#in their rooms for 4+ YEARS so the rest of us get to live normal lives instead of idk enforcing comprehensive contact tracing paid time off

[opalsiren]

the hse's advice on covid self-isolation is such dogshit. 'you can come out of isolation after 5 days but don't interact with anyone high risk for 10 days' cool how do i know the person sitting next to me on the bus isn't high risk. the person in line behind me getting groceries, the person i make small talk with in the pharmacy queue. literally eugenics-adjacent advice

[secretsandwriting]

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that. 

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama. 

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you. 

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were. 

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death. 

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow. 

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone. 

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back. 

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger. 

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections. 

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there. 

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him. 

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating. 

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.” 

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would. 

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself. 

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once. 

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited. 

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting. 

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!” 

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores. 

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving. 

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird. 

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was. 

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind. 

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning. 

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it. 

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped. 

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last. 

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe. 

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you. 

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to. 

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough. 

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence. 

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear. 

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that. 

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky. 

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you. 

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.” 

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were. 

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it. 

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable. 

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left. 

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had. 

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother. 

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too. 

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her. 

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size. 

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much. 

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part IV

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Simon doesn't cry. The last time he cried was out of shock, coming home to see his entire family executed by who he thought were his allies, his friends, his comrades. Simon doesn't cry, but you can see how broken his soul is in the way his hands delicately hold you close to him. You can feel it in the way his heart is beating fast in your ear, his lips pressing gentle kisses on the top of your head while you're barely conscious, too tired from the late-night conversation you had with him.

The man who broke you a year ago is the same man whose touch pieces your soul together, his warm hands doing nothing but serve as a reassurance that he's here. He's here, alive, and he's not going anywhere. Not anymore.

He waits until you're snoring softly to gently settle you back down in bed, taking one last look at your peaceful sleeping expression before getting up from bed slowly, leaving the room and walking in the dark towards his baby's room. He closes the door behind him, approaching the crib with footsteps so quiet one would think he's still the ghost, but he's not, not when he's here. He's just Simon.

"Hey, sweet girl." He greets in a whisper, leaning down in front of the crib to look at his daughter. What a fucking sight, he thinks; brown eyes focused on the way his tiny girl is holding a bunny plushie close to her, wearing the skull pattern pajamas he bought her a few weeks ago. Simon has strong genes— the baby looks like a girly replica of him, her dark brown hair framing her pretty face, nose slightly rosy from the cold. He adjusts her beanie, lifting the blanket enough so more of her body can be covered even while she's asleep. His hand hesitates when he feels the baby stirring awake, taking a step back before her brown eyes open, peering at him.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He whispers, afraid to wake you up even while you're an entire room away. His big hands reach out for the baby, cradling her in his arms as he walks around the house until he reaches the living room, not bothering to turn on the light to not bother his baby. She's calm— not crying, simply babbling as she looks up at him, her hands balled into fists, too used to holding something. Simon can feel her tiny nails digging into his bare chest, yet he doesn't mind, gently rocking his girl under the comfort of the dark living room, the moonlight illuminating enough so they can both look at each other.

"Papa." His heart almost stops when he hears the little girl say her first word, looking down at her with wide eyes and a proud smile. He almost thinks he imagined it until she repeats it louder, tiny hands pulling on his dog tags. His hand dwarfs the baby's head as he presses her closer to his bare chest, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of her tiny body against his. He never thought he'd be a father— hell, the idea itself never went through his head even when his family was alive, yet ever since he first saw his baby girl? Simon fell in love.

"Papa's here, Astrid." He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead, her tiny balled up hands now holding his cheeks and pulling slightly on the stubble, making him groan in pain, something she finds amusing, a cheeky giggle coming out of her.

"Gentle." He reminds her, pulling her away so she's not able to keep torturing his scarred cheeks. He smiles down at her, one of his hands coming up to gently pinch her chubby cheeks, another giggle coming out of the tiny girl. She’s an angel— rarely cries and is always giggling, her gummy smile full on display for anyone lucky enough to see her.

His pretty angel. A split image of everything Simon could have been if he had a normal family and rather than feeling bitter about it, he feels happy. Happy to be able to see her grow, to give her and you the life you both deserve, even if you're not together.

He lays down on the couch with the baby resting on his chest, the chain and metal of his dog tags enough to keep her distracted as he admires her under the moonlight seeping through the window, wanting to memorize every single detail on her tiny face. The pain of losing a second brother to him is still there, yet this tiny girl heals his soul and gives him hope.

Johnny would have loved you. He thinks as he looks at her, imagining Johnny playing with his baby. A quiet chuckle escapes his lips as he thinks of the tiny girl pulling on his mowkhawk, her bad habit of pulling on people's hair something he became too familiar with, his buzzcut not saving him from his baby's surprisingly strong grip. His mind inevitably goes back to his family, thinking of Joseph playing with his baby, of Tommy experiencing being an uncle, or Beth and his mum gossiping with you while looking at Simon, proud smiles in their faces. He can't help the way his eyes sting, slightly rimming with tears in the company of his baby.

His eyes close as he takes a deep breath, allowing a stray tear to roll down his cheek while the rest dots his long eyelashes. His hand plays with his little girl's hair, the other one firmly holding her close to his bare chest while she babbles on, her innocence a complete contrast to who he is.

"Mum?" He begins, eyes still closed and voice shaky.

"This is my baby, Astrid. She's four months old... lovely girl, ain't she?" He speaks quietly to nothing, imagining his mum is there, watching over him, a bright smile on her lips.

"I still haven't won her mum over, but I'm trying. I'm gonna marry this girl, mummy, I know I will." Simon doesn't cry, but his stomach muscles tense as he holds back a sob, not wanting to startle the baby resting on him. Her silence finally makes his eyes open, tear-rimmed circles of darkness softening when he sees the peaceful sleeping expression on his baby.

"I love you so much." He confesses in a whisper, his short nails gently massaging her scalp, his warm chest working as a personal heater for the sleeping baby. His back is starting to hurt but he's not going to risk waking the girl up, simply closing his eyes again and focusing on getting some sleep. With how badly he has been sleeping since he came back, he doesn't even realize when he drifted off to sleep, only being awoken hours later by the smell of pancakes and tea.

He looks down at his chest, finding a blanket covering him, but no sight of his baby. That's enough to send him in a panic, immediately getting up and looking around the living room, his fast-beating heart only slowing down once he sees the baby sitting on a highchair in the kitchen, your back turned to him as you hum and prepare breakfast.

"Bloody hell— you scared the shit out of me." He lets out a deep breath, trying his best to calm down as he starts walking towards you, one of his hands resting on your waist as you look over your shoulder and shoot him a cheeky grin.

"You scared the shit out of me when I saw the empty crib." He gives you an apologetic smile, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head and laughing as he narrowly misses the kick thrown to his arse.

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

taglist:@skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf @yaebaal @thecubanator2 @juliediets @shescabob @kenz-ee @lothiriel9 @dragonstoneshortcake @lunamoonbby @alfie2401 @perfectus-in-morte @mxtokko @cloufie @killergoddess97 @imaracoon @thepurpleaccount

[deadhands69]

Something More [than each other]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn reader

MDNI

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers (with a lot in between.)

Warnings, etc: smut, angst!!!, light violence/injuries, drinking/intoxication, vomiting, swearing.

[sorry, you’re a mess in this one - i'll make it up in the next one, i promise!]

part 1  -  part 2  -  part 3  -  part 4 -  part 5  -  part 6  -  this is part 7 - part 8

“[y/n]”

“[y/n]”

“[y/n]”

Your name in his voice haunted your dreams and followed you through the day well after you’d woken-up. Such a small thing to mean so much. Maybe you’re overthinking it, you have to be. People say things they don't mean to during sex all the time. Especially when they've had a bit to drink.

It's not like that though, this is different.

Katsuki Bakugo had never used your real name before, opting to call you ‘Backfire’ based on your quirk or some other rude nickname he came up with on the spot. If he hadn't added it to the top of a project the two of you submitted together, you could have assumed he didn't even know your full name. Even after sleeping with him for a month you still weren’t on a first name basis.

That is, until last night.

The memory is etched into your mind. Living rent free, playing on repeat.

“[y/n],” he moaned in your ear moments before whimpering into your neck as he finished. His face lingered on your shoulder, soft lips grazing your skin while he panted to catch his breath. Typically, he moved quickly. One of you being out the door of the other's room within five minutes. Last night he took his time, arms wrapped around you even after you'd both recovered. Eventually, he kissed the back of your neck, cleaned himself up a bit, and left - forgetting his hoodie on your bed.

(Like someone who is normal and totally not obsessed,) you've picked apart every detail of the night for signs of meaning. It all comes back to your name. Over and over and over again.

Nothing else exists. 

Of course, you want to ask someone for advice but you haven't told anyone yet. When you tried to, it felt too personal. Also, with your friends reminiscing about their cute dates it felt weird asking them to decipher the significance of your friend with benefit’s moans. A friend they'd known since high school. Too awkward. 

You couldn't even talk to Bakugo for a reaction, because he left this morning. His part time side-kick job requires him to travel sometimes. He'll be in another country the whole week and you don't think he even has cell service. It's just you now. You, here alone in your room with his voice stuck in your head. 

You want to text him every time you're thinking of him, but don't want him to be overwhelmed when his flight lands and the messages come flooding in. 

This is a totally normal way to feel about a friend you tell yourself while laying face down, clutching his sweatshirt in the bed he fucked you in last night. 

A week later, and you still can't get him out of your head. Your closest friends have been keeping an eye on you more than usual, although they don't know the whole story. Being the only people (as far as you know) who know about your "situation" with him, they both assume you're distant this week because of his absence.

If only they knew.

In any case, Jiro and Mina are heading to a party tonight and you decide to tag along. It'll be good to get out for a bit. Quickly throwing on something cute, you don't make too much of an effort because Bakugo only just returned so he's likely jet lagged and going to bed early. You saw him out your window a bit earlier, looking tired and pretty roughed up. Tomorrow you'll reach out. For now, let him rest for the night. He needs it.

In the lobby, you meet up with your friends before leaving. Kiri texted Mina that Bakugo would be there as well. Your heart jumps more than you'd like to admit at that. The three of you almost wait for them but Kaminari wants to make a beer stop on the way so you agree you'll see them all there shortly. Everyone seems to be preparing to go harder than most nights.

There will be no crazy partying for you though.

Professor Aizawa was nice enough to offer to train with you in the morning, making space in his busy schedule. You’ve been struggling with expanding the reach of your quirk and mentioned it to him in passing. Much to your surprise, he’d offered to help. In spite of what Katsuki Bakugo believes, you absolutely do not have a crush on your teacher but he’s been your favorite hero since you were a little kid and you can’t pass the opportunity.

Speaking of Bakugo, you see Sero and Kaminari. Where is he?

This house is massive. You begin wandering around the party in search of a tall blonde, he should stand out. The living room is dimly lit but you finally spot his messy hair. And he's-

Suddenly, you wish you hadn't seen him. In a dark corner, he's letting himself be pressed into the wall by a random girl you'd never seen before. His hand on her shoulder, staring down into her eyes making that awful lovesick face.

Fuck.  

Being stabbed in the heart might have felt better. You stumble out the door of the house, the contents of your stomach begging to escape. A quick visit to the bushes gains the attention of a very worried Jiro, but you're determined to get out of there. You can explain it to her later (considering how hesitant she still is of your situation, she'll completely understand.)

Carelessly, you slam straight into Shinso. His purple gaze looking you over to make sure you’re okay. There’s some unspoken communication between him and your friend before he decides to get you home safely. You know you’re completely sober but by the way you’re behaving, eyes glazed over and stumbling, no one else does. Nor would they believe it if you pressed the issue. You don’t fuss about it, simply following him on autopilot.

You’re not here though, your brain is a million miles away being forcefully wrenched from some universe where you and Bakugo had any chance together.

He’s not yours, you know that.

He’s not anyone’s. He doesn’t do that sort of thing.

You know it was just physical. Just for fun.

You know it shouldn’t be a big deal.

You know. 

You know. 

You know.

Then why does this hurt so bad?

Shinso grabs your wrist, helping you narrowly avoid tripping over a curb. Still, you can’t be bothered to pay attention to your surroundings.

Your heart hurts. You just want to be home in bed, but even that doesn't sound comfortable. Nothing and nowhere will make you feel better. And what's worse, you let this happen. You shouldn't have spent the last week daydreaming about someone you should have known doesn't care about you like that.

You told him you wanted more fun in your life and, feeling guilty, he gave you that. What was it he said at the beginning of the term, that you needed to get laid but no one pitied you enough to? Then he had reason to feel bad and proceeded to sleep with you. Maybe you should have listened to him when he told you who he was. Let's face it: you chose the wrong person to care for.

The boy with his hand around your arm is so fucking nice, why can’t you just like him?

Or anyone else? Or better yet, no one?

Before you know it, you’re sobbing. Concern creeps over the violet haired boy’s face, having been prepared to keep you safe physically, not knowing to expect this. He brings his face level with yours and asks if you’re okay. You don’t respond.

Because you’re not okay. 

You want your life to go back to when you were happy just being alone. Before you knew what it was like to be close to Katsuki Bakugo. Before you let him get too close.

[sorry this one is so short! it made the most sense to end this part here. i won't leave you hanging too long though - part 8 will be up very soon. it's the final part, switching between Bakugo’s perspective and yours]

part 8 m.list

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki @arsonfrogger @dragonscribble @kalulakunundrum

@screaming-dough @rikislove @gold24fish @ita606 @arc6021

@pikachuzhc @jeanbabygirl @nemisimp

[sigilslvt]

In Too Deep • Suguru x Reader x Satoru Fic (GOOD ENDING)

☣︎ Summary: You've known Satoru Gojo for 15 years, naturally falling in love with him and ending up in a relationship. What happens when you come home from a 4 month long mission to watch your life fall apart?

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader x Suguru Geto

Tags: fem! reader, cheating, pregnancy, parenthood, marriage, brief attempted self mutilation, ANGST, polyamory, anal (male receiving), oral (female and male receiving), collar play, smut, p in v, rough sex, creampie

WC: 12.2k

Art: yoroz_rozx13 on Twitter!

A/N: The bad ending has another few thousand words and will be posted by the end of the week, I'm gonna let you all sit with this mushiness for a bit!

You were supposed to be home from your mission next week, but had asked the elders to cut you loose early, since you’d gotten some surprising news that meant you needed to keep yourself safe. Thankfully they said yes on account of your ever-evolving skills and usefulness, which brought you to this. Home. You’re finally so close to home after 4 months. You’ve dreamed about this moment from the second you left, just aching to be in your bed by Gojo’s side again.

You smile as you lean against the wall of the elevator, headed up to the condo. Every moment that’s led to this playing through your head. Meeting each other as snot nosed 6 year olds, becoming best friends after bonding over your strength, falling in love in high school through all you both had been through, and finally marrying him 6 months ago. The past 15 years have been a dream. Your hand rests below your navel as you smile, eyes closed pulling the memories from your mind and playing them behind your eyelids like a movie.

When the elevator doors open, you walk to your door and shove the key in only for it to push open, making you raise a brow. “Why leave the door open?” You whisper to yourself. Nudging it open slowly, you peer in, hearing music playing from far in the back. “Satoru?” You call out, getting no answer. A pout forms on your face as you lock the door behind you and walk toward your shared bedroom. 

The hall is littered with his clothing, making you smile to yourself thinking about how sloppy he always is when you’re away. Finally reaching the room, you open the door, seeing him sprawled out on the bed... with a woman straddling him, marked from head to toe in love bites.

“What the fuck?” The woman exclaims, turning to you and covering her breasts. Your eyes, however, are stuck on Satoru, whose expression is that of annoyance. 

“Get off and get out.” He rolls his eyes as he talks to the girl, pushing her off. He sighs and walks to the bathroom as the woman runs out of your home, clothes in hand. You blink away the shock, slamming your fist into the bathroom wall as the shower turns on, watching him get in.

“Who the fuck do you think you are!? Gojo, what the fuck were you doing!? We’re married! You cheated!” You scream, hot tears falling down your cheek. Your heart is pounding in your chest, mind replaying the moment you just lived in your head again, disbelief clear on your face.

“God, you say it like I killed a baby or somethin���.” He responds sluggishly.

Your eyes widen: he’s struck a nerve. More importantly— “You’re drunk.” You spit. 

“Ding ding ding!” He shouts from the shower with a giggle that would normally make your heart swell, but instead, you feel only anger. You open the glass door and stare at him in shock. 

“Satoru, why...? I thought you loved me... a-after everything we’ve been through… we’ve known each other over half our lives, h-how could you just throw it all away?” You ask, broken and confused. 

“I do love you, sugar, but you were gone. Y’chose the job. You left me. Y-hic-you left.” He shrugs, but the hurt in his voice is clear. Your mind goes back to the day you left. The argument you had.

He’d been trying to convince you to stay for hours. He’d pulled out all the stops— homemade breakfast, a few fuck sessions, flowers, jewelry, and even begging on his knees. He kept saying he had a bad feeling about you leaving. Like he’d never see you again. You left anyway.

“How many times!?” You shout. He looks like he’s out of it, not understanding your question. “HOW MANY TIMES, SATORU!?” You get louder.

“Too many to count, honestly.” He lazily responds like it’s insignificant. 

And that’s it. Without entertaining anything further, you turn on your heel and run. Far away from the place you once called home.

You feel like you’ve been running for days before you finally reach the front door to a familiar house. You knock hard, crying and clutching your body in your own arms as if they could keep you steady. It only takes a few moments before you get impatient and move to knock again, but the door opens and your fist is caught in the hand of someone you’ve kept yourself from for three years. 

“Well, well, well... long time, no see, angel.” Suguru’s low voice sounds out. He sees the tears in your eyes and frowns before tugging you inside, slamming the door closed behind him. “What did he do?” He asks firmly, pupils already constricting, grip tightening subconsciously. You wince at the pain. “S-Sugu.” You whimper out. 

He lets go, backing away immediately and you rub your wrist before looking back up at him. “He cheated... he cheated and he didn’t even care, he said he’s done it a lot...” you answer his question as you let out another sob. Geto slams his fist against the wall closest to him, breaking it. 

The look on his face is nothing less than pure anger, hatred even. He can’t fathom the fact that the one girl he’s ever loved is broken in pieces in front of him because of the man he once called his best friend. “I’m going to kill that fuckin’ idiot.” He starts for the door. 

“YOU CAN’T!” You shout, grabbing his jacket tightly. 

“Why the hell not!?” He asks, eyes darkening. 

“B-because we’re... I’m having his baby...” You confess, making his eyes widen. “I need you to help me disappear. I-I know it’ll be hard because he can sense our cursed energy, but I’ll work hard to conceal mine a-and I know you can do it, you’ve hid all this time. You’re the only one I trust… please?” You ask of him.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Toru had gone to sleep after his shower, the world around him dizzy. When he wakes the next day, the previous night comes to him in bits and pieces. He remembers you coming home early... having sex... and a shower? He sighs and calls your name out loud. This was why he hated drinking. Black outs were no fun. Piecing together reality and imagination was annoying. The headaches? Worse.

Standing up, he makes his way to the living room, seeing your bag. “So she did come home...” he smiles, reaching for it and starting to unpack for you. A few items later, he finds a long box and opens it, seeing 3 pregnancy tests that say ‘positive’. His eyes widen and he gasps, dropping them. Everything that happened the previous night now coming back to him.

He rushes to his phone and calls you, getting your voicemail immediately. He hangs up and tries seven more times before leaving a voicemail. He wanted to say you didn’t understand, he was too drunk to explain the right way. He wanted to tell you how he felt. “In a world full of people I didn’t choose to be born different from, let alone this much stronger than, I always felt alone… and then you came along. And as long as you were around, I didn’t have to remember that lonely feeling. But then you left… you left and I… please… please just call me.” he murmurs into the phone before hanging up and crying as he grips the tests again. He ruined it all. Over one stupid night. Because of him, you must think your entire relationship has been a lie. 

You listen to the voicemail while waiting for Suguru to finish with a meeting here at the temple, crying silently. The plan is to lay low after this and let Manami run things on the front end so that people would think Geto disappeared. You’ll simply stay with him in his home, disconnected from the temple entirely in case Satoru checks.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Two years have passed since d-day. You still wonder if he looked for you at all or if he’d simply moved on. Standing at your dresser, you sigh, closing the case that held your old wedding ring before turning to see Suguru playing with the babies, making your heart flutter. Smiling widely, you walk to them and kneel down, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. Your son didn’t like that very much and smacks Suguru with one of his tiny hands, earning a giggle from you. “Mafuyu!” Sugu pouts, drawing his name out like a whiny child.  

Asuka hits Mafuyu back with a stuffed animal and it makes Geto bellow out a genuine laugh. Daddy’s girl. You pick both of your sweet children up and bounce them. “Y’guys wanna go to the park?” You ask, knowing they aren’t quite old enough to answer, but they’ll enjoy it regardless. You look to Suguru and smile softly. “Go ahead and get to your meeting, we’ll be back before you.” You hum before leaving.

The trip there is painless. Not often do you go out in order to avoid Gojo, so you do your best to make the most out of it, stopping to get ice cream for your babies to let their face and hands eat more than their mouths. It’s a wonder none of it flies to the front seat with you.

You take the babies out of their car seats and walk them to the area of the park that says it’s for toddlers only, letting them loose there.

You’re smiling as Mafuyu slides down the slide and into your arms, Asuka following closely behind. Your guard isn’t as high as it once was, as you’d gone so long without an issue. You simply focus on your perfect twins in this moment. “Is it really you...?” A voice sounds out behind you. You turn to see Yaga staring directly at you and the babies and your eyes widen. 

“Please leave us alone...” Your voice comes out shakily, backing up as you fumble around for the twins. 

“I-are you safe?” He asks, but you turn and run, unwilling to allow even that information to get out. The second you get to the car, you strap Mafuyu and Asuka into their car seats and waste no time on putting yours on before you rush home, making sure you aren’t followed.

Back at the park, Yaga texts Satoru to meet there as soon as possible. Gojo, hungover and exhausted, teleports there, tripping and stumbling over his feet when he lands. He hiccups and reaches in his pocket, grabbing a tiny bottle of vodka out and downing it. 

Things have been rough for him the last two years. He had tried to find you for over a year before breaking down, knowing you wouldn’t be found because you didn’t want to be. Knowing you likely had help. It didn’t take long to find out Geto was either protecting you or with you. But he disappeared before Satoru could get any answers, too. So he became a sad shell of who he once was. Yaga sucks his teeth and smacks the back of Satoru’s head, actually making contact with it, as the white-haired drunk had stopped bothering to use his ability all the time.

“I saw her. With twins that had bright white hair like yours... I saw her, Satoru.” Yaga says, his own voice wavering. You meant a lot to him, too, after all. You, Shoko, Geto, and Gojo were all his star pupils and now you and Geto are both gone, Geto having taken a dangerous path with you likely following him. 

Satoru’s eyes widen as his world lights up before him and he tears up, all his hope returning and all his questions flitting through his mind quicker than he can process them. “T-Twins…? Where? Is she safe? Where!? WHERE, Yaga!?” He shouts, distressed and crying as he clutches Yaga’s vest. The dark purple rings around his eyes are even more apparent with how strikingly bright his cerulean orbs have gotten.

Yaga sighs, feeling a fraction of Satoru’s pain. He feels pity for the man. “They looked good. Healthy. But… she ran when I confronted her. Satoru, look... I’m not the best person to get advice from, but... I don’t think you should rush head first into trying to get her back if you find her. The priority should be your kids. Always the kids.” He tells the broken man. 

“Kids. I can’t believe I-I have kids... She had them...” he murmurs to himself. This changes everything for him. No more will he sit around and drown in his misery and booze. He needs to get clean. If not for himself, then for you. For the kids.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Geto had become overprotective since the incident with Yaga. It’s been seven months and he’s still afraid Satoru will show up and try to win you back, but even more afraid that the kids- HIS kids, will be taken, too. He loves them more than his own life, there’s no way he could continue to live without you, Mafuyu, and Asuka. Not after almost three years of pure bliss. Not after he was finally the one you chose. He’d been waiting on this since you guys met during your first year of high school. Back then, he was too late. Gojo’d already had his claws in you. He’d be a fool to make it easy for the man to rip away the woman and kids of his dreams.

“Suguru?” You snap him from his thoughts, bending over and kissing his forehead, right between his brows to smooth the wrinkles there. He smiles up at you and presses a sweet kiss to your stomach in return. 

“Yeah, baby...” he hums. You pout, unsure if he’s okay. Since you’d been seen by Yaga, he’s been a ball of anxiety and a part of you knows it’s because he’s worried that he’ll be left in the dust if Gojo comes back.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere... except for the store because I’m craving pickles and salt and vinegar chips and I’ll die without them.” You joke, earning a chuckle from him. The tension in his shoulders visibly subsides and he rolls his eyes, bringing you closer to him by your thighs.

“I love you.” He murmurs and it sounds like the sweetest song you’ve ever heard. Like he’s a siren just drawing you in with every word.

“I love you. A million times more.” You say and you know it isn’t true. You know that nobody has ever loved anyone more on this Earth as much as Sugu loves you. He knows you know it and lets you go with that.

You quickly make your way out of the house, wanting to be back before the twins wake up from their nap and give their father hell about their mommy being gone. You find yourself in the store, reaching for the pickles, but having a tough time. When you finally get them, you stand up and your stomach knocks down a few jars on the way up, causing them to shatter all over the floor. You’re embarrassed, but someone comes behind you and slightly moves you out of the way of the glass. People are staring and you’re about to bend over to start cleaning it up when the person behind you speaks up. “I’ve got it, ma’am. You can keep shopping, now.” He speaks, facing toward the people staring and not you. You freeze. Satoru.

“T-Thank you.” You whisper, trying your best to be as quiet and sound as unrecognizable as possible. You turn to leave, but before you can walk away, a hand wraps around one of your arms. It’s strong. Familiar. Facing the owner, you see Satoru’s wide piercing blue eyes, the look on his face none other than one of shock and pain.

“I... you...” he murmurs. Before you know it, he’s teleported you out of the store and up to the roof. “Sug-“ He starts to speak, but you interrupt him. 

“Don’t. Call me that. Ever.” You spit. You thought the anger was gone, but seeing him, it all came rushing back. You place a hand on your bulging belly, backing up from him like being near him physically pains you.

He sighs, shaking his head and backing away. “I’m sorry...” He spoke, his voice cracking. 

“Bullshit.” You respond, not missing a beat, pulling a wince from him.

“You don’t understand, I was drunk, what I said wasn’t what I meant. I meant I’d done it with her that night more times than I could count. I had never cheated on you before then, I swear to you” He explains. 

A harsh judgemental scoff flees from your lips. “That’s supposed to make it better!?” 

He shakes his head knowing he started off horribly. “No... but… it had been a long night. You were gone... and I just wanted you. I wanted you back and all I could think about was that you left me. That I wasn’t there to protect you. That I missed you. I was so scared I’d never see you again. At some point, I’d gotten so drunk that all I could see was you! You leaving, you not being able to speak with me for months, you possibly dying... A-And she walked in the bar and she… she looked so much like you… so much so that I stupidly fucking pretended she was. I wasn’t in my right mind, I was so fucked up with anxiety and depression and I was drunk, please tell me you understand!” he pleaded. 

Your eyes tear up immediately, but you blink them away. What kind of sorry ass excuse is that? It didn’t even explain why he spoke to you the way he did, but it doesn’t even matter– this was over. “No.” You verbalize the decision you’d made long ago, beginning to walk away. 

He looks at your stomach, desperation clear on his face. “And what about our kids? You have to let me see them at lea–”

“My kids. They’re my kids. And Suguru’s. You lost every right to them when you decided to be a shit excuse of a man. Is that how you want someone to treat your daughter!? How you want your son to treat women!?” You roar at him, walking up to him and pushing him again and again, not even realizing he’s not using his technique. “We’ve been just fine. Sugu stepped up and he’s been an amazing father. He’d never cheat if things got rough. Never treat me the way you did when I got home. I used to spend countless nights waiting for you to come home and you never did because you’re ‘the strongest’ and you were always needed! Did I cheat? No. It’s just an excuse for you. You didn’t even have the common decency to fucking apologize when caught, you acted like I’d stomped on your parade, you make me sick.” You spat.

Satoru is crying streams of tears now. He knows what you said is true, but he’d never thought the words would come from your mouth. He at least thought he’d be able to meet the kids. His kids. He had always imagined a life with you. Four kids, a huge house, all crazy talented sorcerers. It’s so close and yet… “I ju– I wanna see what they look like... boys? Girls? Both...? Please, su– please?” He asks, correcting himself before he uses his old pet name for you, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

You shake your head and stand your ground, though your resolve wavers seeing him like this. Remembering the love you had for each other. “Leave us alone, Satoru. Or I’ll find a way to make sure you never find us again.” You threaten, leaving him alone on the rooftop, making your way down the stairwell.

You make your way home, your pregnancy cravings long forgotten, your mind only on the wish for Sugu’s loving embrace. He greets you at the door with a kiss to your stomach. “How’s the little fighter?” He asks, large hands rubbing your bump, calming you almost immediately. 

“Good...” You respond, relief clear in your voice. You decide it’s best not to tell Geto what happened for fear of pushing him into doing something that may cost him his life.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Two months have passed since leaving Gojo on the roof. You were now in the hospital. “Come on angel, you can do it... I got you... I’m here...” Suguru reassures you as you scream loudly, holding onto his hand so hard you thought you’d break it. Your torso is hunched forward, legs spread while your doctor encourages you to keep pushing.

“I... can’t...” you pant. Your body is on fire and every muscle feels like it’s being torn to shreds. Were the twins this bad? God, you had forgotten. You push again. “One more time pretty girl, you’ve got this...” he kisses your sweaty forehead. You nod and push hard one last time before the room fills with cries. You cry joyfully at the sound of your child, Sugu cutting the cord before taking them to you.

“We’ve got a beautiful girl, angel… You gave us a pretty girl…” he coos proudly, placing the baby on your chest. 

“Oh... oh my God...” you cry. Her eyes are purple, like Suguru’s. “Izumi... her name... is Izumi.” You whisper, stroking her already thick black hair. Looking up at him, your eyes widen. He... that couldn’t be possible. He’s crying. You lost your breath at the sight of something you’ve never seen before. “S-Sugu...” you whimper. 

He smiles and gets down on one knee. You stare in disbelief as he takes out a ring as big and bright as the moon, practically. “Please... marry me... I’m so in love with you that I can’t imagine I could even breathe without you. Let me have the honor of becoming your husband. I swear I’ll always do right by you. Always cherish you. And I will always keep you safe.” He declares, the nurses and doctor around you letting out oohs and awws.

You nod quickly, no hesitation or doubt in your mind. “Yes… God, yes, I love you so much, baby.”

The pieces are starting to fall together, but in order for all of them to fit, a large one needs to be removed.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

You stopped hiding to get your divorce with Satoru and much to his displeasure it was all done through lawyers. No contact. He didn’t try to fight it, knowing worse things would come if he did. During that time, Geto had spent his time atoning for his offenses against humankind. It took a few months for Jujutsu Society to accept him, but in this new world with so many more curses, much of them stronger than what the world was used to, they had no choice but to welcome him again and accept his help.

Now, you’re standing in front of a mirror with a wedding gown on again, the sweet sound of giggling ringing through your ears like bells. The twins are in the room helping Izumi walk, as she’d just learned to do so. You can’t even begin to believe they’ve grown so fast. The twins are three years and ten months old and the baby is finally a year and one month old. You smile as you watch them, bending down to pat their heads, the twins looking so much like Toru when they peer up at you with their pretty blue eyes. You sigh and shake the thought away.

Before you know it, Shoko’s coming into the room and telling you it’s almost time to walk down the aisle. She picks Izumi up and brings Mafuyu and Asuka to Manami so they can bear the rings when the time comes. Music starts playing and she comes to you, looking at you with a smirk. “You ready for this?” She asks, fixing a strand of your hair back to place.

“Never been more ready.” You respond, a bright smile on your face, eyes lighting up. Shoko observes the glow on your face, her heart swelling.

“I’m happy you brought him back. I haven’t told you how thankful I am, so I guess there’s not a better time. We all were there, we were all lost for a while after he defected… I didn’t think this was possible, so truly, thank you. I’m just sorry that things happened the way they did.” Her voice is apologetic and your soft smile is a welcome response, you suppose, because with that, she walks to the big doors in front of you and grabs the flower basket. The doors open to reveal the venue being entirely full and she walks down the aisle, handing Izumi flowers to drop along the way.

Your music starts to play and your hands get clammy, your mouth going dry. You feel like the people waiting for you will see your heartbeat the second you’re within sight. That worry crosses your mind and just as you start to shift on your feet, you feel an arm loop into yours. Nanami.

“Are you thinking of chickening out? Looking for a getaway driver? That doesn’t sound like you.” He teases, smiling down at you. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding immediately, the relief of not being alone washing over you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You say, feeling strong enough to move, now. Your feet carry you forward at the pace of the piano playing and Nanami keeps you steady. The second your eyes land on Suguru’s, you feel the urge to run to him, repeatedly telling yourself not to break into a sprint.

