (Y/N) can wait a few moments longer."

With that, the door creeps open. "Please, let her come in!" You swallow a large lump in your throat, trotting in carefully. The inside of the room is spacious and rather decorated- even for a queen. Paintings of fables and animals decorate the walls, each framed with delicately carved wood. Walls themselves were murals of flowers and leaves, furniture threatening to overflow with delicate knick knacks and jewelry. What catches your eyes is the large pink bed with sheer canopies of white hanging over. On the sheets sit a tall and curvy woman. Eyes a striking purple and hair as black as a raven's plumage. What stands out most about her are her larger than life scars along her collarbone. While Rose's own were small, hers looked like she had fought a wild beast... The only thing that covers her is a purple nightgown, only going so far as to cover most of her thighs.

"You must be (Y/N)." She stands from the bed, brushing off her legs and looking at you with a bright smile. The mere sight of her vulnerability brings a deep blush back to your cheeks. "M-My Lady... I'm honored to... Uhm... Meet you!" You try to curtsey, but the queen merely laughs at your attempt and approaches your feeble form. "Please, there is no need for formality, little one! From now on, you can call me Azalea. But, any amount of nicknames will do." With that, she reaches her hands to your face and cups them along your jawline. "Look at you... You're so beautiful... So joyous and kind... I knew from the moment I saw you, I would love to have you marry my husband and I!"

It wasn't too long ago you met the queen. Only about a month, if you had to make a guess. She had been making her rounds along town in disguise despite her husband's protests. That's when she happened upon your family's stall. Adorned with colors and beads, it immediately was obvious that you were all selling jewelry. "Greetings!" You beamed from the stall, the queen's attention caught on you. "Would you... Actually, hold on a moment." The curious monarch watched on as you picked through one of the racks of necklaces. From them, you picked a particular piece- An orange and red beaded necklace with a ruby as the showpiece. "You look like someone who could use a little more red-"

"Oh no, I can't- I'm sorry, I don't have any..." While the Queen fretted this potential trick, you put your hands onto her own. "I didn't say you had to pay for the piece. I... Actually made that one myself. I would be honored to have someone as beautiful as you wear it." She was quick to catch onto your "flirting", to which she laughed and looked into you. "If I didn't have a husband, I would snatch you right up! If only men were so flattering as you are." You gave her a little look of confusion, "I didn't mean to try and take you as my own- Oh, but I would if you wanted me to-! Just uh! Uhm..." That assumption brought a great fluster to your face. "I genuinely mean it, miss. I have a great feeling about you! I don't often get them but... Mom says when you get that feeling, you just have to... Put it into action. Does that make sense?" The tall woman laughed again, "Absolutely not, but I appreciate the gift you've given me. Perhaps fortune will be as giving as you are..."

At the time, you didn't even realize just what her status was. It wasn't until this very moment of her hold on your face that you finally could recognize her.

"You were that lady I met last month, weren't you?" Azalea beams with amusement, her familiar laugh ringing in your ears, "It took you long enough to figure that out! Ah, but don't you worry about it, just proves my disguise is effective." As she keeps you in conversation, her body urges you to join her on the bed. By that, it's merely a hand pulling you to the mattress and a gentle push urging you to sit. With you next to Azalea, Rose peeks right in with curiosity.

"How are my wonderful girls?" He steps right in, Azalea sticking her tongue out and pulling you in for a protective hug. "This one shall be my own wife! You can't have her, Rose!" Her tone is playful, but for a moment, you could have sworn you saw that primal desire of possessiveness. "Oh, you wound me, darling! I paid her dowry, only for her to be snatched away?" He comes in closer, leaning into his wife with that exact same look. "I don't think so... Come here!"

The redhead pulls you and Azalea in for a tight embrace. Between his muscular chest and Azalea's soft breasts, you're sure you will suffocate under this pile of affection. Though, it isn't long until he pulls away to let you breathe. "Goodness, my apologies (Y/N)! I should be more careful with my two favorite flowers..."

Their gentleness and affection all reminds you of your moms. How they would shower you with affection and each other with love. It brings a certain ache to your heart, but... You'll see them again, right?

"King- Sorry, Rose?" "Yes, my flower?" "What will become of my moms?" Your freckled lover pauses for a moment, "Your mothers? What of them? They've been compensated for your dowry." "When will I see them again?" This time, Azalea comes in to answer. Her limbs wrap around you and pull you into her lap by the waist. "Oh, my dear, we can't have you wandering about in public! You'll be a spectacle out there! Besides, you'll already have a lady who will care for you every day..."

"But... What of my friends?"

"What of them? They'll get to watch you marry us! Besides, you'll have a man who will be your company from dawn until dusk." While Azalea holds you, Rose brings a hand to your chin and strokes it lovingly. That facade of care was quickly starting to feel like a trap you've fallen into.

"That's... Lovely and all! I really do appreciate that I'll be spending my days with you both. I just worry that... Well, you both have many duties as king and queen. Surely I could be allowed outside...?" Both of the lovers freeze. It's as if you admitted to murder! The tension of the room grows thick like butter, with Rose's gaze turning from soft to absolutely enraged. Yet, his tone is still calmed. Too calm.