He looks perfect. Hair tied up into a bun, two strands left out on the sides of his face deliberately. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, almost black to anyone who isn’t looking closely enough, but oh you are. His smile is full, crinkling his eyes until they’re almost shut. There’s so much love in his expression that you think you may break under the weight of it all.

And then you reach him. Nanami hands you over and Sugu immediately goes in to kiss you, forgetting the moment when Nanami stops him and shakes his head with a chuckle. Your lover sheepishly grins, embarrassment clear on his face. The pastor tells everyone to sit and the ceremony begins. When it’s time for your vows, he goes first.

“When was it that we fell in love, when we were 24 or 18, maybe 10? I don't know… I don’t know because the truth is: I can't picture a time that I wasn't in love with you. I always knew you were the one that could look into my eyes and see my soul. I don't question your commitment to us and our family and I know there's nothing we can't work through. I accept you as my partner and as my best friend above all else. It's a miracle to find the kind of peace and happiness that you've given me and in honor of that miracle, I pledge before our family and friends to love, protect, and to cherish you forever." He says… and you don’t even realize the tears that are falling from the outer corners of your eyes until he’s wiping them.

And you realize he always has. Even back in high school. Whenever you were hurt out on the field or by Gojo being insensitive or by the loss of your parents, he wiped your tears. He held you. Ever the reliable friend. You think you’ve always loved him to some extent because of that. Even while you were with Gojo. No matter how that may be perceived, it’s the truth.

You smile, sniffling and chuckling. “Well, I don’t know how I’m supposed to follow that.” And your guests all laugh, but you’re only focused on Sugu’s sweet songlike laugh. "But, I’ll start with this… I look at you and I see my best friend. Your energy and your passion inspire me in ways I never thought possible. Your inner beauty is so strong that I no longer fear being myself. I no longer fear at all. I never thought that I could find someone that I could love that would love me back unconditionally. I always thought love came with conditions and pain. Then I realized that  even when we’re apart, you’re always with me. I realized that you’ve always protected me, always wiped my tears. You give me purpose when I feel I have none. Without you and our little family… my soul would be empty, my heart broken, my being incomplete. I thank God every day that you were brought into my life, and I thank you for loving me."

Now, it’s Suguru that’s crying. You can see him shaking and you know it’s because he desperately wants to kiss you right now. You almost laugh, but instead you continue to cry tears of absolute joy.

When you’re finally pronounced husband and wife, Suguru wastes no time in gripping your waist, dipping you down, and kissing you deeply. You let your bouquet dangle and your other hand grips the back of your neck to keep you steady while your lips work against his, pouring all of your love into the liplock. You never expected to feel this much love after having your heart broken, but here it is. All enveloping You broke your kiss to look through the glass windows of the church and at the moon, seeing the shape of a man high above for the briefest of seconds, but not giving it a second thought as it disappears almost instantly, you thinking it was simply a bird.

Meanwhile, Toru lands on the nearby rooftop watching you enjoy your wedding and he cries and cries and cries, screaming to the sky. He can’t do it. Not anymore. He takes out the blade he’d taken from Toji after his defeat and aims it at one of the cerulean blue eyes that have defined him for so long… and he stabs it as he lets out a blood curdling scream. The world goes black soon after…

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ 

He wakes within four white walls three days later, a straight jacket on him as he cries, sad to see that his eye has been healed despite him trying to rid himself of the six eyes. He knows he can escape. Knows that whoever put him here knows. But, he stays put. Too tired. Too broken. He practically goes catatonic for the next six days aside from crying.

“He’s done nothing but cry your name. We had to hook him up to an IV at one point because he’d gotten so dehydrated. He won’t eat... won’t sleep unless we sedate him. I wouldn’t normally contact you about him, but we think the only thing, the only person that can get him out of this is you. He needs you. He’s sorry for what he did, I think he’s shown it enough... this isn’t the Satoru we knew. And you won’t be the woman I’ve always thought you are if you leave him like this.” Yaga tells you sternly. 

You sigh, the baby in your arms and the twins holding onto your legs tightly. You look tired and beaten. The truth is, you haven’t stopped crying since hearing what he’d done. You feel at fault, hilariously enough. You’ve been telling yourself that the least you could have done was let him see his children. Suguru stands behind you and clears his throat. “You should go... he needs you... and the kids... I’ll take Izumi.” He speaks softly while massaging your shoulders, making your eyes tear up.

You give him Izumi and pick the twins up, taking a deep breath before nodding. Yaga opens the door up and you walk in, almost collapsing at the sight before you. “Toru...” you whimper, seeing his frail body on his knees in the middle of the room, just staring at the white wall with tears coming down his cheek. This isn’t right, it isn’t him. His hair is disheveled, skin pale, lips dry and cracked, not nearly as beautiful as you’d always known him to be. 

He doesn’t even raise his head when he speaks. “Could tell you were here. Can always see you so clearly even when you’re not next to me. You’re just my imagination torturing me. Again and again and again.” He croaks out before raising his head, seeing not just you, but the kids. His eyes light up and it’s like his skin brightens. “Sugar...” he smiles, his heartbeat picking up. You kneel down and cry, letting him rest his head on your chest between the twins. “I’m really here, now...” You tell him. You vow not to leave again, not ever.

“I love you... I love you, I love you, I love you...” Toru sobs. You whimper softly and press a kiss to his head.

“I know.” You respond. “Here... this is Mafuyu.” You nudge Toru so he’s sitting up. He loses his breath at the sight of your son and smiles. 

“H-Hey... you look like me, kid...” Toru murmurs. 

You scoff and roll your eyes with a smile. “Yeah, he’s your twin. It’s kind of annoying, actually.” You pout. Oh he’s missed that face of yours.  “This is Asuka.” You smile widely. Asuka hides her face in your neck, frowning at the stranger in front of you. 

“Feisty like her mother. And twice as beautiful.” Gojo compliments, earning Asuka’s smile. 

“These are m-our kids... ours, Toru.” You stroke his hair. “You have to get better... for them... for yourself.” You tell him, trying to get through. 

“For you.” He responds, still a shell of himself. 

“N-no, Toru... not for me. Our time has passed, I’m with Sugu. We have a baby girl together. But you need to be better for you. This isn’t the man I loved that I see in front of me right now.” You sigh, crying silently. 

“You’ll love me if I change?” He asks. He sounds so utterly broken. You whimper and look away for a moment. Looking back to him, you take a deep breath. 

“No... I’ve always loved you, Toru. But for the last three years, it’s only been as the biological father of my children. I can’t see it any other way.” You explain. 

You can see that his fractured mind can’t grasp it. Won’t. “But you love me...” he smiles.

You look down at the man you once loved more than life... the man who broke you... and you sigh, knowing he’ll latch onto any last remnant of sympathy you hold for him. “Toru... I forgive you. We all make mistakes... I did when I kept the twins from knowing their birth father. They deserve to know you... and you deserve to know them.” You put the twins down, moving to remove the straight jacket, hating to see him in it. He’s so frail now. You want to break down, but he needs you to be strong. “Mafuyu... Asuka... this is Toru. He and mommy were married before mommy and daddy were. He’s... your other papa.” You try to explain without confusing them too much. After all, they’re only three years old.

Toru’s eyes light up as the twins nod and look at him curiously. It’s like they gave him strength. He reaches out weakly. “Can I hold them...?” He asks. You nod hesitantly, looking down. 

“Go on, I’m right here.” You tell them. Both, walking hand in hand, walk to Toru and he scoops them up, smiling widely at them before looking at you again. 

“They’re perfect.” He murmurs. You nod and chuckle as Mafuyu tugs at his hair and Asuka observes his pale face. For a split second, your heart stops and you imagine what your life would have been with him. He would have been a good father... but you love Suguru. Even if you still love Toru so deeply it hurts, you couldn’t do that to Sugu.

Suguru walks in with Izumi and sits next to you while Toru plays with the twins. You lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that right?” He asks you. You frown at his tone and look up at him. 

“Of course I do. I love you too, Sugu. Always” You reassure him. He shakes his head, rubbing the baby’s back as she sleeps. 

“He and I were friends, too, you know that. Best friends. It hurts to see him like this for me, too...” he murmurs, making you sigh. 

“I know.” You tell him, sadly. You hate what’s become of you all. There was once a time where you were best friends, all three of you. And then when Sugu went rogue, things changed. Satoru held you closer and Sugu loved you from afar. 

“I see the way you look at him... you still love him. I don’t want to take that from you. I don’t want to lose you, either.” He speaks up again, making you frown. You don’t like how this conversation is going and you try to speak, but he hushes you. “I don’t plan on ever letting you go. But... he needs you. And you need him. Someday, the kids will need him, too. Maybe... maybe we take him home and we take care of him? Maybe we… we try to be what we used to be? A-As a start. I don’t want to see you both broken anymore. Yeah, we can be how we used to be. Before I lost my best friend and my first love. Before we all broke apart.” He finishes, now letting you speak. 

Your eyes are wide and you’re crying without realizing. Speechless. After a few deep breaths, you slowly shake your head. “Sugu...”

“I’ll be fine. It’s what’s best. Besides, once upon a time, Satoru and I felt for each other the same way we feel for you. It isn’t like I’ll be sidelined.” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

You choke out a strangled laugh, remembering when they had their bisexual awakenings as teens– Harry Styles. “Is that… what you want?” You ask.

He shrugs, an understanding smile on his face. “I get to be with the love of my life, get to raise perfect kids, get my best friend back, and I get to see you both happy again. Yeah, that’s what I want.” He assures you, nudging you before taking your chin into his fingers and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before you both go back to watching Toru interact with the kids.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ 

It’s been a week since you took Toru home with you. He’s out of clothes and needs to grab more back at his house, he told you. He had asked for you to come with so you could talk alone and Suguru had agreed, which made it easier for you to say yes. He’s gotten less delusional, taking things slow. He knows it’ll take time. You two hadn’t spoken about your relationship or touched each other other than when you bathed him when he was weakest on the first night home. He’d bulked up, honestly, he could eat for days. And he did. 

You awkwardly fit within his embrace as he teleports you with him and when you both land at a familiar door, your eyes widen. “T-Toru...” you murmured, shocked to be at the place you ran from almost four years ago, now.

He nods. “I know.” He sighs, holding your hand as he leads you inside. Everything is the same as it used to be... Tears well in your eyes, the memories you both made for the 18 years you’ve known each other playing through your mind. He looks at you and shakes his head, caressing your face as he stands in front of you. “Don’t do that, please... we’re working on it, I’m going to make it up to you.” He tries to get through to you.

You shrug him off and smack his head playfully. “I’m having happy thoughts, idiot.” You smile. He chuckles and shakes his head at you, pulling you close.

“Please tell me I can kiss you.” He hums, eyes closed while his lips just hang above yours. All is right in the world while his arms are around you. You know you’ll love him forever. And yet, you hesitate. You wonder if it’s right. If it’s too soon. He rubs his forehead against yours to smooth the wrinkles that’d formed from the worry. You start to nod and that’s all it takes for him to kiss you deeply. It’s like he was taking you all in through the action, like you fuel his very existence. 

You never realized how much you missed him touching you, but in this moment, it’s all you want. You feel his hands moving to cup your face, smushing you closer to him before they move to your neck, his thumbs brushing under your jaw, making you bite his lip. He hisses in response, making your core ache.

You break away from him after what feels like forever, breathing heavily. He’s just staring into your soul through your eyes and speaking to you without needing to use his voice. You know what he wants. What he needs. You kiss him slowly this time as he hoists you up onto his waist, walking you into what was once both of you guys’ room. You caress his face gently with one hand, the other in his hair, tugging at the snowy locks and earning a groan from him. Whimpers flow into the kiss as his hand comes across your ass– hard. A giggle leaves your lips when he throws you onto the bed and crawls over you. “What a macho man now, hm?” You tease him, winking.

He flashes the most gorgeous smile at you and your heart skips a beat. “Be good f’me, yeah?” He purrs. You know he isn’t asking you, so you nod as he kisses you harder this time, wedging himself between your legs. He trails kisses from your lips to your cheek, down to your neck until he stops to mark you harshly, dark red bruises a stark contrast to your normally clean complexion. Your weeping hole clenches around nothing and you get impatient.

“Toru...” you breathe out. He simply smirks as he moves to your collarbone, reaching for your shirt to strip it from you. With each love bite he leaves, your body is lit ablaze. Once he’s stripped you from your shirt to see you’re not wearing a bra, he marvels at your breasts, taking them both into his large hands, taking one nipple in his mouth and sucking on it hungrily, tonguing it while it’s in his mouth. He repeats the action with the second nipple before releasing it with a pop. He moves lower, kissing down your tummy and your breathing hitches.

Your back arches to bring your skin firmer against his feathery lips, making him press you down. “Sugar.” He warns against your skin, nipping at it harshly. You whine and bite your bottom lip, not wanting to push him further, but wanting to feel him already. When he reaches your waist, he marks both hips before removing ridding you of your shorts with his teeth, keeping his eyes locked on yours. He eyes your sodden underwear, pausing to press a kiss to the newly exposed wet spot, making you suck in a sharp breath and shudder. He laughs lowly at you as you pout, wanting him to take them off. “Say please.” He orders with a smirk. You hate that he can still read you so well, but you immediately comply.

“Pretty please... daddy...” you smirk, knowing that word makes him feral beyond reason. In an instant, he removes your underwear, spreading your thighs wide as he nibbles on the insides of both of them, marking you even more. You whimper and whine until he finally reaches where you ache for him most. 

“Real cute, sugar...” he coos against your moistened folds before spreading them with two fingers and delving his tongue into your sweet core, curling it up just to get a taste. You whimper gratefully, gripping the sheets as he sucks on your clit, making your hips buck and back arch again. He moans against your skin, the vibrations from his voice adding to your pleasure.

Seeing him like this again, you can’t help but shudder. He’s so beautiful, so ethereal. All the love you’d once felt for him had already been coming back bit by bit, but it just feels like it’s flowing into you, filling you more and more by the second. You can tell he worships you. Not just in the way that he ravishes your clit, but in the way he looks at you.

He stops spreading your puffy folds to bring two fingers to your entrance, plunging them deep into you and curling up, wanting to bring you to the point of no return before finally fucking you like the good girl you were for him. He’d fucked into his helpless pillows night after night after night thinking of your pussy and it simply didn’t compare. It never could. Now that he has it back, he’s sure to treat it right.

He takes his time on your cunt, finger fucking your hole and licking stripes between your folds. “Tell me it feels good. Please fuckin’ tell me, sugar.” He hums into your folds before moaning and sucking on your clit again, flicking his tongue on it once inside his mouth.

“Fuck, Toru!” You groan out, your head falling back against the bed as he devours and fingers you at the same time. He grips your thigh tighter as you shake from the pleasure, pressure building up up up in your stomach. He has other plans in mind, unbeknownst to you. You cry out, “I’m– I’m– I’m–”  you begin to repeat yourself, unable to get the words out.

And then you’re suddenly void of his fingers and lips alike, making you whine in protest. He simply chuckles before he moves up, delivering a crushing kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on his warm, swollen, lips and it makes you fucking keen. You don’t even realize it when he’s pulling his pants down, just enough to free his cock out– red and leaking pre-cum. You feel his length sliding back and forth between your sopping wet folds before he shoves himself so deep inside of you, you think you’ll split. “Ah!” You hiss as you come undone beneath him from just that one thrust, your walls twitching around his length as you cum around him. 

He grunts and places a hand beside your head and the other on your throat. “Such a good sweetheart, cumming for daddy in just one thrust.” He grins, making your orgasm even more euphoric. Not giving you a beat, he thrusts inside of you, every stroke seemingly deeper than the last as he progressively fucks harder and harder into your fluttering cunt. “Ahhh, fuck yeah, that’s a good girl. What a fucking good girl you are... still so fucking tight, baby.” He praises you, his hand tightening around your throat until your cries become tiny squeaks.

He buries his face in your neck, nipping at your earlobe. “God, I missed this pussy, baby, I missed my fucking sweetheart.” He hisses, his breath hitching in his throat. He pulls out of you and sits up, slapping his length against your folds and chuckling as you squirm beneath him, aching for more.

“Toruuu… put it back in…” You sigh out, pouting up at him. He bends down again to bite your bottom lip before sitting back up with a smirk.

“Don’t worry, ‘m’gonna give you what you want.” The promise leaves no doubt in your mind and you nod before he abruptly flips you onto your stomach and spanks you so hard it feels like your skin is rising in the shape of his hand. “Let’s make it a pair.” He growls, spanking the other cheek so hard it does the same. You yelp from the pain, your pussy clenching around nothing as it aches for him again. He positions his leaky tip against your hole again and props himself up, pushing himself inside of you slowly this time. 

“Ohmyfuckinggod...” You moan, your face and chest red from all the whimpering you’ve done. He feels so good inside of you, it’s like your pussy has its own feelings for him. He reaches so deep into you that you think you’re going to split in two. Despite that, you’re still squirming trying to get down, down, down so stuff yourself more with him.

Chuckling at your reaction, he reaches around to grab your neck and turn your head up to look at him as he strokes into you. He kisses you greedily, moaning into your mouth. The sound of his skin slapping against yours bouncing off the walls and through the condo. His large hand pushes your face into the bed, going deeper and harder, but keeping the same torturously slow pace. You crane your neck just enough to watch yourself in the bedroom mirror as your orgasm starts building again and he doesn’t miss that. “Such a fucking slut... you like what you see, baby? Like watching me stuff you full?” He asks. When you don’t answer, he stops.

“Come on sweetheart, you heard what I asked.” He states firmly. You whine and simply offer him a nod, unable to form words quite yet. “Say it.” He spanks you and stops stroking, making your walls squeeze his length and you whine out for him to continue, fucking back onto his cock as much as you can.

“Yes, daddy, I love it, fuck!” You hiss out, earning a satisfied growl from him as he starts fucking into you again, quickly this time. You clench the sheets as the pleasure pools in your core and he can tell what’s coming. 

“Squeezing so—ngh, fucking tight baby, I’m gonna cum inside, ‘kay? Want you to cum with me.” He grunts out. You moan an “Uh-huh!” before he starts railing you impossibly harder, snapping that rope inside you, making you cum around his length, squeezing so tight he can barely move. He puts all his weight onto you as he releases rope after rope of hot cum into you, filling you to his heart’s content.

It takes a few minutes before he’s finished and you’re both panting hard. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Fuck, I love you, sugar.” He chuckles. He’s missed seeing you under him like this, twitching inside you.

You look at him with eyes half lidded, on a high. “I love you, too.” You smile weakly, slumping forward. That’s when you look back to the mirror, this time spotting a figure in the doorframe, making you jump and shout, covering yourself. Suguru. 

“Took you long enough, emo boy.” Toru grins over at him knowingly. 

“I’ll make rainbow dragon eat you if you test me, dickhead.” He responds quickly, making you giggle. “It’s my turn.” He grumbles, making your eyes widen. He’s already stalking toward you like a lion zeroing in on its prey.

“T-the kids, where are the kids?” You ask, panicking at the thought of Suguru fucking you right now. You’re sore, but that’s not the issue. The issue is you know he’ll have  no remorse after what he’s just seen. He’ll want to one up Toru. 

Suguru smirks darkly and reaches the end of the bed, tilting your head up by your chin. “They’re with Yaga. Toru told me you’d be coming here. Invited me over. Figured he was up to something nasty. Tell me you want me, baby… y’didn’t forget about me, right?” He growls lowly against your lips before kissing you hungrily. 

Toru clears his throat and shakes his head. “I invited you over for the both of us. We both get her.” He clarifies. Oh. Fuck. Suguru waves him off with a roll of his eyes and pushes you back down onto the bed, not paying any mind to Toru. The only thing on his mind is you. He grins as you cower into the pillows, his hands spreading your thighs.

“Sugu…” You hum. He simply sucks his teeth and slips his hand up to squish your cheeks, making your mouth open. You know what’s coming next, it’s something he does only when he wants to fucking ruin you.

“Wider.” He hisses and you comply, opening your mouth as much as you can with his grip on your face. You stick your tongue out, welcoming the fat glob of spit he delivers onto it with a dazed smile, pulling your tongue back into your mouth to swallow. You stick it out again, showing him you’ve swallowed with an “Ahhh~”

You hear Toru huff in the background and Sugu turns to him, nodding his head toward you. Toru needs no further convincing, moving above your head and kissing your forehead. Suguru undoes his pants, pulling his cock out and stroking it. Seeing it after just having seen and felt Satoru’s, you realize he’s much thicker and longer than Toru. Chills travel up your spine and you feel your core ache as you stare down at Suguru in all his glory.

That’s when you feel a strong hand grip your throat and you look up to see Satoru glaring at you like you’d done something wrong– he’s jealous. You’re about to laugh when you feel yourself being split in two by Sugu’s throbbing cock, your mouth getting stuck in an ‘o’ as you choke out a moan, brows knitting together in pleasure. His delectable double frenum ladder piercings sliding against your mushy walls so fucking tastefully. Satoru takes the opportunity to slip himself into your mouth, thrusting in in in all the way down your throat.

Geto gives you no time to adjust, using the cum Toru had filled you with to glide himself in and out of your mushy walls roughly, drilling into you like he was punishing you for having fun without him. You find yourself reaching out to try and place a hand on his abs and slow him down, but you’re stopped by Gojo, who grabs both of your hands and pins them to your chest with one hand. He chuckles down at you, propping himself up on his other hand and fucking into your messy mouth, a long groan drawing from his lips.

Geto chuckles out, looking to Satoru. “Gonna cum already? Can’t blame you. After all, I have been training her mouth to handle me and yo-ngh you don’t come close.” He hisses out between grit teeth, a teasing smirk on his lips. Just like when you were all in high school. Always pissing each other off about who was stronger, who was smarter, who was blah blah blah -er. His hand snakes up to your face, pressing your cheeks in for him. “Gotta hollow your cheeks more, angel, you know he’s not as thick as me. Should be easier to take him.” He huffs, his grip tight.

You prepare yourself to receive whatever Gojo gives you as punishment for Suguru’s teasing, but when you look up and blink away the fat tears in your eyes, you see him… struggling? His brows are knitted together in pleasure as if Sugu’s teasing has only made him more sensitive and it’s confirmed by the globs of precum that seep into your throat, the salty taste unmissable. You moan at the sight of the white-haired angel above you just ruined by your husband’s words and your mouth.

Geto doesn’t miss the look on Satoru’s face and he scoffs. “So easy. Go on, pretty girl, suck him harder. Harder. Need me to show you harder?” Sugu grunts, smacking your face twice before slamming himself harder and impossibly deeper into your reddened, swollen cunt. You cry out, the sound muffled by Gojo’s cock, making his hips stutter while he fucks his cock into your greedy mouth.

You do as told, hollowing your cheeks out even more around Satoru’s length, flattening your tongue so it glides along the top of his shaft. And before you know it, his heavy balls are resting against your nose while he twitches and releases thick ropes of cum deep down your throat. Sugu sees this as an opportunity, grabbing Gojo by his hair and making him look down at where he’s stuffed you full. “See this? Huh? See it?” He huffs out, tightening his grip on Toru’s strands to elicit a moan of an answer from him. “This is how you fuck her pretty little fucking pussy. How you own it.”

And then he’s moaning while his hips just smack smack smack into yours, bullying himself into you like a man starved until he, too, paints your walls with his cum the moment your fluttering hole signals that you’re cumming, too. He pulls out with a smirk, rubbing his still leaking tip against your clit to overstimulate you. Toru pulls out of your mouth and all three of you are left panting, with him falling beside you, curling up behind you, his heavy arm draping over your waist.

“”M gonna go pick up the kids. Just wanted to make sure you were fucked right at least once today, pretty girl.” Suguru speaks up, already redoing his pants. Toru pokes his tongue out at your dark-haired lover and you giggle.

“Bye baby.” You hum, earning a wink from him before he leaves.

You end up falling asleep for hours with Toru by your side. When you get home from your day with Toru, you smile, seeing Suguru with the kids. He’s always been such a beautifully perfect father. You hold your hands out and call for the twins. Mafuyu teleports half the distance before reappearing and your eyes go wide. You hear Suguru choke on his own saliva in the background. “D-did he ju-“ You start, but Toru interrupts. 

“Hecks yeah! Up top, dude!” He shouts, high fiving Mafuyu and picking him up to spin him around. Asuka smacks her father’s leg and whines. She’s always been the jealous type, so this surprises no one. He picks her up too and snuggles her. Suguru leaves for a moment and comes back with Izumi in hand and you lean against the front door, taking in the sight of your beautiful children and the handsome men in front of you. 

You’ve been blessed beyond belief. “I love you both more than my own life.” You smile softly. Suguru looks at you and notices the tears in your eyes, coming close to kiss your forehead.

“Give mommy a kiss, Zuzu.” He coos, letting the baby do a kissy face to you before you kiss her. 

“Thank you, my love!” You giggle. You look to the back to see Toru gone, making your brows furrow. “Toru?” You call, walking into the living room. No answer. “Toru!” You shout again, going up the stairs and not finding him. Your heart begins to race and you look outside, unable to find your twins or the love of your life.

“Toru!” You scream at the top of your lungs outside as the wind whips around you. 

“Mommy!” You hear from above and your eyes widen to the sight of Asuka falling from the sky. 

“Oh my God!” You cry out. Before you can think, Toru teleports to her mid air and she giggles. You place your hand over your heart, trying to calm your breathing to slow its beating. “What. Are. You. DOING!?” You scream into the air, watching him laugh and joke with the kids. He comes down, nonchalantly shrugging. 

“Teaching them how to teleport by putting them in a position where they have to.” He responds matter of factly. You squint at him in disbelief, smacking him upside the head.

“I’ll kill you the next time you take them without letting me know. Are you really that excited for their abilities to come, doofus!? What if Asuka doesn’t have that ability at all?” You sigh, taking the kids into both of your arms. 

Toru laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Of course, they’re my littlest sugars and they need to be trained well. We can teleport places all the time together, it’ll be so cool! Asuka almost had a bit of an accident because daddy has butterfingers, but all is fine here.” He reassures you. 

You see Suguru relax and shake his head. “Airhead.” He shrugs, walking away. 

“EMO BOY!” Satoru retorts, pouting before smirking at Mafuyu. “Who’s up for round 2?” He asks. You immediately step in. 

“No sir! Bedtime it is.” You poke your tongue out at him.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It’s been a year since you, Toru, and Suguru had gotten together as one. You wake and realize they were both being as possessive as ever even in their sleep, because they have your body slanted so that they can have you on top of both of them. You smirk and see Toru down cuddling your waist as he curls around your legs and Suguru has his arm around your chest, grabbing your boob and his head resting on yours. You can’t believe how touch starved they are sometimes. But this was how things are. Peaceful. Beautiful. Perfect.

“Good morning...” Suguru mumbles, scaring you. You raise a brow at how quickly he’d woken after you and he chuckles. “I felt your chest rise suddenly when you first woke up. You do it all the time. Like you’re waking up from a nightmare.” He hums, already aware of what’s on your mind. 

You shake your head and smile at him. “Anything that takes me away from this life– my two men and my beautiful kids, is a nightmare. Good or bad.” You tell him. You feel Toru stir and wedge his hand between your thighs. 

“Well, that’s nice to wake up to.” He grumbles, cuddling closer to you. You grin and raise your head up to kiss Suguru and his hand goes from your breast to your throat, keeping you there for a deep kiss. “No fair, emo man.” Toru pouts below you. 

“Bite me, chicken legs.” Suguru retorts before moving to your neck. Toru huffs and moves his hand higher between your legs, reaching his favorite honeypot. 

“Two can play at that game.” He smirks.

The morning goes by rather interestingly and you play it over and over again in your head as you drive the kids to Yaga’s. You walk into his home and are met with Megumi and Tsumiki, two kids Satoru had saved years ago and placed under Yaga’s ward. “Long time no see... I’ve missed seeing your face around here.” Megumi smiles at you. You roll your eyes, but he was right. In the last 5 years, you’d probably seen him once or twice. He’d grown up. 

“Moms are busy bees, Gum Gum.” You tease, using his childhood nickname. Yaga walks in and the twins run to him, Izumi waddling behind them. “Thanks so much for taking them.” You nudge him as he picks all three of them up in his scarily large arms. 

He nods and immediately takes them away, cooing and baby talking to them. You, Megumi’s, and Tsumiki’s eyes go wide at the sight before you and you slowly back out, closing the door behind you. The entire drive home, you think of ways to make fun of him for that later and when you get home, you were excited to tell Sugu and Toru how much of a softie their old teacher has become. 

You unlock the door and walk in, not seeing either of your doofuses. Probably sleeping. When you walk into your guys’ shared room, however, you’re met with a view that will be burned into your memory for all time. “Uhhh...” you whisper into the air. And the world stops.

Suguru looks at you with an unreadable expression, Satoru’s head in one of his hands, pressed down into the bed, his other hand mid air about to spank Toru. And his cock? Buried to the hilt inside of your snow-headed lover.  “Wh...” You try to speak, but you catch sight of Toru’s expression, his face red and his body sweaty beneath Suguru’s. You would have never thought you’d see this... never thought it’d happen.

“Cat got your tongue or something, angel?” Suguru asks as he rubs the flesh of Toru’s ass, slowly moving within him. Grinding. Teasing.  You choke on your words and slowly back against the door hearing Toru whimper. Is this even real? How long have they even been doing this? Shaking your head, you start to turn around, but Toru speaks up.

“Wait, wait, wait... please don’t leave.” He whines, his voice worn and tired. You look at Suguru as he continues doing what he does best and then back down at Toru. 

“Why?” You ask him, wary. He grunts and moans before speaking again. 

“W-wah-wanna feel you, too.” He admits, his face becoming redder. Your breath hitches in your throat and you gulp. Suguru smirks knowingly and all you can focus on is his cocky smile and the wet sounds coming from their connected bodies. 

“Come on, baby... I won’t bite. Much.” He winks at you, moving rougher. Your heart squeezes as you comply and remove your belongings. You step closer and closer, removing your last article of clothing as you reach the edge of the bed.

“Come here, sweetheart...” Toru coos. Suguru stops thrusting for a moment so that you can get under Toru. He spreads your legs so wide it feels like you’re going to be torn in half as Toru kisses at your neck, nipping to leave his mark on you. He pulls away and spits on his fingers, staring you in the eye as he moves his hand to your pussy, pleasantly surprised to feel you already wet for him. Your back arches up as he rubs your bundle of nerves slowly, wanting him to fill you up already so badly it hurts. 

“Please...” you beg him, earning a chuckle from both Toru and Suguru. 

“Your wish-“ he thrusts deep into you without warning and you cry out. “My command.” Toru finishes, smirking at the look of pleasure etched on your face.

You lose your breath feeling the sudden pleasure of being filled by him, the knowledge that Suguru is inside him only turning you on more. He begins licking and sucking on your perked nipples when Suguru grunts. “Brace yourself, my love.” He groans before forcing himself deeper into Toru, which pushes Toru deeper into you. Your walls clench around his cock and you moan loudly, wrapping your arms around Toru’s neck to keep you steady. Toru whimpers shakily at the feeling of being pleased on both ends, trying desperately not to cum already. You’ve never heard him sound like this before. Utterly ruined.

“Good girl...” Suguru smirks, pulling out and then forcing himself back into Toru. He spanks his ass roughly before holding your legs apart and using them as leverage to fuck into him harder, pulling you in with each thrust. 

“Oh, fuck!” You choke out, Toru’s moans against your neck making this even more exhilarating. The way his dick twitches and swells even more within you makes you feel like you’ll split.

“Come on, baby, let me hear you again...” Suguru begs. Both you and Toru cry out as he fucks even harder, making Toru grind into you rougher. The feeling makes your mind go blank and you clutch the sheets, unable to keep yourself steady anymore with the way you’re fucked out.

Suguru abruptly pulls out of Toru, making Toru whine for his cock again before he slides the condom off, moving around to your head. He smirks down at you and leans forward to grab your face roughly. “Edge of the bed. Open wide, angel.” He directs. 

You and Toru reposition yourselves so that your head hangs from the bed and you open your mouth. At the same time, Suguru and Satoru force themselves inside of you, Toru deep inside of your core and Sugu hitting the back of your throat. You cry out, but the sound is stifled by Suguru’s length in your throat, his hand firm on your face. “That’s a good little slut... take it.” He snarls, fucking your mouth hard. 

Toru scoffs, getting on his knees and sitting up while he holds your thighs. He folds you up slightly as he begins to pound into you, making your weeping pussy tighten around him, the slick stringing between you two. His hand finds its way to one of your breasts, slapping it hard and pinching your nipple. “Scream for me, my bad girl, scream for my fucking cock. Gonna make you p-hah- pay for interrupting a good fucking.” He warns, moaning as he strokes slowly, but roughly into you, teasing you. You cry out at the pleasure of feeling him getting so fucking deep into you, trying your best to be attentive to Suguru as well.

You suck Suguru’s length hard as you close your eyes, feeling his piercings hitting deeper inside your throat, making you gag, your throat tightening around his tip. You open your eyes again to see Suguru and Satoru making out above you, making you squeeze even tighter around Toru’s cock. He pulls away from Suguru to moan. “Fuck yeah, milk me, baby, milk my cock...” he smirks. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your body shudders, your stomach tightening as you feel that oh so familiar feeling building up. You’re surprised when Suguru pulls out and grunts out moans as he cums on your chest, making you cum hard onto Toru’s dick.

“F-fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Toru whimpers out, spurting his cum inside of you deeply. You’re still shaking from your orgasm. Suguru backs up and moves to the drawer, pulling out his favorite accessory. Your collar and chain. You whimper seeing it and Toru smacks your face roughly. “Don’t whine, you’ve been such a good girl so far.” He warns you, pulling out of your leaking hole. 

Suguru nods at Satoru, switching spots with him. He flips you on your stomach and pulls your ass up into the air before collaring you, gripping the chain roughly enough that you don’t even need to prop yourself up.. He shoves himself into you, making you scream out and clench the sheets. “Sugu!” You shout, only for Toru to use that opportunity to push himself deep into your mouth. 

Satoru bends over and uses his fingers to collect the cum from your chest that Suguru had left, tasting it and making Suguru groan loudly. “So fuckin’ dirty...” he praises Toru, fucking you harder and quicker as the chain rattles with each thrust. You suck Toru’s cock deep into your throat enthusiastically, cock drunk moans vibrating through his length as you let them flow. Toru moans before holding your head steady so he can start thrusting into your mouth, kissing Suguru again. 

The sight of them above you has your pussy twitching, making Suguru’s breath hitch. He begins rubbing your clit, making you continuously clench and release around his length the way he loves so fucking much. Toru moans above you and clutches your throat above the collar as he face fucks you, cutting off your airway ever so slightly. Your eyes tear up and your face turns red as you ascend to the greatest fucking plane of existence. 

Toru grunts and sucks in a sharp breath. “I-I’m gonna!” He shouts before cumming into your waiting mouth. You swallow his hot cum and lick the remnants from your lips like a mindless slut when he pulls out, making him chuckle. He strokes himself trying to prolong his pleasure while watching you and Suguru, giving Suguru an idea. 

He pushes your body down into the bed as he enters you again, grinding into you hard. “You watch him stroke that cock and take all of mine, babygirl, take. it. all.” He growls in your ear, pulling the chain leash tightly. 

“Y-yes daddy!” You cry out, cumming hard at the sight of Satoru stroking his length. Your pussy clenches so tightly around Sugu that he cums immediately with a hiss. You’ve become a puddle of a mess and he pulls out of you to kiss your ass before spanking it. “Such a good girl, baby...” he praises you as Satoru bends down to kiss your lips, no longer stroking himself. 

All you can do is smile in a daze, your body used and sore in ways you never thought possible.

And you spend God knows how many days in that same state. The rest of your life filled with love, family, and pleasure like you’ve never known.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033 

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team. 

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face. 

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up. 

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up. 

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back. 

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again. 

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too. 

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her. 

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes. 

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again. 

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs. 

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen, 

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend. 

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence. 

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond. 

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way. 

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening. 

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously. 

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly. 

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana. 

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath. 

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that. 

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately. 

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips. 

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is. 

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours. 

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look. 

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends. 

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage. 

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them. 

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her. 

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger. 

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said. 

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly. 

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again. 

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly. 

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore. 

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate. 

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did. 

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her. 

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh. 

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly. 

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-” 

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender. 

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever. 

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist. 

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel. 

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows. 

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames. 

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother. 

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her. 

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them. 

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently. 

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands. 

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch. 

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be.  That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort. 

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas. 

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them. 

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt. 

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults. 

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side. 

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other. 

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years. 

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe. 

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this. 

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige. 

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes. 

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay. 

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake. 

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away. 

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

[penelopepine]

Elephant in the Room Pt. 4

Part 3 Part 4

Summary: John and you hooked up after a night at the bar. You two after that never saw each other again. At least until 12 years later when Price discovers that 9 months after your time together you had given birth to not one baby, but two. Word Count: 2309

Price continues to avoid you even after getting back to base. That seems to be what you want right now as well if the glare you shoot his way when he attempts to carry a few of the bags inside was anything to go by. With that in mind he swiftly made his retreat; leaving the rest of the team to help the two of you get settled while he excused himself on account of needing to do some paperwork.

His mind was racing far too much for him to truly focus on that though. Price tries to stay away, but after a few hours he can't help but find himself at your door once more today. Things like this do require space, but they also need to be discussed as soon as possible lest resentment and anger continue to grow. Ghost's words from earlier echoing in his mind. 

He knocks firmly on the door, and waits to see if you'll open the door, and surprisingly you do. You don't seem surprised to see him either. The two of you stand there in silence for what feels like hours before your moving, and gesturing for him to come inside. 

The silence continues even after the door shuts and you lead him to the living room. Price sits across from you, and only then does he finally speak, "I know the things that have been happening are my fault, and I'm- I'm sorry. I am going to fix things though. The only thing I'm begging of you is that I get a chance to talk to Amelia and Andrew." 

“No, no this isn’t your fault John. I shouldn’t have implied that I thought it was earlier. It’s just- everything is happening so fast; I mean just a few days ago everything was perfectly normal, and now it feels like I’m in an unending nightmare.” You explain to him before taking a calming breath, “Would you … like to talk to Amelia tomorrow? She was asking about you earlier, and I admittedly didn’t have any answers for her” 

“May I ask how much they do know about me; about us?” 

It's here where he sees a wave of sadness hit you. "They know just about as much as I do. I told them your name, that you were a lieutenant when I met you, and that you were kind. They also know that we weren't any official. Would be a bit hard to lie about not knowing your last name if I said we were."

Price softly whispers your name before continuing, "I shouldn't have left like I did, love. You didn't deserve that. Maybe things would be different now if I did."

"I tried to find you John, I wanted things to be different." 

"There was only so much you could have done. Heaven knows there are hundreds of 'Johns' in the military." He pauses here thinking about the conversations he's had with you today, "I still haven't properly introduced myself to you."

You let go of a soft laugh at his words. This might be the first time seeing any sort of happiness on your face since meeting you again. "Well go on then! I'd love to finally know my children's father's name." 

"John Price, and it's captain now."

"Captain John Price." You look at him with a soft smile, "it suits you." 

He likes the way you say his name. It only makes him wish he could have told you it all those years ago. You both sit in comfortable silence for a moment before he asks, "Were you serious about letting me talk to Amelia tomorrow?"

"Maybe- maybe you could come by for lunch; talk to her then." 

"I'd like that." He answers you with a gentle tone. "What is she like; what is Andrew like?"

Your eyes are soft and smile sweet as you reply to him, "Amelia … She's a good kid; smart too, but a little spitfire that one. I don't think that girl has ever been afraid of confrontation. Very blunt, I'll warn you now about that. I'd prepare yourself for some hard questions from her."

"Good to know," Price nods at the information you've shared. He can only imagine right now what a kid who's meeting their father for the first time in 12yrs could ask. "And Andrew?"

"Football is life is a phrase I'm pretty sure he actually lives by with how much I've heard him say it." You lightly chuckle at your words, and wipe a fallen tear from your cheeks before continuing, "He's a sweet boy though; always wanting to include others in whatever he does." 

"They sound like great kids." He pauses for only a moment, "You're a good mum." 

Your eyes snap up to meet him when you hear this with surprise shining through your face. "Thank you," your voice cracks out.

Price takes a moment of silence before speaking again, "It's late and I don't want to keep you up any longer, love."

You walk him to the door, and before you shut it you whisper, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Hell or high water he'll be here tomorrow. He won't let you down again.

-

It's the next morning and only a few hours until his first conversation with his daughter when Laswell decides to make a sudden appearance in his office. “John.” 

“Laswell,” He addresses her, “what you got for me?”

She steps up to his desk and immediately hands him a folder, “Information about who took Andrew.” 

Instantly opening up the folder Price sees the name of the same group who had managed to take him captive for a few hours months ago. He had always thought that the interrogation had been odd. They didn’t ask for any information, any codes, or any future plans the team had. Instead they had swabbed his mouth, and left him alone for most of his time there. 

Looking back on it now though their intentions are becoming more clear. They didn’t want to simply torture information out him; they wanted to take something seemingly much more important to him. This was in the plans for much longer than he realized. 

Flipping through the other pages he sees a printed scene shot of a DNA test website. It shows a profile with his name being listed as father above Andrews’. That's how they found Andrew it seems; by a stupid online genetic test. 

"Where are we now on getting him back?"

"We have a basic location on their base of operation as of now. Be prepared to be sent out on a moment's notice; even for today. We're getting this kid back as soon as we can."

"I can agree with you on that. Has anything else been sent to us since the video?"

Laswell shakes her head at him, "Nothing as of yet. Which we should take as a good thing. Hopefully that means Andrew has been left alone for the most part."

"We can only hope."

She takes a step closer to him, and gives his shoulder a quick squeeze, "We're going to get him back, John.” With a slight pause she continues, “What about the girls; how have things been with them?” 

“Well I’ve been allowed to have a conversation with Amelia today so things are doing good, all things considered.” 

“Yeah? Are you ready for that?”

“Laswell.” 

“Yes, John?”

“How do you talk to 12 year old girls?” 

Laswell gives a small chuckle at Price’s question, “Don’t treat her like a soldier for one, and two … I’d just be honest about whatever questions she might have. She probably already feels like her life has been turned upside down. The last thing she wants right now is to be treated like she can’t handle knowing the truth.” 

“So just be honest about everything?” 

“Well she is 12 so there are going to be things you’ll probably want to explain in a more age appropriate way, but 12 year olds aren’t babies; they can handle having a serious conversation.” 

“And what if she’s angry?” Price can’t help but ask. Of all things, that is the one that he’s not sure how to properly react to or handle that.

Laswell merely sighs at him, “She’s going to be angry. You just need to stay calm, actively listen to what she says, and don’t take everything she says out of anger to heart. Especially with how crazy her life is right now.” 

He doesn’t say anything else right away; thinking about what Laswell had just said to him. As always she’s right; Amelia is most likely going to be angry. He knows if he was in her position he would be. “Thank you Laswell.” 

“No problem John.” She then turns around and walks out of the office.

Once alone he takes out the photo he had taken from the first folder Laswell had given him; the one that showed all three of you smiling together. Price thinks about how once he gets Andrew back he'll make sure all of you can be together like that again. 

-

It was noon right on the dot when Price stepped inside your house once more. The first thing he noticed was how delicious it smelt inside. It really made him think for a moment about how long it’s been since he’s had a meal that wasn’t from the base cafeteria. 

You both exchange slightly awkward greetings with one another before you lead him into the dinning room where Amelia is already sitting at the table; a notepad sits in front of her. Price stops in the arch way as he watches you walk over to her, and give her shoulder a squeeze. 

“Lunch is almost ready; it’ll just be a few more minutes.” You move your head between Amelia and him, “While I’m finishing up you two can have a talk. Amelia, come get me if you need to.” You say before nervously exiting the room.

With you gone now it just leaves Price and Amelia alone to have what he can already tell is going to be a hard conversation. He makes his way further into the room and sits across from her with a hand extended, “Hello, Amelia. I’m John; John Price.” 

He watches as his daughter takes a calming breath as she extends her hand to shake his as well, “Hello, … John.” 

She sounds unsure saying his name which he can understand. Price didn’t come in here expecting her to call him any sort of partial name; that is something he hopes later on she’ll be comfortable giving him. That time is not now though, now is the time to build trust. 

“I heard you had some questions for me, and I promise to do my best to answer them for you,” He slightly motions towards the notepad. 

At the mention of questions Amelia seems to immediately perk up; even flipping her notepad open to reveal several lines of text. Price unfortunately couldn’t read it from this distance. It seems all nervousness from her has been thrown out the window though. 

The first few questions were basic get to know you questions. Things like age, birthday, and where did he grow up. Price noted how this felt more like an interrogation rather than a talk which actually eased his nerves a bit; she strangely reminded him of Laswell at this moment. 

Those kind of questions could only last for so long though before you started asking about things currently going on. “Have there been any updates about Andrew?” 

“We’re hoping to retrieve him any day now.” Price hesitantly answers; unsure of how much he should really be discussing with her. “You’ll get your brother back soon.” 

“And afterwards?”

“Hmm?”

"So like … what's going to happen afterwards then? You keep saying you're going to get Andrew back, but what about after that?" Amelia questions him, "Are you just going to save the day and all these years without you don't matter anymore because of that, or are things going to go back to when we never knew you?"

“Amelia!” Your voice rings out from the other side of the room. 

Price doesn’t know how, but you had managed to come into the room with him noticing. He puts a calming hand up to you, and softly says your name before continuing, “No, it’s ok it’s a valid question to ask,and the answer truthfully is that I don’t know what is going to happen afterwards. That is something your mum and I have yet to discuss.”

"What do you want to happen?" You are now sitting next to Amelia with a comforting hand on hers.

"I- I don't know." She says as her head hangs low and picks at her nails.

"That's ok; You don't have to know." You stand up and gently help Amelia out of her chair, "Why don't you come and help me bring out the dishes?" 

Price watches as you both leave; knowing that you wanted to have a private conversation without him present. It only takes a few minutes for you both to return, Amelia mood seems to have risen based on the easy smile on her face. 

The conversation that follows is stilled in the beginning, but quickly becomes livelier as Amelia talks about her friends and upcoming school year. Everything for just a moment feels calm, but of course nothing can last forever. 

A loud rapid knocking sound rings through the house; stopping any conversations in an instant. Price is the first one to stand and walk towards the door. He knows that whoever is on the other side is most likely looking for him anyway. 

“Captain.” Gaz stands before him, a serious look on his face. “Laswell needs us in the debriefing room. It’s time to get your boy.” 

Taglist: @zarsghost @lulurubberduckie @mafer383 @7thsthings @sazifer

[weltraum-vaquero]

Swan song

Professor Viktor x TA Reader

[PART 1]｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆[PART 2] ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[PART 3] ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ [PART 4] (coming soon)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[AO3 link] ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

Summary: You’re a bright phD student who won’t shy away from a challenge. Getting the most notorious professor at the University of Piltover to hire you as his assistant is one of them.

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT

Tags: Modern AU, NSFW, DILF professor Viktor, trans Viktor, old man boobs and pussy!!!, reader being a desperate mutt when it comes to Viktor, sub Viktor AND dom Viktor, oral sex (Viktor receiving), handjob (reader receiving), sniffing & scent kink, nipple play, they are transgender and so so desperate for each other your honor

Word count: 15k

Notice: This chapter is written with a transmasculine reader in mind.

Notes: Seeing all of you guys fall in love with this fic and our beloved DILF professor has inspired me to extend his story a little more! So stay tuned for that, and enjoy the smut... for now. ;] Words used for Vik & reader's genitals include: cock, cunt, clit, pussy and similar variations.

The bustle behind the door almost has you hesitating to knock — and after about five seconds of the thuds and clanks intensifying, you go for your phone to double check the given information. Until you hear Viktor’s familiar cadence dampened by the wood, and the lock turns with a clack.

“Hello.” 

The rest has done him well.

He’s a man reborn, a good ten years younger, leaning on just his cane, eyes sharp and glittery with excitement, smiling like the cat that got the cream — or is about to. 

His hair is fluffy, wispy, most likely just washed, and as is his face, freshly shaven. His sweater hangs off his frame to just the middle of his thighs, looser than what he normally wears — which comes with the lovely perk of revealing more of his collarbone. Everything about him is more vibrant, bathed in a warm yellow light and radiant skin and shallower eye bags.

You do your absolute damndest not to let your eyes linger.

“Hi.”

“Come in quick.” His voice sounds conspiratorial, like he’s about to let you in on a special little joke. “I don’t want her getting ideas about escaping — she hasn’t in a while, but, you never know.”

The scent of warm apples and vanilla smothers you the moment you step foot past his doorway, and it’s not the only thing smothering you. At your shins, something orange, fuzzy and warm smooths against you, a bushy tail wrapping around your calf almost all the way up to the inside of your knee, pink nose sniffing curiously.

The her who’s not meant to be getting any ideas, you’d presume.

A pair of green eyes stare up at you from between your ankles, triangular ears perked attentively. She’s fluffy, so much so her tail could count as a duster and the fuzz in her ears competes with the length of her whiskers. 

Viktor has a cat.

“This is Persichka,” he says, sounding prouder than a father on the graduation day of his favorite child.

Of course he’d have an entire picture folder dedicated to her. 

There’s something well-loved about her, like an old plush toy — the stiffness of her movements and the gangliness of her limbs betrays her old age, but everything else speaks against it. Shiny coat, curious gaze. She lingers around you until her pink, spotted nose has had its fill of your unfamiliar scent, then she returns to Viktor, and the rumbling purrs in her chest turn on as if on command, key turned in the ignition.

You test her name in your voice, and though she does turn her spotted little nose towards you in acknowledgment, you come to understand there are few things that could pry her away from Viktor, with how adoringly she’s practically stuck to him.

“She’s very pretty,” you say.

”The prettiest,” Viktor corrects. He watches her bump her head against his shin and purr as if in agreement — she’s so rumbly it’s almost concerning. Viktor points you to the dark blue couch in his living room. “Make yourself at home. I’ll join you in a moment.”

With that, he leaves, presumably for the kitchen, with Persichka following closely behind.

His apartment is far from impressive — at least in size. Though you can’t exactly go exploring the place, based on what you’ve seen of the living room and the hallway, you can make a half-decent estimate of the overall size. 

Certainly big enough to avoid feeling cramped, but nothing beyond that. At its root, Viktor’s living space is humble, cozy, and jam-packed with details.

The rug in his living room, though sturdy and freshly vacuumed with how it has fluffed up just a hint, is decorated with traditional motifs in dull, aged colours. His walls are lined with bookshelves, dark wood, most of them on science, a good chunk on arcanism. 

Except…

A good three shelves’ worth in the furthest corner of the room catch your eye. Their shiny, paperback covers glisten with warm pinks, yellows, purples and oranges, spelling out titles in frilly, pretty fonts.

Romance books. A whole lot of them. 

You tilt one out just enough to glance at the cover — and surely enough, there is a shirtless man on the cover, seemingly in heartaching agony. His Love Of Thorns is the title. 

A little lower, on some dustier shelf that doesn’t seem to get as much traffic as his other books, is a picture frame. A family in black and white — a tall, mid-thirties aged man with sunken, somber eyes and a mustache, along with a woman with Viktor’s cheekbones, chin and gentle eyes, sitting with a little girl. The kid is looking into the camera with a sombreness that’s fraying at the edges with a suppressed smile, and she has pigtails, reaching all the way down to the middle of her chest.

You’re about to reach for the photo to check the back for more information.

“Ahem.” Viktor stands in the doorway with a tray of two plates, steaming with heat. At your embarrassment of being caught red-handed, he can’t help but smirk a little, before he raises the tray meaningully. “I made us sharlotka — it’s my babulya’s recipe. I hope you’ll like it.” He sets the tray on the worn coffee table right in front of his couch.

There’s something catlike about how he moves to take up space on his own couch opposed to how he holds himself in public. It’s surprisingly intimate to see him lounging as he awaits your company — dejected and warm. His left side faces the backrest, left leg folded and tucked so that his ankle fits just under the inside of his right knee. His right foot is planted firmly on the floor. 

It’s a lovely change of pace to see him so distended, so informal, in spite of his still formal clothes. You want to believe he’d dressed up for you — the thought of Viktor in slacks at home is otherwise haunting. 

He leans back onto the armrest with his plate neatly held in front of himself, and while he shaves off a piece off for himself, he closely observes you sit down and reach for your own plate. 

The slice is decadently filled with thin apple slices near the bottom. It positively wafts with cinnamon and vanilla, it splits on your teaspoon surprisingly easily for how spongy it is.

The taste hits your tongue tenfold with the first bite — you should have let it cool more, but alas — autumnal flavors swirling together in a delightful mix that has your head spinning. It makes your soul turn into something wet and sappy to realize Viktor made this for you. Peeled the apples, mixed the dough, sprinkled in cinnamon. For you.

“What do you think?” The way he cocks a brow and leans further back against the armrest tells you he already knows the answer. But you want to see him preen under a compliment regardless — it’s a rare and good look on him.

“It’s really good,” you say. “I think I burnt my tongue.”

At that, he huffs out a laugh, tilting his head to watch you — small chest puffing out just a fraction, smile going from playful to proud.

“Take it slow.” His voice falls just short of a purr. So much so you find yourself losing it trying to figure out if there is an implication behind it, or if you’re just wishing one into existence. “There is more, should you want it.”

How could you be blamed for thinking about anything except for seconds when he tells you that?

You know better than to let yourself be deluded, you know better. He knows better. 

This is nothing. This is fine.

“Now,” Viktor does not give you the time to let his words swim in your head; he braces his hand on the couch cushions just shy of your thigh as he leans down to pull his laptop out from under the coffee table. At the ruckus, Persichka walks into the room. “On to what I was hoping to talk to you about. I know you were, eh, wrestling with the detailing of movements of the hexion components in their areals, but, I think I might have some suggestions regarding the specifics.”

You watch him put om his glasses, unfold the laptop and set it on the table, fans whirring within its mechanism, sounding like they’re struggling quite a bit with some dust buildup. With Persichka around, you don’t doubt they are.

She climbs onto a chair that, now that you’ve seen her do it, looks deliberately placed near the windowsill specifically to create an upwards path for her. From the chair, she hops onto the sill, where she claims a dark red pillow like a throne. After an obligatory spine-curling, yawning stretch, she curls up on it while she turns her attention to the barren tree branches outside Viktor’s window.

He sets his cake on the table, and places his laptop on himself, deft fingers moving across the keyboard. You take a shameful delight in the circling of his index on the mouse pad. The way it hyperextends just so at the last knuckle when he presses, the way he strokes, upward, over and over, as he scrolls down a document. The way he stops, presses a button with his thumb, strokes with his middle finger — oh, that hand. 

You wonder how those knobby finger joints would feel, crowding your clit into submission and pleasure, or popping into— 

“I did the math with oscillations in mind, and though I suppose it mostly fits, it still felt kind of, eh, what is the word for it, shoehorned.” Viktor tilts the laptop screen for you to see.

You lean in to look over his calculations, and, with some horror, realize you have to brace a hand on the backrest right beside his head to hover over him while you’re looking at the laptop.

Viktor is right under you, practically begging to be laid on top of, to use the heft of your weight to push him into the creaky cushions, to rub yourself against the space between his legs, wide open for you to take. 

He’s applied a light fragrance today — maybe even just deodorant. He smells of nothing in particular, beyond fresh and that pleasant, powdery clean musk of freshly showered skin.

You haven’t gotten through a quarter of what he’d shown you before he tilts his laptop back towards himself.

“But then, I thought, why oscillations?”

“O-oh?”

Your voice comes out strained. Which you are — especially in terms of paying attention to him.

“Oh, you must be uncomfortable,” he luckily concludes, and unfolds his left leg, sitting up straight on his couch, before he sets the laptop on the table between the two of you instead. “Better?”

You nod.

He has to hunch forward to see the screen properly, and it makes you sting with shame that he’s chosen to give up some of his comfort for what he interpreted as your discomfort. Considering what had just been running through your head, you don’t deserve a fraction of—

“Now, look here…” Viktor taps the top of your thigh to get your attention, but does not dignify you with a glance — he’s laser focused on the task at hand. And it’s for the best, with how it sets you alight in the least metaphorical way. You lean in, obedient to a fault, shoulders touching in front of the blue light screen. “I redid the calculations but with rotation in mind this time around, and…”

You look over the math diagonally, your eyes chasing the end result, rather than the equations, and, “Oh, it fits like a glove.”

Viktor beams at you. “It does.”

“Can I have—“ Your noses almost touch when you turn to him. It makes the both of you pause, faltering, swallowing, retreating, before you find it within yourself to continue. “Can I have a piece of paper?”

“Of course.”

You know better. 

Viktor plucks his cane off the ground, and awkwardly shuffles to a nearby cabinet, where he retrieves a stack of them, as well as a pen.

You take one, and set off to write on the nearest surface that’s ample for it, which happens to be your thigh.

“I want to see how the numbers you got would act in Holloran’s equation,” you explain. “If you’re right about the rotation, they should track, shouldn’t they?”

Viktor nods. “Good thinking. They should.”

His body tilts to you as you start scribbling away, watching your hand from just above your shoulder. His bated breath comes lukewarm on the side of your neck, just a tickle, and when the numbers don’t line up, you hear him swallow.

Long neck craned over you, chin just above the slope of your shoulder, Viktor sets his hand on the top of your thigh — a safe spot, a normal spot for a friend to be laying their hands on you. 

But not for Viktor. Not to you.

The heat of his hand on your leg is making your stomach sink, pulse rushing in your ears, head spinning, the numbers a distant dream. On instinct alone, you want to spread, for him. To lay yourself down at his hands, at his mercy, at…

Fuck.

Your thoughts absolutely refuse to cooperate when his pinky rubs focused circles into the material of your jeans.

“God. What did I miss…” Your lip starts to ache with how you bite down on it, looking over the numbers again, searching, trying—

“Here.” 

His middle and index finger brush down, down, then in. To where you’re sensitive, to where you’re soft, to where it hurts for him. He’s pointing you to an embarrassingly obvious mistake — at the very bottom of the page, just a fucking hand’s width away where you start to drip.

This close, you can’t hide a shiver from him. 

It crawls up from the bottom of your spine to just below your skull, it expands into something warm but stifling in your chest, like a pillow that’s too soft, a tea too hot, somewhere on the pleasurable, delightful edge of horrific and painful.

“Oh. Sorry.” Hit with the realization, Viktor retreats. Hands gone, heat amiss, breath distant. You need him back. You need more. You need him. Viktor looks terrified — of himself, for you. He swallows something else that laid just on the tip of his tongue, you can hear his thoughts blundering and racing before he does the only thing he can: repeat himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

You need to splash some water in your face before you do something stupid. Something irreparable. 

“S’okay,” you rasp. “It’s okay. No worries. I just— uh, can I use your bathroom? I… headache.”

Viktor generously provides you the space you so desperately don’t want, and points you to the bathroom.

“Just down the hallway,” he says. “And there should be something for your headache in the cabinet above the bathtub.”

“Thank you.”

Dazed and confused, you stumble your way out of his living room, and somehow end up in his bathroom.

Dark blue tiles line the walls and the floor. You shut the door with your back, letting it steady you. It’s strangling and somehow actually genuinely bordering on a panic attack, how your throat wrings itself shut and your heart hammers and your lungs go tight. The sink is in the midst of your tunnel vision, and against all odds, you do somehow reach it, turning the faucet on so hard it creaks.

The cold water does you some good. You splash it onto your face, dab your own cold hands down the sides of your neck, facing yourself in the still-foggy mirror as you force yourself to breathe. Slow. Steady.

The shower curtain is stuck to the inside of the bathtub, the air has just the smallest hint of humidity and soap to it still. The mental image of him, sprawled out in the bathtub, letting the warm water soak his weary joints in preparation for you makes you tingly and nauseous all at once.

Your skin still burns where his hand was. Rubbed. Touched.

He’s your boss. And by now, your mentor. You can’t just… would he even want to… 

It’s wrong. It’s so wrong.

You splash water in your face again. 

He’d done it by accident. He must have. 

Viktor wouldn’t want you. Because he knows better than that — knows better than to put his job in potential danger for the sake of lust or perhaps even romance. Knows better than to put you at risk too, and you suspect he certainly has learned his lesson about workplace romance after Talis. 

Plus — what have you done to deserve the attention, the affection, of one of the greatest men in your scientific field? 

Naive, to think just showing him a shiny new theory and offering some insignificant helping hands in his work would, no, could land you anything more than, at the very best, his friendship. 

He doesn’t want you.

This was just an accident on his part, and a mistake on yours. A mistake for even wanting to believe there could be more he’d want from you, than… than just your assistance. 

You don’t even know what there is that could fix the gnarly twisting and turning in your gut right now, the guilt, but you figure a look at the medicine cabinet can’t hurt.

You find the translucent door, grasping the small handle between your thumb and forefinger to open it.

A box of Advil is at the very forefront of his impressively stocked cabinet. Just behind it, is something labeled Targin. In smaller writing, it states just below: oxycodone hydrochloride and naloxone hydrochloride. 

A shelf above is a small glass vial.

Testosterone Enanthate. 

Everything in your mind goes quiet.

You’d been right.

The name change, the sticker, the little girl in the picture.

And it makes you shut the cabinet with shaking hands, trembling with the realization you’d dug up something so very personal on account of snooping. It wasn’t your business to know; it still isn’t.

But somewhere suppressed, under the putrid shame, you still can’t help but swell with joy. The joy of finding, of recognizing, of belonging. 

You don’t even realize you’re staggering out the door of his bathroom, your breath moving undoubtedly lighter, your chest a little less heavy, in spite of the new layer of shame.

Viktor’s waiting for you on the couch — and something about how you look paints his face with another layer of concern, brows furrowing as he moves to stand in front of you.

“Again,” he begins. “I am… so sorry. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you assure. You can’t look him in the eye. “I just, I needed a second.”

“I didn’t realize…” he trails off mid sentence, plucking at his brain for the right words, frowning when they slip from him. For the first time since you’ve known him, Viktor shrinks, shoulders slouching, cradling his forehead. “It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable. I want you to know that.”

“You didn’t.” He doesn’t know half of it. That all those moments he’d deemed uncomfortable has been gasoline on the fire of your wanting.

He chuckles awkwardly, and repeats a familiar line: “I thought we had gotten past the point where you felt the need to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

Viktor shakes his head, unmoved by your words. “I was unprofessional. That is the truth.”

“So was I.”

“You weren’t—”

“I thought we had gotten past the point where you felt the need to lie to me, Viktor.”

That shuts him up — for the first time since you’ve known him, you get to be the one to knock the breath out of him with just your words, to make him falter.

It’s terrifying. It sets you alight.

Your words sink into him like a rock down a well, hitting the walls on the way down, reverberating with something deep and heavy when they reach the bottom — Viktor understands.

“I, eh…” He blinks at the floor, gathering what he can of what you’ve so terribly scattered of him. With a roll of his shoulders, he finally looks at you — eyes dark and wide and hesitant — and he swallows thickly. Swallows his fear. Looks at your lips. Licks his own just so, a subconscious tick rather than deliberate — but all the more alluring because of it. “If I do that, I fear I may be… more unprofessional than ever before.”

“Unprofessional how?”

“I think you know exactly how.”

He lowers his gaze to the ground. Hit with the weight of what he’d just confessed, Viktor’s shoulders sink, all of his frame caves in on itself more than it already is, and you have to say something.

“Fuck. Can I kiss you?”

He inhales slowly, shakily. Finally looks at you. 

“Please.”

You reel him in, you lay both hands on the hollows of his cheeks, sculpted for you to grasp, sculpted to fit into the curves of your palms, made for you. 

Like a final breath before diving, you take him in like it may be the last time — all the lines of his skin, the molten gold of his eyes, burning for you.

And you kiss him.

He’s so tense. Rigid all the way up to his neck, all hard lines where you press into him, lips meeting yours in a stiff, terrified brush. He tries to mold to you, but somehow always ends up a step behind; a tactless, nervous dance. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasps under his breath, his words reaching your lips before they reach your ears, noses nudging. “I… it’s been… I need a moment…”

“It’s alright,” you whisper it into the plush of his lips. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Actually, I…” He inhales as if bracing himself for contact, settles his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. Pulls away just a painful hint — just enough to have you understand that what he wants to tell you is important. “There is one thing you should know, before we go any further.” He says it with little fanfare, without a doubt or fear, but like it’s something holy. And it is. “I’m trans.”

The confirmation, though obvious, reverberates in your head like a prayer in a tall, empty church.

“I know,” you say. And after a moment’s hesitation, you add: “Me too.”

The smile that graces him is divine — moreso than any of the ones you’ve had the pleasure of witnessing so far. 

Viktor kisses you so hard your mutual collision clacks in your skull. He kisses you so hard your nose hurts, he kisses you so hard breathing becomes optional — and a stupid option at that.

But then you lick his crooked teeth, he melts for you, reborn into something softer. He suckles on you, on the tip of your tongue, come here, before he licks it in welcoming, before he lets you taste him wholly.

There we go.

He’s so slick. Like he’d been hungry for your mouth, he tastes heady and potent like apples and cinnamon and makes your neurons fizzle with all the deftness of smooth rum. 

You let it swirl in your pleasure-numb mind, let the room spin with just the vehemence of how well he kisses you, undulating tongue, eager lips, curious hand, sliding down your back.

When you pull back for a breath, he follows you with desperation before he catches himself.

Viktor’s breath comes out in quick bursts, his hair falls in front of his eyes wildly, he licks his own lips as if to eat what remains of you. 

“You don’t know how long…” he begins, voice hoarse and lips cherry red slick and eyes lidded, staring at your lips, then climbing up your features gently, lovingly, until they settle into your own gaze, adoring, knowing, undressing, “I’ve waited to do that.”

“Not as long as I have.” You cup his face and he leans into it with all the indulgence of a sleepy cat. “God, from the moment I first walked into your office…”

That makes him laugh — something airy and quiet, almost like a whisper. His eyes crack open and his smile turns smug.

“Oh?” Viktor’s grin presses against your lips, canines and incisors slick and sharp. “Is that why you wanted the job?”

Two can play that game.

“Is that why you gave me the job?”

“Mmmh…” Viktor pulls back as if to appreciate you, runs his hand down the length of your back, stopping at your hip, squeezing appreciatively. You shiver — against him, this time, and it’s tenfold more satisfying than to shiver an arm’s length away. “It was on my list of reasons. You have… many qualities.”