"My darling little flower..." His grip on your face tightens, "The outside is far too dangerous for you to venture into. You're to stay here with us and be our company. Do you understand me?" Your eyes widen and you nod feverishly, Rose letting out a sigh and pulling back. Azalea turns you slightly so you could look into her honeyed look using those familiar amethyst eyes. "Don't let it scare you so easily, loveliest... We love you! We won't hurt you if we don't have to. We'll keep you safe here... No matter how hard it'll be!"

[fourteentrout]

Eris Oneshot: "A Blood That Burns"

Eris Week Day 2: Childhood/Legacy

A short one shot about Eris and his mom for @erisweekofficial.

Read here on AO3 or check out the preview below!

Description: Eris cuts his hair and talks to his mom. Both are harder to reckon with than he'd expected.

Word Count: 3,246

Preview Below the Cut

Eris looked into the mirror like it would tell him a secret. He peered at himself, observing as if he were another person. His eyes passed over his features, his sharp cheekbones, his sharper eyebrows. What did people see when they looked at him? Just another one of the Vanserra brothers, they-all-look-the-same? A cruel, egotistical prick, his hunger for power etched into his very features? A pathetic whelp?

His father?

Eris registered the rage on his face before he even truly felt it, the flames in his eyes guttering out as an unsettling kind of fear slipped in. He looked tired, which almost made him look more like Beron. Older, more weathered. Though certainly not as powerful. Dark circles under his eyes, his long hair tangled and oily, his skin pallid. 

Pathetic, indeed. 

With a disappointed scoff, he grabbed the scissors off of the vanity before him. Not even combing it beforehand, he sectioned off a large portion of his hair and cut through it until it was severed completely. It hung limply from his enclosed fist without luster. It all felt quite unceremonious. 

Ashamed of thinking that it would feel more momentous, Eris continued to hack away uneven chunks with rage-fueled vigor, that lingering fear settling like lead in the pit of his stomach. He barely tried to make sure the length of each sheaf matched up, eventually snipping all the way around until his hair hung in an uneven curtain, ending above his shoulders. He would have to cut much more for it to be presentable. 

With an unseemly groan, he let the shears clatter to the vanity, covering his face with his hands. 

The thing was. 

The thing was, Eris couldn't remember the last time his brothers looked at him and didn't just see another version of their father. 

He didn't know the last time his mother touched him like he was her baby, her pride and joy. He didn't know if that's what he ever was. She could never say he has his father's eyes and feel happy about it, so why would he ever have been something precious to her in the first place?

Especially not when her little light came into the world. The Vanserra brother who wasn’t a Vanserra. The one child who was born to be loved by her. 

The grimace on Eris’ face deepened as he took up the scissors again, cutting with more precision, more intention. Cutting and cutting and cutting, until he had to switch to a less broad pair of shears. 

His arms ached with the strain of being held in odd positions for so long. By the time he was done, his discarded red hair made him feel like he was lost in a sea of fire, or perhaps blood. He was disgusted by it. He had never cut it so short. With a wave of his hand, he sent every severed strand away to the large waste bin in the laundry room. 

Eris looked in the mirror, at his father’s eyes. Wrath still burned hot underneath his skin, and he stopped pretending it hadn’t always been there, and wouldn’t always be there. He stopped pretending that fire wasn’t something that raged, and wasn’t something that lived in his very blood. 

If people were only ever going to see a second Beron, a legacy—not a separate male, not a person—then there was no point in pretending he was anything else. He reached into one of the vanity drawers, drawing out his simple, dark crown, meant for ceremonies and balls. It wasn't fashioned like his father's crown, decked with gold-plated laurels and oak leaves. Beron wasn't willing to grant that honor to any of his sons, nevermind the one closest to succeeding him. But Eris’ crown, as simple as it was, was regal and harsh, much like him, much like Beron. It would certainly complete the ensemble. He settled it onto his head, the metal digging uncomfortably into his skull, and looked at himself anew. 

Same dark circles. Same waxen skin. His father's haircut, his father's eyes, his father’s rage, his father's crown, if he pretended hard enough. 

As he stared and stared, hoping to see a glimmer of himself, or anyone else but Beron, he heard an urgent patter of footsteps in the hallway. Just as he started to turn, his mother flung open his bedroom door, her eyes wide. In the hand not bracing the door open, she clutched a lock of his discarded hair.

[caffeinatedgenius]

So, I decided to make an OC bc why not. I don't have any faceclaims, so you'll have to use your imagination. But speaking voice claim is kennysong on youtube

name: Victor Lee Monet

nickname: baek.

He's French-Korean and his mom's last name is Lee which is his middle name. And his parents called him Baekhyun at home growing up (bc who calls their child victor amirite).

group: stray kids

he's an all-rounder. just like the other members.

height: 6'4 gasp a tall guy?! in stray kids?!

MBTI: INTP

eye color: sapphire blue

hair: dark brown

face: pale skin, strong jawline, sapphire eyes, sharp nose and cheekbones, thin lips (not like tom holland or anything tho)

humor: dark, sarcastic, sassy, but there is the occasional corny stuff

Makes a LOT of references. Could be science, history, memes, music, pop culture, movies, shows…whatever he knows, he'll make references.