You can’t bear not having him any closer for any longer.

“Hm.” You nudge your nose under his jaw at his flattery. “Likewise.”

Viktor tenses at the touch, the front of his throat bobbing nervously, tilting his head towards you, rather than away to grant you access. A peck on the sharp edge of his jaw almost knocks him off kilter.

You set your hands on his hips to steady him. That makes him jump, too.

“What do you need?” You ask.

“You.” Viktor chuckles at his own boldness, before he leans back, trusting the grip you have on him. And you’re not about to let him down. “But unfortunately a seat, as well.”

You consider being raunchy — but you decide the time for that is not ripe just yet.

“We can definitely do that,” you offer up instead, steadying him on just one side while you let go of the side where he needs to use his cane. The couch isn’t far — but it feels like it, with how badly you want to kiss him again.

You’re on him the second he’s down.

And he parts his legs for you as willingly as you’d hoped and dreamed, he lets you bury your face in his neck and lay him back down the length of the couch. Viktor molds to you willingly, slots himself into the shape of your body, wraps his arms around you as though he wants to cocoon you. 

“Touch me,” he whispers, and who are you to deny him? You brush your hand up his sweater, marveling at how his ribs slide like polished piano keys under your fingertips, how his ribcage arches for you in spite of the tired creaks of his spine. Viktor presses himself into your hands like he’s hungry for touch — and you come to understand with how he moans for it, that he is. 

Your hands come to a brusque, sudden halt at his chest.

There’s a subtle swell to it — but soft and lax. You give an experimental squeeze, stoking your thumb along the curve of his tits, soft and droopy with age. You know you’re handling tender, sensitive flesh. And you treat it accordingly, carefully, even moreso when he gasps.

“You don’t have to…” The front of Viktor’s throat jumps under your lips. 

There’s a much more important answer you need to get.

“Would you like me to?”

He squirms for just a beat, like your sentence alone shook him to his core, before he breathes:

“God, yes.”

He lays back limp and pretty, like caught prey into the mouth of a hound dog, lets you bite at his neck with nothing but a low moan. Your thumbs press down the middle of his breastbone, hammering pulse beating back against your fingertips, before you envelop his chest in your palms. His tits barely take up the space offered up by the hollow of your hands, sit in them dainty and perfect. 

His nipples harden into the heft of your palms, perk up only further as you knead him like a cat. 

You have to taste them. 

“M-mhm…” Viktor’s thighs twitch around your hips as you softly tug on his tits and pinch the skin of his neck between your teeth, but he doesn’t protest against the pain for not even a moment. His knees do, just barely, popping as he crosses his ankles under the curve of your ass. 

As much as you like them there, as much as his neck is such a willing canvas for your mouth, you need to go lower. You want to paint the entirety of his expanse in kisses, in bites, in touch. You want to know the different parts of him by the scent of his skin, you want to know his body through the brush of your palms alone, you want his unique bouquet to grace your palate.

You let go of his chest to brace yourself with one palm, and lift the hem of his sweater with the other.

His heart hammers at your lips, through the shell of his breastbone.

“Can I—“

Viktor moans in agreement before you can finish. “Yes,” he cries, “I want your mouth. I want it… everywhere.”

He brushes his hand through your hair to guide you where he wants you — which is coincidentally exactly where you want to go. Where his skin goes a light pink like the inside of a strawberry, where he’s soft, where he’s sensitive.

You prime his nipple with a swipe of your tongue, marveling at how it glistens like candied fruit, before you suck him into your mouth. The peak of his nipple sits between your lips like a cherry, swollen and soft all at once. His spine bows with the first suckle, he pets your hair like you’re a good, obedient little thing. You would not dream of being anything else.

Something in his hip joints pops, first one, then the other — and then, his clothed cunt is rubbing into your stomach. You can’t fathom the thought of letting him go untended to, the thought of him having to do a thing below you other than take pleasure and sob with it, and you aren’t about to change your mind now.

You brush one hand between his legs, cupping the swell of his mound in your palm. Seconds later, Viktor’s index and thumb wrap around your wrist, and you fear you may have gone too far, too fast.

“Sorry,” you begin, “I should have asked—“

“Shush.”

He undoes his pants with his other hand. And guides you within.

You simply let him slide your hand down the flat front of his boxers, guiding you down, down, until the soft meat of his pussy sits in your cupped palm like water in a thirsty man’s hands. 

“Ah…”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, at the same time as he exhales with relief at being touched where he hurts for it.

His cunt is markedly warmer through just his boxers, but not nearly as slick as you are — barely at all, actually. Are you moving too fast for him? Isn’t he enjoying this enough? What else there is that you could do—

“Are you going to start moving?” He teases. “Or does simply holding someone’s cunt usually get you the desired outcome?”

“Smartass,” you mumble into his chest. “I was just… is there more I could… do for you? To enjoy yourself? You’re… I mean, you’re not…”

He giggles a little at how you stumble.

“Wet? It takes me a while — and often doesn’t happen at all,” Viktor admits. “You are doing wonderful. Don’t worry about a thing, and just…“ he lifts his hips into your hand, “keep touching me.”

“Okay,” you mutter.  “I just… I wanna take care of you.”

You brush your thumb up between where the lips of his cunt dip into a slit, brush up, up, until you find the bulge of his clit. His breath catches.

”O-oh… You— mh,” He pulls you closer, cheek to his chest, and bows his head to kiss your forehead. “You are. You are.”

His cunt molds around your fingers even through the fabric of his boxers, his little cock pulses in between your fingers like it has a mind of its own. You can feel him swelling. 

It’s featherlight, how you touch him at first, just barely stroking his cunt with the palm side of your fingers, before he leans into it more bodily, before he stops settling for receiving pleasure and starts taking it. You can’t have that — not yet, at least. You press against his cunt a hint harder, rub the seam of his boxers against the head of his cock, and, yeah, that does it.

Viktor mewls for you, a pitchy little catlike sound, when you lick his nipples back into your mouth — first the left, just three little suckles, then the right, tender sucking turning into open-mouthed devouring. He pulls you into his chest with all the force of a man spoiled rotten. His cock pulses in your hand with every stroke, the cotton of his boxers warm and clinging to him just enough to tantalizingly give away the rough size of him as he hardens. His worn body soaks up and softens with the pleasure you give him, Viktor clings to you like you’re the only thing.

You feel watched. 

And you are — more than just watched, actually.

“Mrp!” 

Next thing you know, there’s fluff worming itself between you and Viktor, wet little nose pushing at your face, pushing you away.

What—?

“Persichka!” Viktor chastises. You sit back on your knees to watch the scene unfold — the way she possessively nuzzles her head under his sharp chin and looks at you from just the corner of her vision to let you know it will always be her first and you second. As if to drive her point home, she purrs with a ribcage rattling rumble.

Viktor pushes himself back up against the armrest to sit, and scoops her up into his arms, before he shifts to the side of the couch to set her down on the floor gently. As he sits up straight, his sweater slides down the length of his torso — unfortunately covering him up wholly.

“Sorry,” he tells you. “She likes to be… paid attention to. Let me just…”

He absently pets between her ears while he takes his phone and opens youtube. And he doesn’t have to search far at all — his recommended page is filled with birdwatching videos for cats. 

As Viktor shifts his focus to picking out a video for her, you seize the moment for some appreciation. The world seems to have gone quiet and still only for you to watch the swoop of his hair down the sides of his forehead, the gentle shadows the setting sun throws not over just the hollows of his cheeks, but the deep lines in his skin — the ones near his mouth and eyes especially, because they’re borne of what he does best: smiling. His grey hair goes platinum white in the sunlight, something about his brown-yellow eyes turns liquid honey gold, his normally pale lips now raw and puffy because of you, and something about his form, in all its humanity, becomes bigger than itself. 

You marvel at him the way you’d marvel at a landscape — enamored with every detail of the grand vista, enamored with the traits that come with the autumn of his life.

He smiles a wry, sheepish smile.

“That will keep her busy. She hates being alone, but, like this, it will take her over an hour to notice.” 

At the first sound of birdsong, she’s already rushing to the TV, watching with perked ears and a twitching tail. 

You can’t help but smrik. Viktor catches it — catches you, staring, and can’t help one of his own, before he asks, voice bouncy with a suppressed little laugh. “What?”

“Nothing.” You shift a little closer, until you’re seamed to his side, and press a kiss to the corner of his lip. His smile grows, stretches towards your mouth like a plant towards sunlight. “You’re just… very pretty.”

At that, he actually grins — and laughs an amused little giggle so wonderful it sounds like the sweet song of a well-tuned violin. 

“Pretty?” He sets his hand at the base of your neck, just to the side, and slides it up gently, until it sits under your jaw just right. His thumb nudges at the tip of your chin in loving, tender circles.

“Yeah.” You swallow your fear of saying something stupid before you lean into the cradle of his palm, and bask in how well you fit in it. “Do you mind it? Being called that.”

He shakes his head.

“It’s just been… a while since I have been. But I like it — I like it very much.” With a soft exhale that washes down your lips, he tilts his head to kiss you proper. Slick tongue painting your lips with his spit like you’re a blank canvas, before he catches the swell of your lip in a suckle turned bite that makes your nerves light up. “However,” he shares your breath as he gasps it, “I am more than just pretty.”

“Oh, really?”

When Viktor talks again, he purrs so lovely it makes you shiver with how his voice rumbles. “I could show you.”

He doesn’t have to ask.

“I’d love that.”

“Accompany me to my bedroom?”

You’re on your feet before his voice lilts with flirtations questioning at the end of his sentence. It makes him laugh.

“Come on, then.”

The walk to his bedroom is torturous — long and painful even though you keep a hand glued to the small of his back, where his frame narrows before it tapers off into his hips. He guides you to a shut door down the hallway of his apartment. It opens with a creak, like the drumroll before a curtain rise.

His bedroom smells so much like him it’s driving you crazy.

A big, lavish rug is in the middle of the room, and various kinds of clothes hang over multiple available surfaces — a cardigan on the back of his desk chair, a big, brown arm chair in the corner is covered in multiple sweaters and a white shirt, and there is a vest laid out neatly on his bed. He folds it up fast, messy, and slots it away in some drawer, before he turns to you.

“I must admit I was not expecting.. company in my bedroom.” It’s endearing to see this more sheepish, tender side of him.

You crowd him further into his room, and he waltzes with it, even as you set your hands on the already open waist of his slacks.

“A bit of a mess is the last thing I could care about when I have you right in front of me,” you assure.

“I should hope so,” Viktor replies. “Or else we’ll have sex in a few hours at best. Tomorrow, if you’d prefer the rug vacuumed and the floors freshly mopped—“ His calves bump the edge of the bed, and he gives a soft little sigh of surprise.

The flaps of his open slacks serve as perfect handles for you to tug him closer and hold him still, dipping your head to trace the front of his throat, right up the very middle, with the tip of your tongue, until you reach that soft, vulnerable spot right under his chin.

“I’d prefer you on that bed.” You whisper into the space where a killing bite could very well be laid — into the soft lax skin just under his extended jaw.

His chuckle comes out something between a dark and a dreamy sigh — dripping with desire. Viktor fists your shirt, and draws you closer, never a step behind.

”You’ll have me,” he purrs. “You’ll have me everywhere you want. In any way—” his breath catches as something inhibiting in your brain flips, and you do bite, his windpipe between your jaws. When he speaks, his throat vibrates against your teeth, his voice reverberates in the depths of your skull. “Hah. Mh, God. I-in any way you’d want.”

You let go, and he practically sags with it.

“Then lay down, Viktor.” A kiss to where air wheezes into his lungs, a promise at gentleness. “I wanna take care of you.”

He drops his cane and shucks off his pants for you. Holds on to you as you steady him on his way down, expects you with open arms, open thighs.

You don’t want to join him just yet.

Instead, you kneel, just the way you’d fantasized for so long now, thick carpet under worshipping knees. 

Watching more and more of his skin come into view as you slide his sweater up his body is as magical as watching a majestic sunrise. Viktor leans into it, raises his arms once you get high enough, and slips out of it once it’s over his head.

Just like that, he’s all yours to marvel at.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” His ribcage expands under your palms with a delighted breath, sharp angles of his bones pushing gently at soft, alabaster skin. As sculpted as his face is, his body is anything but — angular from afar, yes, but giving and pliant under just the right touches, in just the right places. There is just a hint of tummy, of padding on his hips, that must have come with age, with comfort, spilling above his boxers. His tits sit pretty and near-flat on his chest — they could easily slip past even watchful eyes under thick enough clothing, and they had, because you’d never noticed them. But familiar scars at the side of his chest, closer to his armpits, tell you that must have not always been the case. Viktor leans back as if to let you take him in properly, in all his finely aged glory, like a rare wine. 

And you need to know his flavor, now, or it feels like you might start biting at anything, everything, like a rabid fucking dog. Like your brain’s on fire with desire and your neurons can’t fire off under the influence of anything but want, want, want.

You lean in to nuzzle the middle of his chest, tracing down the dip of his sternum with the tip of your nose to learn his scent — his real scent, the way his skin smells, unmodified, natural, true. Intoxicating. Musky. Human. Animalic.

You open your mouth for a taste, and by some miracle (or was it a subconscious intention?) you end up at his nipples again. Melting into him, wrapping both arms around his waist and drowning in his heat, his legs, around you, pulling you into the lulling scent of him like a pillow does to the exhausted. 

His nipple fits so well in your mouth.

Letting it happen — letting your head spin with the smell of him lodged deep into what feels like the front of your brain, letting the lovechild of desire and contentment take you — comes as easily as falling asleep. Your thoughts melt away with the first suckle at his tit, and they melt further still as you continue. 

Viktor envelops you, an embrace of pure comfort, resting his face on the top of your head and inhaling your scent while you work his chest with loving lips. At first, you have the brainpower to be tactful. To trace and flick your tongue at the pink peaks, to mold your lips to the soft, fragile skin. It doesn’t last long — especially not when Viktor sings your praises. 

“So good,” he praises you with a hushed whine, “oh, so good for me. How I’ve missed—”

His voice gets stuck somewhere in his throat when you glance up at him curiously, halted in your pursuit of pleasure in favor of knowledge.

“Missed what, Viktor?”

He pauses, uncertain.

“Someone touching me,” he confesses. He cups his hand over his left breast. Squeezes. Some of the flesh and skin spills tantalizingly between his thin fingers. “Especially here.”

“I can’t believe it,” and it’s true — you can’t. How could anyone resist the soft, senescent allure of his chest, the soft skin, the puffy pink nipples, pliant proof of what he once was, of the fact that he’s aged, lived, seen. “I meant it,” you kiss over the knuckles of his hand laid on his chest, “when I told you you’re gorgeous. You are, Viktor; everywhere. But I am very partial to your chest.”

He laughs at that — something tiny and fragile and disbelieving, but a laugh no less.

”Then, please,” he cradles your head closer to his tits. “Don’t stop touching me.”

Your tongue brushes his nipple like it were cotton candy, as though it would melt from the warmth, the spit. It’s only with a small suckle that you guide it back into your mouth, and you stay gentle with his tits — simply making out with wherever your lips reach — until he has half the mind to stop arching into you and demand more with a tug at your hair.

The temptation to tease, to make him beg for it, is not a small one. But you figure there will be better things to have him pleading for — right now, you want to indulge in the taste of him just as luch as he wants to indulge in having you mouthing at his breasts.

It’s intrinsically infuriating, that you can’t have both of them at once. It’s a difficult, terrible game, to decide which one of the puffy, pretty things goes into your mouth, and which one you twirl and tug between your fingers. It’s clearly difficult for Viktor, too, he arches his chest into your mouth every time you switch from one engorged, pink nipple to the other.

It’s a tempting reminder that there is more to him yet to indulge in when his hips start brushing against you. And it’s a confirmation he wants it when his legs spread for you in pleading invitation on the next brush of your tongue to the pink of his nipple.

You kiss his tits goodbye — for now, at least — before you work your way further down with the same reverence of hellos and goodbyes to every new inch of skin. To the hairs on his stomach, to the the way they grow coarser under his navel, to the waistband of his boxers. To the fabric nestled between his thighs, where you nose like a dog at the scent, the pliant meat of his pubic mound, and you whimper for it. For him.

“Lay back,” you gasp. “Please.”

Viktor doesn’t hesitate. Not even for just a moment.

He extends backwards onto the bed with all the grace of a ballet dancer, all long limbs and an elongated, arched spine that crackles with the tension of his hedonistic stretch.

And with the new angle, his hips tilt, and you’re granted what you’d been aching for. The plush of his cunt presses to your lips, chubby cock nudging at your cupid’s bow in a kiss broken by cotton. 

He smells so fucking good. It makes your head all woozy, like you’re starved enough to be dizzy for it. Your brain goes numb with just the musky, salty waft of his cunt, you open your mouth like you could devour him then and there, underwear be damned. And who could blame you for stifling a moan into the meat of his cunt when you have the first, stifled but heavenly taste of him? Who could blame you for licking and kissing at him through the fabric like you could sand it off with just your tongue and get where you want to be through desperation alone, who could blame you for hinging your jaw open wide so you can have as much of his pussy in your mouth as your limited, wretched anatomy allows?

“Please,” you suckle at the outline of his cock and care so very fucking little for the mouthful of lint you’ve gathered by now, because somewhere among the synthetic fibre that crowds your tongue, is Viktor, and nothing else matters. 

“Easy,” Viktor coos at you, thumbing at your cheek, “I’ll— ah. You have me.” He fists his waistband with his other hand, starts pulling at it. “Let me give you what you want.”

“What I need,” you correct, nuzzling at the by now soaked fabric. He must not realize how dead serious you are, because it makes him giggle.

“Come here,” he demands, and you do, you always do, you always will. You stumble up his body to his mouth drunkenly, and almost growl with frustration at being caught, being denied, just a breath’s width away from him, chin in his hand. Viktor’s thumb is on your lips, presses into them like your mouth’s a ripe plum. “Open.”

It pops into your mouth, and you’re about to start suckling, until he presses at your bottom teeth, forcing your jaw open. A moment later, his thumb swipes down the thick of your tongue, gathering the lint in your mouth with a tut.

“So desperate… couldn’t even wait for my underwear to come off, could you? Made such a mess of yourself…” he half-chastises, half-coos, like he’s talking to an animal that can’t understand its predicament, before his finger is gone and you hear him wipe it on the sheets. You don’t know why it makes you shiver, why it makes you tuck your face into his neck in blissed out, stupid shame. But Viktor pets the back of your neck like he gets it, even when you whimper and bite at him. “There we are.”

You feel his hand move, his hips shift, and though the logical, smart thing would be to help him get rid of his boxers, all you can really do is watch as his underwear slides off his hips first, then peels off his damp cunt — damp with your drool.

“Fuck, Viktor,” you whine, dropping your forehead to his shoulder because just the mere sight of his pussy, dusty pink and thick, chubby little cock, twitching for you, overwhelms you. “Can… I wanna… fuck. Oh, fuck. Jesus Christ.” 

He giggles softly against the shell of your ear.

“What’s wrong?” 

It could qualify as a rhetorical question. He knows that damn fucking well.

 “Your cunt’s so pretty it, it… makes me… stupid.”

He kisses you. Short and sweet on the lips, licking at the space between as if to sample the way desperation tastes in your mouth.

“Then I am quite worried for one of the brightest minds in our field.”

Smug fuckin’ bastard—

“O-oh,” you gasp lewdly enough that it would sound, to anyone else, like you’re the one getting touched. Like you’re wounded. But all he’s done is envelop your hand in his, and cup it over where his sex is swollen and aching for you. 

You can’t move — you can’t think.

Viktor grins like the cat that got the cream, while he tilts his hips into your palm generously, languidly, as encouragement. You savor the texture, skin downy with body hair, lips so soft and engorged they’re jiggly. His cock, the cock you’d dreamed about, humped your hand about, agonized for even thinking about — sits against the heel of your palm.

It’s better than a dream. It’s better than any fantasy — to have him. In your palm. Scorching hot and hard and twitching, he’s in your hand— 

“Breathe,” Viktor reminds. He squirms below you with the novelty of being touched, and the shiver that rolls down his back ends with a hard, stomach-clenching twitch of his little cock. When he speaks again, his voice leaves him breathily, shakily. “What… did you want to do, hm?”

“Anything,” you blurt, which is a far cry from the concise answer he deserves. “Anything you want me to.”

“Anything? Is that so?”

“Yes. Please.”

Viktor’s guiding hand presses into your own, and starts guiding it over his damp folds in languid circles. His hips follow, in tune with the rhythm he sets like a slow, tender dance. You can feel his foreskin dragging on your palm, the tip of his cock in the groove of your hand, grinding in, out, slowly, the way it pulses with pleasure.

“I could show you how I like it,” he lilts, dragging the tip of his canine over the shell of your ear before he licks. “Hands, mouth, whatever you’ll let me have.”

“My mouth,” you blurt, “or hands. I don’t care, either, both, all that’s left after that too. Show me.”

He laughs at your enthusiasm — not with mockery, but with amused, tender delight.

“God, you are just…” His hand comes up to pet the hair at the back of your head like you’re an obedient dog. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Just what?” 

His grin is naked with vulnerability, with exhilirated desire.

“Everything.” He says it like it’s meant to be taken lightly, but the way he looks at you — ready to eat, to pounce, to kiss — tells you otherwise. “I’ll show you,” he breathes. “Let me.”

You’d be crazy not to.

Callused skin slides down the back of your neck, until the meat of your shoulder rests under his hand. Viktor barely has to give the faintest push before you’re following the impulse to descend. 

You’d like to linger at his chest again — his nipples are puffy and swollen from your sucking, warm under the tip of your nose. A flinch shakes him just from that faint contact. But you have other places to be, to taste, to love.

His stomach caves at the first kiss you lay below where his ribs end, at first going against, then, once you pass the dip of his navel, with the grain of his hair. It grows thicker under your nose and lips, fuller, until, until.

Until his cock bumps against the fullness of your bottom lip. Until you can smell him, his cunt’s unique fragrance enveloping your brain like dizzying smoke. Like a drug.

“Open,” Viktor says again, but it’s less of a demand this time. You do, parting your mouth with a wet, slick sound. You can already feel your tongue swimming in your own spit. 

His hips tilt, just barely enough to slot his cock between your lips, and your brain cushions it into a soft, sloppy kiss like it’s a reflex, like you were meant to spend your days with your mouth between his legs, worshipping at his glossy pussy.

He tastes so good. Rare-steak-soft as it splits on your tongue, tangy with the sweet, slowly dripping evidence of how badly he wants you, cock twitching in your mouth like it’s pressing on your tongue for more. 

And how can you be blamed, for wanting to cannibalize him then and there, to see just how much of the soft, tender meat of his cunt fits in your starving mouth? How he’d sob with it, live prey devoured, fluttering butterfly pinned to cork—

“A-ah, hah, s-slow, slow,” he gasps, knees drawing up to his chest and close to your head, like he’s trying to hide his pussy from your overwhelming affection. “Go… gently on me. It’s been some time since I’ve had anyone.” Viktor’s voice fades in the closest color of shame you’ve yet seen on him. 

It hits you somewhere tender that you’re the first one he’s doing this with in a while. 

“Sorry,” you kiss his cunt better like it’s a dripping scrape wound. “Sorry. You… fuck, you’re so… and I’ve wanted to… for so long.”

“Mm. I know. Me too,” Viktor pets your hair. Slowly, his legs fall apart, and even more eagerly so when you stroke them into it. “It’s alright.”

You listen. Though everything about his cunt, from jiggling softness to little cock hanging above your lips like a dark red cherry off a low branch, to ripe peach fuzzy soft lips, compels you to act otherwise; you want to be good. For him.

You lick his cunt gently at first, barely lapping at it like you’re trying to drink him, before it turns into something more languid, more bold — like a cat grooming its beloved. You leave his sex soaked with your spit, you leave him dripping, you leave him loved.

“Yes,” he whispers, grinding his cock along the width of your tongue, ”that’s, ah, better.” Gentle fingertips at your forehead, swiping at the dewy pearls of sweat before they come to rest around your hollowed cheeks. “Handsome, sweet boy… you have no idea how often, how much, I’ve pictured you like this.”

Viktor laughs a little, more from his chest than his belly, though it tenses a little with his laugh just the same. 

His cunt jerks, hole clenching around nothing, please don’t stop, as you retreat from between his legs just enough to talk to him. 

“You did?” 

He smiles as though it pleases him more than his mouth on you to hear you ask.

“When I used my wheelchair the previous week,” he begins. “I… the truth is, it wasn’t my leg acting up. I’d pulled a muscle in my thigh the night before. And I’m…” he chuckles,” well, I’m sure you can imagine how.”

You’ve done nothing but imagine. And even now, your mind flashes with the most salacious images — him on his back, arching off the mattress, him tucking his hand between his legs and against the mattress, grinding into it, him pulling and jerking at his swollen clit desperately—

No. No, you need to know.

“I can.” You lean your cheek into the plush of his thigh, and kiss at the top of his mound, where his stomach meets his cunt. “But I’ve done enough imagining until now — especially of you. Tell me?”

Viktor tilts his head back, covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow, and gives something between a laugh and a hum. His grin’s so boyish it’s making your synapses fizzle out, fizzle quiet. Long neck, sharp teeth, sharp tongue, and he’s yours, all yours. 

His cock flutters a little right below your chin, like the mere recalling of the memory is… affecting him.

“I, eh… I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About you between my thighs, pulling on my hair, after… the incident with the goggles. When I got home, I…” His voice trails off, he buries his face further into the crook of his elbow.

You kiss his cock in encouragement — his entire pelvis jolts against your lips with delighted surprise. But you’ve learned the art of negotiating with Viktor by now — give him a little. Never enough.

“You what, Viktor?” Your breath washes cold down his damp clit.

He hesitates — but can’t resist you for long. It boosts your ego something fierce.

“I… I humped my hand, then… a pillow. At a certain point, I got… too desperate, too greedy, too sloppy, I…” He laughs — at himself, at the nature of his confession.

You walk your fingers up his sides as though your hands are climbing his ribs like a ladder, and once you settle on his chest and knead, it finally, finally coaxes him out of hiding.

You wish you could tell him he won’t have to worry about a too-soft pillow and rough fabric ever again — not when he has your mouth, your hands, you, all for himself. All at his disposal.

Viktor’s throat bobs, he swallows with an audible, parched click, as you lower yourself back between his legs, back where you belong, and you whisper: “I’ll take care of you, from now on.”

Viktor’s lukewarm fingers intertwine with yours, lacing hands before he squeezes as if to say I trust you and me too.

It comes naturally to return it, it comes even more naturally to smile as he grins at it, and nothing, nothing comes more naturally than savoring the way his smile melts and turns into a lax, open mouthed expression of pleasure.

You nudge into his cunt the same way animals nudge into each-other for warmth and comfort, you lick a fat, greedy stripe through the by now dripping slit, all the way to under his clit.

“Inside,” Viktor mutters. “I’d like you to fuck me. With, with your tongue.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. His lips part willingly under your fingers prying at them, and his pink, slick hole awaits with a desperate little clench.

“Slow,” Viktor reminds.

“Okay. Anything you need,” you coo. “I’ve got you.”

And you lick him where he’s wettest.

He arches with the slow, slick intrusion of your tongue. You can see why it’d hurt him to rush, with how tight his rim grips the very tip, especially without something to smoothen the glide. But your prodding tongue, spit drenched and molding to the clenching walls of his cunt, is what he needs. It feels vital to linger at the entrance; not just because his folds hug your tongue into a loose, messy kiss, but because you want it to be good for him. You suckle, you lick, you kiss, until you feel his cunt clenching to draw you in, rather than resisting. 

And that, as Viktor seems to drown under the onslaught of pleasure, is when you push in.

Once you make it past the tight ring of muscles, and hinge your jaw open to enable more length to push into him, Viktor starts gripping your hand, fisting the sheets. One of his legs even kicks out like he’s struggling against the pleasure. You cup his thigh, and guide it to sit pretty, sit comfortably, on your shoulder.

You’ve got him.

He tastes amazing. The faint aroma oozing from his cunt now delights your tastebuds tenfold, intoxicating in a deliberately slow, overwhelming way, like dark wine. Making your brain feel like a small bathroom after a hot shower, all foggy and humid and dumb and slippery.

“F-feels good,” he grits out, tummy tight with tension even though you attempt to stroke it into loosening. The rest of your hand lingers on his abdomen, but you let it slide further down, gently, until just your thumb can reach his clit, which sits neglected and twitching, against the tip of your nose. 

Leaning both your head and your jaw into it, you lick into him, devouring, claiming.

And you work him fuckin’ good. You grab his gaunt, little pelvis with both hands, and you take care of him, you make sure he doesn’t have to do the damndest thing, you just rock him onto your tongue, crush his clit with your nose. You fuck him with your tongue in the most proper sense of the word. If it weren’t a soft, slick little thing, you’d be plowing his willing hole by now.

“A-a-hng…” Viktor gasps in time with the thrusts of your tongue. “S-such… a good mouth. Oh.”

You can’t help the words that come to mind, and you wish you could somehow continue pleasuring him with your mouth and talk at the same time, but alas, you have to leave the job to your fingers. It feels like less of a crime when his cock slots so prettily between your index and your middle finger, dragging on the webbing with each stroke.

“Luckily for you, I take very kindly to flattery.”

He catches the little reference; it’s obvious in how he licks his parched lips, then grins.

“Quiet down and put it back to use, then.”

God, you’ve missed that sting, that mischievous playfulness in his tone. It makes you drip and clench around nothing desperately.

You’re not about to disobey.

“Fingers,” he decides when you prod at his hole with your tongue. “I can take your fingers. I want, ah, I want you to suck m-my cock.”

“So demanding, professor.”

It makes him falter; being called that. You’re not sure in what way it affects him, not with how he chokes on a breath and holds it. 

And it positively escapes him with a throaty, decadent moan that seems to rattle the very walls of the room the second you latch on to his clit. 

The soft, slick warmth of him soothes, stretching from the curve of your cupid’s bow to the tip of your chin, and his cock fits between your lips just so, practically made for it. You can’t help but close your eyes to indulge as though you’re savoring a delicacy, sucking on him until his tip pops from the foreskin. His clit lays on your tongue with the heft of a small berry, or the very tip of a small finger.

And it jumps. With the overwhelming pleasure of being known, prodded at, licked.

He’s so hard it must be painful. 

His cunt puts up little resistance once your index is past the entrance, and even less of it when you massage at his inner walls. They squeeze you, gripping just the width of one finger so tight it feels as though his pussy wants to swallow your fingers in the pursuit of pleasure.

“W-wait,” he warbles from above you. You cock your head to watch him, long thin and milky white arm stretching to the drawer of his night stand. There, he retrieves a small, transparent plastic bottle, and holds it out to you. “Use it.”

Gladly.

You pull your finger out just enough to make sure his cunt still barely kisses the tip, before you drip a generous amount onto your finger.

With it, you practically glide into him. 

“More.” Viktor twines his arms above his head like the branches of a barren tree, arches his ribs with the sensation. His pussy convusles around the length of your finger, begging the same plea as him, but in a different tongue. “More, I can take it.”

“I know you can,” you assure, and on the next pullout, join your index and middle finger together. 

His cunt gulps them eagerly, with a greedy shudder of it in its entirety: from cherry red, neglected clit, fat lips, to the depth of his hole. All of it gushes as it contracts around you, as if to thank you. 

“O-oh, perfect,” he gasps, in time with the thrusts of your hand. Your palm meets his chubby, jiggly lips with sticky little plap-plap-plaps. “Ta— hh, taking… care of me so well.”

“Yeah, you needed it, didn’t you?” You coo. “Needed someone to remind you of what it feels like, to be touched, kissed, sucked. Pleasured. I know, oh, I know.”

Viktor nods frantically, his brows knit like he means it solemnly. The way he receives pleasure so desperately, so willingly, makes you wonder.

“How long?” You ask, taken with both curiosity and jealousy. “Since someone’s taken care of you like this?”

He swallows, and peeks at you from beneath thick, wet lashes — god, he’s tearing up with pleasure. Then, he flinches with it, when you descend back down to his ruddy little cock with a pitiful kiss.

“I— don’t know,” he mutters. “I don’t know.”

“You know so much.” You flick his tip with your tongue, and he, brilliant, sharp-tongued, mean Viktor, the Viktor, squeaks. “Sweet, bright Viktor. I’m sure you know this, too. Think.”

“Mm—!” He shakes his head when you deliberately kiss above his clit, when you shove your fingers into his willing cunt so thoroughly it feels less like fucking him and more like stabbing him. Stabbing him in a wound that lights up hedonistically. His cunt takes it, delights in it — a wound that’s never meant to close. “A-ah, nn, fuck.”

He arches his pelvis to your mouth, a plea you ignore.

“Tell me.”

“N-no one. Never. N-no one’s ever—!” He hisses when you flick his cock in reward. “Ah, are… are you satisfied?”

You wonder how much of it is just him playing into it for your sake, and how much of it is the truth. But when you lap up his cock into your wet mouth the way you would the tip of a half-melted popsicle on a hot day, you understand that he hadn’t lied — not one bit.

Viktor crumbles, curling in on himself like a defenseless young animal, thighs around your neck, fingers in your hair, torn between throwing himself into the pleasure or escaping it, and he sobs.

“Yeah,” you grind the word into his cock like a pestle into a mortar, letting it reverberate into his flesh. When you pull away, string stretching between his aching cock and your bottom lip, Viktor looks like he might go insane. Eyes glazed, dazed, crazed, staring you down like he’s starving, like you’re just a vision in a dream. “Very.”

“Then ss-stop teasing me,” he grits out. “Please.”

You can’t deny a man who asks so pretty. You don’t have the heart to.

You dip back into his dewy folds with a lick so small and gentle it could pass for a kitten’s, before you sink into him proper. Nestling your face between his legs and licking at him while you rock your fingers back and forth. Steady, gentle, comforting, you know he’s going to find release in the familiar.

If you could, you’d start kneading him and purring like a satisfied, delighted cat. Something about his taste, his smell, has gone from frenzying to comforting, you feel as though you’d like to bury yourself in the depths of his warm cunt and stay there.

It goes on for what feels like both hours and seconds all at once; you get lost in the slick, smooth texture on his tongue like the inside of a plum, the savory taste of him.

“I can take more,” Viktor rasps, “I want it, mmh, rougher.”

“Rougher how?” You’re surprised at the sound of your own voice, all raspy and desperate. 

“Like the first time you got your mouth on me. I want to feel… devoured.”

“I’ve got you.”

You sink deeper into him, until you can wind the entire length of your arm around his pelvis, trapping him.

“Oh,” he gasps at just the prospect of being pinned.

And he screams at being ravaged.

His legs kick out as though he’s in pain when you hinge your jaw so wide you could swallow his pussy whole, but the way he arches into your tongue, the way he puts both hands on the back of your head and shoves until you end up with your teeth in the meat above his clit tells you he’s getting exactly what he wants.

You cushion the sting of your teeth with your lip, but maim him no less as you suck everything your mouth had engulfed, including his hard, hot cock.

Viktor’s nails scratch at your scalp while he’s being well and truly eaten, while you speed the gentle, boat-like rocking of your fingers to an unforgiving pistoning. 

And he takes it all so well. His pelvis sits dead-prey-still in your embrace, his cunt swallows the brutal length of your fingers as though it was made for it. Made to mold to you.

His cock bounces on your tongue with a twitch that runs up his spine and spreads through his body with bone-snapping tension.

Viktor’s fingers leave your hair, but they find your hands, perched atop his hips, and he fists them with all the unbridled feral fury of a wild animal caught.

“Close,” he grits out through the spaces between his teeth, far beyond unclenching them (or his cunt, for that matter) to speak. Something in his eyes is both dewy with vulnerability and clouded with vicious want. “M’ s-so, nnh, close.”

You wish you could have a better view of his face — you’re denied it when his chin tilts up towards the ceiling in a silent prayer, the calm before the storm. You picture it in your mind’s eye, the pinch of his brows, the bobbing in his throat, his lips parted in expectation of an oncoming moan.

Come on, you goad as you double your efforts, and you rub his clit with the thick of your tongue, curling your fingers to work the front of his walls, the spot that lies somewhere on the back of his bellybutton. He’s so slick it clings to your chin, fat cunt so hot it drives you insane like a ravenous hound with still warm flesh between its jaws.

You cannibalize his sex with how you push into him, how you suck on his cock as though it could reward you with anything other than spasms against your tongue. His hole flutters around your fingers before it squeezes so hard you fear for your circulation. Viktor curls up like he can’t, he tucks his chin into his chest and holds a breath, crushes your hand, and whines vulnerable and high like it hurts.

“A-ah, I’m—!”

Viktor’s body crackles like lightning. All the tension in him snaps with the grace, the vehemence, of natural phenomena, like something inevitable. His cunt gushes, and you know his twitching cock, were it capable, would be painting your willing tongue in white streaks by now. He cries something in a warbled, pained voice, and you grip him through the sobs that wreck him. His moans are hard to hear when they’re so terribly muffled by the meat of his thighs pressing to your ears, you’re stuck hearing your own breath, the sounds of your mouth as you nurse on his clit through his orgasm.

And then he starts melting on your tongue like hard candy. A slow, deliberate process, you delight in the convulsing of his cunt, the way his cock jumps against your lips with the overstimulation.

“Shh,” you whisper it more to his clenching pussy than to him, though he writhes like a bug turned wrong side up with the brush of fresh, cold air. “So good, Viktor. I’d like to keep going for a little while, is that alright?”

He sighs, overwhelmed and soaked with tears. But, a wet sniffle later, he nods.

You figure you won’t deprive him early — you keep your fingers inside him as you return to his red, sensitive clit with a gentle kiss. One that has him crying and flinching; away, legs clenching together. And you can’t have that.

Regretfully, you pull out to wrap your other arm around his pelvis as well, to immobilize him properly. The hand that’s holding his rubs at his knuckles gently, and the other one, still slick, comes to rest atop his pubic mound.

You tug at the place where his lips split and his cock emerges to slide his clit from the protection of its foreskin, for you to lap and suckle at. 

He sobs and cries like a baby bird removed from the safety of its nest, and though the muscles of his thighs tremble and clench with the effort, he never shuts them.

It’s endearing, how soft he is in the wake of his orgasm, how soaked, all over. His sweaty skin glistens like dewy leaves in the morning sun, and where the sweat hasn’t reached him, his tears do the job. His sobs sync to the hollowing of your cheeks — with every soft suckle, he exhales on a moan, and inhales quivering and wet during the brief reprieve.

You lap at his cunt the way you drag the edge of a teaspoon over the remnants of dessert on a plate, hungry for any crumb. Though it doesn’t come easily to him, Viktor is so willing. He fights every flinch of his protesting body, just for you to have what you want. He sits through your soft little laps at his raw, weeping cunt; dutifully at first, then eventually melts into the ebbing pleasure-pain once his body begins to recover.

From a clenched fist, his hand in your hair turns to petting, like an obedient animal with a job well done.

“Enough. Come here,” he rasps after another minute, raw voice oiled with the laxness of relaxing vocal chords.

Everything about him is soft — you notice it on your way up. He lays on the mattress limply, so much so that even his bones look pliant, and once you’ve reached your destination, he barely manages to crack his eyes open to look at you.

As small as the space between his lids is, as powdery pink as the skin is near his lashes from crying, you’d have to be blind to miss how they overflow with adoration.

He slides both his hands to the cusp of your jaw. His smile is dreamy.

“Kiss me,” he whispers.

It’s just a grazing of the lips, a mingling of breath, as if the mere notion of him had become unfamiliar over the course of however long you’d spent between his legs.

Before Viktor licks into your mouth with a delirious little hum.

You let him sample his own taste to his heart’s content, holding your breath for him when he smooths his tongue to yours.

When he pulls away, if’s clinging to his lips in a shiny, transparent string. 

“Look at what you made of me,” he says, and though you know it’s a rhetorical statement, you comply. “I’m… ruined.”

His chest rises and falls so thoroughly his ribs poke through, he’s glistening with sweat or cum or even both all over, and… and he smells so good. You can feel it in the crook of his neck, natural scent macerated in the nooks and crannies of his body, all potent and delirious.

His thumbs rub below your cheekbones on both sides, and you feel like a cat being caressed.

“You look amazing,” you say.

“I feel amazing.” He kisses your forehead, and pauses. Drinks in the moment, nuzzling against the top of your head, and simply basks in it like a cat in sunlight.

You follow his lead.

Outside, a lonely street lamp flickers not too far away into the cold, early December night. Inside, against Viktor’s chest, in his arms, everything falls together like puzzle pieces. All is right in the world — all is right within. Every single shameful thought about him that you’d had sheds its bitter aftertaste and leaves your tongue laden sweet and heady like liquorous wine. 

He wants you, too.

“And I meant what I said, you know.” His voice rumbles against your ear, his breastbone vibrates with it. “That I haven’t felt like this… in a long time.” Viktor half sighs, half laughs at his confession. 

Still dazed from his orgasm, he reels you up, more hungrily this time. He pushes into your mouth like he wants to drink you up, shifting against the mattress so he can lean into the kiss, into you.

In the process, his thigh presses up between your legs, and you can’t help the spark that runs up your spine and explodes into something warm and thick like honey in your brainstem. You can’t help clenching around his thigh and grinding into it — like the dog you still are.

“O-oh, fuck… s-sorry. Sorry.”

He tuts, like your need, untended to, just won’t do.

“Oh, sweet thing,” he coos, palming between your legs. Even just that, the barest hint of a touch, is enough to have you falling apart, hiding your face in his neck, as you moan for it. He kneads you, over the shamefully glossy layer of your underwear. “I‘ve neglected you, haven’t I?”

“You haven’t.” Your voice is uncharacteristically meek, but it only makes Viktor clutch you tighter. “I don’t mind. I could die happily after… all that just happened.”

It earns a lovely little smirk from him.

“Well, I couldn’t. Not just yet. Lay back for me.” He leans in close, practically purring, “I’ll give you what you need. I’ll make it good for you.”

You practically crash into the mattress like a bird shot down from flight, and turn to lay on your back under Viktor’s guiding hand on your waist. The sheets rustle with how he slowly shuffles closer, twining his leg — his right leg, with the one of yours that’s closest to him, and uses it to pry you open. The rest of him settles against your side.

His fingertips slide down your stomach, under the waist of your underwear, and he nuzzles his nose into yours like two enamored cats. “May I?”

How could you object to finally having his hand exactly where you’ve wanted — ached — for it?

“Please, Viktor.”

You build up an inhale in the depths of your lungs, and have it positively punched out of you when his hand slides lower, slides home.

At last.

“Oh…” You sigh, arching into his palm like he’s feeding you.

“The mess you’ve made,” he whispers, parting your soaked underwear from the outline of your cunt. It clings to you as he does, and most likely clings to his knuckles as his warm, rough palm cups you where it hurts. 

“F-fuck… sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Never be sorry — not for this.”

His fingers dip to where you’re leaking like a broken faucet, smearing himself in the slick, before he slides back up to your needy clit.

It’s so good to be touched you can’t help but fist his gaunt shoulder and gasp. But you sit still for him, letting the pleasure happen to you, drinking it up like you’re parched for it.

He’s not a hands-on scientist for nothing — with all the practiced finesse of a clockmaker, Viktor takes your cock between his thumb and his index, and tugs. Away at first, as though he were trying to draw the pleasure out of you, before his fingers descend to where your clit emerges from your cunt, and your foreskin slides back with the movement. It leaves you terrifyingly open, vulnerable.

The next stroke of his fingers over your bared clit has you reeling.

“Viktor,” you cry, pawing up his back to the back of his neck, where his scruff starts, where your hand finds purchase. He pinches your cock just so, and, “o-oh, god.”

His nose nudges at your chin, before he licks, all the way from your jaw to the corner of your mouth, as though he were a cat grooming you. To catch him in the kiss he so clearly wants, you tilt your head for him, you welcome him with a desperate whine. He swallows it like it’s sustenance, swallows everything that comes after that too, once he twists your cock between his fingers gently, on just the right edge between pleasure and pain, and it shuts the lights in your brain clean off—

He can’t swallow your next moan.

So he simply lets them pour from your lungs as he rolls your tender, neglected little cock between two talented, loving fingers, so much so it sets you entire stomach alight.

“H-how did, aah, fuck—“ You can’t muster a coherent sentence with his hand on your cock, with how he makes your entire body sing as he plucks at just one string of your whole being, playing you like a familiar instrument. But, softened by how you writhe for him, Viktor grants reprieve, switching to softly jerking your convulsing clit at just the root. You can feel yourself pulsing in his hand, you can feel every ridge of his thumbprint gliding up, down, up, down, fuck.

“How are y-you… so… so good at this?”

“Practice.” He grins. “And fine-tuned motor skills most certainly contribute.”

He dips in to kiss you again, ravenous, and twirls your cock again in that delightful, delirious way that shoots straight up your spine. 

“My god,” he pauses as if to admire you, talk to you like a sweet pet, while he continues to work you. “Do you know how hard it was, staying professional all this time? Keeping my wits about myself, teaching my lectures properly when you were there watching me like some— some hungry hawk…“

“Vikt—“

He shushes your desperate cry, watching with a smug little smile the way you fall apart on his fingers. It feels as though your clit is an unstable hex gem, spinning in an accelerator, crackling and sparking with every stroke of his daft, precise fingers. He touches your cock like it’s long and thick, puts his wrist into how he jerks you off proper. It’s less gentle, and more like he wants to milk the orgasm out of your twitching, hot cock, like he’s demanding it.

And, much like your mind, your body bends to his will just as eagerly.

His next downward stroke sets your nerves alight.

“I’m…” your cunt squeezes around nothing, gushing, leaking, but your cock jumps into his hold desperately. 

“I know,” Viktor assures. “I know. So quick and desperate, aren’t you?”

“Can’t… ’m s-sorry…”

“Oh, don’t worry, I want you to,” he whispers it into your cheek like it’s a secret. Grinds his nose into your face like an enamored cat before he kisses you with all the tenderness and innocence of someone who isn’t tugging your clit into an embarrassingly fast orgasm. “It makes me… dizzy, to know you are so eager for me that you fall apart under nothing but a few twists of my fingers… So easy…”

The last word reverberates in your mind, the way his tone toes the edge of derogation. 

“Come on,” he goads, and pinches your clit between his index and thumb. Instead of jerking it the way he did before, he simply rubs it between his fingers like it’s a coin, pocket change, nothing significant — but the way he watches you like you’re the climax of a good movie says otherwise. His thumbprint catches on your hood, pulling it back just the right amount to reveal all of you that’s sensitive, prey to him. 

It walks the knife edge of too painful, how he squeezes your wet clit it to the very root, before he gives one last, synapse-wrecking tug, and—

You scream draws all the air from your lungs, akin to drowning, and so do the rest of your senses, as you cum into his hand. He stops assaulting your clit, simply cradling the swell of your needy, sloppy cunt as he lets you ride out your orgasm, as he matches the erratic thrusts of your hips.

You let yourself succumb to it, let the death-like vehemence of it take you, and go ragdoll soft while being tended to lovingly. You put yourself in his hands because you trust them, because they treat you so well.

When you open your eyes again, he watches you with all the unadulterated wonder of a scientist.

All-consuming.

“So wonderful,” he tells you, kissing your cheek, “coming apart for me so willingly. Better than anything I’d imagined.”

He pets your pussy even as you come down from the high, sweaty and breathing and alive as though reborn. It makes you clench your thighs around his hand, how every touch burns now.

“Viktor,” you gasp with a loose tongue and looser lips, as though you’ve just awoken and your muscles don’t want to quite listen to you yet. 

“I’m right here,” he coos it like you’re scared, and though you’re not, the affirmation runs down your spine with goosebumps in its wake. He kisses your forehead with a tenderness unmatched. “I have you. I have you.”

You cling to him like none of those things are true, despite better judgment, and he preens under it.

He has you. And you have him.

The both of you sit with the blissful realization, listening to your breaths, to the clock on his wall, to the sound of his lips when he kisses down your face, before he tucks your head under his chin.

You could stay like this forever. Letting your legs slowly fall back apart as he plays with your pussy with much the same motivation you’d eaten him out well past his orgasm — to indulge himself, rather than you, to laze and revel in the afterglow.

Time slows in its course honey thick — you don’t know how much time passes until he speaks.

“I never thought…” Viktor sighs when his voice goes wobbly. “That I could have you. Like this — I still can’t quite believe it.”

You kiss under his chin.

“You knew I wanted you.” 

“Not all of it comes down to want,” he argues, and circles his thumb over the chub of your outer lips, fiddling with your cunt as he thinks rather than touching it with intent. You still raise your hips into it, and are glad to find it makes him smile, before he returns to his thoughts. “Many people want me, even at this age. Rest assured that I feel plenty of hungry gazes my way. Students, colleagues, strangers. But all of — most of them know better. I most certainly thought I knew better than to…”

He trails off.

“Fuck your assistant?”

Viktor chuckles.

“Don’t put it so crudely. I hope that you’re aware you’ve become far more than that. Even before… we did this.” He slides his hand from between your legs and holds it in front of you, marveling at the way your slick webs between his fingers.

Before he raises it to his mouth and tongues at it like it’s a delicacy.

He sucks his index into his mouth, he licks at the split between his forefinger and his middle finger as though they were cunt lips, parting.

And as he slides them from, then back into his mouth, he watches you like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna get horny again,” you warn.

With all the practiced grace of an expensive whore, Viktor pops them from his mouth .

“All according to plan.”

He has you wrapped around his little finger — and he’s terribly aware.

You’re terribly alright with that. 

You burrow yourself into the space between his face and his pillow like a bunny, chuckling, and slinging an arm over his slender waist. Drowned in his scent, soaking up his warmth, you could die happily like this.

“Mrow?”

It comes muffled from behind the wood of his bedroom door. 

Viktor begins to shift the moment he hears the little cry, and you remember to stop him when you see him reaching for his cane.

“I’ve got it,” you say. “What do you want me to do?”

“Let her in, if it’s alright with you.” He smiles. “Judging by her tone, she wants to cuddle.”

The door barely has to crack open before Persichka tucks her whiskers back against her cheeks and noses into the space offered to squeeze into the room. She bumps your shins in greeting, but she doesn’t linger — not once she spots Viktor in the bed.

With a well-placed hop, she lands almost all of her body on the mattress. Viktor cups a hand over her butt to aid her in her climb.

“Moya printsessa…” he utters to her with a smile. You can’t help but linger at the door and watch the scene unfold, rather than join.

She puts her paw on Viktor’s hip, but she’s swiftly scooped up in his arms before she can get to make the climb herself. You suspect, based on the little grimace he pulls, that it has everything to do with how cats’ paws tend to become a lethal weapon the moment they put their weight onto someone.

There’s something intimate about Viktor, naked, blanket barely covering his hips, holding Persichka close like a baby as she nuzzles under his chin and begins to purr. He closes his eyes to savor it just like she does, and for a moment, they look to be spiritually related. Intrinsically aligned.

Viktor’s sigh ends with a contented little hum, before he slides his eyes open just enough to peek at you. 

His thumb rubs idle circles into her fuzz. They’re both aglow in the low, blue light of the winter evening outside. Somewhere distant, it starts to rain.

“Come here,” he purrs.

You’re glad you did. You’re glad you’re going to.

[heeseungiez]

RESOLUTION 4) maybe get a boyfriend?

pairings! park sunghoon x fem!reader x park jay x sim jake x lee heeseung

synopsis! park sunghoon always preferred admiring you from afar. because to him, you were untouchable. as the daughter of his career’s biggest sponsor, he was scared that the smallest slight upon your person could make your father withdraw. but you were not the fragile pretty flower sunghoon thought you to be. it was only his luck that you ran right into his arms when you didn’t know what to do about the rest of his friends.

content warnings! smut (mdni! 18+), swearing, angst (i tried), fluff, unprotected sex, public sex, everyone is a loser, polyamory, ...

word count! ~15k

a/n! i've never been very good at writing endings... </3 but thank you guys so much for reading !!! i've seen everyone rooting for jake, but uhh... i've had a bit of a different idea for the endgame "relationship" from the very start

currently playing . . . good so bad by zerobaseone

masterlist

Good morning, Decelis!

The first term is almost over, and I’m really glad all the tea is piping hot to keep us warm through the winter. 

XO, Miss Decelis

It was time. 

The conversation the four boys feared had to be had. Especially when Heeseung kept trying to corner you in the school’s hallways while you pretended he didn’t exist, and Jake could not keep his hands off you with overly excessive PDA. Jay was your friend, but he kept looking for you in any room he entered, the single night you spent together still playing in his mind and haunting his dreams because that was all he got — he was nothing but a casual fuck to you, one and done, and it was still all his fault. 

Sunghoon had been observing his friends for a while. He could see all of them become more pathetic as time went on. But it was natural, when you began hanging out with them, and neither Heeseung or Jay cursed you out for it — instead, they sought your presence.

The thing was, Sunghoon had most of his information from Jake since Heeseung and Jay kept mostly quiet. But he knew basically everything, the filthy details beyond Miss Decelis gossip. You shared everything with Jake. Despite not being in a relationship, you were honest with him about all the things that went on in your life. So it was a known fact to them that you slept with Jay. That Heeseung was still trying. 

And Sunghoon wanted to laugh, remembering their silly promise that was now being stomped upon as if it never happened because his friends were idiots. 

Not to mention those dumb as hell rules they had around you when they were freshmen. Jesus Christ. 

They were idiots who were always obsessed with you.

But Sunghoon understood why. Way before he met them, he knew the charm you had was enchanting. Like a lady spider creating a thin yet durable web around them, meant to ensnare and never let go.

This was you.

Not a random girl the four of them met at parties and hooked up with (at different times, obviously). You had been in their lives for years.

Sunghoon had known you since he was twelve, probably. He didn’t remember the exact date when he met you, but you were both children back then. You were taller than him back then, too, if he remembered correctly. He was a figure skating prodigy, and you were the daughter who had to tag along because there was nobody to look after you on the weekends. 

You had an ability to make Sunghoon not feel alone whenever he saw you back then. You always played around with him while other kids were apprehensive. You also didn’t see him as competition, so being his friend was normal.

Then your father applied him to Decelis Academy for high school with a letter of recommendation, adding that he would cover any expenses necessary for Sunghoon’s studies while the school would have a national champion as its representative. Which was how you ended up introducing him to Heeseung, Jay and Jake. 

Even though you didn’t speak to them and they mainly ignored you, you made sure to bring Sunghoon to them on your tour. You greeted Jake amiably enough and then you introduced Sunghoon saying that you thought they’d get along well.

And they did. 

Especially Sunghoon and Jake. They clicked instantly. 

You were the force that connected them, and now you had enough power to pull them apart as well.

So they really needed to talk.

Well, not Sunghoon, not really anyway, but he was convinced it was the better thing for them all. 

So when Sunghoon finally got to the boys’ favourite hangout spot after figure skating practice, he clasped his hands together. 

“Y/N,” he said as he sat down, looking at each of his friends to begin the conversation as if it were a business meeting. No beating around the bush. Just a proper conversation between friends who liked the same girl. “We gotta stop avoiding the topic,” Sunghoon sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” Jay mumbled demurely after the mention of your name. 

Jake already knew what Sunghoon was thinking. The two practically shared one brain cell, so he simply glanced at the figure skater with a gaze that said: “Not you too,” but then he nodded because Sunghoon’s gaze replied with, “Are you really surprised?”

“I didn’t do anything though,” he added out loud, so Heeseung and Jay could understand at least a part of the mental conversation. “But the three of you are pissing me off.” He shrugged. 

“You like Y/N but you’re a dick.” He pointed at Heeseung with honesty that made the aforementioned boy flinch. “You like Y/N but you missed every chance you did have.” Sunghoon turned to Jay, earning a nasty glare. “And you’re all good but these two seem like even bigger losers,” he said to Jake, who grinned in response. 

“Shut up. Y/N’s just pretending she doesn’t want me,” Heeseung said confidently, and Jake snorted. 

“He’s lost it,” Jake claimed. “Heeseung being delusional is a rare occurrence. I need to savour this moment.”

“I know she wants me,” said Jay, and to this, Jake couldn’t entirely say no. You had slept with him once, you could do it again. Though you haven’t. 

And Jake realised that it really didn’t matter to him because, at the end of the day, you always came back to him. You could destroy him, tear his heart into pieces, and he’d still crawl on gravel just for you. That’s how bad it was for him, and he couldn’t fault his friends for feeling the same way.

They were one. Even if they were each vastly different. This group of friends was created through fate. Connected together, and likely with a string that began with Y and ended with OU.

If it wasn’t for you, Heeseung would never befriend Jay and Jake, no matter how awful his reasons were. And if it weren’t for you, Sunghoon would never be introduced to them. 

You put them together, and they had to stay that way.

Sunghoon bit his lower lip. Did you at least view him as a friend? He could never speak to you properly these days.

“Look,” Jake spoke up, shaking his head. In his mind, he was a selfish bastard who wanted to keep you all to himself, but these were his friends, and he loved them too. They were not going to fight each other over you. They’d rather avoid it, no matter how unhealthy the lack of confrontation might be. “As long as we don’t have a repeat of Bin from last year, I think we’re good.”

Bin was a girl they all liked enough to want to be with, and it seemed she liked them back. But when the gossip about them spread through school like wildfire, she could not handle that.

You were the centre of Miss Decelis for years. (Jay kept true to his word and told no one about your secret.) The last thing you would care about was people whispering about you being with all of them at once.

If you agreed to it. 

Sunghoon hadn’t even begun properly speaking to you yet. 

“Y/N is different,” Jay affirmed. And while each of the boys wanted to have you for themselves, they knew that unless you chose one of them specifically, all of them still had a chance.

A laugh bubbled up in Heeseung’s chest. “Have you guys ever noticed that the five of us are basically the centre of Miss Decelis? Even if she talks about others, we probably racked up the highest mention count.”

Jay ran a hand through his hair as the only one who knew why. He grinned with feigned nonchalance. “Our lives are clearly the most interesting among the other Decelis losers.”

“Mean,” Jake said and shook his head. “I didn’t have that many mentions until…” you, he wanted to say, but didn’t. The message was clear regardless. 

“‘Cause you’re boring.” Heeseung rolled his eyes playfully. “Y/N makes you more fun… which is not something I thought I’d ever say.”

“You’re down bad for her, buddy,” Sunghoon sighed and patted his friend’s shoulder sympathetically. But at least he got to be with you.

Jay didn’t touch another woman in weeks because of you, and Heeseung couldn’t stay still without having his dick wet since he couldn’t have you. Each of them dealt with their feelings differently, and Sunghoon just didn’t have any time because he’d been training for an upcoming national competition.

One that you would be at because you said so. You and your father would both be there to watch him perform. So he needed to be at his best. Not just to win, but to prove himself to your family once more, to make sure he wouldn’t be abandoned and thrown to the streets (which would not happen).

“Realistically, the centre has always been Y/N and the two of us,” Heeseung said, pointing at himself and Jay. “Do you think we ever did something to this girl? Who even is she? And why attack Y/N when… you know.”

“I guess it’s just some slighted petty bitch,” Jay replied as if he didn’t know the truth and shrugged. “Maybe it’s someone from our childhood that all three of us ignored back then.”

“But wouldn’t that also include me?” Jake added, a confused pout plastered on his lips. “Since I was always with you.”

Sunghoon nodded. He wasn’t as involved with the three guys when they were children, but Jake was right. If it was from childhood, even Jake would be included, right?

“Nah. You’re always too nice. To everyone. Especially Y/N. She was just pretending,” Jay reasoned. Because surely, the guys would believe that. “Maybe she was pissed at us and then accidentally took it out on some poor rando and now we got Miss Decelis on our ass.”

Heeseung chuckled. “I’d like to see that. Pissed Y/N has to look hot as fuck.”

“She’s more cute when she’s pissed,” Jay spoke absentmindedly, and the three guys glanced at him with question marks behind their eyes. “What? Haven’t any of you pissed her off yet? Just me?”

“I don’t talk to her much,” Sunghoon said plainly. 

“Do I look like I could piss Y/N off?” Jake questioned with a raised brow. 

“She just ignores me unless I literally beg for a restraining order. I wish she would at least get angry at me.” Heeseung scoffed, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’m actually surprised you don’t have one yet,” Sunghoon thought aloud, and Jake laughed, fist-bumping the figure skater. 

Heeseung glared at both, but it was light-hearted. “Whatever.”

Look. You were not supposed to tag along to the ice rink with your father. But it had been a while since you saw Sunghoon ice skate, and you always loved to appreciate him from a distance. He was the unreachable ice prince wherever he went, and that whole image fascinated you.

But his figure skating was beautiful. He would always get lost in his choreography and his movements. Every detail mattered, from head to toe. The smallest movements of his fingers were perfectly controlled, too.

You watched him in silence while your father spoke to his trainer on the side, both of them speaking about the plans for the upcoming national competition.

Sunghoon was already training, going through the same exact training session he must’ve for the past month or more. He barely had any time due to it all, and so you barely saw him outside of school — not that you two spoke anyway. But you liked catching glances of him. Hearing his voice every now and then.

He was your friend before you introduced him to the other guys. You knew that it would create a rift between you, but you also knew that he would be much better off with Jake than you. It was just something about the both of them that made you think they were destined to be friends. 

Now, this was the longest you got to be around Sunghoon. 

He didn’t notice you as you sat on the bleachers, smiling to yourself because you liked to watch him grinning from ear to ear as he did the thing he loved most — figure skating. He was lucky enough that it had the possibility of giving him a career that would secure his life for decades to come. 

Even then, when you two were children, Sunghoon mentioned he also considered getting into acting one day. Which would be amazing. Especially with a face like his, he could be as popular as Song Kang or Cha Eunwoo. 

When the set was over, you started clapping. Initially, you didn’t want to announce your presence to the boy, but you couldn’t help it. He was too good not to show your appreciation of his talent. And then there was that small, proud little smirk on his face when he was done, knowing he did well. 

He startled slightly, glancing toward you. Eyes widening even more, you knew he wondered why you were here, watching him. So you smiled and waved to beckon him over like you two were fourteen again and your father was just settling the Decelis scholarship with Sunghoon’s parents. 

“Y/N?” His full eyebrows arched as he gazed at you, and you grinned. 

“Hello, Hoonie,” you greeted sweetly. “It’s been a while.” You didn’t mean generally seeing him or talking to him. Watching him figure skate — the last time you had done that was a year ago. It was a competition (you went to every single one you could). 

“Yeah.” He nodded, confusion lacing his every movement even as he ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Is there a reason why—”

“I just wanted to see you,” you spoke frankly, shrugging. “Do you remember the last time we were here like this?”

“We were fourteen,” Sunghoon said, chuckling. “But yeah. I do.” How could he forget? It was the day you admitted you didn’t know how to ice skate, so Sunghoon decided to teach you a bit. And once it was all over, you somehow ended up talking about how another thing you’ve never done was kiss a boy.

If Sunghoon hadn’t been a coward, he could’ve kissed you then. But he didn’t. And sometimes he still thought about it and regretted that moment. 

“A lot has changed since then,” you said, reminiscing. Four years could be compared to a whole century when you’re a teenager. 

Sunghoon hummed in agreement. “Are you better at ice skating?” he asked. 

“Much.” You grinned proudly. 

And Sunghoon didn’t need to ask about the kissing. He already knew the answer to that. Sighing internally, he sometimes wished he could go back and be the first boy you ever kissed. But he couldn’t travel in time, so he was stuck here. The two of you at eighteen, barely speaking together. 

“Would you maybe… want to hang out after my practice is done?” he asked cautiously, expecting a rejection to protect himself from being hurt. “If you’re planning to stay here that long, of course.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “I am. I missed watching you figure skate. You’re constantly getting better,” you praised his skill. “We could go to that waffle place my dad used to take us to after your practice.”

“Yeah… that sounds good.” Sunghoon nodded, cursing himself for not being a better friend to you. But he had been scared of what could happen if he did. Maybe he’d have noticed there was something wrong in the years coming up to the moment that changed the trajectory of all their lives. 

Maybe if he noticed and put a stop to it himself, Heeseung and Jay would still dislike you, Jake would still fear talking to you, and Sunghoon would have you all to himself. But a string of completely different decisions led to the moment of you and him right here, right now, trying to build a bridge over the canyon you had created to help him find friends — better friends than you thought you were. 

Now it would be up to you both whether said bridge would be the most unstable, made out of thin ropes and wooden planks, or if you’d opt for one made of stone and cement.

You were with Jake when Sunghoon approached you the next time. The two of you were working on a project for English class, and Sunghoon found it as the perfect opportunity to use his inability to learn English as an excuse to spend time with you.

Which you didn’t mind in the slightest. You loved English, and you were happy to explain anything Sunghoon was struggling with while Jake nodded along with a spark in his eye as he gazed at you. There was a different kind of calmness to you when you could delve into a topic you were knowledgeable about.

“Future perfect tense is not that used, to be honest,” you said, to make Sunghoon feel better. “Nobody casually says sentences like I will have gone home by the time you finish practice.”

“I still want to be better,” Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just feel so lost whenever I travel abroad for figure skating competitions.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, glancing at Jake to silently ask whether Sunghoon ever shared this information with him. Jake’s shake of his head was small. 

“I can tutor you, Hoon,” you said with a soft smile. Because to you, Sunghoon was still your friend, even if you barely spoke. “I have less extracurriculars than Jake does, so I have the time. I don’t mind it.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”

“No, of course not. I’m offering because I don’t want to do it,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Just say if you want me to tutor you or not. It’s on you. We can meet almost whenever you have free time.”

Jake nudged Sunghoon’s shoulder with a supportive grin. “C’mon, you need it, bro.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure. We can do it. I just have a lot of—”

“Training, I know.” You nodded, biting your lip. “But we’ll figure something out, it’s fine. I can just… pick you up after your practices or something.”

Good morning, Decelis!

It seems our ice prince is not so icy after all. He’s been caught laughing with the one and only Y/N as they exited the ice rink yesterday.

Are you all thinking what I’m thinking?

XO, Miss Decelis

“Go on a date with me.”

You startled, looking up at the boy who just approached you in the corridor. You were just trying to get your textbooks, but he closed your locker right in front of your face to get your attention, staring at you pleadingly with his hands hidden in his pockets.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. “What are you talking about?”