He was born and raised in France, lived there until he was 22 and moved to Korea to become an idol. He has a slight French accent while speaking English. He debuted in stray kids when he was 22. He had always learnt ballet and knew how to play instruments (more on that later) so he passed training in a few months.

born: November 11, 1996

he's tall and muscular but not the bodybuilder type and more the dancer type. He can play ze piano, violin, and guitar, but he likes violin the most. He is good at boxing, did ballet for 8 years back in France (you know what that means…✨thighs✨), and knows krav maga. He likes physics, and all things numbers, and he likes to read. He's also a great cook.

He watches movies and is a film enthusiast who notices the cinematography, dialogue, acting, plotholes, details….everything. He LOVES movies.

He has really nice hands. Like, they're strong, but also very delicate-looking. He got them pianist hands. and they're so. goddamn. beautiful.

He's a bit cold on the outside, but is genuinely a nice and loving guy. He cares about his members and loved ones a LOT. He's very protective of them, and loves doing random cute little things for them. Which is just..adorable.

He has a very elegant and powerful aura…like, the way he carries himself, his strong features, his deep voice…he's an elegant man. But also an adorable goofball around his members.

baek's favorites:

food: bread, pasta, chocolate, ramen, tteokbokki, pizza (obviously), meat

drinks: black coffee, water, cranberry juice

He loves to write and is a poet at heart which makes him an awesome song-writer. He loves vocalist more than the other group positions.

Oh, and he's bi as hell

[violetwolfraven]

I couldn’t stop thinking about this so of course I had to write it

Most of the ghosts are gone, or at least scared away for now, but Ezran’s not really sure these things can die. They’re not out of danger yet.

“Stay on guard!” he calls to his soldiers. Those that are left after the first wave, anyway, “This isn’t over until the sun comes up!”

“Ezran!” Aanya exclaims suddenly, but when he turns around to see what threat she sees, he has to grab her bow and jerk it to the side to throw off her shot before it can hit…

The spectral horse whinnies and rears, its voice just slightly off from how living horses sound as it prances out from behind the statue of—

“Mom?”

There’s a skull where her face should be, but it really does seem to be her. Her armor, her hair, the way she holds her lance looks just the same as she always did in portraits. She’s getting control of her horse, her posture nearly mirroring the statue beside her.

Her statue. Her memorial.

She’s looking up at the statue with empty eye sockets, but she tilts her head like she’s confused by it.

“Mom?” Ezran calls again.

Her skull face snaps towards him, but without a real face there… he can’t tell if she recognizes him.

“Mom, it’s me. It’s—“

“Ez…ran…” Her voice has an unnatural hiss to it, the rattle of it like she’s having trouble speaking with a ghostly throat.

“Yeah… yeah, Mom. It’s me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ezran sees Aanya lower her bow, but she doesn’t unload it. She’s clearly not sure if this specter in front of them is as much of a threat as the rest of them.

As much as he doesn’t want her to be, Ezran isn’t sure either. This… this might have been his mother once, but he isn’t sure if she still is. He isn’t sure if Aaravos is controlling her.

The idea of Aaravos using the ghost of his mother like that makes something in his chest burn with anger, but not as much as his heart aches with what might be hope.

He can’t decide if it’s hope or grief.

The ghost of his mother dismounts her horse and takes a step towards him, her spectral hand reaching out hesitantly.

Aanya raises her bow and she stops moving. She seems… she’s sentient enough to know they see her as a threat at least. There must be something of the queen and military commander she was still left in there.

Ezran takes a deep breath. She remembers something of strategy. She remembers his name. Some part of his mother is in this ghost.

“Ez…ran…”she says, her hiss a bit sad-sounding, “My… son.”

“That’s right.” he doesn’t know what to do, “That’s right, Mom.”

“You’re so… big. Grown up so… strong.”

She tries stepping closer again and Ezran wants more than anything to let her.

He’s not like Callum. He was so little when she… he doesn’t have much of any memories of her.

Everything he knows about this woman has come from stories. Paintings. Songs. He knows she was kind, and brave, and smart. She was a great military leader and a wise and just queen. She loved sweets and bad jokes and their family. She’s where Callum got most of his physical features. His brother looks so much like their mom that for the longest time, whenever Ezran would try to imagine her in real life, outside of paintings and stories, he’d wind up picturing Callum’s face with longer hair.

He can’t help but imagine a face like Callum’s now, instead of the skull looking back at him.

“King Ezran?” Aanya asks. It might be impulsive, it might be stupid, but—

“It’s okay, Aanya,” says a boy who just wants to hug his mom.

Without thinking too hard about it, Ezran steps forward and wraps his arms around the ghost.

She’s cold, and she feels like the metal of her armor and the sharp edges of her bones, but she hugs him back like none of that matters.

“Ca…llum?” she asks. She sounds confused.