“Go on a date with me,” he repeated slowly, ready to spell it out for you.

You laughed. “Jay–”

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said, running a hand through his perfectly styled dark hair. Today, it was slightly falling on his forehead, and he had to constantly push the hair out of his eyes. “Go on a date with me. Please.”

“I don’t really have time—”

“Sunghoon will survive if you miss one tutoring session, trust me.” Because of course, Jay already knew your schedule — hopefully from Sunghoon. “Please,” he kept begging, staring at you as if his whole life depended on you saying yes. And a part of you wanted to say yes, that part of you that used to have a crush on him, but you two just made peace and became friends.

“This is ridiculous, Jay,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t actually like me. What happened last time was just— I don’t know, but you don’t want me, and I’m doing fine with Ja—”

“Don’t say that,” Jay cut you off. “Don’t say his name when I’m trying to ask you out. Besides, you don’t know how I feel, so why do you keep assuming?” He ran a hand through his hair again, clenching his jaw. You watched him in confusion as frustration took over his features because he needed you to believe him.

“You are right. I don’t like you. How I feel about you is something way beyond that, and I hate the fact that I can’t look at you without thinking of that time, and that I keep replaying you saying that you used to like me in my head. So just do this one thing for me, please, because I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”

Rendered speechless by Jay’s confession, you had a hard time coming up with a proper response. Park Jay had feelings for you?

“I swear to God, Y/N, I am going to drop on my knees and—”

“No, Jay, stop. I will go with you,” you said finally, to stop him from making you feel even worse (read: to stop him from making your heart beat loudly in your ears). You bit the inside of your cheek, your stomach tight with knots. “I will go with you,” you repeated, looking into Jay’s eyes.

“Really?” The hope in his voice made your body feel warm, and you nodded to further affirm your decision. You were going on a date with Park Jay.

“But after Sunghoon’s competition,” you said decidedly, pursing your lips. Jay was right. Sunghoon could miss one tutoring session, but you’d rather if he didn’t. After the competition, he’d have more time, and that way, you could both tutor Sunghoon and then go on a date with Jay.

Ultimately, Sunghoon’s tutoring sessions were just an excuse.

He knew.

You and Sunghoon only met up twice a week, so it was obvious that you used him as an excuse to not go on that date with Jay and postpone it for some time. He didn’t mind it, but he kind of enjoyed being the guy in the middle. Or maybe it was just the fact that you wanted to spend time with him, and not Jay.

He liked watching you as you scrunched your nose and furrowed your brows while staring at a textbook while trying to figure out the best and simplest way to explain something to him. He liked the way a tiny smile graced your lips once you came up with something and looked at Sunghoon with your big eyes. He liked the way you moved closer, leaned into him, and pointed at his notebook to start your explanation.

Maybe he should be listening to you as you tried to show him the ropes of creating sentences in passive voice and using them, but if he was completely honest, it went in through one ear, and out through the other. All he could do was stare at you and your side-profile and be in disbelief over how pretty you were.

He understood what Jake saw in you a bit too well. Sunghoon would want to kiss the earth you walked on, too, if he was in Jake’s position. But you didn’t seem interested in Sunghoon the way he wanted you to. Your smiles were always friendly, your gaze kind, but you did not look at him the way you regarded Jake. Not even the way you looked at Jay.

Sunghoon, to you, was just Sunghoon. The kid your father was sponsoring. And he hated it. Why did you, of all people, have to be immune to him? 

“Are you spacing out again?” you asked softly. Your eyes were glued to Sunghoon’s face and he blankly stared ahead, though at first his attention was purely on you.

Gulping, Sunghoon shook his head. “Sorry. I just… can’t seem to focus today,” he made a half-assed apology, but you smiled and let him be. Your mind already had a proper excuse made up for him anyway. 

“The competition is pretty close, huh? Must be nerve-racking,” you said, placing your hand over his. The squeeze was purely sympathetic, it meant nothing more — at least Sunghoon thought so — and when you didn’t let go, it momentarily short-circuited his brain. “You’ll do great, Hoon. I know you will. And I’ll be there with you the whole time as well.”

Sunghoon stared at you. He wished he could tell you how much he liked you, but he was afraid. He always had been afraid. At first his reasons were rather selfish because he didn’t want to lose your father’s support if things didn’t work out between you, but now… Now he feared your rejection even more than anything else in the world. 

Not even the idea of losing the upcoming competition scared him as much.

“Thanks.” Sunghoon slightly pulled away from you for his own sanity, but you noticed the movement and a small frown graced your lips. Perhaps he even saw a flicker of hurt in your eyes, too.

“Okay, then,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’m sure you want to focus on your training more than English, so we can end today’s session early.”

Sunghoon blinked at you. He had hurt you without realising it, and now he didn’t know how to fix this without babbling out the thoughts that truly went through his head. He could do nothing as you stood up from your seat, packing your bag to leave the library.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hoon.”

Just like that, you left. 

And Sunghoon hadn’t said a word to stop you.

An exasperated sigh left his lips once you were gone. He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair.

Why was it so hard for him to speak whenever you were around?

Sunghoon’s competition was happening a week after the new year. Nothing in between mattered much. The tutoring sessions came to a halt with the Christmas break, but Sunghoon and his family were still invited to the huge Christmas party that your parents organised. Obviously, the Lees had to show up, and so did Jake and Jay’s families. Nothing much happened except for Heeseung trying to talk to you while Jeonghyeon actively did everything in his power to keep his cousin away from you.

Then it was the Parks, Jay’s family, who organised a large New Year’s party where you spent the day surrounded by all four guys as they desperately fought for your attention. It was Heeseung who stole your New Year’s kiss as well, but you didn’t bother fighting him since Jeonghyeon, Jay and Jake’s glares were scathing enough.

So now you sat inside the packed stadium filled with figure skating fans and many girls from Decelis Academy as they held huge pickets and flags with Sunghoon’s face plastered on them as if he were an idol, cheering for him. You had to bite back your smile as you watched Sunghoon cringe the moment he stepped on the ice and the girls began squealing. 

You watched him prepare, doing practice laps and some figures as he tested himself on the ice. It took a few minutes for him to finally settle in the centre, eyes fixating on you in his starting position.

He whispered, “Wish me luck,” and winked at you, which could’ve gone unnoticed had you not been captivated by him the whole time. Gulping, you licked your lips and nodded.

You recognised the song that started playing from the many practices you had visited simply because you wanted to. Because you could. A soft melody of a song he chose, called Moonstruck. His figure was impeccable.

The moment he started moving, the whole stadium silenced. There was nothing else but Park Sunghoon and the rink that he danced on, every movement graceful and meticulous from his toes to his fingers. Every detail mattered even if he was merely spreading his arms. His body followed the rhythm, and you understood what your father had seen in him all those years ago when he chose to take the small boy under his wing and help him become better at figure skating.

The applause that followed was deafening. But you couldn’t bring yourself to move as you saw him bow after the song ended. Even as he made his way toward his mother from the ice. Even as he, eventually, approached you and your father to head toward the chairs with the other contestants, waiting for his score.

It was high. Highest of the day so far, but there were still some contestants left, so it couldn’t be definitively said that Sunghoon won.

You chewed on your lip as you watched him, nervosity coursing through your veins. Sunghoon deserved to be first place. Even your father seemed to think so with the huge grin on his lips as he regarded Sunghoon with immense pride. 

And, an hour later, you were indeed running to him to throw your arms around his shoulders for winning gold. Sunghoon was smiling widely. His parents were elated. So was your father. The success meant a huge door had opened for Park Sunghoon, the figure skating prodigy. But you only cared about him.

Jumping into his arms, you tightly wrapped your arms around his neck. “Congratulations, Hoon! You did it! You’re a national champion,” you spoke into his shoulders while the boy held onto your waist, keeping your body in the air. 

“I knew you could do it.” You pulled away from him with a smile, still holding onto his arms. And Sunghoon stared at you, in the intense kind of way that you never saw him do before. “Hoon?” you asked, worrying if he spaces out again.

“It’s because of you.” He slapped away your concern with a lopsided grin, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wanted to do my best for you,” he mumbled softly, and you tilted your head to the side.

“Why would you—”

But Sunghoon cupped both your cheeks by then, planting his lips on yours. A collective gasp went through the crowd within the stadium as they saw you. Not just on the podium, but also on the huge screen as there had been a camera on Sunghoon the whole time.

“I really, really like you, Y/N,” he said after he pulled away, and your eyes widened. Everything was captured on camera. 

You couldn’t exactly say you didn’t like him back, though. It would be a lie to say that Sunghoon didn’t have an ability to make your heart flutter. You liked him a lot. But you also liked Jake… and Jay wanted to take you on a date. And Heeseung — well, you hated how often you tended to think about him, too.

“I—”

“Erm.” You recognised your father’s voice from behind. Turning to face him, your cheeks burned. Sunghoon didn’t just kiss you in front of a whole stadium — he kissed you in front of your father. 

Fuck.

His arms were crossed, and you stepped in front of Sunghoon just in case your father were to berate him. 

A smile spread across his lips instead, though.

“I already considered you a part of the family, Sunghoon, but this is a truly pleasant surprise,” he said, grinning at you and the figure skater. “Although I expect Jay’s and Jake’s parents will be very disappointed to know. They were rooting for their sons.”

You glanced at Sunghoon but he didn’t bat an eye. Instead, he smiled even brighter, his eyes and nose scrunching in the most adorable way possible. 

“So you don’t… disapprove of me dating?” you asked your father, raising a brow.

The man chuckled and shook his head. “Why would I, Y/N? Your mother and I just want you to be happy, and we know that Sunghoon is a good boy. I support it,” he said, patting the top of your head affectionately. 

“You’re serious?”

“Very,” your father agreed. “Now come, your boyfriend has to do some interviews and get some photos before we all leave to celebrate the victory and the amazing news.”

“O-okay,” you stuttered, your eyes latching onto Sunghoon. He smiled and took your hand in his. 

“Well, girlfriend, will you follow me?” he said rather jokingly, but to everyone around you, that seemed to be the new reality.

Park Sunghoon was now proclaimed your official boyfriend. 

Good morning, Decelis!

Surprise, surprise! It’s our princess and the ice prince, after all. A fitting pair, I’d say. I wonder what happened during the winter holidays?

XO, Miss Decelis

“Do you ever take a break?” Jay approached you, glancing between you and his phone. “Do you still need to keep this up?”

You shrugged in response, already aware of what he was talking about. “I like it. There’s just something about messing with other people’s business that’s quite freeing,” you said, grinning.

Jay rolled his eyes. “And yet you keep writing about our business.”

“Is it really that bad if I haven’t said anything negative?” You pursed your lips, tilting your head to the side with your eyes fixed on Jay. “I haven’t badmouthed you in ages.”

The pout your lips formed made Jay glare at you light-heartedly, and you giggled. 

“Good. ‘Cause this would be hella awkward if you did.” Jay pointed at himself and you. Because, yeah, he was taking you out on a date. Despite your ‘relationship’ with Sunghoon. 

The guys were doing whatever they wanted. So were you. And between the five of you, your description of a relationship status was a venn diagram with you in the middle. 

You pushed Jay’s chest with a roll of your eyes. “So, where are you taking me?” you asked, and the boy grinned.

“Somewhere you’ll like,” he said before examining your fit. It was casual, but not too casual to make him assume that you didn’t care. You wore a long-sleeved white dress speckled with blue flowers, and a black winter coat to keep you warm in the freezing weather. 

He, as usual, wore loose black jeans, a black shirt and coat, looking like the heir of a million dollar company — which he was. His cologne was different today, but you liked it regardless. Perhaps Killian? 

When you made your way to his car, he opened the door for you before getting in himself. You grinned at his gentlemanly antics, but he said nothing — as if it was completely normal and expected of everyone. Perhaps to him, it was.

Nothing was said between either of you when Jay drove. Music played softly from the radio, but neither of you dared to break the silence. Between the two of you, it wasn’t necessary to speak. In that way, he was similar to Sunghoon (and occasionally Jake, but Jake usually loved chatting with you about random things).

Jay spoke up only when you were almost at your destination.

“So, a little background information,” he said with a chuckle, the car nearing a parking lot. “You know how my house is eery and lonely whenever it’s just me there?” 

You scoffed. “How could I forget?”

“Well.” Jay glanced at you, a corner of his lips lifting in a soft smile. “My parents agreed to let me get a pet. And I was thinking of getting a cat.”

“What?” You turned to face him, but Jay was already parking in front of an animal shelter, grinning. “You want to adopt a cat?”

“Yep.” Jay nodded. “And I want you to choose which one.”

“Jay…�� This was a pet that would be with him for as long as it lived, and you weren’t sure if you making the choice of which cat it should be was a smart decision. The cat should like him first. 

“I trust you. Besides, if it’s a cat that likes you, then I’m most definitely going to like that cat.” He grinned. “Because it’ll have great taste.”

“Jay.” Your cheeks heated up at the comment, shaking your head.

“You know that’s also why I disliked you so much before?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he reminisced of his younger self. “Because you were so stupidly pretty and my parents were obsessed with you and everything about you. It just… annoyed me.” He parked the car, running a hand through his hair as he turned the ignition off. “And now that you’re not pretending and are finally yourself, it makes you even more attractive.”

You giggled. You didn’t know what took over you in that moment, but you giggled, hearing Jay call you attractive. “Stop.” You tried to lightly slap Jay’s shoulder, but he caught your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“I’m serious, Y/N. So yes, I want your help choosing the cat that will live in my home because hopefully it will make you want to come over more often.”

There was that sly smirk you would expect from Park Jay, and you rolled your eyes. “What makes you so sure I even like cats?”

“Everything about you screams cat lover, darling. Don’t play dumb.” Jay stared into your eyes, and you couldn’t look away as his dark gaze pierced through you. “C’mon, let’s go get a cat,” he said with a smile. 

Jay opened the door of the car for you, and then he held open the door inside the animal shelter as well. The smell of animals hit your senses like a truck, but not necessarily in a bad way. You just weren’t used to this many animals in one place. 

Seeing them in their enclosures, you had the urge to adopt every single pet in the shelter, but you couldn’t do that. Instead, you glanced at Jay, who pointed toward the cats. Not many words were exchanged between the two of you as you walked, each of you examining the cats with soft smiles on your faces. 

Though there was one in particular that caught your attention. A black cat continued staring at you as you moved across the shelter, and you couldn’t help but feel a pull toward her. 

A black cat would be such a perfect choice for Jay. You knew it. 

Tapping his shoulder, you grinned and pointed toward the enclosure. “I like that one,” you said, immediately going to her. 

You dared to stretch out your hand for the cat, waiting for a reaction. She stretched her body and walked toward your hand with a low meow before leaning into your hand, begging you to pet her. 

An even bigger smile broke out on your lips. “Hello, little one,” you whispered, scratching her ears. “How long have you been here?” you asked. 

“Three months,” Jay responded from behind you, reading a sign by the enclosure. “Her name is Byeori.”

The cat looked at Jay when she heard her name spoken out loud, and she meowed again, this time to get Jay’s attention to be on her. 

He joined your side to try and befriend the cat himself, and she did not fight him in the slightest. As if sensing what kind of person Jay was, the cat let him pet her, purring. 

“She has good taste,” Jay chuckled, glancing at you. “I think she chose you first.”

You bumped his shoulder with yours, giggling. “So we’re taking her home, right?”

“To my home, yes, I think we are.” Jay nodded. 

Heeseung was desperate. 

He didn’t know why he stood in front of the door to your home all on his own.

You seemed happy with whatever you had with Jay, Jake and Sunghoon. But he wanted to be a part of it. If there was one thing Heeseung hated, it was being left out. He understood how he must’ve made you feel in the past now. 

It was a horrendous feeling. One that clawed on your insides, coating your skin and never quite letting go. You had all of his friends now wrapped around your fingers and he… he also couldn’t stop thinking about you.

When you opened the door, you wore sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Glasses loosely hung on your nose, and your hair was tied in a simple knot to keep your hair out of your eyes. 

This was the version of you he was familiar with. A remainder of the old you that would never disappear. Somehow, Heeseung appreciated it even more than the new you. 

“What?”

“Is anyone—”

“No, my parents are at work, why—”

“Okay.” Heeseung slipped inside past you, closing the door behind himself. Your eyebrow rose as you eyed him. 

“Heeseung, what—”

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

Your mouth practically dropped to the ground the second he fell to his knees with his head hung low, repeating the words: “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Hee—”

“I’m sorry for treating you like the biggest asshole known to man when we were younger.” Heeseung didn’t let you interrupt, looking up at you through those big Bambi eyes of his. “I’m sorry for making you feel unwanted, and for leaving you out of everything I could because I was a stupid kid. I’m really sorry.”

“Heeseung, what are you doing?”

“I want us to start over. To be better.” And he genuinely meant every word. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much all of a sudden, but he wanted you to be in his life as more than just the girl that ignores him whenever you’re in the same room. He had to make sure you would understand how truly deeply sorry he was and how much he wanted to start over. 

You stared at him. Blinking a few times, you weren’t sure how to react at first. This was what you had wanted for a good part of your life. Heeseung wanting to be your friend. You did not expect him to beg for it on his knees, but it did bring you a twisted sense of satisfaction. 

Besides the confusion, a lopsided grin spread across your lips. There was a strange allure to this Heeseung. Desperate just to be near you, and a part of you wanted to take advantage of it. But could you do it? What would that mean for you and Jake? Or Sunghoon? Or even Jay…

“Get up, Heeseung,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “Get up before I do something really stupid, please.”

Those big eyes that stared at you through long lashes made your expression soften. But Heeseung heeded your command and stood up, towering over you once more. “Y/N—”

“We can start over,” you replied with a nod. “I can forgive you, I think. Over time.”

Sighing in relief, Heeseung nodded. “That’s all I need.”

Good morning, Decelis!

Did we all just collectively hallucinate, or did Y/N truly enter the school with all four of the Decelis heartthrobs by her side?

XO, Miss Decelis

“Jake— ah,” you moaned when he nipped at an especially sensitive spot on your neck. He found the time to come to the library with you before your tutoring session with Sunghoon, and you couldn’t deny him.

His hands were on your hips, pressing you against the wall of the library firmly, keeping you in place as his mouth roamed your skin. Your uniform’s blazer was already on the ground, and Jake let go of your hips just to undo the buttons of your shirt. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, kissing the soft skin of your breasts where they were not covered by a bra. 

He felt your chuckle vibrate through your chest. “Jakey, we haven’t seen each other for two hours,” you said. 

Instead of responding, he hummed, going back up to capture your lips with his. There was a sort of desperation in the way he sucked on your lower lip before you allowed him full access to your mouth. Your hands tangled in his soft locks, and you pressed your body closer to his, to feel the bulge in his crotch on your stomach.

“I just need you,” Jake spoke against your lips, and the heat that spread through your body made you nearly combust. “You mean so much to me, Y/N. You have no idea.”

“And you mean a lot to me, too, Jake.” You pulled away from him for a bit, to look into his eyes. To let him know how serious you were. Jake had always been good to you, no matter your situation. And you cared for him deeply.

A tiny smile tugged at his lips as his eyes explored yours. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but knowing that you started talking to Heeseung made him strangely anxious. He liked to think he wasn’t jealous, but out of all the guys, Heeseung had always been the hardest to compete with. “You will always come back to me, right? No matter what happens?” 

You nodded. “No matter what happens,” you agreed at the moment. But later, when you would think about this, it would scare you. Terrify you, in fact. Because you weren’t ready to think about what it meant. 

Jake kissed you again, letting your hands do the work and unbuckle his belt. His trousers were off within seconds, and his hands roamed down your body to the wet panties underneath your skirt, grinning into the kiss.

It surprised you when Jake suddenly grabbed you by the thighs, lifting you from the ground, your back pressed against the wall as the only support for your body other than Jake. But he lined you up perfectly with his cock, letting you slowly take him in as his arms strained to keep you from falling. 

His groan was music to your ears, the sensation of his length filling you up slowly rendering you silent, though you were used to his rougher ways by now, too.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so perfect,” Jake let you wrap your legs around his hips, his hands moving to your ass to have a proper grip on your body before he started moving.

“Jake, please,” you begged for him to do something now that he was fully inside you. “I need you.”

Jake buried his head into the crook of your neck. “I need you more,” he replied before pulling out and thrusting even deeper inside you as if it was possible. 

You felt him in your stomach, in every bit of your body and in the marrow of your bones. Jake moved leisurely, but each thrust was powerful enough you felt like you would erupt any second. 

“Jake, oh, fuck.” You bit your lip to be quieter, barely remembering that you two were still inside the public library, having sex in the section with prehistoric textbooks that nobody ever used. “It’s— so much.”

“You can take it,” he huffed out, focusing more on pleasuring you than anything else. “You’ve taken more.”

Yes, you have. But you were not inside a library before and didn’t need to be able to walk out of there. Nor did you need to get through a tutoring session afterwards. 

The next powerful thrust made your head spin, pleasure tinged with pain as it seemed that Jake would not stop any time soon. 

Your body went limp in his arms. “Jake. Jake. Jake,” you repeated his name, unable to finish the sentence you wanted to say. 

You cummed around his cock, and he wasn’t far away, capturing your lips again to contain the moans that would otherwise leave his mouth as his semen filled you up. (You started taking birth control after Jake’s birthday.)

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he mumbled in a daze, and part of you wasn’t sure if you heard him correctly. But, to make it worse, he repeated the words: “I love you.”

You weren’t ready to hear that yet. 

When Jake let go of you, you stared at him with your eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. “Jake, you don’t know what you’re saying,” you claimed because people tend to say stupid things after sex, right? He wasn’t thinking clearly.

“That’s just how I feel about you, Y/N.” Jake shook his head, attempting to wrap his arms around you, but you didn’t let him, stepping back. 

The single action made Jake’s movements stutter. His eyes searched yours with hurt written all over them, and you bit your lip. Your heart raced in your chest almost as fast as your thoughts.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to be honest with you,” said Jake in an attempt to salvage the situation, but it was too late. You were panicking. You cared about Jake, but did you love him? You couldn’t say. 

And maybe it was the worst possible thing to do after a person confesses their love to you… but you ran. You fled as fast as you could, completely forgetting that you had a tutoring session afterward, or anything else whatsoever. 

Sim Jake loved you.

But you were a fucking coward. 

You haven’t been to school in days, claiming a mysterious illness that left you bedridden. Sunghoon had tried to ask Jake if he knew anything of your whereabouts as you seemingly didn’t reply to anyone. He tried asking Heeseung and Jay after he grew truly desperate, but to no avail. You weren’t responding to them, and Jake generally refused speaking about you.

Sunghoon didn’t know what happened between the two of you, but it had to be serious if Jake refused to tell him about it. You had been ignoring Sunghoon since the one tutoring session you stood him up on and never texted him back after he asked if you were okay. 

All your friends claimed you were still alive, just not feeling well. Jeonghyeon and Ning were the only direct contacts anybody had to you.

Heeseung tried knocking on your door, but you never responded yourself. Usually, it was your parents, and they always had an apologetic kind of look that said you refused to see him. But, to be fair, apparently, Jeonghyeon hadn’t seen you in person in days either. 

Despite knowing all this, Sunghoon wanted to try his luck. He knew that skipping school as a scholarship kid was the worst thing he could possibly do, but he needed to make sure you were okay. Everyone thought you were his girlfriend, and him knowing nothing of how you were doing drove him nuts. 

The staff at the hotel let him pass easily, already familiar with him as both your father’s ward and Heeseung’s best friend. Sunghoon greeted them all with a polite bow and smile, rushing toward the elevators so they wouldn’t question why he wasn’t at school. 

Getting to your floor came to Sunghoon automatically as he had been there countless times as a child, still remembering his excitement whenever his parents agreed to let him play with you while they were talking to your father. Those were probably his happiest moments as a child figure skater. Even if it was just the two of you playing hide and seek around the house. 

He didn’t expect much when he rang the bell. Why, of all the people that came to visit you, would you open the door for him?

You did, though. In an oversized T-shirt and shorts, thick glasses hanging on the tip of your nose. The look on your face told him you were contemplating slamming the door in his face, so Sunghoon strategically put his foot on the doorstep, knowing you would never try to hurt him, especially to just close a door. 

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” you echoed. “Why aren’t you at school, Hoon?”

“I had to make sure you’re okay.” Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, gazing at you. There was a sadness that laced your voice, and he noticed your eyes were red from crying. But judging by the movie playing in the background, Twentieth Century Girl, he guessed that was why.

You pressed your lips together and smiled. “I’m fine,” you sighed. “I’m just not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

You frowned. “Do you want to come inside?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Sunghoon nodded, slipping inside the hallway with your approval. Wordlessly, you led Sunghoon to the living room space, where the movie played on a large screen. 

You had a whole set up of pillows and blankets on the sofa, so you sat down on the ground in front of it, patting the spot next to you.

When Sunghoon sat down, silence engulfed the both of you. You didn’t say anything and neither did he. You just watched the movie together as your head dropped to his shoulder, more tears making their way to your eyes despite the scenes being seemingly happy.

When you spoke up, Sunghoon didn’t know how to react at first. “You don’t really like me, right?” you said.

Sunghoon turned to face you, baffled by the question. “What do you mean?” He tilted his head to the side, in disbelief over the question. “Of course, I like you. I always have.”

“But not… not like that.” You pointed at the movie as if it was hard for you to explain in words.

“Yes, like that,” Sunghoon said firmly, shaking his head. He dared taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers. “Since we were kids, Y/N. I was just… scared. Still am. What I did after I won the competition… I just wanted to be brave for once.”

You looked down at your legs, hugging your knees to your chest. “But—”

“I’m sorry for not showing you earlier. But it’s always been you. Even for Jake, I think.” Sunghoon shook his head and chuckled. “It’s actually what we initially bonded over, you know? Just… you.”

“Please, don’t.” You averted your gaze. 

Sunghoon squeezed your hand, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s such a weird thing for me to say but… we all like you. In our own ways, Y/N. Jake, me, Heeseung, Jay. In the end, it’s on you if you want any of us or all of us, really, but we’ll be here for you. No matter what happens.”

The phrase, no matter what happens, was what made you truly cry. Sunghoon had no clue what he did, but regardless, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, letting you cry your heart out onto his shirt. He held you tightly, not letting go. He never wanted to let you go.

You had to go to school eventually.

With Jeonghyeon, Ning and Hanbin right by your side, you did everything you could to catch up on classes you’d missed, avoiding Jake as much as you could. 

You missed him, but you weren’t quite sure how to deal with the knowledge of his feelings toward you. Could you accept it? Could there be something more? How did anyone even know if they were in love?

Attraction was one thing, but love…

Still, Jake was everywhere you went. Not just him, though. Sunghoon, Heeseung and Jay were with him, too. And it was difficult to ignore the stares all four boys gave you whenever you were in the same room.

“I think I fucked up,” you said to your friends during lunch, shaking your head. Realistically, you knew you fucked up. There was no other way of calling it. Because you slept with Jake, Jay, almost with Heeseung, and Sunghoon liked you. 

It’s not a situation the younger you would ever imagine yourself in, but your resolution not to care about much has clearly gone awry. Maybe you should’ve cared. 

“Yeah. I think telling Heeseung you could forgive him was a mistake, too,” Jeonghyeon replied automatically.

“Not what she meant,” said Ning knowingly, glancing toward the table with the four Decelis heartthrobs. “They all look like kicked puppies. It’s kinda sad.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be if you and all of your best friends liked the same girl?” Hanbin asked with a raised brow. “And she’s not doing anything much about it either.” He gave you a pointed look.

You sighed, playing with the ends of your hair. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Do you remember Bin from last year?” Ning asked, her eyes widening slightly when she remembered that you were not at Decelis during the time. 

You did remember, however. As Miss Decelis, you remembered everything. You attacked the guys quite a bit during the time since all you had was anger — not even toward them. But from what you understood, it was Bin who broke off everything as she didn’t like the way the other Decelis students treated her. 

“I read Miss Decelis,” you claimed falsely, a tense smile plastered on your lips. 

“Right. Who didn’t.” Ning nodded, pursing her lips. “But this is kinda what they do, no? They get obsessed with one girl and then she’s the one who suffers. I think you should just… try to get out of that while you can.”

“But… they’re my friends,” you said quietly, incapable of letting it go. The younger you had always wanted to be able to say that. To call the four of them your friends. And now that it was true, how could you just throw it away?

“That you fucked.”

“Please, don’t say that,” Hanbin said, face contorted in disgust. “We don’t need to acknowledge it so openly.”

“I actually didn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah. Only Jake and Jay, actually, but it doesn’t change much. Remember that half the country thinks you’re dating Sunghoon and that the whole school has seen you with Heeseung?”

“Why do we have to talk about this again?” Jeonghyeon’s brow rose, his nose scrunched. 

“Because I don’t know what to do,” you said. 

“And we’re supposed to help you how?”

“By shutting up.” Ning glared at Jeonghyeon. “Y/N, babe, you’re thinking too much,” she said, grabbing your hands in hers. “Just do what feels right in your heart.”

You blinked at her, face blank. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m trying to be romantic here. You’re ruining it.”

“Well, that’s your first mistake.” Hanbin shook his head. “Trying to get Y/N to be a romantic.”

“Fine.” Ning rolled her eyes. “Who do you like spending time with the most? Like, who makes you feel giddy and excited to be with them, you know?”

Jake. That was the first answer that came to your mind. He always knew how to make you laugh. He made you feel special, and his teamwork was incomparable. But the more you thought about it, you realised you also loved to have Sunghoon by your side. He understood you so well. And Jay made you feel safe in a way you had never experienced before. He was always making sure that you would never get hurt, even if it was the smallest thing known to man, like stubbing your toe. Heeseung managed to make everything feel more exciting. He could make your heart race like no other. 

“They all do,” you said, “in their own ways.”

Ning was speechless. Following your gaze toward the four boys that were conversing with one another, she let out a huff. “Then I can’t help you, girl. You need to talk to them yourself.”

“They’re all losers anyway.” Jeonghyeon rolled his eyes. 

Hanbin chuckled, nudging the boy with his shoulder. “And you’re better how?”

“Well, first of all—” and Jeonghyeon continued to name all the reasons he considered himself better than his slightly older cousin because in reality, he cared for Heeseung as a brother. Sometimes, he just really could not stand him and how idiotic he could be. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” Sunghoon asked for the millionth time today as the two of you sat in your bedroom with English textbooks spread over your floor. For reasons, you were still avoiding staying in the library for too long.

“Yes, Hoon, it’s okay. My parents aren’t gonna be home until later, so nobody cares. Calm down,” you replied for the third time (without exaggeration) within the span of fifteen minutes. “Unless you’re planning something other than studying, it’s totally fine.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not—” he bit his lip, flustered by the remark. “Just because I said I like you— that’s not what— Y/N…”

“I’m joking, Sunghoon,” you said, a lopsided grin decorating your lips. “You can only get a kiss if you can get this exercise correctly.”

“Huh?” Sunghoon blinked swiftly and several times, gaping at you. 

Teasing him was your new favourite activity. He was a confident fraud at school, you concluded, because the boy you knew was nothing like the Park Sunghoon from Decelis Academy that made it onto Miss Decelis many times before.

You started coming to peace with the fact that you truly liked each of the boys for different reasons. But you were most drawn toward Sunghoon and Jake. The two boys were the same in so many ways that they made you feel similar but different. And being with Sunghoon made missing Jake somewhat easier. 

“Here.” You pointed at the empty worksheet in front of him. “If you can correctly fill it, you get one kiss.”

“Are you serious?”

You nodded. And, as proof, you leaned in to give Sunghoon the lightest peck on his lips. “Very serious.”

“I’m a genius,” he said, in English, grabbing the worksheet with newfound fervour that made you laugh.

Sunghoon grinned at you, a genuine toothy smile that was rare from him, and then he put all his focus on the work you gave him. His brows furrowed, and he bit his bottom lip in thought. 

It took him ten minutes to fill every sentence, but he kept looking at you to gauge whether you approved of his answer or not. You could not bring yourself to scold him and make the judgement for himself. Especially because he did fill everything correctly.

Sunghoon chewed on his lip, glancing at you expectantly while pushing the finished worksheet toward you. The grin that made its way onto your face couldn’t be contained, merely because you were proud of his progress. 

“You really are a genius,” you said. 

“So… my kiss?” Sunghoon spoke eagerly, and you giggled. 

Beckoning him closer with your index finger, you watched as Sunghoon scooted closer to you on the floor. He used his legs and arms to push all of the textbooks and papers you had spread out before out of the way. Biting his lower lip, he stared at you.

“Are you sure?” he questioned uncertainly. 

You nodded. 

”Can I kiss you?” he asked again because he wanted a verbal answer. “Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, you can kiss me, Hoon.”

Smiling, Sunghoon cupped your cheek with one hand before leaning in and hungrily capturing your lips with his. It was a different kiss to the one you shared after he won the figure skating competition. This kiss felt real. Something both of you were doing consensually.

“I want you to be able to always talk to me,” he said in between small pecks, his lips moving to your neck. He bit at the tender skin, smirking when you whimpered. “Don’t ever hide from us, again, okay? No matter what happens, Y/N. We want to be here for you.”

“I—” you paused when you felt Sunghoon’s soft lips against your shoulder. “What if I can’t…” you began, grabbing Sunghoon’s cheeks to make him look into your eyes again. Both your pupils were blown wide as you stared at each other. “Jake—”

“Will still love you whether you choose just him or all of us,” Sunghoon finished for you, finally aware of what had transpired between you. “We’re just the pathetic bunch of guys who lost their minds over one girl. You’re the one who calls the shots.” He grinned, kissing you again, though with much more passion to show you just how much he meant his words.

Placing his hands on your hips, Sunghoon waited for your reaction. He waited for what you would do. And it pleased him when you moved even closer, your hands raking through his locks.

It was you who began unbuttoning his shirt, and it was you who let him pull your t-shirt over your head. He groaned when he saw you were not wearing a bra, your nipples hard in the cold air. He could not resist the temptation to palm your boobs, listening to the small breathy sounds that left your lips as if you were simply an instrument he was playing. 

Sunghoon’s lips were stuck to yours, shifting only enough to allow you to sit on his lap, your bare stomach pressing against his clothed but very hard dick. There were thoughts he had that he could not share with you nor his friends, but Sunghoon was convinced it should’ve been him to take your virginity. It could’ve been him who took your first kiss, too, but he was an idiot. 

He had regrets to make up for, and you sat right in his lap, ready for whatever was to come. 

When he pulled away from you for a bit, it was to show you how sex-crazed his expression was. “On the bed, now,” he commanded, not giving you much space to object. 

You thought he wanted you to lie down on your back, but the opposite surprised you. Sunghoon was the one to do so, his head hitting your pillows. “I want you to ride my face,” he said, and you blinked at him several times, processing his words.

“What—”

“Have you not— oh, you haven’t.” Sunghoon came to the conclusion himself, watching the lost expression on your face. He chuckled and licked his lips. “Take the rest of your clothes off, Y/N.” A command. Again. 

You obeyed instantly. 

Sunghoon bit his tongue, hissing at the sight of you. “Beautiful,” he murmured to himself before pulling you to him. ”Just kneel above my face, Y/N.”

“But isn’t that dange—” You felt so embarrassed over the fact you were still so inexperienced despite the time you had spent with Jake. 

“You can’t hurt me,” Sunghoon said, determined to be right. At least he could have one of your firsts. Even if it was riding his face. “Trust yourself, and trust me.” 

“Okay.” You chewed on your lower lip. 

Your movements were slow, but Sunghoon’s hands were on your legs, holding them apart and positioning you above his face with a satisfied grin. 

“Now sit. Let me taste you.” There was an edge to his voice that made it hard to question him. You did as you were told, a gasp instantly leaving your lips when you felt his tongue lap at your pussy, his nose hitting your clit. 

Sunghoon groaned, mesmerised by the sweet taste of you. He knew you were a fast learner the moment you started grinding your hips on his face. His tongue did wonders, filling you more than you would’ve thought possible, and whenever you had the urge to press your thighs together, Sunghoons arms were right there, keeping them apart. 

His rhythm matched yours, and he enjoyed every moan that left your lips. “Hoon, fuck, yes, that feels good,” you murmured through the haze of pleasure, doing your best to keep it together. 

“I’m— close,” you breathed out, the knot inside your stomach slowly untangling. Sunghoon’s movements became more erratic then, wanting to make you cum on his face. 

“Sunghoon!” you exclaimed when you finally came undone, still riding off your high on the figure skater’s face, feeling his proud smile. “I need you in… inside,” you said, certain that you sounded pathetic, but Sunghoon hardly thought so.

He didn’t waste any time, flipping you to your back, his strength slightly surprising you. His trousers were gone within seconds,  andthe sight of his pink tip covered in pre-cum made you salivate, but that was perhaps for another time. 

You held your breath as Sunghoon hovered over you, teasing your entrance with his cock. Shooting him an annoyed look, he chuckled at your reaction before thrusting into you in one powerful movement. It made you lightheaded. 

“So… tight,” Sunghoon groaned, and you wanted to say he could’ve at least eased his way in, but you kept your mouth shut. “Is this okay?” he asked anyway.

“Yeah,” you replied, shimmying your hips to spur him on. The way he filled you felt amazing, but you needed him to move. “Sunghoon, please.”

Smirking, he leaned toward you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was a stark contrast to his next action as he completely pulled out and then slammed his cock inside of you again. The squelching sound of your pussy was almost unreal. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Sunghoon hummed, hands moving to your hips to hold your body at an angle that allowed him much better access. “So tight.”

He did not go easy on you, setting a rough, fast pace that made your insides turn to mush. But the pleasure was immeasurable. You could barely register the tight grip he had on your hips; it was most definitely going to bruise. 

Your room was filled with the cacophony of your whimpers, Sunghoon’s groans and skin slapping against skin until your brain could barely register anything but the tsunami building inside of you, threatening to spill over any second. 

“Sunghoon— oh,” you moaned pathetically, clutching your sheets desperately. “I’m— fuck— so close.”

His pace only turned more rabid and messy when you said it, chasing his own climax with you. 

“Sunghoon!” you screamed when the pressure was finally too much. Your body trembled with ecstasy while Sunghoon didn’t let up even as you went limp in his arms.

He leaned down to press his lips to one of your boobs, biting down on your nipple, smiling at the exhausted breath that left your mouth. Your walls squeezed Sunghoon’s dick so deliciously it was not surprising when he came not long after, pulling out swiftly, his cum splattering messily over your chest and stomach.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he mumbled, momentarily letting himself collapse on the bed next to you. Not entirely to relax, since he immediately chased the touch of your lips on his, and you couldn’t deny him. “Let me clean you up,” he said against your lips. 

You expected him to go to your bathroom and bring back a wet towel, but instead, when he got off the bed, he hauled you into his arms. You yelped, once again blown away by Sunghoon’s sheer strength. 

He carried you to the bathroom with ease, laying you down in the large bathtub that only a five-star hotel like the one from the Lees could have inside a penthouse. 

“I’m still not used to this,” Sunghoon said, glancing around the bathroom that was larger than his bedroom. But it didn’t stop him from doing what he intended. 

What you thought would be quick aftercare turned into Sunghoon starting a full bath for you, cleaning your whole body and massaging your limbs until you practically fell asleep inside the bathtub.

He only got rid of the sweat from his own body, focusing mainly on you. He wanted to show you that at the end of the day, his world was truly revolving around you. 

He may have denied it in the past simply because he was scared of what it would mean for him, but some things were worth being courageous for. Caring for you was one of those things.

When the two of you were children, you cared for him, and now it was his turn to return the favour. He needed to protect you from all the bad and be with you through all the good. And he didn’t even care if, in the end, you’d choose someone else. 

It was Sunghoon who convinced you to talk to Jake.

“I’m so sorry for running away,” you apologised softly, afraid of making eye contact with Jake.

“No, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, glancing at Jake, your eyes firm. “Do not apologise for being honest about your feelings,” you said, brushing your hair out with your fingers.

Jake chewed on his bottom lip as he eyed you.

“I just— I don’t know… I feel awful. And guilty. Have I been leading you on this whole time? I don’t even know what it means to love someone and you—”

“No, Y/N, you haven’t,” Jake reassured you, reaching out for your hands. He held onto you tightly, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. “You’ve been very clear about not wanting a relationship. It’s my fault for—”

“No.” You shook your head again, yanking your hands out of Jake’s grip only to cup his cheeks. “Don’t say it’s your fault for having feelings, Jake. I— I know I care about you, too. I care about you a lot. You make me happy, and I want to be around you almost all the time. And I don’t know if that’s love, but if that’s how you feel about me, too, then that is not a fault.”

Jake pressed his lips together, a downturned smile gracing his features — it almost resembled a pout. “You also make Sunghoon really happy, did you notice?” he asked quietly. “He smiles a lot more around you.”

“I also care about Sunghoon a lot, but—”

“You should choose him,” Jake said at once, and you gaped at him in surprise. 

“Jake… don’t say that.” You closed your eyes momentarily. “I can’t just choose. Not between you. You guys are friends.”

“Then don’t choose,” Jake sighed. “Just be with us. We’ll give you anything, Y/N. Just… please, don’t leave.” His eyes were these big, brown, sad pools that were sucking you in, and the only thought left in your brain was to kiss his pouty lips. 

“I won’t leave,” you said, your smile rueful. “Not again.”

“You promise?” Jake grabbed your hands again, trying to get you to pinky promise, but you shook your head. 

“I don’t think I’m fit to promise anything,” you said. “But I will do my best.”

“Then that’s all I need.” Jake squeezed your hands in support before leaning in for the kiss that you were not able to stop thinking about. “I’ve wanted to do this for the past week,” he mumbled, giggling against your lips. 

“It doesn’t matter if you love me back or not, Y/N. I can love you enough for the both of us,” he said, a determined look on his face. 

It was in that moment when you realised that maybe, after everything, you were in love with Sim Jake. Although it didn’t feel like fireworks or the way many people described it in books or movies, the certainty that there was someone who would always be in your corner, someone who made you feel safe to be yourself and who would never judge you was just as strong. 

Jake wasn’t just a friend you cared about. He was a friend who would support you no matter what, and so much more. And you wondered if this was the feeling people got when they found the person they would forever consider their soulmate. 

“Jake?” you whispered softly. 

“Mhm?” he hummed. 

“I think I love you, too.” The bright smile that graced your lips made Jake’s heart race. “But I don’t know how we should— I feel like everything is a mess. What about Hoon? And Jay? And—”

“I won’t make you choose, Y/N. If you don’t want to let them go, then don’t. We’re fine with it, I promise. As long as you don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Because I don’t think I can let you go after this.” Jake ran a hand through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Then don’t.” You smiled. 

Good morning, Decelis!

Who’s ready to party? I heard that the Chois are planning to start off the Lunar New Year with a bang.

XO, Miss Decelis

When Yeonjun claimed to have a special guest performance at his party, the last thing people had expected was for Bang Chan (a Decelis alumni), Seo Changbin and Han Jisung to appear on stage as a group called 3Racha. Their songs were actually amazing, but this was kind of their debut among the Decelis Academy students as nobody knew that they were a part of the underground scene for the past two years aside from Yeonjun, apparently.

You were getting a drink for yourself when he approached you with a grin. “You seem busy tonight,” he said, pointing toward a corner where four boys stood, all waiting for you to join them once again.

“Do I?” You raised your brow at him, and he let out a light-hearted chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, darling,” Yeonjun said, ruffling your hair teasingly. “Just no funny business in my house, okay? At least not without me.”

You rolled your eyes at the last remark. “You wish.”

“I really do.” Yeonjun shot you a wink, donning a lopsided grin. He avoided the slap you aimed at his shoulder, and disappeared into the crowd with a salute. “See you around, Y/N.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” You recognised Sunghoon’s voice, surprised by it at such close vicinity. He had been standing in the corner with Jay, Jake and Heeseung not so long ago, but now he was right next to you. “Was he flirting again? Should I tell him to fuck off?”

“Hoon.” You looked at the figure skater, amused by the way his whole face was contorted by jealousy. His lips formed a slight pout and his brows were furrowed as he glared into the crowd where Yeonjun left. “He’s just teasing me. It’s fine. Yeonjun’s my friend.”

“But you said he was your first kiss,” Sunghoon pointed out because he had been curious a while ago and actually asked. “And Miss Decelis—”

“That was months ago. It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head. Back then, you just wanted to lose your virginity, and it did not matter to whom that would be. You got lucky when it ended up being Jake. “Yeonjun and I are just friends.”

“I know, I trust you.” Sunghoon looked at you, an adoring glint in his brown eyes. “I just don’t trust him. To be fair, I don’t even trust myself,” he sighed.

You chuckled, letting your head fall on his shoulder. “We’ll be fine, Hoon. All of us.” Glancing toward the other boys, you saw them talking to each other, laughing about something Heeseung said. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Can you tell the guys, so they don’t have to worry about me?”

Sunghoon gave you a tight-lipped smile, showing his dimples, and nodded.

“Thank you.” Kissing his cheek, you parted ways with him again, heading upstairs to find an empty bathroom.

But you never made it to one, someone yanking you inside an empty room by the wrist. You were going to blow up at the person for the gall they have to do this, but when your eyes fell on a familiar figure you thought you’d never see again, you froze.

Your brain entirely malfunctioned at the sight of Yoo Namsoon, one of the girls who made your high school experience hell. She was not the one who pushed you into the pool last year, but she did watch, doing nothing to stop it. 

“How cute,” she said mockingly, eyeing you from head to toe. Your outfit did not fit the version of you that she knew from last year. “You think now that Heeseung and Jay finally don’t hate you, you’re something more?”

You wanted to protest. To disagree because that was not it, but your mouth could not generate any words as you stared at the girl. Her arms were crossed and her glare deadly. All you could do was chew on the inside of your cheek, your fists clenched to the point you felt your nails digging into the skin of your palms. 

“Ah, that’s not why, is it?” Namsoon’s lips formed a self-satisfied smirk as she eyed you. “I know exactly what you are.” She let out a taunting laugh, stepping toward you. She knew you had nowhere to go. The door was behind her, and she would not let you run.

You know nothing about me, you wanted to retort, but the sounds were still not coming out of your mouth. You looked like a fish on dry land, opening and closing your mouth in a pathetic attempt to face one of the many ghosts of your past.

“Still the poor little Y/N, I see,” Namsoon said, enjoying the look of terror on your face. “Or… should I call you Miss Decelis, now that I figured it out?” She feigned a pout. “I wonder if the guys know. They might not appreciate the fact that this whole time, it’s been you, trying to make them look bad.”

You couldn’t breathe. The whole room was spinning despite how hard you tried to focus on Namsoon and how much you wanted to scream at her. All you could do was just stand in place, helpless and weak against one of the girls that nearly ruined your life.

“What?” Namsoon tilted her head to the side, giving you a pitying look. “Can you not speak for yourself?”

“I—”

The door burst open, stopping you from saying anything.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Heeseung had yet to speak to you alone since you reconciled with Jake. These days, you are always with someone. Whether it be the other guys or Jeonghyeon, Ningning and Hanbin. It was obvious you were closest with Jake and Sunghoon, but you quite liked spending time with Jay, too. It was your relationship with Heeseung that was still strained because of the past that haunted it — which was also entirely his fault.

But he really wanted to talk to you. He was just still building up the courage to do so. Which was strange since Lee Heeseung wasn’t usually the anxious type of guy who needed to properly think of what he would like to say to not sound like an absolute asshole.

“Heeseung!” Jeonghyeon’s voice took him out of his stupor. His cousin stared at him with panicked eyes, grabbing at his arm while frantically looking around. Jeonghyeon’s face dropped when he spotted only Jake, Jay and Sunghoon with Heeseung.

“Jeonghyeon, what’s—”

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked instantly, still looking around as if you would sense his panic and suddenly appear out of thin air.

“Sunghoon said she went to the bathroom, why—”

“We need to find her. Now.” Jeonghyeon pulled at Heeseung’s arm, which now fully had the attention of the other three guys, each staring at Jeonghyeon with raised eyebrows.

“What’s going on?” Jay asked, tilting his head to the side.

Jeonghyeon gave Jay a helpless look. “I heard someone say they saw Yoo Namsoon here,” he said, knowing that Jay was the only one who would truly understand his words. “We have to find Y/N.”

Yoo Namsoon was a familiar name to Heeseung. He remembered the girl from last year. They’d hooked up at a party once, and what he mostly took out of the whole encounter was her endless questions about you. He never quite figured out why she wanted to know so much about your childhood, though.

“Fuck,” Jay cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “I thought she was out of the country?”

“No, that’s just Min Jiseo, since she was the one—”

“Wait, are you guys talking about the girls who got expelled for bullying?” Jake’s brows furrowed as he finally caught up to the several random names that were being dropped in the conversation. Then his eyes furrowed when he remembered the main reason why he’d known the name. “Min Jiseo… she was the one who pushed Y/N into the pool,” he said, his smile dropping.

“Yoo Namsoon was one of her best friends,” said Jeonghyeon, affirming the statement with a nod. “And right now, she’s somewhere at this party, and I can’t find Y/N.”

“Fuck,” Jay repeated again. “Let’s… let’s just all look around. One of us has got to be able to find her, right?”

“I’ll go upstairs,” Heeseung said instantly, knowing the house the best since he’d been to the house more than the few times the Chois organised parties. Choi Beomgyu was his friend, after all.

“We’ll look around,” Sunghoon agreed.

Heeseung ran toward the stairs, colliding with Beomgyu. “Hey, dude. Chill. What’s up?” The shorter guy’s laid back attitude only seemed to irk Heeseung more, but he stopped to respond regardless.

“Have you seen Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah. I think I saw someone pull her in one of the empty rooms. Was a bit weird, but I didn’t wanna pry.”

Heeseung blinked at Beomgyu several times. “You didn’t wanna—” Sighing, he shook his head. “Okay, thanks.”  He wanted to think Namsoon hadn’t got to you yet, but he had a bad feeling about this.

Heeseung opened the door to every room he could until he found the right one.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asked, faced with Namsoon’s back.

You stood in the middle of the room, rooted in your spot. Eyes glossy with unshed tears, Heeseung’s immediate response was to push past Namsoon and wrap his arms around you. He ignored Namsoon’s scornful gaze and the scoff she let out.

“Should I tell him, or will you, Y/N?” she asked tauntingly.

“Heeseung,” you murmured against his chest, but he shook his head, glaring at Namsoon.

“Well, isn’t this just so cute.” The girl rolled her eyes. “But she hasn’t told you that she’s the one who’s been shit-talking you for years to the whole school, has she?” Namsoon tilted her head, smirking. “Little Y/N trying to pretend to be something more as Miss Decelis.”

Heeseung licked his lips but didn’t react. He didn’t want to give Namsoon the satisfaction. It was certainly a conversation for later, but not now. “Who the fuck cares?” He feigned nonchalance. “Just get the fuck away from us, Namsoon. Nobody wants you here. You’re just a self-conscious bitch, and it shows. It’s pathetic.”

The offended gasp Namsoon let out made you chuckle against Heeseung’s chest, and he pressed you closer to him, creating a sort of shield between you and the girl who came to the party just to terrorise you.

“Whatever. I’ll just tell everyone else.”

“You won’t be telling anyone anything.” Jay appeared in the door, blocking the path for Namsoon. “Nobody’s gonna believe shit you say because if you haven’t forgotten, you got kicked out of Decelis for bullying.”

“Choose your next actions carefully. Because I have Y/N’s father on speed dial.” Sunghoon showed his phone from behind Jay, peering into the room. Jake was there, too.

That seemed to knock some sense into the girl. You still remembered your father threatening to take legal action against the families of anyone who would dare hurt you in any way. You hated that other people were fighting your battles, but your whole body felt numb the moment you saw Yoo Namsoon.

Her derisive laugh made you look at her. “Did you sleep with all of them? God, Y/N, out of all the things I’d expect from you, homie-hopping is definitely not one of them.”

“It’s hardly homie-hopping if we’re all fine with it.” Jake rolled his eyes. “Now get the fuck out while we’re being nice.”

Stepping to the side to create enough space for Namsoon, they pointed at the door. She glanced at you one last time, her spite seeping through every pore in her body, before finally leaving. “You’re all insane,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung let go of you, only for his hands to cup your cheeks, examining your entire face. “She didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

You shook your head. “She didn’t touch me,” you whispered, practically collapsing in Heeseung’s arms from the imagined lack of oxygen in your lungs. “I think she just wanted to prove she still had an effect on me.”

“Y/N.” Heeseung held you tightly.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head.

“For what?”

“I’m not really sure.” 

“Then don’t be sorry,” he said. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He should’ve known you were Miss Decelis, now that he thought about it. It explained why the blog centred around you most of the time — and not necessarily in a good way. “I’m the one who should be sorry. For a lot of things.” For ignoring you. For not noticing what you were going through. For refusing to see how amazing you were and making you feel like you were less.

“Yeah. If anything, we’re the ones who should be sorry.” Jay chuckled, approaching you and Heeseung.

They didn’t have to be, though. You already forgave them.

“But we’re here for you now, Y/N.” Jake smiled, stealing a kiss from you in front of everyone. “You can always talk to us. As your friends. Or your boyfriends. Whatever you wanna label it.”

Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Technically, I’m the boyfriend,” he said matter-of-factly, raising his hand.

“Piss off.” Heeseung rolled his eyes.

You giggled, watching them pretending to fight over you. Hopefully, none of you will ever have to explain the relationship to any of your parents.

Good morning, Decelis!

It seems the rumours have reached you all. I guess one day, even this blog would have to come to an end. It is only fitting that it happens now, when the very reason I started this blog for has been resolved. If you can call it that.

I doubt most of you will miss me anyway. XO, Y/N.

tags: @moonpri @strxwbloody @starsenha @chaconadine @in-somnias-world @tmtxtf @missychief1404 @mitmit01

[mizzcap]

mouthwashing x reader

how you met part 4

JIMMY MENTIONED, monologues from game

actor AU Jimmy where he is a nice British man who is nice with dogs and who is a nice good boy

JIMMY (ACTOR AU)

-you have been having a hard time finding a final actor for your movie

-you were a college student working on your final for the year

- but because of the content of this final character's personality and story: it was hard to cast.

-the others were easy. Curly and Anya: kids form your class. Daisuke, a freshman in college who you met one day while working on the script in the college's Starbucks. And Swansea, Daisuke's older stepfather.

-truthfully you were ready to scrap the project completely

-the issues with the main character being so controversial and frankly horrible, people were hesitant to tarnish their reputation on campus

-"I got a mate. Never acted a day in his life but I got faith in him" curly told you one afternoon

-and desperate you said yes

The man in baggy grey sweatpants and a loose fitted Star wars shirt shifted uncomfortably in his spot as his eyes darted continuously between the director and Curly

"Thank you so much for coming- Jimmy, right? I'm (Y/N)" They approached him, holding out their hand Jimmy nodded, pausing to look at their hand before shaking it "Uh- yeah! Thanks for the opportunity- despite- my lack of-" he cleared his throat "-uh yeah.." his lack of experience.

He just couldn't remember the word

They nodded and smiled, backing away to sit on the desk to watch

It had only been curly and (Y/N) in the room with him, minimizing as much as possible to make him comfortable.

Jimmy stared down at the script in his shaking hands, eyes darting to Curly-- who gave him a wide and encouraging smile."Whenever you're ready" the director nodded

"What-" he cleared his throat, taking a breath "how do i- like- okay.. what emotion am I supposed to..?" They smiled reassuringly "any that feels right. You've got our attention, I promise it's normal to feel nervous"

Jimmy nodded, feeling more at ease than anything. He took a breath. Then.

"I don't think I understood the pressure you were under before"

(Y/N) Perked up at how gruff he made his voice sound. His usual slightly rasped British accent was replaced by a deeper rasping American on

"Fuck.. and you tried to tell me.. Our worst moments don't make us Monsters, Huh? You're a good captain curly... And you'll be a good captain again.. I'll get us both. Through this.."

Jimmy paused, his confidence fading as he met their eyes- "and- the other monologue too?" He asked, a bit hesitant (Y/N) Nodded and smiled "if you're up for it"

He nodded and took her another breath

"What do you think will happen when we get back, hm? All I ever hear is how great of a leader you are. God. It's so annoying. But now? What do you think will happen now when you get back? Everything you and I worked for in our lives. Accomplishments. Changes.. None of it. Will matter. No.. it's not just me, is it- you were supposed to be the one who had everything under control. You said so yourself. The ship. The crew. Everything that happened here. It's your responsibility captain. That's what you'll be hearing for the rest of your life. Or... This can all be remembered as a tragedy. Despite the best possible efforts from its acclaimed captain; the Tuplar crew was never found. No one survived to tell the tale.. you're standing at the top. Feet in cement.. I get it now. Right? I'll take care of it."

Jimmy paused, anxiety overcoming as he looked up at the director and his best friend. "How did I.. do?" He hesitated- his usual accident shining through

"..how do you feel about growing a stubble?" The director asked with a grin

[larluce]

Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU

@dsabian , @theroundbartable , @theplatanitosqueal , @stressed-but-chill , this part is quite long.

LINK TO THE OTHER PARTS: PART 1 , PART2 , PART 3 , PART 4 (You're here) , PART5

Morgana, Arthur (with Merlin on his shoulder) and Uther having a family dinner. Gwen and other servants enter to serve the food.

Uther: Does the bird really has to be here?

Morgana: Oh, let him be. He's very well behaved. Even more than Arthur.

Arthur: I'm very flattered you think so highly of my manners, Morgana.

Merlin: (chirps)

Morgana: See? He agrees.

Arthur: Shut up, Merlin.

Uther: (thinking) Am I the only one that thinks is weird they treat this animal like a person?

Arthur: (takes a bite of his food) Hum, what is this? A pigeon?

Merlin: (chirps loudly, horrified, and flies away, leaving the room)

Uther: Arthur, control your bird! He left feathers on my food!

Arthur: Sorry father. (worried) He isn't normally like this, I think something upsetted him.

Morgana: Maybe is because you're eating a bird?

Arthur: No, that have never bothered him before and small birds are part of merlins' diet.

Morgana: Wait... (turns to Gwen) Gwen, what type of bird is that on Arthur's plate.

Gwen: I'm not sure... (turns to other servant girl) Gladys, you were with the cook when they prepared the food right? What kind of bird is that?

Servant girl: I don't know, it kind of looked like a falcon but it was too small too be one.

Morgana: You mean like a merlin?

Arthur: (pales) Fuck! (stands up) I'm sorry father. I need to go (leaves)

Morgana: Yeah, me too. It was a nice dinner, your majesty (leaves too)

Uther: But you barely touched your plates! (sighs, to servants) Take this away, and make sure you don't cook merlins for dinner next time, for gods' sake.

In Arthur's chambers. Merlin is in his human form crying, while Arthur and Morgana try to comfort him.

Merlin: He was just two years old!😭 He was barely starting living.

Arthur: (hugs him close, patting his back) I'm so sorry, Merlin.

Morgana: (puts a hand on his shoulder) Are you sure is Claws?

Merlin: I'll recognise him anywhere. (snifs) He had just started his first nest with his mate.

Arthur: Wait, he had a partner? 😧

Merlin: And five little eggs. (breaks the hug abruptly) OMG! I need to tell Brownie what happened to Claws!

Arthur: Go, meanwhile I'll talk to the hunters so this never happens again.

Merlin: (smiles) Thank you, Arthur.(kisses him on the cheek) I'll be back as soon as I can. (turns into a bird and goes flying through the window).

Arthur: (in shock with a hand on his cheek) 😳😳

Morgana: I'll try to get Claws' rests, so maybe we can do him a proper funeral when Merlin comes back.

Arthur: (snapping out of his trance) Right, good idea, Morgana. I'll meet you at your chambers in an hour.

Later. Arthur shouting at the hunters.

Arthur: What were you thinking?!😡

Hunter1: (scared) Bu-but, sire. You told us to get rid of it.

Arthur: Yes, but you were supposed to bury him somewhere in the woods, not get him cooked!

Hunter2: We were going to, but the cook saw us and thought it was todays dinner-

Arthur: I don't want to hear your excuses! (threathening) No one must know about this, specially Merlin, this stays between us. Do you understand?

Hunter1: Yes, sire!

Hunter1: Yeah, we won't mention this to your.. uh.. pet.

Arthur: Now, get out of my sight!

Hunters: Yes, sire! (leave)

Morgana: (enters, in disbelieve and furious) I can't believe you!

Arthur: (turns to her, nervous) Oh, hi, Morgana! 😅

Morgana: Don't "hi" me. You killed Claws! You murderer!

Arthur: You're talking like I've just killed a person. He was just a bird.

Morgana: He was not just a bird to Merlin and you know it! Did you think about how devastated he would feel?

Arthur: He was never supposed to know he died, just that he disappeared!

Morgana: yeah, because that's ten times better, isn't it? Are you even hearing yourself?

Arthur: Morgana, stop. I feel bad enough already.

Morgana: As you must! 5 merlin chicks are without a father thanks to your sick jealousy!

Arthur: (Guilty) I didn't know he had a family. (thoughtfully) How do you compensate a female bird for killing the father of her eggs?

Morgana: Don't. She'd probably just take your eyes out.

Arthur: (sighs) Will you tell Merlin?

Morgana: No, that would just crush him more. Your secret is safe with me.

Arthur: (relieved) Thank you.

Morgana: But you better start acting on your feelings for Merlin before you start killing the entire merlin race!

Later at Claws funeral in the royal garden. Morgana puts Claws bones in a box and Arthur buries it while Merlin watches in grieve.

Morgana: I'm sorry I could only save the bones. The servants tend to eat the royal leftovers.

Merlin: It's okay. If he wasn't eaten his dead would've been in vain. (turns to Arthur) Was he delicious?

Arthur: Ahm... yeah?

Merlin: (smiles, sadly) I'm glad. He was a nice friend. He didn't care I wasn't enterily a bird though he didn't quite understand it.

Morgana: Did you know Arthur thought he wanted to mate with you?

Arthur: (flustered) Morgana! 😳

Merlin: Oh, he did propose me to mate with him once.

Arthur: What?!

Merlin: Yeah, he did the most beautiful flying dance I've seen, but I just couldn't see him like that. So we stayed friends. It surprised me a lot, normally merlins just leave after I reject them, but he never stopped hanging out with me, even when he found his mate.

Arthur: What a nice friend (thinking) That flirtatious bastard.

Merlin: Anyways, I need to go now. Brownie needs me to hunt her food since she's incubating her eggs still and can't leave her nest.

Arthur: (guilty again) Right, send her my condolences.

Morgana: Mine too.

Merlin: (kisses Arthur's cheek again and leaves in his bird form).

Morgana: Well, that went well.

Arthur: Morgana.

Morgana: Yeah?

Arthur: I need to learn how to fly.

[gejo333]

Emergency

Father Miguel O’Hara x Mother Reader

18+ Warning

Summary: When Miguel gives you a watch he tells you to only use it to see him in emergencies. You get big news, and you can’t wait to tell him so you go to his work place. Little did you know that no one knew Miguel had a wife and baby. So when everyone saw you and asked you who you were. They were shocked.

Part of this was inspired by fanart on tik tok of Miguel getting his fangs right after altering his DNA. Will hopefully update post if I get permission from the artist! (Wish me luck🙏)

I apologize for any grammatical errors I missed.

Enjoy💕

Wc: 2.3k

____________________________________________

A beep was heard from the watch Miguel gave you at the beginning of your relationship 4 years ago. Drying your hands after finishing the dishes, you press the button to see the message from your husband.

The workload is light today. I will be home early. Do you want me to grab anything for you, cariño?

You reply by saying you need nothing and how you couldn’t wait to see him this afternoon.

Checking the baby monitor, a smile graces your lips as you gaze at your sleeping daughter. Less than a year ago, she was still in your belly.

Your little Sofia. When you became pregnant with her, you feared Miguel’s reaction since the passing of his first daughter Gabriella. You were surprised to see him crying tears of joy when you told him.

Sitting on the couch, you sigh. Maternity leave was nice. You were happy to get time off and spend time with your daughter. But you had to admit, it was boring the majority of the time. You had nothing to do when Miguel was at work and Sofia was napping.

To ease your boredom, Miguel will take a day or two off every other week to do things as a family or try to come home early to spend the afternoon with you.

You go to the nursery to gaze at your daughter. Walking in, you lean over her crib and watch her little chest rise and fall. She was the spitting image of Miguel, except she had your face shape and nose.

When she was born, you were curious if she would develop any spider traits from Miguel. He said the chance would be small since he had only half spider DNA and you were normal. Turning away from her crib, you grab the breast pump as your chest is sore. Putting on the changing table, you turn around.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you found the crib empty.

“Sofia!?” Panic envelops you. A small happy squeal comes from Sofia as your gaze approaches the ceiling. Your eyes goes wide, a gasp coming from your lips. Hanging from a web upside down was your daughter.

“Hey, baby girl. Come to mommy.” Standing right below her, you raise your arms toward her. Letting out another happy squeal, she drops down into your arms. You hold her in your arms as you try to steady your breathing. The small scare made your heart beat out of control.

You walk over to the couch in the living room, sitting down as Sofia rests her head against your shoulder. She was in the middle of teething, so sometimes she would use you or Miguel as chewing toys.

“Ow.” A sudden jolt of pain went through you as you lifted Sofia’s head. Your shoulder had small teeth marks. Eyebrows furrowed as you sit her up on your lap. She gazed at you with her bright brown eyes smiling up at you. Looking closer at her sort of toothy grin, another gasp leaves you as you see tiny fangs.

You press a few buttons on the watch to call Miguel. He didn’t answer, which meant he was on a mission. Miguel only said to travel to HQ if it was an emergency. You get the buckle carrier and strap Sofia in. Pressing a few buttons, the portal opens up. Miguel said it was safe, so you had no worries going through with Sofia.

You walk through, and within seconds, you are at Spider HQ. You grab the day pass that Miguel leaves on his desk and put one around Sofia’s wrist. You gawk at your surroundings. It was spectacular. It was your first time here as there never had been a need to come here.

It didn’t take long for the other Spider-people to notice you. They only talk amongst themselves as they walk by.

“Y/n?” You turn around to see a certain Spiderwoman walk up to you.

“Jess, it’s nice to see a familiar face here. It’s been a while since you last visited our place for dinner. How’ve you been? How’s your baby?”