“He’s in Xadia, Mom,” Ezran says, “He’s with Rayla. Uh, Rayla’s his girlfriend. She’s an elf—it’s a long story. But Xadia and the human kingdoms are at peace.”

She seems kind of out of it, so Ezran’s not really sure how much she understands, but she makes a sort of rattling hum like that makes her happy.

He has to swallow hard, “Nobody is ever going to die like you did again, Mom. No more battles between elves, dragons, and humans—not based on whose species isn’t allowed to exist in one place or another.”

“You… safe?” she asks.

Ezran can’t help but sob, just a little, because in that moment, her voice sounded almost human.

“We’re safe,” he confirms for her, “Callum and I are okay. We’ve gotten to grow up and we’ve protected each other. Thanks to you all those years ago, Katolis and Duren survived that hard winter and have thrived since. Callum and I are working to break the cycle of violence that killed you.”

“So… proud,” Mom hisses, “Love… you.”

“I love you, too,” Ezran says back, “And I’ll tell Callum. I promise.”

He looks up right as a ray of sunlight passes through his mom’s bony face.

But she doesn’t explode into dust like every other specter.

Instead, she evaporates with the sound like a peaceful exhale.

[prollywolly]

Family Matters [prologue]

wolly's masterlist family matters masterlist

summary: It was filthy. He was your dad’s best friend. This man has known you since you were sixteen. He went to your eighteenth birthday party and watched you blow out the candles. He knew what he was doing. You were merely taking the bait. Where was the harm in that?

warnings: mentions of death, slight language. nothing too bad for the prologue :)

a/n: welcome to the prologue of my new series! i was looking for the right amount of creativity to come to me for my very first post, so i hope you all enjoy this! i'm not too sure how many chapters it will be, but if you'd like to join the taglist, comment or shoot me a message/ask and i'll be more than happy to add you! bare with me as i get used to all of this and find my groove with posting <3 thank you! i hope you enjoy!

word count: 1.4k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

California summers were never something to fuck with. When the temperatures rose past the high nineties, nobody was going outside for anything. However, there were days like today, where the sun beamed at a warm 85 degrees. And on days like today, your dad thought it was perfect to have friends over. 

Carne asadas were always your favorite type of get-togethers. Your dad always seemed so happy to be behind the grill shooting the shit with his friends, your mom would always be at one of the tables talking to all the tias and her friends, and you would be playing with your cousins in the backyard just waiting for the food to be ready.

Normally, walking around and greeting everyone would be mom’s job. She was always so good at making everyone feel welcome and comfortable at their house. You never understood how mom did it, but she tried her hardest to have the same effect on everyone. It was draining, to say the least. Even at the ripe age of sixteen, your social battery didn’t have the capacity to keep muttering the same greeting to every single person that walked into the house.

The smell of burning charcoal hung thick in the air. You were just happy to see dad smiling and laughing. The last time you saw him like this was for your fifteenth birthday, right before mom died.

“Hija, I think I heard the doorbell, can you go see who’s there?” Your dad shouted from the grill, beer in hand as he turned the meat over.

You nodded and walked into the house, making out quite a large shadow from the glass on the front door. Once you opened the door, you were met with a tall man. He had to have been at least 6’2. His energy just radiated confidence and strength, it was almost overbearing. He was muscular, broad shoulders and a muscular back with biceps and legs to match. His hair was dark and in unruly waves. It was one of those haircuts that was so messy and effortless that it made it perfect. He had a strong jawline and cheekbones, his features were sharp and made him look more intimidating than he already was.

“Ho-hola, does… Alejandro live here?” The man’s voice was husky yet smooth. His stuttering was a huge contrast to the confident demeanor he had from when you had first opened the door.

“Hola, mucho gusto! Yeah, he does, he’s just in the backyard.” You smiled as nicely as you could and noticed the man smirk softly. [Hi, nice to meet you!]

Once he stepped into the house, you made your way over to the backyard. He towered over you, at least a foot larger than you, and that was being modest.

“Apa! Someone’s here for you!” You shouted, watching your dad look up from the grill to look at the man that was standing a bit further behind.

Your dad dropped the tongs that were in his hand and nearly dropped his beer. It would be a long time in hell before dad ever wasted an open beer. You couldn’t help the confused expression that clouded your face as your dad tore his apron off his waist and neck before rushing over to where you stood.

“Miguel!” your father shouted. “Como estas, vato? I’m glad you made it!” [How are you bro?]

The man you now knew as Miguel just chuckled and embraced your father tightly. His hand sounded like it was heavy as it slapped your father’s back. You just stood off to the side and watched your father’s reunion happen with a soft smile on your face.

“Me va mejor que a ti wey,” Miguel chuckled. [I'm doing better than you bro]

It seemed like they were talking for hours before dad remembered that you were just standing off to the side watching it happen. Your dad slapped his forehead and gently grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the two of them.

“Miguel, this is my daughter,” You smiled at him and Miguel’s jaw dropped. 

“Your daughter?”

Miguel looked at your features with such curiosity. You merely blinked and just stayed silent as Miguel studied you. 

“Cuantos años tienes?” [How old are you?]

“I’m sixteen! I’ll be seventeen in a couple weeks,” You answered, looking down at the floor to try and get rid of the embarrassment you felt from Miguel staring so intently.

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The rest of the night was a blur.

You couldn’t remember what time everyone left, but you knew that Miguel and your dad were still outside talking in the backyard. Throughout the night, you watched their friendship unfold, a silent witness to conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. You smiled to yourself as you decided to take care of the dirty work and pick up after the party.

You opened the sliding door and noticed both of them glance over in your direction, a quiet observer to the bond between your father and his friend. You didn’t pay attention and began to pick up solo cups and stray paper plates. As you tied up one of the trash bags, your dad waved you down.

“I can take care of that in the morning, mija,” Your father insisted. “Come sit down with us!”

It was kind of nostalgic to see your dad like this. Ever since your mom passed away, he always put on a front for you, acting as though he now had a duty to be both your dad and your mom simultaneously. It was hard to see that he just wanted to be there for you because her death was still pretty recent. Somehow, you always managed to selfishly forget that he was struggling with her death too. You lost your mom; he lost the love of his life. It was easy to find comfort in each other, though. Her love was still coursing through your veins and maybe that’s what’s kept the both of you grounded.

“Actually, there’s something that I need to tell you, jefe.” Miguel’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. [jefe = boss]

Your dad flicked his head and sat back in his lawn chair comfortably. 

“My primo [cousin] and his wife back in Tijuana are struggling with finding the right people to build their house and they’re begging me to go help them.” Your dad’s face dropped slightly. “I-I don’t know how long they’ll need me for, pero, [but] they could use my help as far as the contracting side of things.”

Your dad’s posture stiffened. He nodded his head at Miguel’s explanation and shrugged his shoulders slightly. He was upset, you could tell immediately. But, this was something that Miguel had to do, and it seemed like your dad understood that pretty well.

“Bueno…” Your dad’s upset demeanor faded momentarily. “Ni pedo wey. This is family, do what you gotta do. You’ll still have a job back here when you come back.” [Well, what can you do, man?]

Miguel’s face brightened and he let out a small huff of air. He stood up from his chair and offered his hand out to your dad. Your dad stood up to take his hand and embraced Miguel tightly. You weren’t sure how Miguel hadn’t come around the house before, they seemed like they were inseparable.

“Thank you for understanding,” Miguel muttered softly.

When they pulled away, your dad reached into the cooler for another beer. He was grabbing at nothingness and was surprised to see that all the beers you had packed into the cooler were gone. He let out a small scoff and stood up from his chair.

“You’re not getting away from me without having one more beer, eh? I’m gonna grab some from inside, I’ll be right back.”

As your dad walked inside, it was just you and Miguel sitting in silence. You looked down at your lap and felt the heat rising up to your cheeks. You didn’t do well in awkward situations like this.

“S-So what’s Tijuana like? I’ve heard that it’s beautiful,” It was a weak attempt at making conversation, but it seemed to get the job done.

“I love it. There’s a beach not far from the city center in Playas de Tijuana. I used to go there when I was a little kid and sneak off with whatever food the vendors were selling on the pier.” Miguel chuckled softly. “One of the vendors’ names was Maria. She would catch me stealing every time, but she never said anything. She would just pretend like she didn’t see me.”

You laughed aloud. “What would you steal from that poor woman?”

“She made the most amazing barbacoa tacos I’ve ever had. To this day, nobody will ever make those tacos like she did.” Miguel smiled and shook his head. “Pobrecita,” [Poor thing]

Tijuana seemed like it was important to Miguel. You only managed to nervously ask him a couple more questions before your dad came back with their beers. You took that as your opportunity to let the both of them finish catching up before Miguel had to leave.

“I’m gonna go to bed, Apa. Wake me up so I can help you clean in the morning.” You placed a kiss on your father’s cheek and gave him a tight hug.

You turned to look at Miguel with the kindest smile you could muster, silently thanking him for bringing back your dad’s old self, even if just for tonight. “It was nice meeting you, Miguel. I hope you make it back home safely.”

Miguel smiled at you and nodded his head. “Muchas gracias, goodnight.” [Thank you so much]

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[insom-nom-nom-niatic]

Female reader x Troy Otto after he "died" the reader was the one who stabbed him after he got to grabby you her she stabs with his knife and ran off she the only doctor so she valuable to the group he would also like his knife back. Maybe after a couple month he finds her and I would like some choking but anything would good

SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER!!! I hope you enjoy it.

CHARACTERS: Troy Otto X Fem Reader (third person for some reason cause that's what happened)

WARNINGS: It's made for FTWD so you should know the basics. +SMUT (read at your own risk. I'm nobody's mom) +Choking +Somewhat past possible attempt at r**e but he didn't didn't and he'd have stopped.

“Turns out being stabbed a second time hurts more than the first.”

“Good. I meant for it to hurt.” Her voice cut through the air like his knife did as it cut through his muscle. Her features showed no sign of surrender or fear, only sincerity in her words as the torch flame flickered their shadows on the cement walls. 