“I’ve been good. He’s doing good. With his father back at home. I don’t mean to be forward, but is everything ok?” Concern etched on her face.

“Yes and no. Nothing bad. But it turns out Sofia is more like her father than we thought. I thought of staying home, but she won’t stay still, and I’m unsure ofwhat to do.” You looked down at your happy daughter, gazing lovingly at her.

“Miguel is on a mission right now. But he should be back soon. For now, let’s go to the cafeteria and wait for him.

After catching up with Jess, you arrive at the cafeteria and sit at an empty table.

“Miguel talks about what he does, but he never explains HQ looking as spectacular as this. I didn’t realize there were so many different Spider-Men and women, even animals!”

“It definitely is a sight to behold. It’s nice to see you again. You should come around more often.”

“I would love to. But you know how Miguel is. He likes to keep his personal life out of his work life. He only lets his friends know about me. Which is literally only you, Ben Reilly and Peter.” A chuckle leaves you.

You loved your husband, but his aloofness at work was unlike him. Back in your universe, he was very social. You understood why he was like this. He has a hard time opening up to strangers or acquaintances. You remember how cold he was with you when you first met him. You, a journalist interviewing a scientist at Alchemex who turned out to be Spider-Man. And from there blossomed into what it is today.

Three younger spiders walked up to the table and sat down.

“Hey, Jess! Who’s the new recruit? And who is this sweet little girl?” Asked a boy with nice brown hair that fell over his face.

“I’m Y/n, and this is Sofia. Say hi, Sofia.” You look at Sofia as she squeals. Excited by her new surroundings.

“Awww, Hi Sofia. My name is Pavitr. This is Gwen and Hobie.” Pavitr gestured towards the two sitting next to him.

“When do you start?” Asked Hobie.

“Start what?” You were confused by his question.

“She isn’t a spider. She’s visiting.” Spoke Jess.

“Cool! May I?” Asked Gwen as she held her hand out to Sofia, who was reaching out to her.

“Of course! She loves meeting new people. Would you like to hold her?” Gwen looks at you with a excited look as you take Sofia out of her carrier and pass her to the teenage girl. A wide smile graces your lips as Sofia immediately warms up to the three young spiders as they take turns holding her.

You stretch your back, relieved to have less weight on your back.

“Aww, she’s a baby spider! Like Mayday!” Said Pavitr as he awed over Sofia.

“Whose Mayday?” You ask Jess directly.

“Peter B. had a baby with MJ. And she got his abilities.” Your eyes brightened when she said there was another baby like Sofia. Another mom who understands what you’re going through.

“Ow.” Said Hobie blatantly. You turned towards the three teenagers. You reach where they are standing, just a few feet away.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I should have warned you that Sofia was teething, and she likes to chew on her fingers. And what I just realized today is that she has fangs.” Gwen hands her back to you as Sofia just giggles.

“Wait, she has fangs?” Asked Gwen.

“Yeah. She gets them from her father.” The three spiders look again at Sofia and back at you.

“Why does she remind me of someone we know?” Pavitr said. Both Hobie and Gwen look surprised, figuring it out, as the two look at each other. Sofia’s joyful squeals become louder as she moves more in your arms.

“Amor?” You turn around to see your husband, who looks at you with concern. You walk towards him as he happily gives you a hug. Releasing from the hug, he puts his hands on both your shoulders.

“Is everything ok? Did something happen?” He checks to see if you and Sofia are ok.

“We’re fine, Miggy. I came here because I need your help with Sofia. Turns out she’s more of a daddy’s girl than we thought. She has some of your abilities.” You pass Sofia to her father.

Miguel looks over his daughter, seeing that she has fangs and organic webbing like him. Sofia placed her hands on her father’s face, which made him smile.

“Wait, wait, wait. Why didn’t you tell us you had a wife and baby!” Said Pavitr, pouting.

“Who would have guessed the boss man had a family.” Chuckled Hobie, which earned him a glare from Miguel. You lightly nudged Miguel with your shoulder. You both looked at each other before he rolled his eyes and sighed. Admitting defeat.

“Each of you can only ask one question.” Miguel huffed.

“How long have you been together?” Asked Pavitr.

“Four years. Known each other for six.” He says.

“What’s it like to be married to him?” Chuckled Hobie.

“It’s the best. He’s the most amazing husband and father a person could ask for. He is also the love of my life.” You gaze lovingly at him as he returns the same gaze.

He wraps an arm around your waist as he brings you closer to his side as he holds Sofia in his other arm.

“Te quiero, Y/n.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Awww, such a cute family.” Peter B. walked up as he held Mayday in his arms.

“It’s nice to see you again, Peter.”

“You too, Y/n. You should come around more often. It would make Mr. Grumpy here less Grumpy.”

“No puedo más,” Miguel grumbled to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. You give his hand, wrapped around you, a love squeeze which he returns.

“You have the last question, Gwen.” You smiled at her.

“Will you and Sofia come back to visit?”

“Of course. We would love to come back and visit you guys. And keep Mr. Grumpy happy.” You go on your toes and kiss his cheek.

The three young spiders look at Miguel to see if he agrees. A long sigh escaped him before saying yes. They jump for joy at his response. You thought they were so cute even though you were no more than 6 years older than them.

After talking for a bit longer, you and Miguel decided to return home. Walking through your door, you walk to Sofia’s nursery to set her back down for her afternoon nap.

You close her door before entering your bathroom and turn on the bath. You go back to Miguel, who sits on the couch. Going behind him on the couch, you hug him and give him a sweet kiss on the lips which he gladly appreciates.

“I was running a bath and added some nice soaps. Do you want to join me?” His lustful gaze scanned over you. You stand and walk slowly to the bathroom as you undress.

Miguel came up behind you, and you felt his hot breath hit your neck. His suit dissolved, revealing the sculpted body of a Greek god that you loved so much.

He took your hand and led you to the tub. The tub was huge, so Miguel could easily fit in it and be comfortable despite his large stature. You get in after as you sit between his legs, lying your back against his chest. Your hair was brushed to one side by Miguel as he began leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

“I’m going to take more time off. I can monitor from home. Give Jess more leadership duties at HQ.” He said in between kisses. You turn your head to meet his gaze.

“Will it be difficult to work from home?”

“It shouldn’t be. And just until Sofia is easier to control with her abilities. You shouldn’t have to deal with that on your own. Maternity leave is not just to be with Sofia but also to rest and recover. I’ll help her more so you can relax. I can help you relax more too.” His voice lowered to a growl with his last words as he continued to kiss and suck at your neck.

He massaged one of your breasts, pinching your nipple, a moan passing through your lips. His other hand trailed down your stomach to your thighs as he separated them. His fingers gently rubbed your clit as your back arched against him. Two fingers passed your lower lips as he began a pace, thrusting and curling them inside you.

“You’re such a slut for me, mi amor. As soon as I begin fingering you, your pussy clenches tight around them, wishing it was my cock.” His pace quickened, which sent you close to the edge as your head fell back against his shoulder.

The mix of him sucking your neck, massaging your breasts, and finger fucking you was making you reach your climax.

You came undone when you felt his fangs bite down against your neck, sucking on you before removing them and licking away the blood from the small wound. He removed his fingers as he licked them clean.

“Mhm, sweet as always.” His comment dusted your cheeks as you came down from your high.

Miguel’s lips were against your ear as he whispered, “Did I help relax you?” You turn to place a passionate kiss on his lips.

“Yes, you did.” You rest your head against him. The sound of his heart beating relaxes you further.

“Good. I can’t wait to help you relax for the next few weeks.”

____________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed reading this cute oneshot💕

[angelstate]

“Broken People, Broken Things”

Broken!Simon x Kind!Reader

In times of need it's difficult for him to speak up, a nagging feeling on his chest, a sinful voice in his mind that tells him he doesn’t deserve the help he needs, that after going through so much in life he should've learned to not ask for help.

an alack sentiment filling his head, a loss of hope so profound that makes him feel hollow, no amount of soil can fill the hole in his chest. is terrifying, the absence of himself on his body, as if he can only be the shell of what he once was.

a stray dog who bites the hand that tries to feed him used to be hurt rather than helped. He knows it’s not all his fault, that life wasn’t kind to him from the very start but guilt still manages to spill through crevices, straining his sanity.

it doesn’t matter how much you try to pull him out of his self-depreciation state, his already too far gone into his own head, thoughts of self-hatred already engraved for him to be eaten alive in the middle of the night.

it’s a cannibalistic situation, being the consumer and the consumed, harming himself until he’s bleeding then wincing at the pain, licking the blood of his wound like a harmed animal, self-sufficient and self-destructive, infecting himself with more pain than he already was in, a cycle of torture with no easy ending to relieve him from the pressure in his chest.

in a world where people's opinion of you controls the way your life plays out, he understands clearly why he didn’t amount to anything worth praising, he can recognize that his life was meant to start and end in one painful motion, surrounded by nothing but despair.

He finds it comical, how life pulls his strings and leads him to suffering when he hasn’t recovered from past wounds, like the universe wants to see how clever he can get to salvage his worthless life, how badly he wants to survive despite having no motive to live.

“Are you listening to me?” you speak, voice soft and kind, pulling him out of his thoughts, like being pulled out of the ocean by a kind stranger who saw him struggle to swim, being helped to fill his lungs with air and not water. he looks down to meet your gaze, your doe eyes always holding a warmth to them, your smile of understanding and patience he doesn’t think he deserves.

“Sorry, I got distracted for a second” he answers, voice low and gruff, tongue rolling with a heaviness created by his thoughts, he should’ve listened to you speak rather than lose himself in his mind, you are the only normality his life still has, the only thing he doesn’t associate to a bad memory.

“s’okay..it’s late either way, I should let you go to sleep” you reply, sounding apologetic as you always do, looking down with what he can only guess to be embarrassment, you shouldn’t feel that way, you should never feel ashamed, he knows you never mean any harm, only acting on love and friendliness.

“I’m not tired yet” he lies, he is tired, his body is aching and begging to rest but his mind feels more active than ever, two entities disconnected and acting on their own accord, he wants to lay down and rest but he doesn’t want to leave, not yet…please, not right now.

He remembers when he was a kid, not older than 4 years old, and terrified of the night, fearing something was hiding in it, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, to kill him. His father's screams in the other room and objects crashing against the walls only fueled his fear, that when the sun goes down, the world knows no peace, that monsters come out and are searching to kill him, to kill his mother.

He never grew out of that, he knew monsters as he believed before weren’t real, but that doesn’t mean that a similar evilness isn’t around, a sort of plague, a parasite that spreads every time he blinks. nights for him didn’t get much better either, something about the quietness didn’t feel right, a wave of doom he couldn’t escape on his chest, he could only stare at the door of his room while waiting for the sun to rise, only then being able to sleep.

“I thought you would be tired, you worked so hard today” you comment, it had been mere seconds that passed until you spoke but it felt like ages, like the time slowed down, once again the universe toying with his sanity. 

you always acknowledge his efforts, his actions, and his reasoning even if you are far off of what he intended, you’re always so nice to him, pretending the rumors and whispers about his past and intentions don’t reach your ears, that you aren’t aware of them when he can’t begin to remember the amount of times he heard about them, too many to count, that’s for sure.

“it was nothing…don’t worry” he answers, but oh how much you worry, concern filling your mind every time your eyes land on him, the tiredness in his eyes evident, his heavy steps a clear sign of his body tired of carrying his weight around. you wish you could lure him into his room, put him to sleep, be able to grant him a good night's rest.

Does he want to rest? Does he deserve to rest?

he feels numb at times, something lacking in his brain, stopping him from fully connecting and experiencing his feelings. It doesn't get any easier with every passing day, hours blend together and before he knows it he’s back by your side, your praises for working so hard and doing things he doesn’t find enjoyable for the sake of everyone else around him.

“Want a cup of tea?” you offer, tilting your head to the side, voice softer and sweeter, like one that people use to lure an animal close, trying to capture him and give him a home. It’s unsettling to him how good you make the idea of being welcomed in a home and not being terrified by the people living in it, like that’s a possibility, like if he lets you put him in that cage he won’t regret it.

“would appreciate it if you made me one” he replies, hesitant and doubtful even if you have never shown a sign of evilness, but anyone who offers him something must want something back, he knows it, he was taught that was how it worked. he doesn’t know what you want, what he can give you, and that terrifies him more, he doesn’t want to owe you anything.

“Okay” you say and leave the room with quiet steps, he doesn’t dare to move from his place, eyes focused on the place you were standing a few seconds ago, he’s alone in the room, being able to hear you open the kitchen door and move things around.

he knows you’re only a few feet away, in another room, the door open and your movements are skilled and soft, but you’re still a person in another room, and he is standing alone, in the darkness remaining because the lamp on the corner table does nothing but illuminate the objects that resting on the surface, everything else is dark.

everything else makes him remember when he was a kid and he was scared, he doesn’t want to be scared anymore.

He stumbles for a second, his foot taking a step back before he can realize he is moving, losing his balance and regaining it quickly. It feels like he’s falling apart from the inside out, a pillar inside of him deteriorating to the point he isn’t able to stand the weight of his past.

He doesn't know what to do, why it affects him so much your kindness and why now out of any other time he feels like he can’t stand the fact you’re in another room, you’re not his father, you're not dangerous, you’re not his mother, you’re not in danger. So why is he so worried he feels like suffocating? 

you affect him in ways he doesn’t like, it makes him feel self-conscious about everything he's gone through in his life, he doesn't understand why you bring that out of him, you are not linked to his past, you’re part of the fresh start he created for himself because of guilt.

maybe you remind him of the kindness he was denied, you remind him of what he could've had if life had been any kinder to him when he needed it when he was just a kid, when he feared his father would kill his mother and him one night, in the middle of the dark with no one to save him.

God, you shouldn’t be kind to people like him, who know nothing but to tarnish everything and everyone around him, he is poison and you’re too pure to even associate with him, your kindness shouldn’t be wasted on him he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve you.

He hears something shattering and follows not even a second later a scream of pain that could only come from you, his eyes dart towards the door, the hallway dark and the winces of pain continue.

For a second, a small fraction of a second he doubts the legitimacy of your injury, thinking his memories are getting to him, making him imagine something that isn’t at all happening, then he hears you fall to the ground, sobs ripping through your mouth and he knows it’s real.

He leaves the room with heavy steps, he’s adjusted to the darkness of the place but moves around, turning lights on with a freakish fear, wanting to have a clear vision even though he’s going straight towards his fear.

He reaches the kitchen and enters, his eyes moving around until he spots you on the floor, curled into yourself, hand bloody and burned, the broken cup and hot tea not even a meter away from you as you sob, holding your injured hand out as to not further damage the wound.

the image brings back memories he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in, moving around till he reaches you, grabbing the wrist from your injured hand with a sudden move, making you scream for a second before realizing is him who grabbed you, his eyes are strained on the wound, your skin looks irritated and half of your hand is soaked in blood.

“What happened?” he asks, tugging at your wrist as if the pain will make you speak any faster, he isn’t the kindest but he doesn’t mean to be harsh either, the panic is just too much on his bones to not let it out somehow, you’re the only person he knows is able to stab yourself with his sharp edges and survive to forgive him.

“I slipped and the cup fell on my hand…tried cleaning it but I cut myself” you explain through sobs and whimpers, trying to get your hand out of his grasp but every movement makes the pain of your wound stronger.

It’s stupid, how you managed to get yourself to fuck up something as simple as a cup of tea, it wasn’t a hard task, the floor hadn’t been mopped since hours ago and yet you still slipped and injured yourself like a baby deer with unstable limbs.

you shake your head, embarrassment once again plaguing your mind, he doesn’t differ with you, he doesn’t think you shouldn’t be ashamed of your mistake, you should be, you are ashamed and he agrees with you but for different reasons.

He thinks you should be ashamed of not calling out his name for help, for sitting on the ground and crying instead of asking for his assistance, you deserve to be helped when injured, and you deserve to be taken care of despite having made this mistake before.

you can make the same error again and still deserve to be forgiven and aided.

Because you’re human, and most importantly you are you, the woman who rescues everyone from their troubles like they are trapped in a burning building, you do everything and anything to make sure the people you love are safe and happy.

He can begin to understand why you think he’s worth the effort, maybe it’s pity, maybe with just one look at him and his reputation you can make out everything there is to know about him, every past trauma, every scar, every emotional issue he can’t let go of.

“It's fine…we’re going to be fine” He says, looking into your eyes, a silent promise you can’t decipher, you nod, pretending that you didn’t notice he aligned himself with your struggle, making himself a part of the situation so you wouldn’t be alone.

he doesn’t want that sort of faith for you.

He softly guides you to stand up from the ground, moving you towards the sink, standing behind you as he turns on the faucet, holding your injured hand and letting the cold water wash away the blood and cool off your irritated skin.

his breathing brushes on your neck, and the warmth of his chest spreads across your entire body as traps you between the counter and himself, it doesn’t have any malice in his touch nor does he mean anything sexual by it.

It’s the worry that has his body glued to yours, the need to surround you so you won’t get injured again, as one hides with their siblings somewhere in the house when your parents begin fighting again, it’s something natural that comes to him, used to protect and preserve the people he didn’t want getting hurt.

“I'm sorry for screwing up your tea” you apologize with a soft whisper, eyes focused on the blood washing away, it doesn’t hurt a lot anymore, just a small sting that lingers a bit uncomfortably, tolerable but not ideal.

you’re truly apologetic, you knew he didn’t get much sleep, that resting wasn’t something he usually did so you had tried to help him but in the end, it seemed you only caused more panic in his soul, his pupils still blown out as he assisted you with cleaning the wound, as if he was doing it for more reasons than just kindness.

maybe he was, you don’t know his full story after all, maybe you remind him of someone, of something he had buried a long time ago that you brought to the surface again and left him with anxiousness on his chest and worry in his mind.

“s’alright… it’s too late for tea either way” he comforts you the best he can, the best his words and feelings will let him right now, he isn’t upset about the mistake you made, anyone can fall, anyone can break a cup, he didn’t care about that, messes get cleaned up, a cup of tea isn’t as valuable as your health, you should know that.

It's too late for tea, and it’s too late for the amount of tears that continue to pour out of your eyes even though the pain isn’t overwhelming anymore, this time is your feelings, your physical state has nothing to do with the tears falling out and you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“I wanted to help you…I'm sorry Si” you speak again, a small hiccup interrupting your words but you don’t let that stop you from telling him how sorry you are that you managed to mess up one of the only things you knew he liked, tea.

“wanna make another one then?” he asks you, offering to let you try again, a second opportunity he knew you deserved and wanted, and even though he wasn’t in the mood for tea or anything at all, he was going to drink what you want to make him, even if it’s the last thing he does.

you shake your head, sniffling as you close the faucet softly with your noninjured hand, looking down as neither of you moves away from each other or makes the attempt to gain some distance. You didn’t want to make it again, didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself and making the same mistake, this time in front of him.

“don’t want to screw up again” you answer him, voice low and full of shame. He understands you, maybe second chances aren’t always appreciated and he accepts that you don’t want to try again tonight.

He sees himself in you more than he wants to right now, more than he thought he ever would actually. He guessed that even someone like you could come from a not-so-pretty background, one where making mistakes is a sin that cannot be let go of without punishment.

different houses, different torture, same ending.

because of that, some part of him has to care for you, you deserve that, he cannot believe it enough even though he won’t say it out loud, don’t want to be caught by other people and have you end up being a outcast like him, you don’t deserve that, you don’t deserve that ending.

He makes you turn around softly so you’re facing him, his hands wiping away your tears with a gentle touch, he wished he could do more, turn back time and help you make the cup of tea, or go even further and stop whatever made you believe making a small mistake was such a high offense.

“Are you alright?” he asks, aware you aren’t but it feels cordial to make the question either way, giving you an opportunity to express more than you normally would, he knows you don’t talk enough about your feelings and it’s time you do.

“It’s not fair that you suffer so much and I can't even do something to help you” you reply and his heart stops for a second, the blood on his vein also coming to a halt as he feels himself being delirious of your words.

you did not hold such sentiment for him, nobody did, nobody has and nobody will. That was his life, a never-ending cycle of being looked down upon and having to do everything by himself because why would anyone want to help him or even try to? it’s stupid, you’re being stupid.

“Don’t say that darling..” he shushes you softly, his hands moving to caress your hair, he shakes his head, not wanting to believe you actually care, not wanting to get hope out of lies, it wouldn’t be pretty if he did and you broke his heart in the end.

“years of pain always lead up to isolation, you don’t deserve that” Captain Price once told him after a tough mission, and the words replay in his mind as he has you in his arms, the water mixed with droplets of blood on your hand staining the kitchen floor as he holds you gently.

He's living like his dead, and he doesn’t like it, doesn’t like he drags you to that same misery every time you’re around him but he doesn't want to let go of.

what is not devotion but to become a better person for the one you love?

“I appreciate your intention sweetheart…” he says as the silence from you eats him alive, wanting to make the ache on your chest disappear, he had never wanted to make you suffer, even unintentionally.

he is ready to repair everything broken so you won’t get harmed ever again, he’s ready to repair himself for you.

He had never wanted to become what he hates, a lover, a sentimental person, and yet as he finds himself becoming all of that and more, he can’t help but enjoy it, especially if it means never letting go of you.

Love wasn’t something he knew much of, never got the chance to learn when he was a kid and for a very long time he thought it wasn’t real, a mythical feeling everyone lied about existing so they wouldn’t be alone for the rest of their lives.

Your existence and kindness prove him wrong, your persistence in trying to make life easier for him, the way you laughed, the way you acted, your personality, your likes, and dislikes, everything about you showed him that love was real and he was experiencing it with you.

even if it took a lot of time for him to realize it he did now, and he loved you a lot, more than he would ever let on, more than any piece of literature could ever describe.

Tomorrow is a new day, and another cup of tea can be made, you cannot cry for what was never lost, and his gaze never falters from you so you don’t have to worry, he will always help you, you’re his air and he is yours.

Love cannot easily be tarnished and he swears he will never let anything happen to the one the two of you share, even if that is the only thing he does with his final breath.

(little reminder: I'm taking requests if you guys want me to write about something specific xx)

[ghcstao3]

ok more of this already because i’m so normal. anyway disregarding canon for the 66th hunger games because that’s where i’m putting ghost

(also only bullet points because i might write a whole thing)

cw for usual hunger games things

anyway some hcs/details mostly about ghost’s games (this is long so strap in):

- by this point, it isn’t unheard of for tributes to act unthreatening during the days leading to the games, to maybe have a chance at surprise attacks—which is a strategy simon takes. what is unheard of in recent years, however, is something like simon’s insistence on having no allies. on being a lone wolf. he does it because he always has been alone, in some sense, and he doesn’t trust these other tributes in any capacity to not turn on him.

- his mentor isn’t any help. vernon is nothing but a bitter old man who, in simon’s opinion, didn’t earn his victory. he knows that’s something horrible to say, but it’s true. not with the way he treats simon, and presumably the other previous tributes, too. simon may as well be going in blind.

- the shy, awkward boy act isn’t at all an act. simon’s never been a people person, his outfits all itch, and the feeling of eyes on him has him nervous. paranoid. the upside is that the capitol somehow finds it endearing, which means sponsors. the downside is that, because of the lack of insight into him as a person as a cause of his quiet nature, it leaves too much room for speculation. it’s part of the reason he becomes sought out after winning—the capitol sees a nice face, assumes things that aren’t true, and suddenly he’s stuck as nothing more than a trophy to be passed around.

- he only scores an 8 after evaluation—this is done with intent.

- his arena is a jungle (not unlike the comics.. hint), foliage too thick to navigate with decent speed, and full of muttation insects, reptiles, and amphibians. the trees are too thin to climb or use to hide, and nor are there any caves—essentially, staying on the ground is anyone’s only option. the cornucopia is a large grove, and after the first day, it rains for days straight, until the ninth day.

- simon runs for the cornucopia. he knows it’s stupid, but he also knows how to dodge blows courtesy of his father, so he’s able to grab supplies and get out alive, granted with a few mostly superficial cuts. he knew he needed knives from the start—his most familiar weapon.

- it takes two days before he makes his first kill. it’s too easy, when it’s a girl paralysed and slowly dying from a poison spreading through her, turning her veins an inky black and rotting her skin. simon’s first kill is mercy.

- his second is a career, the boy from 4. the career pack is together when he comes across them, but he finds them first. when the opportunity presents itself and the boy is just separated enough, simon silently appears and slits his throat before disappearing back into the foliage. the rest of the pack only notices they’re missing someone because the cannon fires. none of them ever find out simon had done it.

- stealth ends up his strategy, and it’s what gets him the nickname ghost. he acts like an apparition and is done his work before anyone is the wiser of his actions. he ends up killing 8 of 24 tributes.

- he doesn’t sleep almost the entirety of the games. haunted by his actions, because part of him knows all of it wasn’t necessary. some kills, sure, were to protect himself—but not all of them. some were just to get ahead of the game, and it plants a gnawing guilt in the pit of his stomach.

- simon almost dies when the girl from 7 tries to kill him in the rare time he’s drifted off. he wakes up to an unbearable heat around him, sweat beading off his skin and light behind his eyes and when he’s finally up, he’s burning. she’d lit a fire around himin the hopes it would kill him because she didn’t want the guilt of having actually done the action. he lives—escapes—but suffers burns on part of his face and body that all just contribute more to the nickname. he’d come back from the dead, they all say, but really, he just woke up in the nick of time. but because the capitol still wants him desirable after he wins, to use him, extensive measures and surgery are taken to visibly reverse the damage once the games are over.

- simon wins on the twelfth day using, fittingly, a butcher’s cleaver. he had picked it up around day six off another tribute, and uses it to kill the one other tribute—the boy from 5—after a fight that comes much closer to killing them both than anyone would’ve liked. eventually, though, simon turns out victor.

- his father barely acknowledges him when he comes back. simon returns to work for a bit, despite the insistence that he doesn’t have to, but he needs something to occupy his mind. but then killing cattle and other livestock rears up too much trauma, and he ends up quitting and isolating himself for a while afterwards—but only until president snow had decided to fix him up and sell him to the capitol.

- seven years after his game is when he’s introduced to johnny. immediately, he’s struck by the man as someone he could maybe, maybe eventually trust. johnny isn’t like the man that had made the current transaction for him, or anyone simon had been put with previously, so it’s… nice. for once, he isn’t used. not for his body, anyway.

- when simon thinks he’s seen the last of johnny after that visit, the man puts in another bid for him, one that’d last longer. only to talk, he says, and that this is really the only way he can get him to the capitol. it happens again and again and the most they ever do is kiss during their last visit before simon has to mentor another tribute for the 73rd games, because better him than vernon.

- the visits continue following—they also spend quite a bit of time together during simon’s mentoring, and johnny even helps with getting sponsors—and they fall into something of a relationship, though it’s kept a very well-hidden secret.

- their routine continues until the second rebellion starts up, but that’s another post (or a fic itself) >:)

[kerubimcrepin]

An analysis of That One Moment from Wakfu OVA - Book 2, Ush

Technically, this post is a part 4 of my liveblog, but still...

Today we will be talking about the interaction that I am most mentally ill about in the entirety of Wakfu.

Before I go completely off the rails: I think it's cute that despite everything, Keke still cares a lot about Ecaflip and Ecaflipus, and Atcham still cares about killing people for wronging him.

Things have changed after six centuries, but they're still just themselves. Anyway.

There is so much happening here. SO much. Let me break it down point by point:

The most obvious one: by addressing them as kids, he pulls his "I am roleplaying as your father for these strangers who don't know anything about our weird familial situation, and you will obey me" card. This is important because:

Kerubim and Atcham know how much Joris cares about the Brotherhood of Tofu and their opinions of him, to the point of going a little bit crazy at the thought of offending Yugo and Adamai.

So, even if him pulling the "I'm your dad" card is a bit egocentric, they can't say anything about that openly — because Joris would be so, so sad if everyone in this room knew he lives with his dad for 600 years now. He'd be so mad too, because "papychaaa, chaaaoncle stop embarrassing me in front of my friends!"

We KNOW Kerubim cares about not embarrassing Joris — because in the Dofus MMO he won't shut the hell up about his 20-30 dead loved ones from 200 years ago, says a Singular Thing about Atcham, and absolutely nothing about his very much alive son/fake dad, at best managing a little "we all want someone small in our lives..."

In my opinion, while some families are built on mutual roasting, the Crepin-Jurgen household houses three people with very fragile senses of self-esteem, so anything resembling roasting is usually light, exclusive to when they're all alone, and never about things that they actually hate about themselves ("short, weird, ugly, hypocrite, weak, overthinker"; "ugly" (some bald jokes allowed, but it depends on the mood); and "narcissist who kept his son in a hazardous environment for the first 7 years of his life and gave him 30 mental illnesses").

Besides the fact that Keke and Atch care about Joris making friends, — for the three of them (but especially Joris and Atcham), feeling belittled is the easiest way to ruin a relationship irreparably. If you insult them, it's just over. And I don't mean it in a funny-haha cutesy way. Sometimes, people actually dislike when they are insulted repeatedly about something they legitimately hate about themselves, and, y'know, hate everyone who hurts them this way? And you will not believe it, but people who actually care about them know and respect that. Because they love them.

So yeah, the three of them are all creatures of pride, and they respect that about each other, — which is why would never put each other in a position where they might get laughed at. (like suddenly revealing the Dad Roleplay and "600 years of living with his dad" sort of interpersonal lore)

However, being creatures of pride, I don't think Kerubim and Atcham are happy about Joris doing this. Especially because of the next point: Joris uses his position as their roleplay-dad and Asocial Son/Nephew Who Needs To Impress His Friends to essentially force them to let him go into a battle alone. Essentially, this line is translated as "you have glass bones and paper skin. you can't follow me because I said so, and you can't protest without looking weird." into Normal Human Tongue.

Joris does this for a very simple reason: they are weak (though so is he), and he's scared — he loves them! It's normal that he doesn't want to see them be hurt! Even if they have multiple lives, but they're not infinite lives, and it doesn't make every time they die NOT scary and traumatizing! He wants Kerubim and Atcham to go and rest, and he's also excited that they're finally meeting his friends.

However, unlike them, he only has one life — and they hate to see him hurt just as much, if not more, considering how much more danger he's always in:

They would really rather not leave their p'tit Jojo Joris alone with things they know are dangerous, — like Ush, — while Joris is weakened. No matter how much he wants to fight Ush one-on-one.

So, they refuse and even joke about him in the most subtle and funny way: using his own little game to make fun of him, and completely refuse his offer of leaving to rest in Sadida Kingdom, — coupled with an overexaggerated little shrug, and rubbing their statuses as so-called "sons" and "father" in his face.

These three come up with very elaborate rituals to communicate things that take normal people like ten seconds.

[rosieposey-torturedpoet]

"Now, remember, we don't know what all she's been through: she's sleeping right now and may wake up in a couple of hours"

"Yes, Medic, I know all that. This isn't my first time" Caretaker smiled warmly.

"Just wanted to make sure, good luck" Medic patted Caretaker on the shoulder and walked out, closing the door behind him.

The house was the usual cookie-cutter house that Caretaker has been in dozens of times. Many people confuse Caretaker and Medic: assuming they have the same role. However, Medic's job is to get Whumpee out of the woods, and then Caretaker steps in. Whumpee is given a room in a house that's creatively referred to as a 'Caretaker house,' which is where Caretaker will live with them full time to help them heal from day to day. Caretaker knows the drill and this house like the back of her hand, yet she still looks across the living room, over at the door that Whumpee is currently sleeping in.

So Caretaker is as quiet as possible when walking up the steps to get to her designated room.

It had been around 4 hours later when Caretaker had finally seen a sign of life coming from Whumpee's room. She was in the kitchen making dinner, with quiet music coming from her record player she set up right next to the TV. Over the years, she's bought a vynl for each of her Whumpees. Once she got to know them: and their favorite artist, she would go out and buy a few records 'inspired' by them and they would sign one.

Caretaker had zoned out making dinner: she snapped out of her thoughts only because she heard a door open: snapping her head over her left shoulder, she was suprised to see a girl who couldn't have been over 17. Her dark curly hair was resting on her shoulders and it seemed as if she was coated in bandages. Her nose was crooked, but not in the natural sense, but in the sense that it had been broken one too many times. "Uh..who are you?" The girl questioned

"I'm Caretaker, I'm gonna be watching over you for a little while"

"Okay, uhm. What's that smell?"

"Dinner, you hungry? I made sure to make some for the both of us"

Even though the girl shook her head no, she still came up and sat at a barstool: still seemingly dazed, as if she couldn't process things at a normal speed. Which is to be expected. "So, would you like to talk, or would you like me to stay quiet"

"Hm?"

"Would you like me to stay silent and let you process things for a little bit. Or, would you rather have a conversation and small talk? I'm not gonna be mad at you for picking either option"

"Tell me who you are"

Caretaker's interest was piqued hearing that: "What do you mean?"

"Why are you here? Who are you? Why do you care? And what happened to that one big burly guy that save me?"

Caretaker thought for a second, and started, "Well, for starters: that man's name was Medic and he's a coworker of mine. A very sweet guy, you were in good hands. And like I said, my name is Caretaker. I am a registered nurse and this is where I am going to be living here for however long it takes you to heal. And I care, because you're human and deserve stability as much as anyone else." Caretaker sets a place of food in front of Whumpee, "Any other burning questions?"