Troy raised both hands in surrender, his eyes glancing down to the same knife once stained with his own blood and back into her eyes. His shoulders tensed under his black jacket as her knuckles faded to a paler color gripping the handle of the sharp blade tighter. She had no reason to trust Troy after the last meeting the two had, yet, looking at the man out of his element and with no one around to make him feel taller than he already was, there was a certain chord he hit somewhere in her stomach. She didn’t feel that she was in danger, rather and oddly the opposite.

“Maybe it hurt a bit more because of who it came from.” He stood still as a tree, looking back to the woman through his eyelashes subconsciously. He was here on a mission to bring her back, but seeing her now and the life she’s had since that day months ago made a pit in his stomach open and swallow his heart whole. 

It had been 6 months give or take since she fled. Fled into the cold, rainy night unsure of what terrors where beyond the small compound. But she had to go, at least that’s what her body told her to do in the moment, there was no turning back. It took about a month for her to miss what she had. A roof over head, food and water, and most of al the protection that one Mister Otto provided. 

Ever since day 1 of finding the group, back when there was only a few of them, she could always feel something different with Troy than with any of the other men or women. He looked at her different. Talked to her different. He acted, well, gentler with her than anyone else even as the group grew to more than a few dozen. He told her on multiple occasions how they all needed her… how he needed her. 

He said that same thing the night everything changed. 

“You didn’t listen and forced my hand, Troy. Do you think I like starving out here on my own? I couldn’t come back and deal with any possibilities of YOU.” 

Ouch. Troy felt her words like a punch in the jugular. His eyes couldn’t hide the wince of pain he felt as his blue and white orbs fell to the ground at her boots astrown with holes. He thought back to that night, a night that has haunted him since. The look in her eyes when he felt the searing heat of his own blade slicing his flesh open. The apprehension that was once in her eyes now flickered with rage as she looked directly into his one good eye, pulling the blade back with force and bolting out the door, leaving his howls of pain and his own anger behind her. 

She left him alone. A nightmare he had only ever shared with her. 

“I know,” Troy’s entire expression fell like the edges of his lips. Her grip on the blade loosened as he continued. 

“I have regretted that night since, regretted what I tried to do and-” his eyes caught ahold of hers, both stomachs dropping at the same time before he continued. “-not listening to you. All those times that I told you that the group needed you, I wasn’t lying. They need you more than they need me so if that’s what it takes then-” 

“You’re going to leave for me to come back?” She cut Troy off mid sentence, shocking them both. The grin pulling at the ends of his lips to her question secured the answer both knew, but Troy was honestly questioning if he would do as he said for her. 

“Is that really what you want, darling?”

“No, no, no, no. Don’t you call me that, Troy.”  His voice changed back to the Troy she knew, the Troy that made her so irritated and yet welcomed and needed. His little pet name she only ever heard him reserve for her. She hated how much she loved it, but now was not the time for his little mind games. 

“Look-” Troy lowered his hands, resting both comfortably on his hips with his head rolling back in a stretch before meeting her gaze again. “-I know where you’re at now so the option is to come back with me willingly now or I’ll carry you kicking and screaming and the walkers can pick us both off together then leaving the group without a doctor or a leader.” 

The look he gave was unfaultering even through his bluff. She knew Troy wouldn’t force her to accompany him if she didn’t want to, and looking around the small cement room she didn’t have many reasons to NOT want to go back. But she knew if she didn’t go now, he’d end up sending a large enough group to her coordinates that she’d have to leave. It was a decision of eating roadkill for another week or not, and the growing smirk on the brunette's face solidified the answer. 

“You’re not getting your knife back.” 

“Oh c’mon!” She returned the smirk, sliding the sharp, freezing blade into the back of her jeans whilst kicking dirt on the smoldering fire, dimming the light in the room to the single lantern behind the tall brunette. 

A pit in her stomach arose, looking back at the small dug out she called home for the last few months before carrying on behind the footsteps of Troy Otto.

Her nuisance.

Her monster.

Her torment.

Her protector.

And possibly, her savior.  

As night ran into day, both she and Troy’s speed wavered. His footsteps lagged with each step whilst her hands pulled her weight forward tree after tree, both too stubborn to say it was time for a rest. 

Suddenly, a low growl came from the ditch 5 feet from their left. One growl turned into 5 moans, turned into 10 grunts and so on. Both stopped in their steps, hearing the rumbling below the dirt embankment grow with each step they took. 

Sharing a glance, She pushed Troy’s shoulder towards the sound, egging him to go see what they are facing. 

Begrudgingly, Troy cautiously snuck to the edge of the embankment, peering over for a heartbeat or two before a few large footsteps brought him back to her. His hands resting on her upper arms, somehow soothing, while his eye searched the surroundings opposite from the sounds. 

“C’mon, this way,” Troy whispered into her ear before pulling one hand along behind his back. She didn’t pull away, didn’t even notice what he’d done until the cold recaptured her skin moments later. 

As the sun set on another night somehow still breathing, she watched as Troy set traps surrounding the small camp you both had made within only a few good minutes. He swore he would stay awake throughout the night, keeping watch, and yet he paced the perimeter around the small camp fire you’d made, placing leaves and anything that would alert to movement around. 

As he finally sat opposite of her, she couldn’t helo the smile that arose her lips. 

“What?” Troy asked, his cheeks heating from within. That look, the look he’d only ever felt from her made his stomach ache with a hunger he’d only felt a handful of times. He rose to his feet once more, turning to hide the flush he knew she’d be able to see on his skin. 

“Oh c’mon, Troy. Don’t be like that!” Her tone changed to playful and open, like she once was with  him. Glancing down at her shivering fingers, the realization set in. She hadn’t felt this way, hadn’t sounded like that, since she’d been in his company. And even then, it was only ever in HIS company. 

“Come sit. Please?” 

A large breath left Troy’s chest, battling his own heart and mind was something he was used to but having her here again made his whole body numb. He finally obliged, turning on a heel and padding his large footsteps ever softly on the dirt towards her. Looking around one more time for any signs of the deead, or worst any living, before taking a seat beside her. His nose once again thanking him for the fire light in the dense cold. 

“You saved my ass back there,” Her words were soft, sincere. “So thank you, I guess. If it was just me again I probably would have been toast.” 

“You would have been fine, I’m sure.” Troy played with the scar on the back of his left palm. His right thumb digging into the rough scales of skin, the heat she gave off next to him nearly matched that of the fires. It felt good, warm. Yet, he the uneasy feeling was unwavering. 

“You‘ve known that all this-” she gestured to their surroundings. “-This was never MY strong suit. I patch up the people that are good at this kind of thing. People like YOU.” 

She earned a chuckle from the brunette, his shoulders shaking slightly bringing his eyes back up to meet the fires dancing flames. 

“I suppose you always did do a pretty decent job at fixing me up.”

“DECENT?! Oh, I did a whole hell of a lot better than decent with the stitches in your bicep, or your calf, or your left, and don’t forget about the right pec. I bet you can’t even tell you ever were wounded.” 

“You didn’t do a very good job on my thigh-” Troy stopped after that one word. He shouldn’t have said it, he shouldn't have brought it up. Dead silence fell between the two, not even the crickets had the guts to make a sound. 

“I made sure to not hit your femoral vein if that’s any consolation.” Her voice was that of a mouse. So quiet that Troy wasn’t sure if he had merely imagined it. Until he glanced slowly in her direction, catching that look of shame she had only shown once or twice, making his frown shift. 

He wanted to give her a side eye, cautionary and intense, but he had decided to sit on her right which meant his side eye had to be a full look over for his good eye to catch the way she sucked in air through gritted teeth.

Smooth Troy, very smooth. 

He felt her weight shift a tad, looking over to see her body in a full shiver before trying to hide it again. He rolled his jacket off his broad shoulders, catching the back and draping the hefty coat around her. The look she gave him didn’t need words, as he gave a half smile and turned back towards the glowing flames. 

What seemed like hours had passed in silence, comfortable silence, before Troy felt her weight lean into his side. His head swiveled in her direction, his breath caught in his throat when he felt the closeness of their faces in the dimming light. 

She didn’t turn away this time when he gave into his impulse. His flesh melting with her own. He never fully understood how humans had the ability to somehow find their partner’s lips in the dark until that moment when everything seemed to click. 

Neither one was expecting this, rather the opposite. She was expecting to not live to see their group again and he’d figured she was going to end him with his own knife one night in his sleep. But as life has it, something in their fate changed. 

Feeling his warmth only inches from her, she caved. Pressing her weight into him in a full kiss, her eyes drifting closed taking in his lips, his scent, his touch. Both grasping for skin as they weaved their lips together, his tongue nudging at her bottom lip while his hands roamed her body.. 

A sudden pressure was released from her waste band. Cool air drifting over exposed skin as Troy’s lips curved against the pulse of her neck. His chest wavered with a deep chuckle as his head fell backwards with a toothy grin in a croak of laughter. 

“This is mine now,” Troy waved his knife in the air above the two, like a child finally getting back their favorite toy. “Well... again.”

Sitting back on her elbows, the woman shook her head slowly, unable to help the grin growing on her features. He was such a literal pain in the ass but when he was like this, when he wasn’t so serious and did that little giggle of his she couldn’t help but fall further down his rabbit hole. 

His eye caught hers again, shadows flickering in the movement of the flames at their feet as he curled one arm around her torso moving to hover over her form without ant loss of eye contact. He was afraid he’d see that fear in her irises again like the last time they were this close, but he caught submission, adoration, maybe some excitement instead. 

His body moved against hers, clothing against disheveled clothing causing friction against both their skin. She was sure he could feel the heat radiating through her body where his hips rolled against hers. His sweet moan filling her senses as his eye bore down on her. His eye grew dark, lustful, wanting more than just the friction of clothing. He wanted to warm her up in the cool dark night in more ways than just this. 

The small bite of her lip and a nod gave him all the leeway he needed. Not a second passed before his lips were suctioned back onto hers. His tongue forced its way through partially opened lips as his fingertips did the same to her waistband. She was in such a flurry she didn’t even realize where his hand had disappeared to until his lips traveled to her ear, whispering how wet she had become before a wave of heat ran up her spine, arching her back against his touch as his cold hand palmed her most sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Choking on air, she breathed deeply into the skin exposed on Troy’s neck above her. Her fingernails gripped the jean jacket covering his shoulders as he nipped little bites down her neck and onto her chest. His movements faltered as he glanced up, catching sight of the woman clenching her eyes closed, teeth gritted on her bottom lip sure to cause blood. Something about that aroused Troy further, quickening his hand free from her jeans and making short work at removing the slightly damp piece of clothing. 

Staring down at her form, Troy felt his member twitch, longing to be free from it’s confines. She wore a simple pair of blue panties that caressed her just right, barely covering her modesty from what he could see in the dimming fire light. Her thighs twitched under his gaze, her meat looking as delicious as the shy giggle that escaped her swollen lips. 

His gaze shifted up her body, taking note of every cut and bruise that covered it before locking gaze with her again. Her eyes had darkened as his did as he shrugged his light jacket off, throwing it towards a tree to their left. His white T-shirt following suit. 

From where she lay, she could see the bulge in Troy’s pants shiver with every movement she made beneath him. Her foot nudged his ass whilst he removed his shirt earning a throaty groan from the brunette between her legs. She scanned his body in the shadows, her gaze stopping on the last wound she cured. A large scar on his abdomen still ever present as a wave of his cries of pain fled like a stream through her ears. 

Troy saw the way her eyes changed, knowing she was occupied elsewhere in that pretty little mind. Clearing his throat, he regained her attention only to give her a little show taking off his jeans. He forgot she hadn’t seen the scar she herself gave him until the moment her eyes once again fell. Her fingers reached out, pulling her to sit in front of him as she ghosted her fingertips over the scaled skin. 

She sure did a good job leaving her mark. 

Troy gave her a moment, but no longer than that before his fingertips caressed her chin. His callouses rubbed her soft, cold skin raising her attention to look him in the eye. The smirk she was met with sent another shiver down her spine, this time accompanied by a hefty gulp and a new warmth dripping from her core. 

One hand dipped lower, finding her folds with ease, applying just enough pressure to earn a whimper from her as his other hand draped around her neck. With a catch in her breath, her eyes shot open with a smirk feeling his fingertips close around delicate skin. 

Her own fingers traced harder over the scales on his thigh but eventually gave in to his touch, leaning backward until her back once again met the cold, hard dirt. Her hands dug small scrapes through the pine needles cushioning around her. Troy’s grip on her throat didn’t relent as his other hand delved one digit, now warmed between the two, into her glistening core. With every pulse that clenched down on his finger, his own member reciprocated. 

The cold air around them was a welcomed element. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to resist her much longer as he rubbed his clothed cock on her inner thigh. 

He wanted her to need him. 

He waited for her to need him. 

He needed her to need him. 

As his name dripped from her lips, Troy couldn’t hold back any longer. He didn’t waste time undressing any further as he pulled his underwear down just enough to release his begging cock before replacing his finger with a much larger fulfillment. 

He watched as her eyes clenched shut, a single tear running from one corner of her eye glistening from the shallowly dancing flames. His grip on her neck released at the feeling of her nails raking down his bicep. Her touch melded with the sweet smell of her arousal and gasps of breaths, his thrusts unrelenting. Filling her to the brim over and over. Watching her face contort in ecstasy whilst he sucked in his bottom lip to keep from silent. The only thing he couldn’t muffle were the grunts and groans that escaped him and the sound of bet skin meeting wet skin with such force and need that would make even a nun blush. 

Troy felt her begin to spasm in an eruption of an orgasm. 

It was in her breathing. It was in her nails grazing his skin. It was in the way her body contracted around his cock. It was in the way she whispered sweet-nothings only he will ever know as she bit down on his shoulder, surely leaving yet another one of her marks on his skin. 

He knew he needed to pull out, his own release matching hers. But the way she felt, how she looked, the way she smelled and sounded filled his senses and all Troy could think about was painting those glorious, tight walls of her with his seed. It was a dangerous game they were playing, he knew that. 

And still he did as he pleased. 

His body fell atop hers. All strength leaving him in his release as he collapsed above her, limp dick still within her walls feeling every pulse her body made. 

Everything was silent, the world seemed to disappear as the two soaked up each others heat as the sweat balls rolled off each others skin and into the earth below. 

When the sun began to rise, shining brilliantly through the fog lifting from the tree tops, the pair shared a look. 

“We should get going I suppose. One more day to camp, right?”

Troy nodded silently, a small grin returning to his swollen lips as he chewed his tongue slightly. “I’ve been used to sleepless nights, but this one took a bit more out of me so keep it slow.” 

The woman giggled hopping to her feet and extending an open hand down to Troy, both fully knowing if he took it he'd pull them both down.

“Who knew you’d be such a little chatter box after intimacy, Mr. Otto. The sleeplessness wasn’t fully my fault I do recall.” 

Troy leaned his head back against the tree where both were once propped up on, a toothy smile adorn on his tired and satisfied face. His chest heaving with a silent laugh before shoeing her hand away with a grunt to his feet.